Disclaimer: Writing for fun, not profit.
A/N: Originally, this collection was titled "Drabbles of the WeeSam Variety," but I decided to expand it to include all my Weechester/Teenchester funny/light-hearted drabbles for both the boys. Hope you enjoy this next set of three, which is focused on Teen!Dean.
Dean Winchester Meant to Do That
"Oh, what's the matter, Sammy, you afraid you're gonna get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?"
Dean, unhappy being Mr. Domesticated at the store while Sam finished an essay at the motel, frowned at the list. There, in floppy-locks' handwriting: "More of my shampoo!" Like he was too good to use the crap stolen from the maid's buggy. Dean, ready to ignore the request, spotted the clearance rack; damaged, out-of-date junk for the most part. A pink plastic bottle, sans label, caught his eye.
Price? 0.75. Yahtzee! Sure, it smelled like chemicals. Looked alright, though. So what if was girls' shampoo? He'd empty it in the old bottle. Sam would be none the wiser. Mission accomplished.
"Sam. I'm warning you."
"You never tell us anything, Dad!"
Dean stepped between the pair, hands raised to keep them apart. His stomach twisted every time his family fought. This time it also did the tango. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused, trying to interpret the sensation in his gut.
"I tell you what you need to know—"
"Well, maybe that's not enough! Not everyone can blindly—"
And out the chute when the chili dog.
For the next forty-eight hours, Dean enjoyed total peace (minus constant up-chucking). If anyone asked, he caught that bug on purpose.
"Son, that was quick thinking."
Dean pulled himself up out of the dirt, glowing with pride, despite the fact that his heart was jack-hammering out of his chest.
"Wow, Dean!" Sam ran up beside him, gun in tow and huffing. "For a second there, I didn't think you were going to dodge that thing's claws in time."
"You doubted my awesome reflexes?"
Dean managed to add a cocky grin and quickly kicked his savior off the path before they could spot it. No need for them to know that he'd slipped on his brother's banana peel like a friggin' stooge.
END NOTES: Once, my dad held up a bottle of Nair missing its label and asked if it was "that shampoo I liked"...And, once, I slipped on a banana peel thrown down my drive-way thanks to my little brother. This was made funnier by the fact that I live in the middle of the woods. Yeah, it did look like something from The Three Stooges.