Dean's eyes followed the tail of the cat clock on the wall as it swayed back and forth. Tick. Tock. Bang! His head turned to see Sam walk straight into the office door.
"Oh, watch yourself Mr. Winchester, you have to open the door first. Like this..." said a soft feminine voice, muffled by the door. It opened, to reveal the nurse, and a very dopey but happy looking Sam.
"He's a little loopy from the anaesthetics, but there were no problems with the procedure. He should, er, come down, in a few hours, and when that happens it would be a good idea to give him some painkillers. In the meantime..." She looked towards Sam, who was blowing bubbles with his saliva.
"...I'd recommend you keep him away from any sharp objects...or...actually, all objects."
"Will do, and thank you for helping him through the door," Dean said, smiling up at the nurse.
"Haha, it was my pleasure..." She looked at Dean and smiled.
"Quit being such a flirt monster," Sam burbled, one of the spit bubbles popping out of the side of his mouth. Dean looked at Sam. "He likes you .. . Deeeaaan liiiikes Nuuuuurse ladyyyy . . ." Sam swayed on the spot, a dumber-than-usual grin on his face. The nurse stared at him for a moment, raising her hand in a gesture as though to say 'you've got something on your face.' Sam blinked, raising his own hand and all but smacking himself in the mouth. It came away wet with drool. Staring stupidly at his hand, it took him a moment to respond.
The nurse walked away with an embarrassed look on her face. Sam sat down in the chair next to Dean, fondling with a sticky-hand toy - one of the many toys that dentists awarded their patients after their visits. It went without saying that most of the toys were handed out to pre-pubescant children. And apparently Sam, too.
"Heeey ... look at this..." Sam flung his arm out, the sticky-hand going with it. It collided violently with Dean's forehead. Dean reached his hand up towards the sticky...thing on his head, peeling it off with a disgusted look on his face.
"I think it's time to go."
"..But we just got here, yuh party-pooooper." Sam rolled his head along the back of his chair, ending it by looking at his brother stupidly. Drool had escaped his lips...again.
"Here, let me get that." Dean reached over to the collar of Sam's shirt, lifting it up to wipe the drool off of his brother's chin. Dean grabbed Sam's coat off of the back of his seat and helped Sam put it on, almost failing at his attempt.
"Gosh, they really drugged you up," Dean mumbled, helping Sam walk out of the dentist's office. They left and made their way to the car, and Dean opened the passenger door, shoving Sam inside unceremoniously. While Dean was assisting Sam in fastening his seat-belt, he caught a glimpse of Sam's shoes.
"Sammy, you need some new shoes!"
"Why? These are fine, p-peeerfectlyyy good sh-(hik)-shoes!" Sam blurted out angrily.
"Theres a freakin' hole at the toe of your right shoe, yes, yes that's absolutely fine, perfectly good!"
"Oh, okaaaay...Weeee... we should go to Walmart!"
Dean looked at his little brother with relief. It was always a good day when Sam agreed without needing a slap to the head.
"Okay, Walmart it is!" Dean grabbed his keys, started the car, and drove to Walmart. The silent ride was punctuated by Sam's drugged attempts to sing The Wheels on the Bus. It didnt take them long to arrive, and Dean pulled into a free parking space. He debated on whether or not to leave Sam in the car, but realised it would do more harm than good - mostly to his beloved Impala. So, sighing, he got out of the car and dragged Sam out with him, locking the car doors and leading Sam through the doors of Walmart.
Dean wasn't used to cheap stuff, or Walmart for that matter. They walked around the enormous and vast aisles, trying to find the shoe section. On the way, they passed through the 'Feminine Hygiene' section. Dean furrowed his brow, staring at the selection of small boxes.
"What the hell is 'Slender Regular'? I mean, how can something be slender and regular at the same time?"
"C'mon...Ya silly goose!" Sam grabbed his brother's sleeve and yanked him out of the Tampon castle, tripping up a little on his shoelaces. Dean mumbled to himself as he was pulled through a few more aisles, and the two of them then stopped at their destination. "Here we are, 'Shoes,'" Dean said, sighing tiredly. Sam was eyeing the various mattresses that were on sale nearby, in plain view and not too far away from the mountains of shoes.
"Uhh, I'll be there in a sec, kay?" Sam called, already inching his way to the beds.
Dean got lost in the vast selection of shoes. Big ones. Small ones. Wide ones. Red ones?
"What the hell... who would wear red cowboy boots?" He looked over to Sam, who was rolling on the beds nearby, stupidly giggling. He walked over to his little brother, frowning.
"C'mon, I need to measure your feet."
"No! I dont wanna," Sam said, smooshing his face into the the off-white feather pillow.
"Sam you're getting drool on the bed, get up!"
Sam stood up on the bed, wobbling a little but glaring defiantly down at his older brother. Dean looked furious.
"Get down, you're not supposed to do that! Stop making a scene!"
"Catch me if you can, party-poooper!" Sam stuck his tongue out, blowing a rather wet raspberry, and succeeding in getting a few flecks of saliva on Dean's face.
Dean felt a tic go off in his cheek. Growling, he hopped onto the bed and reached for Sam's shirt, but Sam had already jumped to the next bed. Sam let out a snicker.
"Loser-face" He pointed at Dean.
"What the hell, Sam?" Dean frowned, wobbling as he climbed off of the bed. He stared up at Sam as he walked around the other side of the bed.
"Sam, get down, now!"
Dean crossed his arms.
"I'm gonna count to three, if you dont get down from there by the time I'm finished counting, I'm gonna go over to the Tampon castle, open a box and shove a super jumbo tampon right up your annoying little ass!"
Sam started to laugh.
"Now, that just sounds deeee-lightful!"
He jumped to the next bed, turned to face his older brother, and stuck out his tongue.
"Oh, It's on," Dean muttered under his breath as he jumped back on the bed. He leaped for the next bed, but his foot missed by an inch and he fell backwards to the floor, landing on his back. Everything went black for just a moment, but that was all it took. Dean opened his eyes and looked around, but he couldn't see Sammy anywhere. He got up and put his hand to his head, as though to hold it in pain, but then he felt something sticky and rubbery.
He pulled something off of his forehead. It was the sticky-hand.
"Son of a bitch."
Dean ran down the aisles of shoes, coming out into what seemed to be Underwear Heaven. He was surrounded on all sides by racks of lingerie, everything from innocent nighties to scant bits of cloth that would have made a hooker blush. Dean felt his face get red, and he stood stock still, feeling as though he had ran into a room full of aliens. Sexy aliens. It was only as he was backing up that he felt a hand grab his ankle, and he yelped, stomping back and looking down. The hand was no-where to be found, and he found himself staring at a large circular rack of nightgowns and lacy C-cup bras. It was one of those racks that allowed the clothes to almost form a curtain. And, with a frown, he realized just where Sam was hiding. It wasn't hard to determine, either, with the faint and high-pitched sound of a certain doofus giggling. He smirked.
"I wonder where Sam is?" He walked to the rack of bras and thongs.
"Is he over here?" He walked to the pajama pants.
"Or is he over here?" He heard giggling from the rack. He walked over to the rack that Sammy was in.
"Or is he--"
With these words he yanked the clothes away from each other, but instead of a big doofy grin, his face contorted into an expression of pure, unbridled pissed-offedness.
"I'M GONNA KICK YOUR LITTLE PUNK ASS, SAMUEL WINCHESTER!"
Sam shrieked like a little girl, rolling backwards out from the rack. In an instant he was on his feet, running like his life depended on it. And it kinda did. Immediately Dean was on his trail, shouting obscenities that would have had nuns exploding with heart-attack-aneurism-strokes. Running full tilt, he turned a corner, running slap-bang into a large display of little boxes. They fell to the floor and he stood there, transfixed by the pictures on the front. Long, cylindrical white...
He shakily turned around, seeing his brother at the end of the aisle, blocking his only exit. Slowly, he looked upwards, reading what was on the sign above. 'Feminine Hygiene.'
"You've just made the biggest mistake of your life, Sammy," Dean said, and he bent down, picking up one of the scattered boxes - which, of course, to Sam's displeasure, read 'Super-Jumbo.'
"Delightful, eh?" He sneered. Sam whimpered, and as Dean stomped closer, he realized with no small displeasure that the painkillers were wearing off.