#keagan-writes

When Dean’s door creaked open, it couldn’t have been later than midnight. He hadn’t even fall asleep yet.

Immediately alarmed, he shot out of bed, his hand already reaching for the revolver tucked safely under his pillow, when he sees the familiar figure in his doorway.

“Sam?” Dean blinks, hand coming away from the gun, relieved. “Christ. What’s wrong? Nightmares again?”

Sam stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “I can’t stand sleeping in a different room than you,” He admitted softly, eyes on the floor.

And usually, Sam and Dean would share a bed. But they were staying with Bobby tonight, and John and Dean had gotten into a huge fight before bed, about how Sam was “getting too attached” and that the boys needed some separation.

Dean, of course, couldn’t disagree more. But to keep John from taking it out on Sam, he’d agreed that for the night they’d sleep separately.

He should have known that Sam wouldn’t be able to sleep. He’s had Dean beside him at night his entire life. It’s second nature. It’s right.

“Okay,” Dean whispers. “C’mere. Quietly, though.”

Sam tiptoes over into bed and slides up next to Dean.

It was like two puzzle pieces, the way they fit together. Like neither of them were meant to be anywhere else.

Sam lets out a soft sigh, and wiggles impossibly closer.

Dean’s hand cups the back of Sam’s head, as always. He presses a gentle kiss to his brother’s forehead.

“G’night Sammy,” He whispers. “Love you.”

Sam is already asleep.

____________________

Sam fussed with his hair one more time, and smoothed down his shirt. 

“You look good. You going out or something?” Dean’s voice startled Sam, and he turned away from his reflection.

Sam blushed a little, eyes on the floor. “I have a date tonight. It’s nothing.” 

At this, Dean raised a brow. “A date? Wow, kiddo. Who’s the lucky gal?” 

Sam shifted around, looking uncomfortable. “He.” He corrected. “He’s a senior. On the football team.” 

Dean’s surprise turned into anger. For some reason, Sam holding the hand of some little blonde thing didn’t make him nearly as angry as the thought of him holding the hand of a football star. 

“You’re not going out with someone older than you.” Dean said sternly, leaving no room for dispute. 

“Only by two years.” Sam looked up at Dean.”You’ve gone out with girls way older than you!”

“He’s going to take advantage of you, Sam.” Dean sits down on the edge of the bed, trying not to stare at the way the t shirt clung to Sam’s flat stomach, or the way Sam’s hair hung in eyes, tempting Dean to just reach out and brush it away.

“When are you ever going to trust me to take care of myself?” Sam huffs, shrugging into a jacket. “It’s time to cut the cord, Dean, and stop babying me.” 

Sam, of course, didn’t get it. How could he? He’d never assume the real reason Dean was so worked up was because he was jealous that Sam might be falling into the arms of some dumb jock, instead of his own. 

“Take off that jacket.” Dean snaps. “You’re not going. Not over my dead body.” 

Sam, ignoring Dean, adjusts the collar of his jacket. “I don’t understand what the hell your problem is with this guy. It’s one date, Dean.” 

Dean shoots up, throwing his hands in the air out of frustration. “Because!” He cries. “He doesn’t deserve you!”

Sam stops. The room feels suddenly too quiet, only the sound of Dean’s ragged breathing could be heard, and the rush of traffic outside. 

“What?” Sam asks timidly, as though he were afraid to know. 

“Sam,” Dean breathes. “Do you really want some stupid jock? Who’s just going to…treat you like you’re ordinary?” He asks, taking a step closer to Sam. “C’mon, kid. You…deserve better. You deserve everything.” By now, they’re less than a foot apart, eye to eye, each brother madly in love with the other, each too scared to show it. 

After a long pause, Sam deflates. There would be no firework confessions today, no kisses in the rain, no declarations of undying love. But Sam stayed in that night, and they ordered a movie on the crappy motel TV. 

And when Sam got tired, he fell asleep on Dean’s shoulder, to the tune of his brother’s heartbeat. 

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things you said at 1am

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Three things in Sam’s life are concrete fact: 

1.) His name is Samuel Winchester

2.) Monsters are real

3.) He’s in love with his big brother

It wasn’t always this way, Sam thinks, and yet, he can’t remember a time where he didn’t turn a girl away because all he could see was green eyes and freckles, all he could hear was hey, Sammy. Wanna go for a drive?

He should really be in bed. He has school in the morning, and Mrs. Mckelle will bitch the entire period if he’s late for sleeping in. And yet…he’s awake.

And Dean’s awake. At least, he is now, after Sam shoves him roughly and whines, “You’re hogging the entire bed. How am I supposed to get comfortable?” 

Dean grunt something that doesn’t really even sound human, but before Sam can complain about that, strong arms wrap around him and drag him in back against Dean’s chest. 

Sam considers being a bitch, kicking Dean or worming away, but really, this is what he’d wanted, but had been afraid to ask for. Contentedly, he curls up on Dean, tucking his head under Dean’s chin. “Coulda just asked.” Dean rumbles, and Sam freezes.

But Dean is relaxed, hand snaking under Sam’s shirt to draw lazy patterns up and down Sam’s spine in a way that makes Sam fall asleep in seconds, flat–and Dean knows it.

“S’okay,” Dean continues, and it’s not, obviously, but he makes it sound like it is. “It’s better like this.”

Sam makes a questioning noise, already close to sleep.

“Having you close. I.” Dean hesitates, and yawns. “S’better. So I know you’re safe. Gotta know that. Drives me mad.”

Sam is out before Dean even finishes the sentence.