Summary: The only thing that stands between John Winchester and sleep is getting two boys to bed in a yet another crappy motel room. Wee!Chesters oneshot.
This is pretty much fluff. Dean is 14, Sam is 10.
Obviously Supernatural is not mine.
John Winchester was tired. It was too damn late to still be driving. They were supposed to have been at Bobby's by dinnertime, but now it was past midnight and he was still 200 miles from Sioux Falls.
Yesterday they'd had to stop for a flat tire that took two hours to replace. John had decided on taking a shortcut, but it was turning out to be anything but. They'd been up since six that morning, but had still gotten caught in traffic around Omaha, and later a bad thunderstorm had forced them to pull over for a while. John yawned. He was getting too old for this.
The Impala's windows were rolled down, and the summertime droning of crickets could be heard even above the rumble of the engine. He'd taken the back roads, and hadn't seen another car in thirty minutes.
The boys were both asleep. Sammy was sacked out in the back seat and had been ever since they'd got back on the road after dinner. Dean had fallen asleep an hour ago, in midsentence. His endless chatter had been keeping John awake, and now that the kid was asleep, it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He almost turned the radio on, but he didn't want to wake his boys up.
Twenty minutes later, the lights of a small town came into view. John was stopping at the first motel he saw even if it was the freaking Marriot. Thankfully, he was rewarded with the welcome sight of the cheap, crummy motel he preferred. The lights were still on. Home sweet home.
He rolled to a stop in front of it and turned off the engine. Dean mumbled something, but neither of the boys woke up.
Inside, a teenager a few years older than Dean greeted him half-heartedly.
"Got two queens?" John grumbled.
The kid shrugged. "Doubles okay? It's either that or one queen."
John hesitated. For just a quick overnight, he knew Sam and Dean wouldn't usually object to sharing. But they would defiantly object to sharing if it was a double bed and subsequently smaller. He'd been down that road a few times before.
But it was late, and the last thing John wanted to do was to get back in the car and find another motel. They'd probably be too tired to notice anyway. "Yeah, sure."
He paid quickly and headed back out to the car. Dean woke up when he started the engine again. "Dad, we stopping?" he asked, looking around.
John nodded. "It's too late to keep going tonight. Got a motel." He drove up to their room and parked in front.
"Yeah, Bobby probably wouldn't be too happy if we showed up at four A.M." Dean said, smirking.
John killed the engine and they both climbed out, John going to the trunk and Dean going to the side door to wake up Sam. "Yo, Sammy, wake up, man. We're stopping."
John couldn't see his youngest, but he knew from experience that he would be rubbing his eyes and blinking at Dean like an owl. And probably looking like he was six years old instead of ten.
"Are we at Uncle Bobby's yet, Dean?"
"No, kiddo, it's like one in the morning. We stopped at a motel," Dean answered.
A moment later he came around the back with Sam in tow and wordlessly accepted the duffle John gave him. Ten years of late-night motel stops had taught John to pack light, and he only took what he needed inside. One bag packed with changes of clothes and the necessary toiletries and one bag packed with the shotgun and the nine mil, plus plenty of ammo, salt and holy water.
He left the boys just outside while he did a quick check of the room. It was clear. Once they were inside, Sam made a beeline for the nearest bed and sat down with his head in his hands. John hoped desperately that there wouldn't be any tears. When he was overtired, Sammy could cry at the drop of a hat.
Thankfully, Dean had already noticed and was rummaging around for Sam's pajamas. "Hey, go take a shower first, Sam." He tossed him a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt.
Sam shook his head. "Too tired, just gonna brush my teeth."
John breathed a sigh of relief. It had been worse when they were younger. Most nights he had ended up with a crying baby and a six year old on the verge of tears who usually succumbed. He was so lucky to have Dean. Somehow he just always knew what to do.
"Thanks, Dean." He found one of the salt containers in the weapons bag and set about pouring it in front of the door.
Dean shrugged. John heard him digging around in one of the bags. "Hey, Dad?" he said after a minute.
"Yeah?"
"These double beds?"
John looked his shoulder. Half the clothes in the bag were strewn across the bed, but Dean had found some pajamas. He was staring ruefully down the bed in half disgust.
"That's all they had, Dean." He realized that Dean hadn't been complaining and felt guilty about snapping at him. "Sorry," he added.
Dean shrugged again. "That's okay, it's just one night. Hopefully Sammy'll be too tired so he won't kick me like he usually does." He grabbed the other container of salt and started the line in front of the window.
They were nearly done when Sam emerged from the bathroom.
"Dean, go ahead," John said. Sam dumped his clothes into the mess Dean had made on the bed once Dean brushed past him. "Get some sleep, kiddo. We're getting an early start tomorrow."
"'Kay." Same unceremoniously flopped down on the bed furthest from the door on the far side. The safest spot and Sam's assigned spot. "Goodnight, Dad."
"'Night, Sammy." John finished monster-proofing the room just as Dean was done, having opted to shower in the morning like Sam. John found some clothes in the pile on the bed and headed off into the bathroom.
The thin, cheap walls let him hear everything coming from the other room.
"All they had was double beds, so stay on your side, okay Sam?"
There was a grumbled response from Sam, something like whatever. Then, "Stop taking all the covers, Dean!"
A few moments later he heard Dean yelp. "Dang it, Sam, don't put your feet on me unless you've got socks on. Freaking icicles down there!"
John turned on the shower, the sound blocking out the sound of whatever bickering came next. It was quiet by the time he turned it off.
When he exited the bathroom, he was unable to stop the slow smile from spreading across his face at the sight of his sons. The lamp was still on, and on the small bed they were practically snuggled up together. It wouldn't be too long before they'd be too big to do that. Sam was on his side, facing away from Dean but practically touching him. His oldest was on his back, one arm thrown protectively over Sam. He could hear deep, even breathing from Sam but knew Dean wouldn't go to sleep until he did.
Dean had shoved all the clothes back into the duffle, and John tossed his dirty clothes on top of it. He'd deal with it in the morning.
He switched off the light and climbed into bed, fatigue hitting him hard. He was almost asleep when he heard the rustle of sheets from the other side of the room and soft grunt from Dean.
"You okay?" he asked, not bothering to open his eyes.
"Sam kicked me," Dean muttered. "He moves around more when he's asleep than when he's awake. Freaking double beds, Dad. You can sleep with him next time."
He heard Dean shifting around to get comfortable again. Finally, after a few minutes, deep breathing let him know that both boys were asleep. John propped himself up on one elbow, straining his eyes in the dark. Dean had rolled over, and for all his irate words earlier, he was curled protectively around Sam now.
What on earth had he done to deserve these kids?
He lay back down, drifting off to sleep and no longer as tired as he had been.
In the darkness, John Winchester cracked a grin.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading, please review!