Oh my gosh, I know some people have answered this WAY better than I ever could but njdsknfdskjfdksj I’ll give it a shot
Okay so Batcave. Gotta love the Batcave. The boys have their own rooms, because they’ve never had their legitimate own spaces before to roam around in, even though Sam spends the bulk of his time out in the library going through the infinite knowledge left there by the Men of Letters while Dean makes sure the kitchen is stocked with enough stuff to make decent dinners, and what he knows how to cook. And though they both love their own spaces, sometimes they’ll take one of the rooms that isn’t either of theirs, one that has two queens on either side of the room and sleep there just because that’s security. Being in the same room is security.
Sam keeps the books organized how they should be, and has updated the library with all of the stuff that John’s journal has, and all of the knowledge that he and Dean know with their heads put together so there’s some kind of an archive - some kind of something that proves they were there and living breathing human beings that did things to better the world in hopes that someone else in the future will find the information that they’ve left behind and use it for the greater good. Meanwhile Dean takes to checking out the mechanics of the bunker and just how the place stayed so incredibly intact over the years and nerds out over all of the artifacts like the weapontry.
House chores are pretty evenly split but Dean likes to keep certain things in certain spots so he’s in charge of that. But Sam’s the one that goes after him picking up socks and towels that Dean leaves hung over the backs of chairs or lying by their boots at the door. Dean handles the supply runs because he wants Sam to be able to relax as much as he can with the weight of the trials on his shoulders, and plus he’s the only one that buys the “right” kind of food anyway xD. And while Dean’s room was decorated with all the things he never felt he had the proper home to put them in, Sam’s room remained bare for a while until Dean got his hands on it.
Now it’s a space that screams “here rests a dork of a little brother”… and Sam kind of fondly loves it.
WAS THAT OKAY WAS THAT GOOD ANON???
oh god that was fun
this one is gonna stay just a few lines xD like they’re supposed to be omg
“I can’t believe you let McJagger hulk out on PCP!”
“How was I supposed to know that giving the thing some water was going to make it turn into a … that?!”
Dean’s face was exasperated, almost stunned. “Do you not watch TV?? Ever?!”
Sam scowled a little bit, feeling stupid for a split second under his brother’s judging look and muttered under his breath. “Considering how busy you keep me at night, I barely have time to shower anymore.”
Dean looked amusingly like a fish at that comment, his mouth dropping open and then shutting again. “Touche.”
“Samuel, Samuel, let down your hair!”
“Shut up, Dean!”
Dean barked out a laugh, cackling a little to himself. It wasn’t his fault that Sam had wanted to make some kind of a point and prove that he could climb up onto the roof all by himself. The fifteen year old was easily the most stubborn, pain in the ass kid that Dean believed existed, and all of Dean’s assurances that he was going to get his ass stuck up there had fallen on deaf ears.
And what happened? Sam had gotten his ass stuck up there.
“Would you grow a pair and get yourself down! Dude it’s getting cold out here!” Dean called up from his standing spot on the sidewalk below the roof overhang. Dad was going to be home anytime too, and if he came back to their rented home and found Sam on the roof on Dean’s watch, he knew there’d be hell to pay.
“Screw you! I’m … I’m working on it!” Sam yelled back, exasperated and, Dean could tell, nervous.
Dean grinned a little to himself and held up his arms, cocking one brow with a cocky smile. “Jump.”
Sam’s eyes widened, looking more like something out of a Disney movie than a live action human being. “Are you crazy?!”
Well… Dean shook away that thought and just held up his arms a little higher. “Dude, don’t be such a baby! I won’t let you fall-” Sam cut him off.
“Sammy, man, c’mon… trust me,” Dean spoke a little more seriously, looking at his younger brother with that expression that made Sam melt a little bit. He didn’t know how Dean did it, but he did. It took a little longer, but eventually, Sam shimmied off the low hanging roof edge and dropped his lanky body down.
Sure enough, Dean caught him with a grunt from the sudden impact, but managed to stay upright. Maybe Sam’s thoughts about his big brother as a five year old had been right. Maybe he was Superman afterall.
“See, toldja I’d catch you-” Dean grinned lopsidedly, all confidence and Sam just rolled his eyes, but looked visibly relieved to have his feet planted on the ground. Dean’s arms were still around his waist, and Sam leaned into him a little bit, looking up at him with a slowly forming, shy smile.
“You always do.”
I can’t even take these seriously anymore omg I’m crying
“Dean!” Sam’s voice came out high pitched and yippy, his little body legitimately jerking with the force of the squeak and that just made him pout more.
“Aw c’mon, Sammy, I think you look real high class-” The elder of the the two cocked his giant brown head to the side, his German Shepherd body three times the size of that of his brothers and boy was he happy about it.
They might be dogs but at least he got a sturdy member of the Working breed. Sam was a teacup poodle that looked more fit for a woman’s handbag then anything else.
Sam attempted to growl, but it came out sounding more akin to an unoiled door hinge then a dog, and yipped out a noise of petulant despair at his current situation.
Dean merely wagged his tail, ears flicking forward at the wiry little fuzzball on four legs. “You’re pretty enough that I’d do you if I didn’t think you’d explode.”
Routine was easy, but Dean hated it. It was drone, boring, pointless - all of the above. 8:30 AM - Breakfast. 9:15 AM - Arts and crafts. 10:15 AM - Rec Time. 11:00 - Group therapy. 12 PM - Lunch…
If he hated routine though, and the repetitive schedule he lived during his daily life, then he loathed group therapy. He wasn’t like the others, not one bit. He wasn’t like Dave Peterson, the guy that thought he heard the voice of Jesus, or Rick Thompson aka Mr. Happy Blades. Dean knew he was nothing like any of them. He wasn’t crazy, no matter what some crackpot psychiatrist said.
Sam wasn’t a paranoid delusion, he was real.
Dean knew everyone would realize it - the nurses, the doctors, his parents - if they could just see how real he was at night in Dean’s room when he crawled into his too small of a cot with him. Sam was warm, long and lean, with hair that flipped at the ends and fell in front of his face in an unkept fashion. He was beautiful, a work of moving art chiseled out of human flesh with the greatest laugh that Dean had ever heard.
Everyone would realize he was real if they saw the way the other boy’s hands curled into his hair, or how Dean’s fingers made claiming bruises on his hips, his lips leaving a trail of other different kinds of claiming marks along the line of his neck. They’d figure out that Sam was living and breathing if they heard Dean whisper how he’d die for the younger boy in a heartbeat, or Sam echo back sentiments of love and adoration.
Sam was real. He was so fucking real that he was the only thing that felt real.
Dean would never realize that in the middle of the night, as he lay clinging to Sam’s comforting frame on his cot, he was actually death gripping a pillow with both eyes closed, dreaming of the brother that had died in a nursery fire 22 year ago.
“Dammit, Sammy!” John cursed loudly, pulling the obnoxiously long brown tabby off his lap after he decided to dig his claws through the denim of John’s jeans. “This one’s got the biggest attitude with me-“
Rolling her eyes, Mary came over and plucked the youngest cat off her husbands lap and began to affectionately rub between the animal’s ears. “Maybe if you didn’t have such a firm hand with him, he’d like you better,” she mused and ticked her tongue. The older cat, Dean, meanwhile, had hopped up on the kitchen table and had placed his front paws on Mary’s stomach, enabling him to stretch and lick at Sam’s ear, purring happily and rubbing his head against the younger cat’s.
Mary watched the two interact, and ended up putting Sam on the table with Dean, curiously tilting her head. “I swear, you’d think Dean thought Sam was a girl.”
He was talented, sexy and dangerous, with all of the makings to be the next greatest rock god, and Sam couldn’t believe he was sitting in his dressing room. Dean Winchester’s dressing room.
Sam slid his fingers over the extra guitar, touching it with the same kind of awe that one might touch a religious relic, only yanking his hand back when he heard the door to the room swing open and jumped up to his feet, eyes going wide.
In the flesh right there in the doorway, with a guitar hanging loosely on a strap around his shoulders and tight black jeans that hugged every bulge and dip of his bowlegs, was Dean Winchester. Sam swallowed loudly, knowing that even with his VIP fan pass, he was in big trouble for getting caught in the lead guitarist and singers dressing room - he could get thrown out or worse…
“You gonna keep standing there with your mouth hangin’ open or are you gonna put it to good use, Stretch?” Dean smirked, flicking his eyes over Sam’s form and then down towards his own pelvis suggestively making Sam’s throat tighten and dry.
He was dreaming. He had to be freaking dreaming.
(Honestly I have no idea what this is and I don’t know if this is anything like what you were hoping for but I can always try again and fndsjfnkjsdfskj okay yeah this is awful but kind of subtly Wincest-y I suppose and oh god I’m gonna stop now)
It’s the way that Dean holds the rollie-pollie like bundle of soft pastel blanket that makes Sam wonder if his big brother was born to have a child in his arms. Sam’s not stupid when it comes to knowing the fact that the other man practically raised him from infancy to adulthood, but seeing it play out in front of him now with another baby is nothing but extraordinary.
Dean would surely and whole heartily disagree with Sam’s admiration of his parenting skills, so Sam decides to stay back in the door way where Dean can’t see him to watch from afar. It amazes him though, the way his big brothers arms instinctively held the little girl in a way to support her head, cradling her gently yet securely right up against his chest. You would have never guessed watching how Dean held her that those same hands had handled guns and fought villains much more than they should have. She seemed to agree because she’d fallen asleep without a fight right there in the elder Winchester’s arms, fingers curled tight around the leather chord of the amulet.
And even as she slept, Dean watched her. He was tired, Sam knew that, exhausted even, but content. There was some kind of silent and gentle peace that had fallen on his brothers features that he’d never seen before, like everything in the world wasn’t as bad as they were raised to believe. Dean had been up for hours, going between walking and sitting on the hood of the Impala while he carried the sleeping bundle as she seemed to only want to sleep in his embrace.
He didn’t blame her, really. Sam understood the comfortable lure of falling asleep snuggled into Dean’s chest, protected and guarded, with only the steady sound of his heartbeat as a lullaby or the deep rumble of his naturally husky voice as he talked. Dean was talking to her now, softly yet animatedly in only a way Dean could pull off. He was hardly regaling the fairytales of storybooks that normal fathers would tell their daughters, however, no, not Dean. He was telling her things similar to what Sam remembered hearing as a small child from a younger Dean’s mouth.
Nothing bad is ever gonna happen to you, I promise. You’re safe.
And Sam knew Dean would keep his promise to her, just like he had to him as a kid. He’d protect her with the same fierceness, the same steadfast determination, because that was who Dean was. His big brother had always been the knighted figure in his dreams that vanquished the monsters, the one that acted as a shield to the darkness. Even as an adult, Dean had continued his quest in trying to be that shield. And Sam knew without a doubt that he’d be exactly that to the little green eyed girl currently nestled in his arms.
Sam had to wonder though, looking at the pinched pink face of the little girl, if she’d watch Dean with the same awe and amazement that he caught himself doing. He wondered if she’d see him as her hero, just like he did, and if she’d tell him that. Of course she would, how could she not?
The little bundle, that Sam knew Dean already loved with the intensity that only Dean could pull off, would admire and love her daddy as much as Sam admired and loved his brother. And that was exactly how it should be.
Dean had never been the romantic kinda guy. He wasn’t into candle lit evenings or long strolls in the park, it was just never going to be him. When it came to wooing a woman for an evening, he didn’t need fancy parlor tricks, just a flawless smile and cheeky pick up line, maybe even some fantastic story about how he was a Hollywood producer looking for the next pretty face to plaster on billboards. He could write the book on one night stands, but Tom Hanks style romance? He was nothing if not clueless.
But despite not being a romantic guy, Dean had to admit that if some outsider was to look on what he and Sam were doing right now, they’d probably peg him for a dewy, sensitive kinda guy. It was sunset - the time of day when the sky is painted oranges and pinks and looks like something tropical even when you’re sitting in the middle of nowhere in some hick town in Nebraska.
They’d been driving all day before both boys had decided it was time for a break. Even without saying anything, Dean knew when his brother’s long legs were cramping to the point of being incredibly uncomfortable so he figured it was a fine excuse to break from their 16 hour driving haul across country. And somehow, they’d wound up on the hood of the Impala, Sam’s body leaning into Dean’s while the elders jawline rested lightly against the top of Sam’s head, his arm wound around his younger brothers waist. No matter how it looked, Dean would fight tooth and nail to make everyone believe it wasn’t cuddling.
Everything seemed calm, not just the scenery but the way Sam’s body felt against his own. He was relaxed, tension and stress gone from not only his body but his face too. And for a moment, things didn’t seem as shitty as they actually were. Sam was still the soft, hazel eyed little kid that Dean remembered. He’d never seen the horror that Dean knew he had, wasn’t blemished by darkness. He was just Sammy. Dean tightened his arm around the younger man’s waist unconsciously, desperate to keep him just like this.
“Dean-“ Sam spoke up, having noticed the change in his big brother the moment his arm had constricted around his waist. “Hey…” He turned his head up, eyes landing on Dean’s. “You okay?”
Dean nodded, eyes trained forward. He couldn’t protect Sam from something in his own mind, and that was the hell Sam was facing now. Despite Sam telling him that he was okay, that he knew what was real and what wasn’t real, Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t being truthful. The thoughts playing through Dean’s head obviously hadn’t been hidden well on his face, because Sam leaned up, forehead pressing lightly into Dean’s jaw. “Stop thinking.”
“That’s like tellin’ a fish not to be wet, Sam,” Dean snorted under his breath but relaxed a little bit as his brothers nose brushed along the underside of his jawline and up to his temple.
“I’m okay, Dean. Really. I know this is real … I couldn’t imagine something this good.”
Despite everything, and all the bad shit going out around them, Dean smiled.
Days of normalcy were few and far between for the Winchesters, especially with John constantly pulling his boys out of one school and shoving them into another within the same week. So when John had brought up the idea of letting his boys go to the local fair for the day, Dean had jumped on it without a question.
Of course, he’d forgotten that his little brother was the biggest dork in the entire universe.
If it had been up to the 13 year old, him and Sam would have spent half the day at the Stanislaus County Fair in the area where the food stands were. And then the other half of the day in the rides and games section where most people ended up puking up the food they’d previously inhaled.
John had given them a few hours of fun and what had Sam immediately gravitated towards? The freaking petting zoo. Where all the little uniform clad 4H losers kept their barnyard show pets. And of course there was no arguing with Sammy. Trying just earned the biggest puppy pout this side of the universe, so Dean had gone along with him, letting the little kid drag him into the barn to see all the animals.
It smelled downright disgusting, and Dean wrinkled his face at the idea of spending more then a few minutes in the animal house but tried to not ruin Sam’s fun, considering the 9 year old had lit up at the sight of the milk cows and horses. By the time they’d wound their way through all the pens of larger animals, Sam was practically buzzing.
Next animal up? Newborn yellow ducks.
If Dean had thought that his little brother had a thing for the large farm animals, then he’d had no idea how Sam would react to seeing newborn ducklings. The kid had moved into the pen with the handlers blessing and knelled down, patiently watching the little birds scamper around their pen until one of them was brave enough to move towards Sam.
But while Sam was watching the duck, Dean was watching Sam. The little boy didn’t move a muscle, just let the bird check him out and watch him before finally reaching forward slowly until he could cup his hands around the ducklings body and pick him up with a gentleness that couldn’t be taught.