The Runt of the Litter

Dentists and... Well, Let's Not Talk About the Rest

note: hey my lovely people <3 thanks for being darlings. i hope you're doing alright. every one of you.

y'all really wanted this a while back. not sure you even remember asking for it by this point. but i think you'll like it anyway. and i think this story needs some more light-hearted content.

anna is ten, and giving dean an ulcer.

Dentists and... Well, Let's Not Talk About the Rest

"You want ice cream?"

Anna rolled her head along the seatback until she was glaring right at her brother.

"Come on, Rugrat, I'm sorry," Dean said hopefully. He glanced over at her and half-smiled when he saw the look on her face.

It pissed Anna off even more. "You are not," she complained and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Okay, so I'm not. Everybody's gotta go to the dentist, alright? You're not the first kid in the world to hate it. Hell, if you liked it, that would make you the first kid in the world."

Anna was not appeased. She turned and stared pointedly out the window. "My teeth are fine," she informed her brother. "Nothing hurts, and I don't need them painting that nasty stuff all over my mouth."

Dean snorted, "Yeah, I used to tell Dad the same thing."

"Oh, so you're passing on the trauma?"

That surprised a real laugh out of Dean. "Oh, come on. You've been through a lot worse."

"Exactly," Anna pounced. "I don't need anything else tacked on." She changed tactics, scooting over right next to her older brother. She wrapped her arms around his bicep and looked pleadingly up at him. "Please don't make me go," she requested. "I'll do anything, just please don't make me go."

Dean made a really? face down at her, half-smiling in it. "You have to go to the dentist, Anna."

Giving up, Anna let out a dramatic sigh and sat back against the passenger door. "This sucks," she whined, though she was really too old for it. "You're mean."

Her words did nothing to sway Dean. He looked just as amused as he had a minute ago. "It's not that bad," he assured her. "You went last year, remember? You got that weird lookin' toothbrush with a Disney character on it."

"Oh, yeah," Anna grumbled. "Now I'm excited."

"Lighten up, kiddo. It'll take fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes I'll never get back," Anna said mournfully. She slouched lower in her seat and

"You'll appreciate this someday, Runt."

Anna pouted even further. "I highly doubt that," she said with confidence. They were quiet for about sixty seconds before she spoke again, "Can we still get ice cream?"

Dean chuckled, "That's where we're headed."

"I'm still mad at you," Anna reminded him. She pointed one finger at him, face still set in a firm pout.

Dean raised his right hand in surrender, shooting her another short smile.

"I mean it," she pressed. "I might never forgive you. This might be the last time we ever speak. Make peace with it."

"I'm gonna tell Sam to quit showing you soap operas."

"Are you calling me dramatic?" Anna asked. "Cause I am not dramatic. You're more dramatic than me. By a long shot."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Oh, this I gotta hear," he drawled. "How, pray tell, am I more dramatic than you... by a long shot?"

It was Anna's turn to look smug. "Every time somebody parks too close to the 'pala, you hyperventilate," she began.