Sammy was perched sideways on the arm of the couch, legs swinging as though gravity was more of a polite suggestion than a rule. His curly blonde hair bounced with every emphatic gesture of his hands, his voice bubbling with excitement as he rattled off his latest obsession.

"-and that's why Snorri Sturluson probably got it wrong. See, in some versions, you don't just borrow Freyja's falcon cloak, you're described as actually shapeshifting into a bird yourself, which makes way more sense if you think about how many forms you canonically took. I mean, who borrows a magic cloak when you've already got your own polymorph ability on tap, right?"

Sammy hardly paused for breath, his words tumbling over each other in a rush. He leaned forward conspiratorially, eyes sparkling as if he were delivering forbidden knowledge to an eager pupil. "And don't even get me started on the whole... your children thing. Half the sagas can't decide if Sleipnir was a gift, a punishment, or just Tuesday afternoon after a particularly bad bet. Like, buddy, you became the mother of an eight-legged horse, what were you doing that weekend?!"

Across from him, Loki lounged on the couch in what could only be described as a study in practiced disinterest. He was sprawled with predatory grace, long legs crossed, one arm draped lazily along the backrest. A book sat open in his lap, untouched for the better part of an hour. The God of Mischief's emerald eyes glinted as they tracked the mortal's animated movements, though his expression remained maddeningly unreadable.

"Do continue," Loki drawled, his voice smooth as glass. "It is endlessly entertaining to hear you recite butchered versions of my people's history as though you're any kind of authority on the matter."

Sammy froze mid-sentence, blinking wide-eyed. "Hey, hey, I didn't butcher anything! I researched this! Extensively! Do you know how many PDFs I had to dig through? My poor Google Drive is crying." He jabbed a finger at Loki, his grin reappearing like lightning. "Besides, you didn't deny it. Which means I'm at least kind of right."

Loki's lips curved upward in the faintest smirk. "Or perhaps I simply enjoy watching you flap your tongue like an overexcited sparrow. There is a certain... charm to your delusion."

Sammy gasped. "Delusion?? Sir, I'll have you know this is top-tier scholarship!!" He leaned closer, practically vibrating with the need to press the point. "You can't just say 'oh it's a delusion myeh myeh myeh' and expect me to sit down quietly like a good little mortal. I know things now. You'd best bet I'm gonna one-up you in trivia night."

"Trivia night," Loki repeated, the words dripping with disdain, lifting a single brow in that imperious way that made mortals wilt. "You believe centuries of wisdom, battle, sorcery, and lived experience could be bested by a parlor game played with cheap pens and cheaper beer?"

Sammy grinned all the wider. "If the shoe fits!!"

The smirk twitched into something sharper, but Loki said nothing. He let the mortal continue, watching the way Sammy's hands windmilled through the air as he launched into another tangent about mythological inconsistencies.

"-and then, in the Prose Edda, there's the whole debate about whether the mead of poetry was actually honey-based or more symbolic, which is hilarious because you'd think if anyone knew what they were drinking, it'd be the Vikings. But nope! Historians are still arguing about it a thousand years later. Bet you didn't expect me to have that up my sleeve, huh~?" Sammy leaned precariously close, balancing on the couch arm with a grin like a cat that had gotten into the cream. His nose was only a foot from Loki's, his voice lowering into a triumphant singsong. "Face it, Reindeer Games~! You've been out-nerded by a mortal!"

For a long, weighted second, Loki did not move. His eyes locked onto Sammy's with quiet intensity, the air between them thrumming like a drawn bowstring. Then, ever so slowly, the corners of his mouth curled upward.

"Adorable," he murmured.

The single word landed like a thunderclap. Sammy's grin faltered. Heat flushed instantly across his cheeks. He sputtered something incoherent, then abruptly swung himself off the couch arm, boots thudding on the floor. "Nope!! Nope, nope, nope, you don't get to call me that, we're not doing this!!"

Loki's chuckle followed him as he half-skipped, half-fled toward the kitchen. "Oh, but we are~."

And for the first time all afternoon, Loki closed his book.

Sammy had just enough time to grab a glass of water from the kitchen counter before he realized he'd made a tactical error.

Because Loki had followed him.

The god leaned against the doorframe with the ease of someone who owned the room simply by standing in it. His dark hair framed his face, shadows clinging to him despite the fluorescent kitchen lights. His smile was small, sharp, and far too amused.

Sammy, ever the brave little gremlin, sipped his water like nothing was wrong. "What? Did I break your brain with the mead-of-poetry thing? It's okay, Loki, happens to the best of us."

"You're rather proud of yourself, aren't you?" Loki asked, voice low.

"Obviously," Sammy replied, grin widening. "Do you know how many people get to say they managed to stump the Loki Laufeyson? Zero, zip, and nada. Until me!"

He expected an eye-roll, maybe a scoff. What he did not expect was for Loki to push off the doorframe, stride forward with liquid grace, and close the distance between them until the god was standing just behind him at the counter.

Sammy stiffened, glass halfway to his mouth. "Uh. Personal space, much?"

"Personal space is a Midgardian invention," Loki murmured, leaning down so his breath brushed Sammy's ear. "We had no need for such things in Asgard."

Sammy's grip on the glass wobbled. "T-thahat's... that's cultural appropriation of my bubble," he managed, the words breaking into a laugh he couldn't quite contain. "Seheriously, you're doing that voice thihing againnn-"

The voice thing only got worse. Loki bent lower, his lips nearly grazing the curve of Sammy's ear as he spoke in a tongue Sammy didn't recognize. The syllables were rough and rolling, ancient, with a cadence that made the hairs on his neck stand up.

"Þú ert ljósið sem hrærir skugga míns hjarta," Loki whispered.

Sammy's brain short-circuited. His first instinct was to blurt, 'Oh my god, that's hot-' but his survival instincts barely caught it in time. Instead, he spluttered, "Youhu-!! You can't just-!! Say elvish incantations in people's eehears!! That's cheating!!"

Loki chuckled, the sound low and predatory. "Not elvish, little sparrow. Asgardian. An endearment."

Sammy went red so fast it was a miracle he didn't ignite. "You-!! Youhu cahan't juhust-!! That's-!! Nope, no thank you, denied, vetoed!!" He twisted on his heel to escape, but Loki was faster. A hand pressed to the counter on either side of him, caging him in.

"You're trembling," Loki observed softly. His breath skated across Sammy's ear again. "How curious, that such a sunny little mortal could be undermined by mere words~."

Sammy tried to retort, but what came out was a squeaky burst of laughter as Loki let a single finger trail feather-light up the side of his neck. He yelped, shoulders jerking up defensively. "H-HheehEy!! Thahahat's cheheheating, toohoo!!"

"Is it~?" Loki purred, tracing again, slower this time, barely-there touches that sent ticklish sparks racing over Sammy's skin. "I've done nothing but speak. Surely such a... learned scholar such as yourself can endure a whisper~?"

Sammy dissolved into helpless giggles, twisting against the counter. "YOuHuhu- youhuhu KNohohow exahactly whahat you're dohohoing!!" he accused, his words stammered through laughter.

"Indeed I do." Loki's smirk was audible, his tone smug as velvet. He dipped close again, voice dropping to a murmur that brushed warm against Sammy's ear. "Tell me, sunshine... just how many obscure sagas will protect you from me~?"

Sammy squealed out a laugh, burying his face in his hands. "Thihihis ihihis illehegal!!! Thehere's gohohotta be a lahahaw about this sohohomewhereee-!!"

Loki hummed, a sound of deep, satisfied amusement. "Not here, little mortal~. Not with me~."

And Sammy realized, with dawning horror (and delight), that Loki had no intention of stopping any time soon. Sammy had survived plenty of ridiculous situations since moving into the Avengers compound. He'd been caught in Stark's half-finished drone prototypes, used as bait during a prank war with Peter, and once gotten his hoodie caught in the doors of the Quinjet. He had not, however, been prepared for the unholy combination of Loki's velvet voice and feather-light fingers.

"Hold still~," Loki crooned, as though Sammy weren't already practically folded in half trying to escape the brush of those hands.

"WH- nOhohoho!!! Ihihi refuhuhuse to pahaharticipate in whatever Asgardian tohohorture thihis ihihis!!" Sammy gasped, laughter spilling out before he could clamp it down. His shoulders were hunched to his ears, his whole body curled like a spring.

Loki, naturally, looked as composed as ever, cool as a cucumber. He was half leaning against the counter, one arm lazily blocking Sammy's escape route, while the other hand traced slow, maddening lines up the side of his neck. Not scratching or pressing, just barely grazing, like the ghostly shadow of a touch.

Sammy squealed and kicked uselessly at the cabinet behind him. "S-SihIhiHihirrr!! M-Mihihister Mihihischihief!! Evihihil deheheity!!! Dohoho youhuhu mihihihind????"

"Oh, not in the slightest~," Loki purred.

And then he bent lower, lips brushing dangerously close to the shell of Sammy's ear. He spoke again in that ancient tongue, consonants rolling like thunder, vowels stretched low and intimate.

"Þín hlátur er sætari en mjaðr~."

Sammy's giggles spiked into full-blown laughter, his knees giving out so he half-sank against the counter. "YoUHuHuHu cHAhahahAn't JuhUHust shaahHAy EldrIhihihitch pihiHiHIckup lIHIhInes and ExpEhehEHEct mEHehEHHE toHoHoHoHo- suuuHUhUHuRvIhIhIve!!!"

"I think you'll survive quite nicely~," Loki murmured. His hand shifted, thumb stroking just under Sammy's jawline, sending another shock of helpless laughter through him. "Though I must admit, seeing you unravel is... delightful~."

Sammy flailed, trying to duck, but Loki caught him with ease. One long arm curled around his middle, pulling him flush against the god's chest as though he weighed nothing. Sammy kicked and wriggled, but it was trying to fight a marble statue that also happened to have the most infuriating smirk in the Nine Realms.

"ThiHIhihis IhIHiHisn't fahHAhaIr!!!" Sammy yapped between gasps of laughter. "YouHuHuHu're SuhuhuhUpPosed to behEHehe theheeh scaHhahAHry viHiHihiLlain guHUhUY!!! NohOHohOt- whiHIhisper-sohoHorcery tihIHIHickle MohohOHnster!!!"

"Monster~?" Loki echoed, amused. His lips grazed Sammy's ear again, and this time he deliberately exhaled a slow breath across the sensitive skin.

Sammy yelped and jumped, doubling over in Loki's hold with frantic giggles. "AhahahAH!! Youhhu knOhohow whahahat youhUhu're doHoHoing!! YouhUhuhu absohOHolutely knoHoHow whahaHAht youhuhu're DOhOhOIng!!"

"I've known many things, sunshine~," Loki replied smoothly. "What I didn't know is how enlightening your reactions would be. A mortal, rendered helpless by a breath, a whisper, and a touch." He dragged his fingertips down the curve of Sammy's neck again, relishing the way the boy's laugh cracked high-pitched and desperate. "You melt so easily~."

Sammy tried to rally. He puffed his cheeks, wheezing, "NohohOHo!! NohoHope, Ihihi'm resiHIhihisting!! LoHooOhook at thihihis steheheheel wihihihill!!" He punctuated the declaration with more helpless snickers, his whole body shaking against Loki's.

Loki chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest and into Sammy's back. "Steel, hm~? You, little sparrow, are butter on a Midgardian summer day."

"RuhuHuHUDE!!!" Sammy squealed, though the laugh that followed ruined any chance of indignation. He buried his face in his hands, trying to block out the sound of Loki's voice.

But Loki, of course, was merciless. He leaned down, his mouth close enough that his words vibrated against Sammy's skin. "Do not hide from me~. I want to hear you. Every gasp, every giggle, every little squeal~."

Sammy practically collapsed. His knees buckled again, and if not for Loki's steady arm around his waist, he would've slid to the floor in a heap. His laughter turned breathless, broken up by hiccups of protest. "L-Lohohoki, plEhehehehaseee!! IhIhihi cahahan'ttt!!!"

"You can," Loki corrected gently. "And you will, until I decide otherwise."

Sammy thumped a weak fist against his captor's arm, more symbolic than threatening. "YouhuhUhu're ehehehehevilll!!!"

"And yet," Loki whispered, brushing his lips so close to Sammy's ear it was almost a kiss, "you're enjoying this as much as I am~."

Sammy melted outright. His arms dropped, his head thunked back against Loki's shoulder, and laughter spilled freely without even a token resistance. His voice was hoarse, his grin wild and uncontainable. "Y-Youhuhu're the wohohoHOhorsttt!!!"

"And you are exquisite when you're being tickled," Loki said, victorious. By the time Loki maneuvered them both back into the living room, Sammy was in tatters. His giggles still sputtered out in little bursts, his cheeks glowing pink, his curls sticking damply to his forehead. He barely had time to realize what was happening before Loki sat down with regal ease on the couch and drew Sammy straight into his lap.

"W-Wahahahit, nohohohonononoohoho!!" Sammy yelped, flailing as he was unceremoniously arranged across the god's thighs with his back against his chest like a wayward kitten. His heels kicked the air uselessly. "YOuhuhu cahahahn't-!!"

Loki's arm looped easily around his waist, securing him in place. "I can," Loki said smoothly. "And I have."

Sammy wriggled, tried to squirm sideways, but every attempt just brought him tighter against Loki's chest. It was hopeless, and he knew it. He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. "Thiihihis ihihis uhuhunlahahawful imprihihisonmenttt! Sohohomeone call HR."

"Mm," Loki hummed, resting his chin atop Sammy's curls as though they were simply having a casual conversation. His free hand rose, fingers brushing feather-light at the base of Sammy's neck. "File your complaint after."

Sammy's squeaky laugh cracked out before he could bite it down. "AhaHAHah!! LohOhokiiiii, youhUhu're nohohot eveheheN tryhyhyHying tohoho be fahahahirrr!!"

"Where in my job description does it say I have to be fair?" Loki purred, lips curling close to Sammy's ear. "I am enjoying myself far too much." He let his fingers dance lazily up Sammy's throat to the edge of his jawline, tracing arcs so delicate they could hardly be felt... except that Sammy felt everything.

He squirmed like mad, clutching at Loki's sleeve in a useless attempt to fend off the sensations. "NNoHohOhOhooooo!! LohoHohokiHIHihiiiii!!" Sammy dissolved into giggles, half from Loki's teasing and half from the fingertips teasing over the dip just behind his ear.

Loki shifted him higher, until Sammy was practically curled sideways across his lap, pinned snug in a circle of long arms. One hand traced phantom patterns along the slope of his neck, while the other anchored firmly at his waist, keeping him from tumbling free. Sammy's laughter spilled and sputtered, rising helplessly whenever Loki leaned in to murmur another line in Asgardian.

"Þú gleður mig meira en allir hirðmennirnir.~"

"WhahAHAaht DohohohEs thahAHaht eEheven mHehehehehann!!!" Sammy squealed, trying to bury his face in Loki's chest to escape.

Loki chuckled, his breath warm against Sammy's temple. "You don't need the translation, little one. Your laughter tells me enough."

Finally, when Sammy was nearly boneless in his lap, Loki let his hands still. The giggles trickled into soft, exhausted chuckles. Sammy lay slumped against him, chest heaving, face crimson.

"See~?" Loki murmured, smoothing a curl from Sammy's forehead with surprising gentleness. "You endure, you shine brighter for it."

Sammy groaned, hiding his face in Loki's chest. "Cheatinggg..." he whined.

Loki's laugh rumbled low and satisfied. "Everything about me is cheating, sunshine. You should know that by now."

For a while, the only sound in the common room was Sammy's uneven breathing and the quiet hum of Loki's amusement. The mortal was slumped entirely against him, limbs sprawled bonelessly, his laughter spent. His curls were damp with sweat.

"You're smug," Sammy muttered at last, voice muffled against the dark green fabric of Loki's tunic.

"Correct." Loki's lips twitched.

Sammy's grin betrayed him. He wanted to pout, to regain some kind of footing, but every attempt at indignation collapsed into a warm glow in his chest. He shifted, nestling deeper against Loki's chest with a contented sigh.

For a long moment, Loki simply watched him, eyes narrowing as though studying a riddle he hadn't solved. Then, in a tone softer and more fond than Sammy had ever heard from him, he whispered another line of Asgardian, low and careful:

"Þú ert minn yndislegi gleðigjafi."

Sammy blinked up at him, dazed. "Huh?"

Loki smiled and patted Sammy's head. "Perhaps one day I will tell you. For now... you do not need the translation."

The bunker was quiet as there wasn’t much to do. There were no apocalypses, no universes shattering, no Lucifer… just a normal day.

And there, sitting on the couch, was the former angel of the Lord, Castiel, hands clasped in his lap as he stared at the wall with his usual pensive expression. His thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of boots pounding against the floors, as well as familiar voices shouting through the halls.

“Get back here, Sammy! You know what’s coming!” Dean yelled, his voice carrying a mixture of playfulness and warning.

Sam darted around a sharp corner, his longer legs giving him a slight advantage over his older brother. The angel could overhear the back and forth and the rapid footsteps, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what was going on.

“Come on, man! I didn’t finish it on purpose! If you wanted it so bad, you should’ve put your name on it!” cried the younger Winchester, his laughter echoing through the labyrinthine halls.

The noise was quite distracting. Castiel considered moving thinking spots before the brothers came bounding into the living area, giving the angel a start.

Sam ran in first, darting behind the couch before Dean followed, taking a wide stance on the opposite side, his hands raised and his fingers formed like claws. Throughout this, neither of them even acknowledged their angelic friend, who could only hope to figure out what on earth was unfolding in front of him.

“Excuses, excuses!” Dean growled, a playful grin on his face as he circled the couch, attempting to subtly close the distance between him and his brother. “You know what happens when you mess with my pie!”

Just as Dean was about to lunge, Castiel’s gravelly voice caught their attention.

“Has Dean been possessed? Why do you appear to be so… urgent?”

The brothers stopped in their tracks, sharing a baffled look before turning back to Castiel.

“Cas, Dean isn’t possessed…” Sam explained, a small, amused smile on his lips. Meanwhile, that cheeky expression found its way back to the older Winchester’s face as he eyed the youngest in the room.

“Oh, I’m possessed, alright… possessed by the tickle monster!” he growled before jumping toward Sam while the younger was distracted, his fingers latching onto the man’s sides and digging in with vigor.

As Sam yelped and burst into a fit of boisterous laughter, grappling onto the back of the couch to try and keep upright, Castiel cocked his head to the side, looking more confused than before as he watched the scene unfold.

“Tickle monster? I do not recall reading about this in lore books… I suppose the name is self-explanatory… How do you defeat it?”

The laughter only got louder at that question, and Sam shook his head, trying his best to answer their friend’s question while his brother was destroying him with tickles.

“N-No, no, no, it’s not a real—haha—monster! Dean’s just being a goof!”

Odd… so this was a playful thing? Castiel had made a lot of progress over the years, but sometimes he thought he’d just never truly understand humans.

“Ah… so you’re not really in danger?”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he moved to target the younger’s tummy, causing him to shriek and double over in hysterics. “Nope. The only thing Sammy’s in danger of is dying of laughter… Ain’t that right, Sammy?”

“Shut uhuhuhup!” came Sam’s frantic response.

Castiel’s brow creased with puzzlement, his eyes scanning the scene as if that would help him put the pieces together.

“Why were you chasing him then? He seemed quite alarmed.”

“Because it makes it more fun!”

It seemed that every answer only led to more and more questions. Why on earth would being chased be fun? Castiel had been chased before, and he recalled it as a very unpleasant experience.

“Fun? I fail to see how running for your life could be ‘fun,’” he said bluntly, tuning out the sound of Sam’s squeals as the elder’s fingers scribbled all over his belly.

Dean rolled his eyes and decided to show Sam some mercy so that they could help their angel friend out, giving his younger brother a pat on the shoulder and helping him stand. How on earth were they supposed to explain this to an angel? It was clear that Castiel didn’t have even a shred of understanding on this matter, so they were practically starting from nowhere.

“It just kind of is… the thrill of the chase, y’know?” Dean tried his hand at explaining, admittedly doing a horrible job. As the taller man sat up and plopped onto the couch, he decided to take a crack at it.

“It’s just a playful thing, Cas… When you’re not in any danger and you’re just messing around, chases can be pretty fun.” Sam smiled, trying his best to put it in simple terms. He’d also learned that it was better to explain things in a more blunt manner, since the angel could be quite… literal.

Castiel hummed, nodding slightly. “I see… Perhaps I should try to engage more. I often forget to, as Dean once put it, be less angelic.”

Dean gave a snort of laughter, raising his hands to threateningly wiggle his fingers at the angel. “Oh, buddy, you do NOT wanna get roped into this!”

At that, the angel gave a tilt of his head, his expression a mixture of amusement and bewilderment as he processed his friend’s words. “Dean, I do not believe you could take me… I am an angel of the Lord.”

Sam’s gaze bounced back and forth between the two, interested to see where this would go. Should he intervene? Maybe… but how? And frankly, why? This was pretty damn hilarious. And so, he kept his mouth shut, choosing to observe, but not before popping in with a friendly warning.

“Cas, I really wouldn’t challenge him… He’s ruthless,” he said, his voice the kind that speaks from experience. And if anyone could speak from experience on this matter, it was definitely Sam.

But the angel did not heed Sam’s warning. “Perhaps to you, Sam. But a human cannot merely take down an angel of the Lord.”

Dean’s eyes were twinkling with mischief, subtly shuffling closer to his angelic friend, hands raised menacingly. Dean was always up for a challenge. “Don’t tempt me, angel… I’ll make you eat those words.”

Castiel crossed his arms, giving a huff of disbelief. “Words cannot be eaten, Dean,” he stated matter-of-factly. It was at this moment that Sam realized he might have an out for the long, drawn-out tickle attack he would endure had this not become a thing. So, he sat up and casually started to shuffle away.

“Well, you guys have fun… Just try not to kill each other.”

He got all of three steps away before he heard a shrill shriek, and when he turned around, he saw his older brother straddling Castiel’s hips and digging his fingers into the angel’s ribs. While Sam wanted to stick around and watch the endearing scene, he knew it would only be a matter of time before Dean remembered their unfinished business… so he had to skedaddle.

“Oh, don’t think this means you’re off the hook, Sammy! Once I’m finished with this angel, you’re toast!”

And that was Sam’s cue to run… again.

The Winchester boys were growing up, but some things never really changed… except for Dean’s facial hair.

Dean, now eighteen, had made the impulsive decision to grow out his stubble. He pitched the idea to Sam randomly one day at a diner, insisting he needed a new look. Sam however was quite positive that it had little to do with self expression, and more to do with impressing girls…

A few weeks later, Sam hadn’t really paid much attention to any new features since he didn’t think Dean would actually go through with it. He thought his brother would grow it, hate it, and shave it all off without ever acknowledging it.

The younger had been in his own world, his nose predictably buried in a thick book as he lounged on the worn-out couch in the motel room.

The older Winchester was standing on the other side of the room, looking in a mirror and inspecting the new facial hair. It wasn’t as thick as their father’s by any means, but it was fairly scruffy. He had never really tried to grow a beard before… it definitely different from the light stubble he was used to, but he figured the ladies were into the rugged look nowadays.

He let his gaze wander from his face, seeing Sam in the mirror. He could see that his little brother was deep into whatever he was reading, but that never stopped him from bugging the kid before.

He turned around and sauntered over, perching himself on the arm of the couch.

“Hey, Sammy. How do you like the new addition?”

Sam looked a bit irritated about his reading time being disturbed. He didn’t really care about whatever Dean was blabbering about… he just wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet for once. Nevertheless, he sighed, looking up to acknowledge the elder.

What he wasn’t expecting was for his brother to look like a damn wolverine.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly as they landed on the new beard, and he had to do a double take.

When the hell did that happen?

“Uh… Dean?”

Dean smirked, stroking his facial hair. “Yeah? Lay it on me, little brother.”

Oh, Sam would lay it on him alright.

The shorter boy set the book in his lap and covered his mouth with his hand.

“You look like a werewolf.” He said with a snicker that was bordering on full laughter as he saw the offended expression on his brother’s face.

The older Winchester’s expression faltered but he quickly gave a smirk, trying to recover from the blow to his ego.

“A werewolf, or a handsome lumberjack?”

That was all it took for Sam to fall over on his side, clutching his stomach as he burst into loud, mocking laughter.

“A-A handsome lumberjack?! You’re such a dork!!” Barked the younger, unable to control his amused reactions.

Dean grimaced and crossed his arms. “Quit laughing, Sammy! You’re just jealous that I can grow a beard and you can’t.”

That only drew more laughter from the boy, tears starting to prick at his eyes.

“Oh, please… I’d rather be able to enjoy a full moon!”

Dean’s eye twitched as his little brother continued to cackle, a hint of annoyance growing within him. Y’know what? If the kid wanted to be a sassy little shit, so be it.

“Fine! You wanna see a werewolf?! I’ll show you a werewolf!”

With a growl, Dean lunged at his younger brother, pinning him down with little effort. Sam gasped, eyes widening as he processed the threat.

“W-Wait, no, don’t! I-I didn’t- EEK!”

The kid fell into fresh laughter when his older brother dove down and began nuzzling at his tummy with his scruffy face, the scratchy whiskers rubbing against his soft skin, which immediately quivered on contact.

“Dehehehean, nooo! I-I’m sorry! Hahaha!”

A wicked grin spread across Dean’s face as a low chuckle rumbled deep from his chest.

“It’s a little late for that, kid. You hurt this werewolf’s feelings and now you have to pay!” He gave a playful growl, shaking his head back and forth, making sure the boy felt every bristle on his face.

Of course he wasn’t ACTUALLY hurt. He was just being a goof for the sake of it. Besides… he hadn’t seen Sam laugh that hard in what felt like forever. That uncontrollable belly laughter was the type of sound that he usually had to tickle out of him, but he didn’t have to this time.

It was just a bonus.

The nuzzles continued with full force, drawing squeal after squeal from the poor boy. He shoved at his brother’s head to no avail, kicking his legs and twisting his sides. But no matter which way Sam wriggled, Dean followed, making sure the soft belly got an appropriate amount of torment.

“No escaping, kiddo! You poked the beast, now you face the consequences!”

“Noooo! I’m sorry! P-Please stohohohop!”

Sam’s pleas were becoming more desperate and Dean could tell he was legitimately running out of breath, so he decided to give him a small break, pulling away and giving a cheeky grin.

His heart melted when he saw his brother’s cute, smiling face.

“Aww, is little Sammy too ticklish? Should’ve thought about that before provoking the werewolf, kid!”

Sam’s cheeks were bright red and only seemed to darken at the teasing. He panted for air, trying to glare at his big brother, though it was quite difficult to look angry when there was a goofy smile stuck on his face.

“Y-You’re a jerk… I hope you- AHH!”

The threat was cut short as Sam squealed once more and let out a shrieky guffaw, tossing his head back and writhing with renewed vigor. Dean had swiftly bent down again, but this time, he blew a big raspberry on his brother’s belly.

After each raspberry, he went straight back for another. It wasn’t long before Sam was gasping again, cherry red and struggling to breathe. When the laughter went silent, Dean decided to stop for good, ruffling his brother’s hair and helping him sit up.

Sam clutched his stomach, panting and giggling with tear stained cheeks.

“T-That was mehehean…” he mumbled, slumping into the couch.

Dean just snorted at that and lightly shoved his brother, giving a sly smirk.

“You loved it. But you might’ve been right… maybe I should leave the bearded look to dad.”

Sam nodded. “Definitely… the werewolf look doesn’t suit you, jerk.”

The elder scoffed and jabbed the kid in the shoulder “Bitch.”

The familiar banter made Sam smile, but he quickly regained a snarky tone.

“Now, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“For the love of all that is holy, go shave that thing off… unless you want dad to mistake you for a werewolf.”

Dean rolled his eyes, hopping off the couch and starting for the bathroom.

As the older Winchester stood up to head to the bathroom, Sam’s giggles finally started to die down, but he was still watching his brother with that impish grin.

Dean paused in front of the bathroom door, turning back with a raised brow.

“You got somethin’ to say, nerd?”

Sam bit his lip, trying to suppress the teasing comment forming on his tongue, but couldn’t resist. “You sure you’re not gonna howl at the moon before you shave that thing off?”

Dean gave an exaggerated eye roll, but his lips twitched into a smirk.

“You’re just begging for a round two.” He glared playfully as a warning, causing the younger to widen his eyes and raise his hands in surrender.

“N-No! I’m good!” Sam’s laughter bubbled up again, the thought alone making him nervous. “I don’t think I could survive another werewolf attack…”

Dean snorted, but his expression softened a bit.

“Don’t worry, Sammy. I’ll let you off the hook this time… But, next time you make fun of me, you’re screwed. I may not be a werewolf, but I am part tickle monster. Consider yourself warned.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed a bit, but he was still smiling widely. He huffed and leaned on the armrest of the couch, giggling at the silly threat.

“Duly noted, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

And with that, Dean disappeared into the bathroom. And when he re-emerged, he was no longer a scruffy werewolf… just regular old Dean Winchester.

“There… ya happy now?” Asked the older brother, stroking his face which was back to its regular stubbled state.

Sam grinned at the sight. “Very. You look like a regular old dork again.”

Hearing yet another sassy insult, Dean huffed with exasperation.

“You’re never gonna quit sassing me, are you?”

Sam simply smiled cheekily, giving a quick, “Nope.”

It was a difficult day for Sam Winchester… everything small felt significantly bigger, and the world seemed to be crushing him and drowning him in stress.

Something about being a hunter, particularly a hunter that’s been to hell and back and seen the world nearly end about a hundred times, is that the future really starts to weigh you down. Anxiety creeps in and every sound, feeling, or occurrence feels like a warning.

It gets absolutely suffocating.

For Sam, it forced him to hide away in his room and burrow under his covers and hope that the world won’t spontaneously combust.

While Sam was doing just that, the archangel, Gabriel, popped up beside his boyfriend, sitting on the edge of the bed. The sudden dip in the mattress caused the hunter to gasp and shoot up from under the covers, his hair tousled and his eyes wide as he prepared to fist fight any threat in the room.

“Woah there, Sammich! Don’t get too excited to see me.” The archangel teased with a grin, his golden wings flapping slightly behind him as he raised his hands in mock defense.

The Winchester breathed a sigh of relief, but his expression quickly turned sour.

“I’m not in the mood for your games, Gabriel.” He grumbled before laying back down, facing away from his boyfriend.

The trickster cocked his head to the side and raised a brow, not expecting the abnormally cold remark. After a surprise visit, Sam usually relaxed and gave a playfully annoyed response… but this was a real annoyed response.

Gabriel could tell something was up.

“Someone’s down in the dumps, eh?” He hummed, moving closer to his lover and brushing a hand through his hair, trying to offer some form of relaxation and support.

Sam felt himself immediately relax under the gentle touches, leaning back against the archangel and closing his eyes. His brows creased, showing how stressed he really was.

He shuttered. “A little bit…”

Gabriel softened. He laid himself down fully, pressing his body against Sam’s and wrapping an arm around him, resting his chin on the taller man’s shoulder.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Almost instinctively, one of his wings protectively draped over Sam like a blanket.

The younger relaxed further and he felt at least some of his anxiety melt away under the warmth.

“I-I don’t know… the world just feels suffocating…”

As Sam started to talk, one of his hands became drawn to the archangel’s wing, his fingers fidgeting with the soft edge of it. Gabriel didn’t expect it, but he didn’t fully mind… it just felt a bit… sensitive.

“It’s like no matter how many times we stop the apocalypse or the end of the world, there’s always more… I-I hate not being able to predict it… disaster is just always looming over me and I can’t-”

Sam’s anxious ramblings were interrupted by a muffled chuckle. What the hell? Was his boyfriend laughing at him?

Sam continued to fidget, his other hand joining in to play with the feathers, his irritation growing as the archangel continued to laugh.

“What the hell, Gabe? How is that funny?!” He growled, his fingers fussing more intensely as he got more anxious.

When they accidentally dug into the base of the wing, it gave a harsh flap and the archangel fell back, nearly tumbling off the side of the mattress as he barked out a laugh.

“I-I’m not laughing at you!!! Quit messing with my wing like it’s some stress toy!”

Sam startled as his boyfriend hastily sat up, clutching his wing and brushing it off. He tilted his head and observed before a look of realization took over his features. A smile tugged at his lips and he stifled a giggle of his own.

“Oh… ticklish wings, huh?” He snorted, causing a blush to spread on Gabriel’s cheeks.

“Oh, shut up! You’re one to talk about ticklishness!” He pouted playfully, giving Sam’s tummy a poke, which resulted in a squeak and a jolt.

The hunter huffed and shot his boyfriend a glare before becoming slightly mischievous.

“You know, I still feel kind of anxious… I need to keep my hands occupied for a bit.”

He then grabbed the archangels wing to hold it still, using the other to scribble over the soft, feathered surface. Gabriel squawked and fell back, erupting in loud, frantic laughter.

“Sammy, you evil, evil, soul!” He cried, kicking his legs and flapping his free wing while the other twitched helplessly under the gentle assault.

Sam’s fingers were thorough, but careful, not wanting to cause any harm to the golden appendages. He began to notice that as his boyfriend continued to laugh and squirm, the room felt brighter and things suddenly didn’t feel so terrible. He felt the weight lifting from his shoulders and his anxiety melting away.

All this from a little tickling?

Sam began to laugh with the archangel, his eyes crinkling in mirth as his fingers scratched at the most sensitive parts of his lover’s wing. He loved the sound of the archangels laugh… it never failed to rub off on him and draw out a similar sound.

“Sammy, stohohohop! This is torture!” Gabriel whined, his hair mussing up as he whipped his head back and forth. Tears of mirth began to fall and his cheeks were brighter than the Winchester’s expression.

“Why would I stop? This is pretty stress relieving.” Sam teased, but slowed down, not wanting to overstimulate the archangel, knowing that the wings can be quite sensitive. Besides… he felt lighter already.

Gabriel gave Sam a mock glare, seizing the opportunity to push him off and straddle him, his wings flapping playfully.

“You like fidgeting, huh?! Well my wings feel pretty fidgety too!” He growled, smirking at the younger’s wide-eyed expression. Sam looked like a dear in headlights and it was almost impossible for the archangel not to laugh.

“I think you deserve a taste of your own medicine!” With a cheeky grin, Gabriel let the tips of his wings flutter against Sam’s neck, eliciting a burst of embarrassingly squeaky giggles and soft snorts. The gentle flitting of the feathers against his skin was enough to drive him up the wall, but also melt away the rest of his anxiety, leaving none at all.

He felt so happy and… free.

“Hey!! T-That’s cheating!” He protested, shaking his head and using his hands to try and cover his neck, only for the archangel to pin them to the side.

“Oh, I think it’s fair game… you torture my wings, I torture you with my wings.” Gabriel grinned and a squeal rang out as he flicked the tip of his wing against his boyfriend’s ear.

“Oh yeah… totally fair.”

Sam’s laughter echoed through the room, blending with the archangel’s warm chuckles and occasional teasing. For the first time that day, Sam’s chest didn’t feel heavy and his mind wasn’t swimming with dark thoughts.

Gabriel decided to ease up, his fingers brushing gently against Sam’s flushed cheeks as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Feeling a little less suffocated, Samshine?” The older man teased, his golden eyes full of affection.

Sam’s breathing evened out, his giggles fading into contented sighs as he glanced up at his boyfriend, a small, relaxed smile spreading across his lips.

“Yeah…” He whispered, “Thanks, Gabe.”

The archangel grinned, moving to lay beside Sam.

“Anything to get you smiling like that, sugar.”

The rest of their agenda had nothing to do with research or hunting… only cuddles and laughter.

“You didn’t…” The older Winchester sat there in utter disbelief, beer bottle glued (literally) to his hand.

The brothers had been wrapped up in a prank war, going back and forth to see who could out-match the other. Sam, who had fallen victim to the old itching powder prank, decided to clap back by applying superglue a bottle of beer while Dean wasn’t looking. As the two raised their bottles to a solid plan, Dean took a sip, went to put the glass down, only to find that he couldn’t…

“Oh…” Sam smirked, holding up a small tube of superglue. “I did.” Amused by his brother’s dumbfounded expression, he fell into that rare laughter that Dean could only describe as sunshiny and precious, even if it was at his expense.

Dean tried to shake the bottle off of his hand, but it just wouldn’t budge. He eventually gave up with an irritated huff, glaring at Sam. “You’re gonna pay for that, Sammy.”

The taller brother wiped away a fake tear of mirth, crossing his arms and continuing to chuckle. “Oh yeah? With what? Another ridiculous prank?”

The younger’s cocky attitude made Dean’s blood boil a bit… but he knew the kid wouldn’t be laughing for long. Well… he would be, but in a different way.

“Oh, you’ll see, Sammy. You’ll see…” He had that dangerous glint in his eyes that spelled trouble, and the devilish smirk that crept on his face easily sent a shiver down Sam’s spine. There might actually be cause for concern here…

From there, things continued as normal, at least after Dean painfully ripped the beer out of his hand. They ate their food, discussed the hunt, made jokes, the usual. By the time they packed up and got in the Impala to head off to the motel, Sam had forgotten all about Dean’s little threat.

The two arrived back at their motel room, slamming the door behind them and dropping their stuff. But as Sam tossed his bag onto his bed and made the move to sit down, he was tackled onto the mattress, a slight panic growing in his chest as he felt someone straddle his hips and pin his arms above his head. When he looked up, he saw none other than Dean.

Of course it was Dean…

“What the hell, Dean?!” Sam huffed, tugging at his arms and trying to wriggle out from underneath the elder. The response only caused Dean to smirk.

“What’s the matter, Sammy? Revenge not tasting so sweet?”

“Your ‘revenge’ is sitting on me- EEK!- WAIT!”

Sam’s complaint was interrupted as a tingly sensation shot through his body, the result of Dean’s fingers digging into his sides with expert precision. The younger Winchester broke into barks of laughter, his head falling back against the mattress and his hands, now free, shoving at his brother’s chest.

Dean grinned triumphantly, watching his normally stoic younger brother come undone just from a few wiggling fingers.

“Aww, wait? But I’m just getting started!” He taunted, moving up to target the man’s ribs, which earned a wild buck of the hips. “Did you seriously think I’d let you get away with that little stunt? That glue ripped the skin off my damn hand!”

Sam kicked his long legs and stuck his arms to his sides, trying to block his ribs from his mischievous older brother, but Dean wasn’t deterred. If Sam was blocking the area, he’d swiftly attack elsewhere… then if Sam went to block that area, he’d shoot straight to the original target. This kept Sam on his toes, unable to guess where his brother would go next.

When the shorter hunter started skittering his nails down Sam’s sides, the younger’s eyes widened, instantly aware of where Dean was trying to go.

“N-No, plehehehease…! I’m sorry! Don’t do it!” He pleaded through frantic giggles, looking up at his big brother’s cheeky expression. Dean looked right into those big, hazel eyes, and despite the younger’s protests, he didn’t see any distress or discomfort in them. Instead, he saw anticipation and even a bit of excitement.

It took everything in Dean’s power to keep that ‘evil’ facade up, but even then, his smile was getting fonder by the minute.

“You’re sorry, huh? Well…” He hummed, pausing to tap his chin.

“I don’t believe you.”

With that, he dropped his hands and latched onto his younger brother’s sensitive stomach, sneaking under the fabric of his shirt, which had ridden up from the struggle.

Shrill squeals echoed through the small room as Sam writhed under the persistent tickle attack, flailing his arms and bucking his hips. He arched his back out of instinct, though it only pushed him closer to those evil fingers.

“NAHAHAH!- D-DEAN, I CAN’T!!”

“Oh, you can’t, huh? Kinda like how I couldn’t get that bottle off my hand without ripping my skin off?” Dean teased. He wasn’t really THAT mad about the prank… he just wanted to drag this on for as long as possible.

Sam groaned through his guffaws, shaking his head to try and find an outlet for the sensations.

“OH MY GOD, I GET IT!! I-I’M SORRY! MEHEHERCY!”

By this point, the younger hunter’s cheeks were bright red and stained with tears. His belly was getting sore from all the laughter and even his face was feeling the effects of smiling so hard. Dean absolutely loved it. It was so rare for Sam to laugh himself to this state… and the fact that his brother was enjoying this just as much as he was only made the moment that much sweeter.

Nevertheless, he knew he had to let up soon. So as a final gift, he pressed a big raspberry right into the younger’s naval, eliciting a loud shriek, followed by high pitched, boyish laughter.

After a few more raspberries, Dean pulled away and ruffled Sam’s hair, a cheeky but warm grin on his face.

“Alright, alright… I think you learned your lesson.” He chuckled, sitting beside the younger hunter and watching him catch his breath. Despite the tickling having stopped, Sam was still giggling from the phantom tickles. Still… he couldn’t deny that it felt nice.

“You’re such a jerk…” Sam muttered, a goofy grin still glued to his face.

Dean rolled his eyes, holding up his hand, which had some redness and skin peeling. “You caused me legitimate pain.”

“You put itching powder in my pants!”

…

“Fair enough.”

Though the prank war was far from over, Sam had certainly learned to dial it back a bit…

“De, De, De, De-”

“What, Sammy?” Dean grumbled, barely looking up from his comic book to address his little brother. Dean rarely ever got time to him since he’s supposed to look after his little brother, Sam. And whenever it seemed like he finally got a moment of peace, that little boy with puppy dog eyes was right there.

Sam, unaware of his brother’s mild annoyance, shouted “Play!”

Part of Dean wanted to snap and tell Sam to go away, but he knew he couldn’t… he didn’t wanna make the kid cry or anything. So instead, he begrudgingly sighed and set his comic book aside, giving the younger his undivided attention.

“What do you wanna play, kid?”

Sam’s eyes lit up, utterly ecstatic that the older boy agreed to play with him. The sight alone was precious enough to tell Dean that he made the right decision. “Hmm…” Sam hummed, tapping his chin before his head perked up. “Hide’n seek!”

Dean groaned at that. Every time Sam wanted to play, it was almost ALWAYS hide and seek… “Again?”

The grumbly question caused Sam to deflate. He knew this was serious… he had to pull out his ultimate weapon.

He very subtly stuck out his lower lip, furrowing his brows and widening his eyes just enough, looking at his brother through his long lashes. It was his trademark puppy dog expression.

“Pweeeease?” He whined, clasping his hands together pleadingly.

At the sight of that dreaded puppy dog look, Dean felt his irritation shatter, replaced with extreme guilt… he knew the kid was playing him like a fiddle, but he just couldn’t help it. The puppy dog eyes were just too powerful.

“Fine…” He huffed, but then a small smirk tugged at his lips as he got an idea… “but let’s make it interesting.”

The younger Winchester tilted his head curiously. What could possibly make hide and seek more interesting than it already was?

“If I find you, I get to tickle you.”

Oh… that’s what.

Sam’s eyes shot wide open and he immediately burst into giggles at the prospect “H-Huh?! But-”

But nothing. Dean didn’t give the younger boy any time to protest before putting his hands over his eyes and counting.

“One… two… Better hide, Sammy… the clock is ticking.”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled away, trying not to giggle too much. Where could he hide?! The motel room didn’t have nearly enough spots! With stakes this high, Sam needed the best hiding spot ever!

“Five… six…”

Crap!!!

Without a second thought, Sam dived under the bed right in front of Dean. Genius, right? Why on earth would he check there? He put his hands over his mouth and tried to hold his breath, his heart racing with excitement.

“Nine… Ten! Ready or not, here I come!”

The older Winchester uncovered his eyes and scanned the room, not seeing the kid immediately like he usually did. But then his gaze wandered back to the bed in front of him and he saw something in his peripheral… two little feet sticking out from under the bed.

Of course… Dean had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing at his younger brother’s frankly pathetic attempt at hiding. He was always hiding in plain sight with some body part sticking out. Nevertheless, Dean always drew it out, just to let the little guy think he had a chance.

“Aw, man… I wonder where Sammy is. He’s not in any of his usual spots.” He thought out loud, taking a few steps away from the bed.

The boy giggled quietly, his little toes scrunching with anticipation. Dean huffed at the sight, trying not to laugh at the painfully obvious hiding spot. He circled back around, crouching down in front of Sam’s feet. With a mischievous grin, he swiped a finger down the tiny sole. The younger boy squeaked and tugged his foot under the bed, causing Dean to finally let out a chuckle before getting back into character.

“AHA!” He exclaimed, wrapping his hands around Sam’s other ankle and pulling him out from under the bed and into his lap, delighting in the loud squeal that escaped the kid.

“I found you! Now I get to tickle you!” Dean growled playfully, hastily scuttling his fingers up Sam’s sides and onto his ribs, eliciting happy laughter from his baby brother.

“EEK! Noooo! Dehehee!” Sam squealed, kicking and squirming in his brother’s lap as the tingly sensation attacked his nerves.

Man… why was Dean so grumpy about playing with his little brother? He couldn’t be happier right now. The boy’s joyous reactions easily rub off on the elder, melting his heart and making him join in on the laughter.

“Jeez, Sammy… did you get more ticklish?” He snorted, scratching gently at the kid’s armpits, laughing even louder when the boy screeched and slammed his arms to his sides, writhing uncontrollably.

“Deeee! N-No fahahair!” Sam gave a giggly whine, his laughter bouncing off the walls of the small motel room. He loved it when Dean tickled him… it made him feel almost overwhelmingly joyful.

“Oh, it’s plenty fair… rules are rules, squirt!” He chuckled, moving to bury his face in the crook of his brother’s neck, nuzzling the soft skin and listening to the happy squeaks and giggles.

Getting a devilish idea, Dean sucked in a sharp breath and blew a raspberry into Sam’s neck, gently digging into his tummy at the same time, creating a deadly tickle combo.

Sam let out a shriek before bursting into high pitched cackles, which eventually dulled down and went silent. That, along with his cherry red face indicated that it was time to stop.

Dean slowed his fingers and ceased the raspberries, laughing as he rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms protectively around the kid, giving him a squeeze.

“You okay, Sammy?” He chuckled, rubbing the boy’s belly to help ease the after tickles.

Sam, still giggling, nodded his head, his dimpled cheeks still rosy, but gradually going back to their normal color.

“Uh-huh… you a really good tickler, De.” He hummed, a sleepy lilt to his voice.

Dean’s heart melted once more… it was a silly compliment, but it felt like high praise to Dean. He cherished the little boy in his lap, and when he got to make him happy like this, nothing felt better.

“Thanks, buddy… you sound a bit sleepy.”

“Am not…” The younger whined, though he nestled further into Dean’s arms, enjoying the cuddle time. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, right. How about we read that comic book together?” He offered, knowing Sam would fall asleep instantly.

Sam yawned, about to hesitate before he gave in, nodding. “Comic book…”

Without further questions, Dean hoisted his little brother into his arms and set him on the bed, following after him and pressing his back against the headboard before finally tucking the kid into his side, a protective arm slung around his shoulder.

The small motel room glowed with playful energy as the two brothers wrestled on one of the beds, the elder easily overpowering the younger. Unsurprisingly, their father, John, was off on a hunt, leaving Dean to care for his four-year-old brother. 

Of course, with Dean as his only companion, Sam was bound to get bored, so he’d end up picking fights with his big brother, even though he knew he was likely to lose.

As predicted, their little scuffle ended with Dean carefully straddling Sam’s hips, pinning his arms above his head with one hand, while the other formed a claw shape and hovered above the younger’s stomach.

“I’m gonna get you, Sammy!” Dean growled, his fingers wiggling just above the kid’s tummy.

“Nooo, go away, De!” Sam protested, already giggling up a storm.

“Nuh-uh! You asked for it, little brother! Now the tickle monster’s gonna getcha!”

The playful threat made little Winchester squeal, shaking his head as excitement filled his laughter.

“Eeek!! No tickle monster! Hehehe!”

The sight of his younger brother tittering with excitement made Dean’s heart melt, completely overwhelmed with affection. This is how he wanted Sam to feel all the time—happy, giddy, and without a care in the world. He would do anything to keep the kid in this joyous state.

“Yes, tickle monster! He’s coming for you, Sammy-boy!” Dean’s fingers halted their movements momentarily as he pinched the hem of Sam’s shirt, slowly lifting it to reveal the soft skin of his belly. The gesture caused Sam’s eyes to widen, and his laughter spiked in anticipation, his little body wriggling as if he were already being tickled. The reaction made Dean’s grin widen.

“Ooh, giggling already? You know… that only makes the tickle monster wanna strike even more!”

“Dehehee!! Pleeeease!!”

To anyone else, that might have sounded like a plea for mercy—a little kid desperate for his brother to stop and let him go. But Dean knew his little brother better than anyone, and those pleas? They weren’t for him to stop—no, no—they were for him to keep going.

“Alright, alright… you want me to quit teasing?”

The response was a little nod. The kid just wanted Dean to stop with the anticipation and teasing… he wanted the real deal!

“No more teasing, De!” Sam huffed, his cheeks already flushed with both laughter and embarrassment.

Dean replied with a simple “Okay,” before releasing Sam’s wrists and using both hands to hover over the kid’s exposed tummy, fingers wiggling menacingly as before. What the elder did next caused the younger’s eyes to widen and his giggles to pick back up.

“Five… four…”

Dean started to count down, his fingers slowly lowering with each number.

Sam squeaked and started to flail, using his now freed hands to grab onto his older brother’s wrists, though he didn’t have the strength to push them away. If the anticipation wasn’t strong before, it sure as hell was now.

“De, nohoho!” Sam pleaded emptily, his expression glowing with giddiness. But Dean didn’t stop, his fingers lowering even more as he reached zero.

“Two… two and a half…” His hands were now centimeters above the quivering skin, but he stopped wiggling, simply holding them still. The room went silent as Sam held his breath, his gaze locked onto Dean’s hands.

Then suddenly, Dean shouted, “ONE!!” before gently digging his fingers into Sam’s soft tummy, causing the younger to shriek and burst into high-pitched laughter, writhing and kicking under the sudden attack.

“EEK!! Dehehehe, noooo!!” Sam cackled, his brown hair whipping back and forth as he shook his head.

Dean couldn’t hold back a chuckle of his own, his heart swelling at how adorable his little brother looked.

“Grrr! The tickle monster’s got you now, Sammy! There’s no escaping his wrath!” he teased, skittering his blunt nails all over the boy’s lower belly. Each poke, scratch, and scribble left the little Winchester in further hysterics, his cheeks a rosy shade, decorated with those precious little dimples that never failed to bring a smile to Dean’s face.

How could one little boy hold so much weight in a person’s life? Despite the darkness that engulfed the world outside, each little giggle from the boy seemed to fill their small motel room with balls of sunshine.

Dean paused the tickles momentarily to give the kid a chance to breathe.

“Hey, Sammy… y’know what would make this even better?” he asked with a smirk, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“W-What?” Sam tilted his head innocently, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he continued to giggle.

In a blur of motion, Dean grabbed Sam’s wrists in each hand and pinned them on either side of him.

“Raspberries!”

Sam’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he couldn’t get a single word out before his brother’s lips connected with his belly, blowing a loud, messy raspberry into the soft skin.

The younger let out a shrill shriek and tugged at his arms, his legs kicking wildly in every direction. His laughter was loud and infectious, able to melt even the coldest of hearts. Maybe if their father could hear it, it could even melt his…

After some time, Dean relented, not wanting to kill his little brother with tickles. He sat beside the giggling child, rubbing his tummy to ease the leftover tickles.

“You alright, Sammy?” he asked, just to be sure, his fingers instinctively moving to run through Sam’s soft, brown hair.

Sam opened his mirthfully teary eyes, looking up at his big brother with utmost admiration. He nodded tiredly, leaning into the elder’s hand.

“Uh-huh… that was fun, De.”

The response made Dean smile warmly, his chest tightening. He leaned down to press a tender kiss to his brother’s forehead.

“Yeah, it was. But I bet you’re tired now, huh?”

That made Sam pout a bit. “I’m not—” he was cut off by his own yawn, signaling that he was indeed tired.

He averted his gaze, smiling timidly. “Maybe a little…”

Dean snorted, shaking his head in exasperation.

“You’re such a dork.” He grinned, affectionately ruffling Sam’s hair before pulling him into his lap.

“I think Scooby-Doo is on right now… you wanna sit on the couch and eat ice cream while we watch it?”

The offer made Sam’s eyes light up, and he quickly shot up, ecstatic.

“Yes!!” he exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

The giddy response coaxed a laugh out of Dean as he stood up, playfully slinging Sam over his shoulder and walking them over to the couch.

“Alright, alright! Someone’s excited!”

Sam squealed as Dean plopped him onto the couch before following suit, pulling the kid close to his side.

“Now, you stay here while I grab us some ice cream… then we’ll watch as much Scooby-Doo as you want.”

Sam giggled and gave his brother a big hug. “Love you, De!”

The simple display of affection caught Dean off guard, and he froze momentarily before wrapping his arms around the smaller boy, giving him a squeeze.

“I-I love you too, Sammy…”

And so, the Winchester brothers spent the rest of the afternoon snuggled up under a blanket, sharing a bowl of ice cream, laughing at the cartoon dog getting into mischief and occasionally helping catch the bad guys.