DISCLAIMER: Not mine. just borrowing them to play with from that angst obsessed-Papa Winchester killing-sadistic sonofabitch otherwise known as Eric Kripke.
DUDE, YOU TOTALLY HUGGED ME!
Dean's had to save Sam's ass as far back as he can remember. From the moment he took his baby brother in his arms and ran outside, whispering "Its okay Sam" more to reassure himself then his blissfully oblivious baby brother, he's had Sam's back.
At school, when some bullies stole his lunch money, he beat them up. When a girl made fun of his hand me downs, he told her that she was lucky she was a girl and he was raised right, or she'd be sporting a black eye for messing with his brother by now. Dad never knew, but Dean was the one who helped Sam sneak off to soccer practice, Dean was the one who was there at every game, till a teacher spoilt everything, and told John how proud he must be of him for being their star player. When Sam had trouble with chemistry, Dean used to secretly stay up at night, reading his textbooks and struggling to understand each and every word, so that he could explain everything to Sam the next day.
Sam went on his first hunt when he was ten years old, three years older than Dean had been. When they got back, Sam took dibs on the shower, and Dean quietly crept in the shower a couple of minutes later, held his baby brother's floppy bangs back for him as he threw up, washed his limp body like he hadn't since Sammy was little, dressed him and tucked him in, and when John came in, he'd looked at Dean's wet appearance, and turned away, but Dean saw the proud smile on his face when he saw him taking care of his little brother, and to compensate, John had taken Sam to a bookstore and let him get as many books as he wanted, and Dean had gotten a brand new GameBoy.
Sam was a good hunter but he still needed his big brother to take care of him, so Dean always stayed by his side, there to rescue him if a poltergeist had him, or if a werewolf was aiming its jaws at him.
Now, however, thing were different. Sure, it was just another poltergeist, but it was in THEIR house, in Mom's house, where it all started. When Dean ran in and saw Sammy, his Sammy being strangled by the lamp's cord, he froze. All those years of protecting his brother and now, it was all going to waste. Then Sam gagged and wheezed, and Dean swung into action, tugging at the cord, flinging the pouch of herbs in the wall. The cord loosened and he hurriedly tugged it off. Sam's eyelids fluttered and he began to fall back. That was it for Dean, and he quickly caught his brother, and brought his head up to rest on his shoulder, Sam's chin digging in his shoulder. "Its okay Sam," he whispered, arms wrapping around the gigantic freak. "I've got you. You're safe now."
When Sarry came out, and Sam wasn't with her, Dean's heart plummeted and he desperately cut down the door. His brother was held up against the wall, and a flaming figure came towards them, and Sam wasn't the only one who knew what it was. His mommy smiled at him, and tears threatened to spill out his eyes.
Later, there were salt streaks on Sam's face that he forgot to wipe off, but Dean didn't cry, he had to be strong for his brother. They drove off, not wanting to stay another minute after they'd cleaned up the house, and Sam was asleep beside him before they were out of Lawrence. His cheeks still bore traces of tears, and he reached over and rubbed them. "It's okay Sammy," he whispered. "I've got you now. You're safe." About an hour later, Sam flopped on his side, and his face rested near Dean's shoulder. Dean glanced at him, at his still youthful face, ad what happened next was one of those things he chalked up at the aftereffects of a bad hunt. He put an arm around his brother's shoulder, and Sammy snuggled into his shoulder, muttering something about lollipops and candy canes. Freak of a man-child. When he stopped for gas, the guy at the pump commented, "Your boyfriend looks pretty heavy to be draped over you."
Dean looked at Sam's face, and smiled and looked up at the man. "He's not heavy," he murmured. "He's my baby brother."
Dean decided that they deserved a break, and so they went to Florida, where there was sun and girls and hopefully no demons. They shared a room with only one bed, and Sam offered to take the couch, but Dean just stared at him till he shrugged ruefully and flopped on the bed. Dean lay on his side, back to Sam and face to the door, watching out for intruders. A while later, he felt Sam shift and say his name, and he feigned sleep, not wanting to discuss Lawrence, because of course that was what he wanted, wasn't it? After a while, Sam began to speak in a soft and low voice.
"Dean, why do you have to be like this?" he said sadly. "You never talk to me properly. It's always the hunt with you, or hustling or some random chick. God, Dean, I don't mean to be a girl, but it would help if you told me you miss Dad, that you're scared he might be hurt bad. Something, anything."
He shifted again, and a big arm came around Dean's waist, pulling him back into the circle of Sammy's arms. "Dude, you totally hugged me in Lawrence, and you CUDDLED me in the car," he said in amusement, then his tone turned serious. "You've always taken care of me Dean, and I know you're hurting after Lawrence, so I'm gonna take care of you."
Dean wanted to shove his brother away and grumpily mutter, "No chick flick." Truly, he did. But he was tired, and his mother had just died in front of him again, bursting into flames like before, and really, he was just tired. That was the only reason he relaxed, snuggling back into Sam, holding one big paw in both hands, the fingers entwined, and Sam wonderingly said his name. He squeezed his fingers, and went to sleep.
In the morning, when he woke, his face was buried in Sam's neck, and he could feel his fingers playing with his spiky hair. Sam felt him wake up, and whispered, "Go and shower. Your coffee will be here by the time you're out," and got up, shrugging into his denim jacket. Then Sam was back, chuckling softly when he saw Dean still in bed, waving the coffee under his nose to wake him up.
"Sam?"
He looked up from the donut he'd been studying, turning it this way and that, to figure out where to take the first bite from. Freak. "Yeah?"
"Thanks."
Sam smiled, and got up and walked over. He bent over, and whispered in Dean's ear, "Dude, no chick flick." He the sat back on his seat, cheerfully eating his doughnut. Dean stared at him, his freak of a brother, gangly legs stretched out, frosting on his nose and lips, and grinned.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
Translated to Winchester language, that meant, You're an awesome little brother and I love you.
You're the best big brother and I love you too.
"You gonna ditch me for the library today too, Sam?"
I'm scared that you'll leave me again, and I need you to take care of me.
"Nah, I think I'll hit the beach with you today."
I'll never leave you again.
"You sure about that Sam? Think you can tear yourself away from your books long enough to have some fun?"
Do you promise? What about your normal, happy life?
"Yeah, I'm sure. I can have fun for once."
I promise. Life with you, by your side, is all the normalcy and happiness I need.