As dawn broke over an unnamed town in America, the sky was streaked with pink and yellow. On the edge of the town, the rising sun crept lazily through the open window of a hotel room. It was nothing fancy; just two beds, a wooden table, and a small bathroom, but for Sam and Dean, it was heaven compared to the shady motels they usually dealt with.
Their bags were still piled by the doorway, having been abandoned at the sight of a clean shower the night before. A plaid shirt lay forgotten on the otherwise untouched bed closest to the door.
The other bed was occupied by the brothers who were fast asleep, curled up on top of the rumpled sheets like a pair of overgrown puppies. Dark circles under both of their eyes suggested that this was the first uninterrupted night of sleep they had had in a while and that neither of them would be waking up in a hurry.
A light breeze came through a gap in the hotel window, running its light fingers through their hair like an indulgent guardian. Clad in nothing but pajama pants, and with their faces smoothed by sleep, the Winchesters seemed, for once, at peace. (Although, one of Dean's arms wound underneath his pillow with his hand closed around a pistol.)
Sometime during the night, Sam had nestled against Dean's side, tangling their legs together and prompting Dean to turn towards him. The elder Winchester's free arm was thrown over Sam's torso protectively. It was reminiscent of their childhood, albeit much more cramped. More importantly, it was really warm.
The curtains had been yanked closed the night beforehand, but persistent gusts of wind fluttered past the thin fabric to brush across Sam's sleeping face, where it was partly nestled in the crook of Dean's neck. The younger Winchester scrunched his nose and buried his face deeper into his brother's chest, his week old stubble grazing bare skin. Dean shifted away and made to turn over, but Sam shivered and clung on insistently. As if instinctually sensing Sam's discomfort, Dean tightened his arm around his brother and rested his chin on top of Sam's head.
Minutes passed, and the only sound that could be heard in the room was the rhythmic in and out of their breaths. Dean slowly relaxed, then nuzzled Sam's hair with a contented sigh. They curled even closer together as if the other would disappear in their sleep.
Their slow inhales and exhales filled the room as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. Soft rays of sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating the rise and fall of their chests. The Winchesters remained undisturbed in their slumber.
Then Dean's stomach gave an almighty growl.
Author's Note: WHY IS EVERYTHING THAT I WRITE CUDDLY AND FLUFFY? OAO I personally prefer to pretend that the Winchesters died and this is their heaven because all this sweetness is gonna ruin me.