This is set after the pilot. I would say 'spoilers for the pilot,' but if you haven't seen that yet, you really shouldn't even be here, so, y'know.
Just This Once
The waterworks were at it again.
Dean Winchester bit down on his bottom lip, his chest aching in protest to the muffled sobs and pitiful sniffles that sounded from the other side of the motel room. God, he hated this. Why did everything bad always have to find it's way to his brother? Couldn't they just have a little bit of peace for once?
He heard Sam mumbling incoherently into his pillow, mistakenly assuming that his older brother had already fallen asleep – murmured apologies and pleas for forgiveness. Dammit, you idiot, it wasn't your fault.
Dean wasn't sure whether he wanted to smack the kid or hug him. Maybe he could do both. The guy needed somebody to slap a bit of sense into him (and hope it managed to make it's way through his thick skull.)
But he couldn't do that. Not now. Not when Sam was so upset.
With a sigh, Dean reached his final decision. He rolled over onto his back, watching Sam's trembling form on the other bed. "Sammy," he called softly, and the effect was immediate. The sobs were silenced. Sam became still, his impressively even breathing reaching Dean's ears.
Damn, I taught you a little too well, kid.
"Sam," Dean growled. "I know you're not asleep. Get your ass over here. Now."
A few moments passed in silence, the hum of the AC buzzing gently at them.
"Sorry," Sam finally replied, voice hoarse. "Didn't mean to wake you. I'll be quiet."
"I said get your ass over here, right fucking now, before I change my mind." Sam turned puffy, red-rimmed eyes to his brother, looking more like a lost puppy than he had as a five year old – and that was saying something. Hesitantly, the younger of the two shuffled out of his bed and made his way cautiously to Dean's. He stood uncertainly beside the bed, waiting to hear whatever it was that his brother had to say...
...and was rather surprised when Dean grabbed his wrist, pulling him down into a sitting position on the rock-hard mattress.
"Lie down, princess," Dean ordered, setting himself up with his back against the headboard. "Sleep. You need it."
"You do, too," Sam mumbled once he got over his shock, pulling the covers uncomfortably over his torso.
"You need it more, so shut up and close your eyes."
Several minutes of complete quiet passed with Sam allowing several silent tears to fall onto his pillow, and Dean kindly pretending he hadn't noticed.
If Sam pressed his face into Dean's stomach, soaking his shirt with salty tears, neither of them mentioned it the next morning.
Because maybe, just maybe, Dean slung his own arm around the kid's shoulders and let him have his chick-flick moment.
Just this once.