I whipped this baby up in about a half hour, folks, so I'm not really sure if it makes much sense but I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I, of course, sadly do not own Supernatural.

Sam and Dean were always close.

Not just emotionally close, as they no doubt were with their pointed looks and wordless conversations, but physically close.

In part it was due to their usual living arrangements; there just was not a whole lot of room to movie. There might have been a single couch and two twin beds, the beds a foot and a half apart, or sometimes a single bed with starchy sheets to fight over. Then there was of course the Impala, often piled like puppies in the back seat during those nights of riding in a sleek car under and inky sky and over a dark, dusty road. Or, when they were very small, squished in the front seat with John, Sammy in the middle, anxiously peering around Dean to read the green road signs to try and guess where they were going or where they might someday end up.

The other part was just closeness. Dean hated to have a chick-flick moment but that didn't mean he didn't show Sammy that he loved him, that they were pals, or that Sam avoided Dean rather than tread on girly ground. It was just the motions that spoke instead of words.

There were the random sneak attacks of a cold soda on the back of an unsuspecting neck and the gentle punch that accompanied a hello.

There were Sammy's legs thrown over Dean's lap while watching a movie in an effort to get comfortable and Dean's arms around Sam's chest, whirling him off the floor when sadness or confusion etched itself on Sam's brow.

They didn't talk about it. They didn't even really think about it. They were all the little things that just displayed a sense of security. Of the safeness of family, when the world was truly so wild. The skin that said, "I'm real. I am a human being. I am your brother." The physicality said what they often did not want to speak. The constant reassurance of "Don't worry, I'm here."

That is, until Sam sees Dean that first summer.

He's surprised to see his brother, striding through the hall of the summer housing, smirking the idea of a community of wondergeeks.

It's been so long but Dean looks the same. Maybe a little older, wearing a shirt Sam doesn't quite remember, and his hair perhaps sunbleached lighter than it was at their last visit.

But Sam doesn't know what he's going to do. He grins but fears to leave the doorway. Afraid that the world might fall apart and that all of a sudden Dean's going to start ridiculing him like dad did all those months ago. Afraid he'll walk up and Dean will just shake his hand. Like the people they conned.

It's been so long.

But Dean keeps walking, wearing that sly smirk, boots leaving dirt on the already dirty floor.

And he hugs Sam, hard.

Like the way he did when they lived in cramped motel rooms.

Just like he always did.

But this time Sam can't help but whisper, "I miss you, man."

"I know."