"Daddy?"
"Not now, Sammy."
Sam tugged on his daddy's sleeve. "Daddy, Dean's crying."
"I hear him."
"Wha' do I do?"
His daddy finally looked up. "He's probably dirty, Sammy."
"But he didn't play outside."
Daddy heaved a sigh. "His diaper, Sammy."
"Oh." Sam thought back to the times he'd seen Mommy change Dean's diaper. "I'll do it."
Daddy didn't notice, just took another drink from his bottle. Sam padded over to Dean, lying in a nest of blankets on the floor.
"It's okay, Dean, I'll take care of you," he promised. He grabbed Dean's bag and pulled out a diaper and wipes.
He carefully undid Dean's diaper, wrinkling his nose at the smell. "Gross," he said petulantly. "Why'd you do that?"
Dean had stopped crying and was staring at him, hiccuping a little. Sam used a bunch of wipes and threw everything away, carefully wiping his hands when he was done.
He turned back to Dean and shrieked.
"No, Dean! Daddy, help! He's peeing everywhere!"
Daddy came barreling into the room, face like thunder. Sam shrank back as Daddy stood over the two of them.
"Sammy, what did you do?!"
"I'm sorry, I was trying to help," Sam sobbed.
His daddy made a noise of disgust. "Look at this mess. Sammy, go get Dean some new clothes while I get him in the bath."
Tears streaming down his face, Sam obeyed, quietly handing Daddy Dean's clothes when prompted.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again once Dean was cleaned up and tucked back into his nest made from new blankets.
Daddy sighed again, wiping a hand over his face. "Be more careful next time," he said.
"Yessir." Sam waited until Daddy had gone back to his bottle before curling up next to Dean on his nest. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'll do better next time," he promised. "I won't mess up ever again."
"Dean!" Sam roared. "Hang on!"
"That is what I'm doing!" Dean called back. He hitched his arms a little more securely around the tree trunk. Below him, the river raged for his blood. At least, that's what it sounded like to Dean's ears. On the other side of the river bank, Sam was dancing around the possessed porcupine—no really, a possessed porcupine—leaving Dean to dangle.
"C'mon, Sammy! My arm's sore!"
Dean got a flash of disbelief for a second before worry re-encompassed his brother's face. "Dean, can't you get your legs around it?"
"Not all of us do yoga, big brother."
"It's not yoga, it's taichi—never mind." Sam delicately balanced as he walked across the fallen tree. He reached Dean and straddled the tree like it was a horse.
"What's your plan here?" Dean asked, grunting as his trembling arms slipped a little. "You can't lift me up on your own."
Sam's face had the deep scowl that made him look constipated. "If I grab one of your arms, would you be able to twist around so you can get your torso on the tree?"
"We better try before I lose my grip," Dean said.
Sam leaned over, gripping Dean's forearm.
"You secured?" Dean checked.
"Good. Go for it."
With a hiss of pain as his aching hand released the trunk, Dean scrambled to grab onto Sam's wrist. His brother's grip was almost painful in how tight it was.
"One, two, three," Sam grit out, yanking upwards on three. The momentum was enough that Dean was able to twist awkwardly half-over the top. Sam released his arm and grasped his middle, heaving up like he had when Dean was five and wanted to get up on the jungle gym.
"Okay, I'm good, dude."
Even so, Sam still hovered until Dean was seated firmly on the tree. Dean glanced behind Sam in preparation to scoot towards solid ground.
"Sam, the porcupine!"
Sam yelped as the possessed forest animal deliberately swept its tail towards him. The porcupine overbalanced itself, and toppled towards the water below, but not before getting a few quills into Sam. It was Dean's turn to steady his brother as Sam reflexively pulled away and became unbalanced.
"The porcupine," Sam said.
Dean rolled his eyes. "No, we couldn't save your new friend. Can we focus on getting back and getting those pokey things out of your back?"
"Pokey things?" Sam asked. He began edging backwards, every movement making him wince.
"They poked you, didn't they?"
"I figured that was a euphemism you used with girls."
"Please, Sammy, I'm classier than that."
Sam paused in his scooting to raise an eyebrow at Dean. Dean flushed a little. "Okay, yes, I have used that, but that isn't what I was going for here."
His brother huffed a laugh. "You are something, kid."
"I'm eighteen, Sammy. Not a kid." Dean winced at how petulant he sounded. That wouldn't help his argument.
"Practically an old man." Sam was blabbering more than usual—which definitely meant he was in pain. Dean focused on staying balanced until he was on his own feet.
"Okay, how 'bout you let me look at your back?"
"Only if you let me look at your hands first," Sam countered.
Dean scowled. "The protective big brother gig is getting old, dude. You have freakin' quills in your back. I just have a few splinters."
"In the hands you'd be using to pull quills out of my back." Sam smirked, obviously thinking he'd won the argument. Dean tried to come up with a counter-argument, but as usual he'd been outplayed by his older brother.
"Fine," he conceded. "Are we doing this here?"
Sam shook his head. "As long as you can drive, we should get back to the motel. It's already getting dark."
Dean eyed Sam dubiously. "You can walk with those things in your back?"
"Well enough. I can't bend over to get the weapons bag, so that's all you."
By the time the drive back was over, Sam was pale and sweaty where he was turned halfway in the seat. Dean hustled him into the motel and went to pick at the quills, but Sam stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Your hands," he demanded.
Sam was unstoppable in this mode. Dean grit his teeth and acquiesced. Even in pain, Sam's care managed to be gentle. Sometimes Dean hated his brother for being so compassionate and caring. It made him feel like a brute in comparison.
"Your turn," he was finally able to demand.
Sam carefully lay down on his stomach, leaving Dean to grimace at the painful looking quills. "Grit your teeth, dude. This is gonna hurt."
He pulled them out using pliers. The punctures oozed a little, and Dean carefully cleaned them out and slathered antibacterial ointment over the whole area.
"Why on earth did that spirit want to even possess a porcupine?" Sam mumbled. He tended to ramble on all kinds of stuff whenever he crashed after an injury.
"Got me, Sammy."
"You okay? It was a long drop. I thought I might not be able to make it in time." Something dark entered Sam's voice, and Dean saw him clench one hand in the bedding. "I thought you might fall."
"I'm good." Dean hated how his brother took responsibility for every little thing. "It's not like you could've done anything differently."
"Yeah." Sam shivered. Dean finished smoothing a bandage over the punctures and grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed.
Dean considered his personal attempts to look like an adult and act more like an adult. It was worth sacrificing that, though. For Sam. Dean knew his brother, and knew that being alone was not an option right now. "Mind if we share, dude? It's freezing in here."
Sam barely raised his shoulder, which Dean took as acquiescence. His brother was an idiot who liked to act self-sufficient in some misguided attempt to protect Dean. Dean squirmed in close, feeling small next to his huge brother.
Sam's voice was slurred with exhaustion. "Wha' bout your hands?"
"They're fine." Dean proved it by wrapping one arm around Sam's back. "Now shut up and sleep."
"You're the boss."
"And don't you forget it," Dean muttered.
A/N:
Apologies for the long absence everybody. Life's been crazy, and I've struggled for inspiration, or even any kind of solid idea for a new fic. I ended up going back to one of the prompts I wanted to explore more, and have been slowly working on it for a while. It still isn't quite done, but it's close enough that I wanted to go ahead and post something now.
I'm not 100% confident in how it's going to go. As I said when I tackled this before, I'm not very confident in the whole age swap thing, so this is very much an experiment. Let me know what you think!