A/N: I couldn't resist doing a little story in celebration of the Season 4 premiere. I'm not sure where this came from, it just hit me this morning. I think it's very cute, though.
Sam's probably about 11 or 12 in this piece. Of course, that makes Dean 15 or 16.
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Across The Divide
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"..S'm..."
Sam creases his brows together in his sleep, but doesn't pay the voice calling his name any attention beyond that.
"...Sam."
He grunts this time, scrunching together in his cacoon of warmth.
"Sam!"
"...Shoo..." Sam mutters irritably, waving a hand out at whoever is intruding on his sleep. He hears noises of frustration before something grabs one of his feet from under his blankets.
"Augh!" He cries out, coming out of dead sleep into an angry half-sleep as rough fingers tickle the bottom of his foot mercilessly.
"I can't believe you told me to shoo! That's a first." Sam's older brother says with much amusement in his voice. "What are they teachin' you at that school, Sammy?"
"No! Haha! Stop!" Sam yells, kicking out with his free foot, but Dean catches it. There's struggling grunts from both parties as Dean is unable to tickle his foot, but now starts dragging Sam through his covers feet first. "Deeean!" He hollers, before switching tactics. "Mom!"
"No one will hear you, Sammy!" Dean follows this statement up with cliché villain-like laughter. "Mom had to give Dad a ride to work 'cause the Impala died again." He contines to fight with Sam's flailing feet as he pulls back. Sam's head is already at the halfway point of his bed, the blankets covering him a writhing mess.
Unexpectedly, Sam pulls back with great strength and then pushes out, catching Dean in the chest with both feet. Dean's grip pops loose and he's sent stumbling back into the edge of his own bed where the momentum from the kick-shove carries his feet over his head once his back hits the mattress.
"Wuh!"
Sam sits up in alarm and squirms out from under the covers to see his brother, face mushed down on the bed, with his butt awkwardly held up in the air. He laughs uncontrollably.
--
Sam sits down at the kitchen table, smiling idly as he watches Dean make pancakes. He thought Dean would be mad at him for kicking him, but his older brother seemed more surprised than anything else. At least he knew the dragging-Sam-from-his-bed-by-his-feet maneuver was a no-go.
He doesn't mean to be difficult, it's just that their mom usually gets him up for school. She knows all the good tricks to coax him out from under the covers. Whenever Dean is forced to wake him up it's always a battle. Dean is an early riser like their dad, but Sam just thinks that's cause Dean wants to help with the Impala. The early morning time is practically the only time their dad has to work on his old junker. His dad says one day it'll look good as new. Dean believes him. Sam is skeptical.
Sam grins up at Dean as a large plate of pancakes it placed before him.
"Hey, look. I made a rabid coon." Dean smirks smugly, spatula pointing at an oddly shaped pancake. It does look like a foamy-mouthed raccoon... but only vaguely. Kind of like when you're cloud-watching.
"How'd you manage to brown it in the right spots?" Sam says with curious amusement, eyeing the coon-like circlets.
Dean laughs softly as he says, "I have no idea."
--
Sam watches Dean and their dad play catch from his position on the back porch. Their mom is in the kitchen putting the dinner dishes away. They'd be helping her, but she made them leave. Told them to spend some time together for once. Sam would play catch, but he likes watching more. He made up the excuse that he ate too much and he'll upchuck if he moves around a lot.
Dean dives for a tough throw and just manages to catch it. Sam cheers. Dean throws him a big grin and a wink.
Their backyard isn't very big, but Sam doesn't mind. He likes the cozy quarters of their living space. Sure, he has to share a room with his brother, but, again, he doesn't mind. It's good for those nights when he dreams scary dreams. To know that someone else is in the room with him, especially if that person is Dean. He looks up to Dean. Dean protects him, even if he complains about it now.
--
Sam looks up from his math homework as Metallica's "Enter The Sandman" reaches its chorus, blaring noisely through Dean's headphones. He smirks at his brother's diagonal sprawl across his bed, all belly down, pillow rolled up under his chin while his fingers drum away atop the comforter. Sam thinks he lays at that odd angle since it's easier to keep an eye on him, like his math paper will suddenly jump up and try to strangle him, or something equally random.
Sam doesn't mind. He likes the attention. He always has.
It's in that moment that everything feels full. Perfect. Everything he needs and wants lives inside this house. His mom. His dad. His brother. And everytime it seems like it can't get any better, it does.
A stray strand of sadness, or maybe fear, worms its way through him like something's trying to tell him he's taking too much, that he needs to share, but he ignores it easily. He's greedy and he wants all the happiness to himself. Even if he's living at the same time in many different dimensions, he won't share with any of those Sams.
"Dude, what's with the stalker stare?"
Sam blinks and Dean comes back into focus. "Nothing," he ducks his head, "I was just thinking."
Dean raises a brow, but doesn't comment further.
After a while, his brother gets up and belly flops onto Sam's bed, purposely upending papers. "Hey, give that giant brain of yours a break and let's get some ice cream."
Sam punches his brother on the arm, but grins all the same and laughs as they race out of the room and out the front door, their mother calling after them to be careful and to look out for each other.
Dean pounds on in front of him, but Sam's catching up fast. He knows he's grinning like a loon, but the happiness is too much... it's leaking out of him like sunshine.
And he'll never share.
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Finito!