Time for a Slumber Party

Dean stood silently in the doorway of Sam's single room in their recently-rented cabin, watching his little brother sleep.

He knew that it might sound a little creepy, if he heard about anyone else doing the same thing, but when it came to Sam, this was something that Dean had done since they were both kids, especially the times when they ended up sleeping in different rooms.

Even when they were sleeping in the same motel room, or in the same bed, which they had pretty much been doing every night for the past few months, Dean still found it reassuring to lay awake for a little while, letting his big brother instincts take over as he checked that Sam was definitely okay, that he seemed comfortable and that he wasn't yelling out in his sleep like he was having nightmares, before Dean would finally allow himself to drift off to sleep as well.

He also found it reassuring, listening to the soft and steady sound of Sam's breathing while his little brother slept, and it always served as a reminder to Dean that Sam was still by his side, that he wasn't going to leave again, and that the two of them were still in this crazy life together.

Maybe he even felt a little protected as well, having Sam so close to him at night, running his hands calmingly up and down Dean's back as he started to fall asleep, discreetly reminding him that he wasn't going to be hunting alone any time soon. Yet after years of being Sam's protective older brother, it wasn't like he could ever admit any of that to Sam out loud.

Dean tensed a little when Sam stirred in his sleep, mumbling something that sounded a lot like, "De…"

He only breathed a sigh of relief when Sam started snoring softly again.

The whole watching-Sam-while-he-slept thing might have been something that he'd done enough times for both of them to consider it normal in the past, but tonight, on the first night in what felt like a long time that circumstances had forced them into two separate beds and two separate bedrooms, Dean really didn't want to get caught anywhere near Sam's room.

He knew that if Sam woke up and saw him standing in the doorway, it might kind of look as though Dean were now acting like such a chick that he couldn't sleep in his own room, or that he needed Sam to soothe him to sleep, or, the most embarrassing implication, that he couldn't get to sleep without Sam being right next to him in his bed and without all the closeness that they shared now. Which wasn't true, it really wasn't. He was a hunter, dammit, and an adult. He could totally deal with Sam being in a separate room for one night. Sort of. And they only slept so close together anyway because Sam initiated the contact every single time. Kind of.

Anyway, he knew that he should be grateful that they were staying in the cabin in the first place, taking a well-deserved break from hunting. He might have argued with Sam when his brother first suggested the time off and the cabin stay, mainly because he was now so conditioned, after years of hunting, to feel guilty every time he stepped away from his and Sam's job, but they'd been arguing so much anyway for the past couple of weeks that Sam just shrugged off Dean's complaints, reminding Dean that their constant arguing and exhaustion after their hunts were the reasons why they needed this break in the first place.

Dean hadn't gone down without a fight; he had disagreed and sulked and grumbled and found plenty of semi-plausible reasons why it wouldn't be a good idea to take a break, but Sam had either ignored him or found a counter argument to all of Dean's reasons, causing Dean to eventually back down.

However, the moment that they pulled up in the Impala and Sam opened the door to the cabin, Dean felt kind of glad that he had let Sam win the argument about taking a break for a couple of days.

"We havin' a slumber party?"

It had been the first sarcastic question that came to mind when Sam first led him inside, smiling as he unpacked bags of Dean's favourite food and movies and Dean took a good look around, noticing all the blankets and brightly-coloured pillows on the sofa. Dean knew from experience that it was definitely easier to resort to mockery than it was to admit that he had been wrong about something, especially when admitting to being wrong usually led to chick-flick moments.

Sam might have rolled his eyes at Dean's comment and told Dean to shut up, but even though neither of them would seriously admit it out loud, their evening kind of did turn into a slumber party; they ate a load of junk food, then they watched movies, sitting close together on the sofa and sharing a bowl of popcorn.

Sam had fallen asleep at some point during the third movie they watched, moving closer and closer to Dean on the sofa as he slept until Dean just rolled his eyes and reached out to pull Sam right to him, so that Sam was practically snoring on top of Dean with his head resting on Dean's shoulder.

Dean had then started running his hands through Sam's hair-it was something that he'd done so many times recently that it had now become a habit, or a basic instinct-until he grinned to himself and started sort of braiding Sam's hair, already planning his jokes on how he was keeping to the slumber party theme the moment Sammy woke up.

Sam had looked kind of annoyed when he eventually opened his eyes, sat up and realized what Dean had done to his hair, especially when Dean started laughing, his hand over his stomach because the sight of Sam with his hair in braids had suddenly seemed so hilarious that his stomach was actually starting to hurt, and he just managed to choke out, "Hey, don't blame me, dude; I thought you wanted us to have a girly slumber party!"

That comment had earned Dean a pillow to his face, and then laughter from Sam as Dean spluttered in shock.

There was just enough time for Dean to mutter, "It's on, bitch!" before they were both trying to hit each other with the nearest sofa pillows, with Dean hoping that Sam wouldn't admit out loud that they were basically having a childish pillow fight. It wasn't long before they gave up throwing pillows and the remains of the popcorn, and the whole thing quickly escalated into a full-contact play fight, or a wrestling match, as Dean called it in his head to make it sound a little more manly.

They had eventually called a truce when they were both out of breath, and they remained on the floor, panting, for a little while.

Dean had chanced a few looks at his little brother, and every time he looked at him out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Sam was grinning, and his cheeks were flushed pink. It was the way Sam had always looked when they were kids and he was actually having a good time, like when they played games in their motel rooms or when they had snowball fights in the winter.

Dean couldn't help grinning as well, feeling relieved that they were getting along better, and also glad that they'd started the whole shared bed thing; it was like it had taken down one of their many invisible barriers, and allowed them to be a little more affectionate with one another in their every day lives, as well as at night. He was pretty certain that they wouldn't have even thought about affectionate wrestling matches a few months ago.

It was only when Sam had yawned a few too many times and they both decided to go to bed that Dean realized they would be sleeping in separate rooms in the cabin.

Sam had shrugged and looked all apologetic (and maybe even a little disappointed, unless Dean was imagining it), and he had mumbled something about how there hadn't been much choice of places to stay, because they left it until the last minute, and this cabin with its two single rooms had been the last one available for the weekend; but Dean had simply shrugged and told Sam not to worry about it, at the same time silently trying to fight off a weird sense of something that felt suspiciously like disappointment.

He had said goodnight to Sam and then he spent the whole time he was getting ready for bed in his own room silently trying to reassure himself that it really wasn't a big deal, that he didn't need the close contact with Sam every single night, and that he definitely wasn't craving it.

He would almost have managed to convince himself, if he hadn't then spent at least an hour tossing and turning in his single bed, throwing the pillows onto the floor and then picking them up and holding them close before throwing them out again, feeling like such a chick. One minute, he was too hot, then he was too cold, then the blanket was too heavy, then the mattress was too uncomfortable, then he started thinking about how the bed didn't smell like Sam, and the pillows didn't feel like Sam, and he had given up and angrily thrown the covers on the floor, almost missing the days when he and Sam had slept in separate beds every night and their sleeping arrangements hadn't been so complicated, before he sighed and headed to Sam's room.

"Dean?"

Dean really struggled to suppress a gasp (albeit a very manly gasp) when the sound of Sam's voice startled him out of his thoughts and back into the present. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't even realized that Sam had woken up at some point.

He remained in the doorway, standing still as though frozen to the spot in shock and staring at Sam from across the room.

For what it was worth, Sam looked about as confused as Dean felt. He blinked a few times and tried to push himself up a little, leaning on his elbow so that he could stare at Dean.

"Shhh, go back to sleep," Dean tried, using his quiet-but-authoritative I'm-the-big-brother voice, even though he was already starting to panic.

Sam stared at Dean for a couple more seconds, and he looked so tired that Dean was half-convinced that he was just going to do what he said, but then the stubborn look crossed his face, and he titled his head to the side, like he was starting to wake up a little and really take in the situation.

Dean folded his arms and glared at Sam challengingly, using his body language and a stern expression to tell Sam that he'd better not laugh or state the obvious about why Dean was hanging around Sam's room instead of staying in his own.

Dean saw the expression on Sam's face gradually change to what seemed like a look of realization, and Dean had a feeling that even though Sam probably wasn't going to dare to mock him, he was probably screwed now anyway.

"You wanna, uh, cud-"

Dean felt himself tensing up all over again, and, as he tried not to blush, he silently willed Sam not to let his guard down just because he was still half-asleep and not as alert as usual and use the dreaded c-word.

They never used the c-word to describe what they were doing. Dean knew that the second one of them used it, they were both going to look like a couple of chicks, or little kids, and it would be almost impossible to put a manly spin on what was going on. And, even worse, every night that they decided to share a bed would end up turning into one big chick-flick moment, and Dean wasn't ready to deal with all of that embarrassment and emotion.

"Uh…I mean," Sam quickly continued, now looking a little more wary and alert and like he'd noticed the look of horror on Dean's face, "you look kinda cold, Dean. You wanna get in?"

He looked at Dean expectantly and shifted a little to the side, as far as he could go in the small single bed.

Dean remained in the doorway, feeling kind of worried that he would look too needy or desperate if he gave in, especially when they would be pretty much forced to sleep really close together in such a small bed, if neither of them wanted to end up on the floor.

But then Sam lifted the covers and patted the mattress invitingly, and Dean felt his resolve weakening. He sighed and walked towards the bed, as slowly as he could, so that he didn't look too eager. Now that he thought about it, he was feeling a little cold.

"My bed was too uncomfortable," Dean mumbled as he got into bed with Sam, deciding that this was a workable excuse tonight for explaining what they were about to do, and that it might save some of his pride.

"Sure it was," Sam replied, sounding almost like he was going along with it.

Dean chose to ignore his brother's obvious smirk.

The second Dean's head touched the pillow, Sam pulled him in close. He moved around a little, like he was getting ready to do his vulnerable-little-brother-thing and bury his head in Dean's shoulder, like he was going to do Dean a favour and pretend that he was the one who really needed this, but Dean held out a hand to stop him, deciding instead that he was going to sleep with an arm draped around Sam and with his head on Sam's chest. He'd had a stressful night so far, trying and failing to get to sleep in an uncomfortable bed, and dealing with Sam not being within arm's reach like usual, and he felt like he needed the comfort tonight, like he needed Sam to be strong and solid and reassuring.

It didn't take him long to find the right position, even though he had to ignore Sam's expression of surprise and then an expression that was definitely a mixture of fondness and amusement.

Dean instantly felt the tension leave his body as he wrapped an arm tightly around Sam's waist and he listened to the steady beat of Sam's heart underneath him.

He had a few memories of accidentally walking in on Sam when he had a woman in his bed, and he would always roll his eyes and make comments about how sappy the scene looked whenever he caught sight of whoever Sam happened to be sharing his bed with fast asleep with their head on Sam's chest. Now that he had started the whole double-bed-sleeping-close-together thing with Sam though, he had to admit, if only to himself in his most private thoughts, that he totally got why all of those chicks always looked so comfortable using Sam's chest as a pillow.

He sighed again, not sure whether he was breathing a sigh of relief because he finally felt calm and comfortable, or if it was a sigh of concern because it was becoming increasingly obvious that he was getting really dependent on the whole bed-sharing thing with Sam, and it was fast becoming a weird addiction.

It was so much easier, back in the beginning, when he could pretend that it was just Sam who liked it, when he could pretend that he was doing Sam a favour by 'giving in' and sleeping so close to him, when he could secretly pull Sam towards him when Sam fell asleep on the sofa or silently edge towards Sam in bed at night and then somehow make it look like Sam's fault. Now, Dean knew that he looked equally responsible for all of this.

Dean couldn't help worrying about what would happen if they had to go on different hunts and stay at separate motels in the near future, meaning that he wouldn't be able to have this every night with Sam, or worse, if he and Sam had a really serious argument, or if Sam left-

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean," Sam whispered, and Dean wondered-not for the first time-if Sam could actually read his thoughts. "Now shut up and relax."

"Bitch," Dean muttered, trying not to grin and make it seem too obvious how much Sam's reassurance meant to him.

"Jerk," Sam replied, but he pulled Dean in closer as he spoke, giving him an affectionate squeeze and making Dean feel all comfortable all over again.

They fell into silence, and Sam started running one of his hands through Dean's hair, with Dean feeling a rush of affection as Sam used the gentle touches that Dean had used when Sam was a kid and he was trying to soothe him to sleep. Sam had made a few comments about how he'd always wanted to imitate Dean when they younger, but Dean had never thought that this was one of the actions that he'd be recreating when they were adults.

Sam's hand moved from Dean's hair to his neck, then his fingers traced gentle patterns up and down Dean's back, and Dean really had to struggle not to make his sigh of contentment seem too obvious.

All of this was kind of new, the additional soft touches and the back and neck stroking. Dean knew that they were definitely getting more and more affectionate as they shared more and more beds and that they were indulging in more of the touchy-feely crap, like even more walls were falling down between them and their invisible boundaries were starting to crumble. He wasn't sure whether he should feel relieved or terrified.

"You comfortable?" Sam asked, with a touch of concern in his voice, like he had sensed a little tension behind Dean's happy sighs.

"Hmm," Dean replied, already half-asleep. "Love this…"

He didn't even think about what he had said at first, because he was so tired and too contented to think coherently, but then his mind suddenly seemed to get with the program as the words played back in his head and he realized what he'd just unintentionally admitted. He opened his eyes wide in shock, his body now fully alert as he moved away from Sam a little and he desperately tried to come up with something funny to finish that sentence with, or some kind of smart remark to cancel out any potential sappiness.

"Yeah," Sam replied quickly as he insistently pulled Dean back towards him. "I always knew that you secretly loved slumber parties, dude."

Dean felt the imaginary knot in his chest slowly unravel at Sam's comment. He got it, he knew what Sam had just done, and he couldn't help placing a soft kiss to Sam's neck, silently thanking him for saving him from the embarrassment, for deflecting what he'd just said on to something else, and for giving Dean an out.

"You wish," Dean could help responding as he pinched Sam's side.

But then he felt more than saw the smile on Sam's face, and Dean couldn't help smiling as well, before he returned to his comfortable position on Sam's chest, feeling like they were okay again, like their balance of manly pride had been restored for a little while.

It didn't take Dean long before he started to drift off to sleep again. As he fell asleep, he decided that he and Sam definitely needed to make the time to have more slumber parties.