A small OS about another day in the life of Dean and Sam Winchester.

Sometimes, when he returns to that crappy motel room of theirs at something like three or four in the morning, Dean walks on Sam already asleep, the sheets a little bit everywhere, his feet peeking up at the end of the small bed, just breathing.

In those occasions, Dean closes the door slowly, removes his shoes, stumbles because of the alchool, and sits on his own bed, his elbows on his knees, and stares.

And looks.

And watches.

Sam's chest rises and falls peacefully, his lips slightly parted, calm, at rest, and it's freaking the best thing in the world.

Sam is not worried. Sam does not frowns. Sam doesn't cry. Sam doesn't worry about anything when he sleeps like that.

He got his left leg warped up in one of the sheets and his left arm is stuck under the pillow, the right one close to him, like he would hug a teddy bear or something like he was little.

Dean snorts. Sam being little, at least physically, is a vague souvenir and Dean watches some more as Sam's eyes move a bit during his dream, as his hair falls on his brow and eyebrows and he nudge his nose some more into the pillow, like he could disapear into it. He always sleeps like that, like he acts when he's awake : a bit self-concerned, wanting to disapear into whatever there is to disapear into, kind of shy and humble.

Dean then feels his own eyes closing slowly, but he makes himself stay awake, he can't go to sleep just yet.

Sometimes Sam has his back face to his bed, but it's really rare. When it happens, Dean waits for him to turns around. Sam does almost immediatly, like he could feel his big brother wathing over him, and he felt something comfortable in that direction, way more comfortable than this crappy bed and this crappy pillow.

Dean makes sure he's okay, he doesn't know why, but when he's drunk like that and Sam's sleeping, he thinks it's some kind of super important mission, and it is, his eyes still closing and opening and closing and-

And opening.

Still two legs, two arms, a nose, hair, hands. Torso intact, a clean black shirt, feet, and-

At this point he can barely stay vertical. He removes his phone from his pocket who flashes him with a few messages from Sam

Where are you?

Don't be too late

Dean it's 1 am

Dean

Deaaaann

Get your ass back at the motel you moron you 'll have a headache tomorrow

Seriously

he never answered in the bar because he knew Sam knew he read them. So he'd stay a little longer, lost in his drink and his train of though.

Then he would eventually get back. Looking. Watching.

Dean falls on his back, unable to stay any longer with his two eyes open, the bed under him making little noise. He doesn't even try to put the covers on him, he just lays there, eyes closed. He falls asleep like that, his two feet not even on the bed, exhausted.

When he wakes up in the morning, he is facing Sam and Sam is facing him.

What did you think? I'm sorry if I made any mistakes, English is not my first language.

Have a great day/night! Thanks for passing by!