A/N: I really can't do multi-chapters. I haven't even finished editing the previous one! *facepalms*

In the meanwhile, please enjoy this, should you choose to read. It's a short something that I always wanted to try. Prompt is at the end of the fic.

Disclaimer: Have never owned anything relating to Supernatural before.

*SnSnSnSnSn*

Sam gave up and gave in to his urges and stretched out his long arms to ruffle the baby fine mop of hair that was his older brother's.

"Sam, would you just quit mauling me!" The obviously meant-to-be-threatening words were spoiled somewhat by the young, high and slightly stuffed voice that was uttering them.

Sam grinned even as Dean turned his scowling face towards him. At three years old, Dean looked so cherubic that it brought up all the protective instincts that Sam possessed. Adding to the unfortunate fact that his cold has carried over from his normal adult size to when he was physically de-aged, and Sam wanted to just wrap him up in a blanket and hold him and comfort him and feed him orange juice and meds until he got better.

Too bad the spell that the witch hit him with just made him regress physically, not mentally. Toddler or not, Dean would break his arm if he did that.

"Dude, stop walking like an eighty year old man with rheumatism. And. Hurry. Up. The sooner we get out of Walmart the sooner we can get me back to normal." Dean tugged the edge of Sam's button down, bringing his attention back to the present.

Sam wanted to reply but his words were interrupted by a loud sneeze from Dean. It was followed by another louder one.

"Dean, that's gross! Stop wiping your snot on your jacket!"

His tiny brother shot back with "Would you like me to wipe them on your jacket then?" and proceeded to do just so.

"Get your dirty mini paws off my clothes," Sam got out of Dean's reach and rummaged through one of the many bags and emerged with a travel sized pack of Kleenex. He tore it open and grabbed one out and knelt beside Dean, grabbing his right arm in the process.

"Blow," Sam instructed, holding the tissue right at Dean's nose.

His brother's eyes grew wide, and he struggled against Sam's hold. "No! Let go of me!"

"Come on, Dean." Sam insisted.

He had forgotten, however, that Dean was just as stubborn.

"Let go of me or I swear I'll punch you right on the nose, don't think I won't." Dean batted his free hand ineffectually against Sam's shoulder.

"It'll take a second –"

"I'll kick your crotch using the boots that you just bought me."

"– and it'll clear up your nose –"

"I'll cut your girly hair so bad you'll have no choice but to go bald."

"– and you'll breathe easier –"

"I'll paint your fingernails with the permanent markers I swiped from the stationery department just now."

"- just stand still for a second -"

"I'll do a Trickster and get your beloved laptop stuck on Busty Asian again."

Sam had enough. "DEAN!"

Apparently the yell startled Dean so much he jumped out of reach, slipped and promptly fell down on his butt, pain flashing across his face and his mouth slightly opened in shock.

Sam mentally hit himself on the head. He hadn't expected such an explosive reaction to his shout.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Are you okay?" Sam reached out to pull his tiny older brother up, but was rebuffed when Dean shook his hand away, frowning and stood up by himself, rubbing dirt off his palms.

"I'm fine, Sasquatch." Dean replied snottily and promptly sneezed again, three times in a row.

"Dean, just let me –"

"Fine!" Dean threw out his hands, looking exasperated. "I'm going to indulge on your paternal whims just this once, are we clear? Or so help me, you'll find yourself with no eyebrows and a curled mustache when you wake up tomorrow."

Sam just nodded, his mind busy with planning on how to go about dosing Dean with meds when they reached the motel later while he mechanically wiped his nose. He knew he would have a fight in his hands, getting Dean to rest while he prepared the reversal spell, but he didn't care.

It was his turn to be the big brother, and he was going to do it right even if it meant having no eyebrows and a drawn mustache.

*SnSnSnSnSn*

Prompt: Physically deaged Dean (3-5). Sick with a cold, crabby, snotty. Sam wipes his nose in public. Dean makes cute, squeaky death threats.

Thanks for reading!