Dean Winchester is a Pushover ☆ Supernatural

Character/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Wincest
Prompt: Feathers
Date Written: 01/06/2010

The sound of the door clicking and the jingle of keys had become all too familiar. His father was off again and he was left to make sure Sammy was tended to. Young green eyes slid away from the locked entrance and came to rest on the back of his younger brother.

Little Sammy was clutching a plain sippy cup between his chubby hands, fingers still too clumsy for a big boy mug. His own hazel eyes glittered from the flickering images on a television screen. He rocked a bit as he sat, restless nerves playing out the last of their energy. At least, that was what Dean was hoping for. It’d be difficult to help Pastor Jim put him to bed if he was still energetic.

“Dean?” The voice came as a surprise and he realized he’d spaced out.

“Sorry Sammy. What’s up?” He replied, rubbing his own chubby cheeks softly.

The smaller was staring at him with a blank expression, showing no sign of uttering so much as a whisper. Dean simply held his eyes for a long while until finally, he shifted. Wobbling as he used his hands to lift his little body, Sam soon stood before him with the sippy cup dangling in his fingers. He took a long while as he seemed to study either part of the couch that rested beside the elder.

Dean opened his mouth, ready to ask the obvious question when Sammy finally reached out to his brother; a big, goofy grin plastered against slightly crooked baby teeth. “Up!”

A quiet smile tiptoed its way onto his lips and he outstretched his own arms, gesturing back. Taking that extra step forward, Sam raised his arms a bit as Dean hauled him off the floor and into his lap. Once let go, Sam flopped about until he finally settled between Dean’s crossed legs. His eyes returned to the TV, pressing his sippy cup into his thigh as he leaned forward to point.

Dean didn’t fully understand what he’d said, the words too fast and too slurred but he was pretty sure Sammy was trying to explain what was going on in his cartoon.

Wrapping his arms around the tiny form, Dean gave him a quick and firm hug before he relaxed and settled; his hold now a loose embrace. Resting his chin on top of his head, his own eyes soon fell upon the television.

However, his mind wasn’t completely on the hand drawn action.

He wiggled his nose a bit and reached up to brush some of Sammy’s hair down. The soft strands were tickling his nose a bit too much to be comfortable. As he patted it down, he noted just how feather like it was. Reached up to his own, he brush at his bangs. It just didn’t have the same appeal. Maybe it was a toddler thing. Then again, Sammy had always had really soft hair, hadn’t he? So maybe it was just a Sammy thing.

A noise of protest came from his lap and Dean couldn’t help but indulge it. “What?”

Sam wasn’t looking at him but was instead reaching his arms out to the hand that was currently back flattening the younger’s hair down. Figuring that was what was bugging him, he stopped and held his hand out as if to show ‘alright, I’m not touching it’. However, Sam’s eyes following the movement and still he reached for it.

Curiously, Dean lowered it and presented it to him. Immediately, Sammy dug his fingers into the sleeve of his brother’s pajama shirt and pulled. Dean allowed his arm to be guided until Sam had it placed in a very specific location: back around himself.

It was a tugged a bit uncomfortably for Dean so he went to shift only to be met with clamped down fingers and another whiney noise.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sammy.” Dean replied. What reason did he really have to leave, even if he’d wanted to?

As if he wasn’t fully convinced, Sammy’s grip tightened just the slightest. This time, he tried to look back at Dean but nobody wasthat flexible.

Easily defeated, Dean gave the boy a quick squeeze and tickled his sides just enough to emit a thrilled giggle. The grip loosened and Dean felt Sammy’s sippy cup fall against his own leg. Cuddling himself back into a more comfortable position, Dean rested his chin on top of Sammy’s head once more and smiled as the boy settled back peacefully to watch his cartoon.

With a mini furnace pressed between his arms, curled around him in an unconscious, protective manner … Dean had never felt so at peace.

He found himself hoping that every night, for the rest of their lives, it would end like this. Just a moment, no matter how busy a day was. Just him, Sammy and a television set.

What a bright future that would turn out to be.

FIN ★ ☆ ★ Constructive critique always welcome!

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