Work Text:
I Spy--
by Irena Adler
"I Spy with my little eye ... a regular nonagon minus one."
"God, Charlie," Don groaned to his eight-year-old brother. "You can't even play a simple game right."
"I'm playing it right," Charlie protested, his lower lip trembling in that way that always got Mom on his side. Don knew he should stop right now, before Charlie complained to Mom or burst into stupid tears, but they'd been stuck in the back of this van for years and his brainiac little brother couldn't even play a dumb road game with him.
"You're supposed to say the first letter or the color, not its shape, and definitely not use some stupid math when you should just say it's `red' or `starts with an S' so I could have said, `Stop sign,' and we could have played a normal game like some normal family instead of a family with ... What?"
Charlie had stopped pouting and was now grinning at him. "You guessed!"
Don blinked and realized he had. He puffed out his thirteen-year-old chest while at the same time trying to look casual. "Of course I did, dummy. I know tons of stuff you don't."
"You can't multiply five million, three thousand and sixty three and, um, five hundred and fifty-two in your head," Charlie said confidently.
"No, but ..." Don stopped him before he could tell him the whole dumb answer. He lowered his voice. "I can tell you what it's like to kiss a girl."
Charlie's eyes grew huge. "Really?"
"Yep," Don said smugly. "Rose Bryant, under the bleachers, after practice."
"Wow," Charlie breathed and bent close to him. "What was it like?"
Don leaned back in his seat, planning to impress his little brother with all the details. This was lots better than a stupid road game, anyway.
end