GOT A LITTLE CAP'N IN ME.

CARRY ON, WAYWARD FUCKERS

My name is Sydnee. I enjoy long marathons of Supernatural and making children cry.

"peepee you don't need me to sparkle you sparkle all on your own"

Dean doesn’t know who the hell Ethan is, but if he ever meets the kid he’s going to kick his ass, the fact that he’s s fourth grader be damned. 

“Sam, c’mon,” Dean huffs, trying to coax Sam back onto the only bed in the one room apartment in Norfolk dad set them up in before taking off, assuring them that his phone was on and he’d be back before Sunday. Sam curled in tighter on himself where he was laying in the corner of the room, one blanket laid out in a pallet and another tucked in tight around his skinny torso as he crowded next to the nightlight the previous owner must have accidentally left behind, their own children having grown out of trivial comforts like the fat cow jumping over a full, smiling moon light stuck into the wall.

“No!” Sam sniffs petulantly over his shoulder, huffing impatiently as he readjusts himself to fold underneath the blanket more comfortably. “Ethan says that brothers aren’t s’posed to sleep in the same bed! He says it’s for babies!”

“I don’t give a shit what Ethan says, you’re going to freeze in the middle of the night over there!” Dean snaps back, patience wearing thin. 

“No I won’t!” Sam fires back, obviously comfortable with his infallible logic. 

“Yeah?” Dean wonders how long it’ll take him to get Sam to stop screaming if he just snatched him up and dragged him into bed. 

“Yeah.” Sam nods sagely. 

Dean grits his teeth, wishing that his brother had gotten something from their father other than a stubborn streak a mile wide. “What are you gonna do when you start having nightmares, huh?” he demands. 

For a split second Sam looks disconcerted, gnawing on the inside of his lip as he considers Dean’s question seriously and Dean smiles smugly, sure that he’s got him. Sam moves to sit up and Dean jostles himself over to one side of the bed in preparation of Sam’s small mass slipping in beside him but instead of getting up Sam just flicks on the night light and flops back down on the colds hardwood, body making a dull thud when it hits the blankets.

The fat cow laughs at Dean and he snorts through his nose furiously. “You know what? Fine. Whatever, Sam. Don’t come crying to me in the middle of the night when you can’t get any sleep!” He throws himself down on the mattress, springs squealing as he struggles to find a comfortable position. It’s cold without another body tucked up underneath his arm anymore. 

It’s two in the morning when Dean wakes up to cold fingers tugging on his wrist and he wants to laugh, wants to rub it in while dancing and singing ‘I told you so’s but Sam’s shaking and his eyes are wide and wet, shining in the illumination provided by the stupid cow in the corner and Dean can’t even bring himself to say something snide when he shuffles over and tugs Sam up next to him, curling around him so that he can feel his frigid little toes on top of his. 

“Had a bad dream,” Sam mumbles into Dean’s bicep. 

“S’okay.” dean’s voice is gravel rough and grating with restless sleep. “‘M here now.”