Nightmare
Title: Nightmare
Characters: Sam and Dean
Rating: G
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 572
Summary: Wee!chesters Dean (9) has a nightmare and starts crying, Sammy (5) wants to make it better - Written as a fill for a prompt on dante_s_hell 's The Kissing, Cuddling, Nuzzling, Wrap-You-Up-in-My-Clothes Comment Fic Meme here, given by somersault_j
The ratty curtains curve on the wave of the breeze, but it’s so hot it offers no relief only disturbing the air enough to shift the particles, the covers knotting round Dean’s slender frame as he tosses and turns in his sleep. Eyes flickering back and forth.
Charred, decaying, elongated fingers wrap delicately around the timber, a hissing growing loud in his ears, makes his insides feel cold as it turns to laughter, his head snapping to the door just in time to see the fingers disappear. But he doesn’t have time to scream. Now he’s standing at the door to Sammy’s nursery his mom standing over the crib, humming something he just can’t quite remember. And he really does scream as his mother bursts into flames, the renewed laughter reverberating round the inside of his skull, blackened hands curling round his flesh...
Dean jolted into consciousness, fisting the covers on either side of him, only just managing to stop himself from bolting for the door. He’s a big boy now. He’s nine years old damnit. He’s too old to go crying to his daddy. And he is crying. He bites down hard on his bottom lip. He can’t let Sammy hear. No way. His movements clipped filled with an empty rage he’s too young to understand, as he untangles himself from his sheets, wanting to make as little movement as possible. Rolling onto his side to turn away from his brother, face burrowed in his pillow, as his sobs shake him.
*~*~*~*
Sammy’s head snaps from side to side as he snorts, and he frowns a little. He doesn’t like being a big boy, he doesn’t want his own bed. He wants to be beside Dean. But Daddy says they’re not s’posed to share anymore now that Sammy goes to school like a big boy. But usually Sammy ends up in beside Dean anyways. Dean lets him. Though not when it’s hot. Not when they were all sticky. And Dean had told Sammy to ‘suck it up’, and he’s trying to do whatever that is. He hadn’t wanted to ask Dean what it was he was supposed to suck. He didn’t want Dean to think he was stupid.
He was almost drifting off again when he heard something from Dean’s bed, and he sat up, edging over to the side of his bed. Dean was crying. Sammy knew exactly what he had to do. He’d seen it at kindergarten, when Stevie had been crying ‘cause he didn’t want to be left with the other kids, his mommy had hugged him ‘til he stopped. Dean didn’t like hugs. Which didn’t make sense to Sammy, ‘cause Dean was always giving Sammy hugs, when he needed them. But Dean didn’t take them too well. He usually told Sammy to get off of him. But Sammy knew he had to make his brother feel better. And maybe this time would be different. He would make it different.
He jumped down onto the floor, crossing the small distance between their beds and climbed up into Dean’s, wrapping himself around his brother’s quivering form, who immediately stopped shaking, his back tensing for a fraction of a second, his breath catching in his throat before his tears began anew. But he didn’t pull away.
Sammy held on tighter. Dean clutched Sammy’s pudgy little hand and he wept until they fell asleep, Sammy’s hand pressed firmly against his heart.
Characters: Sam and Dean
Rating: G
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 572
Summary: Wee!chesters Dean (9) has a nightmare and starts crying, Sammy (5) wants to make it better - Written as a fill for a prompt on dante_s_hell 's The Kissing, Cuddling, Nuzzling, Wrap-You-Up-in-My-Clothes Comment Fic Meme here, given by somersault_j
The ratty curtains curve on the wave of the breeze, but it’s so hot it offers no relief only disturbing the air enough to shift the particles, the covers knotting round Dean’s slender frame as he tosses and turns in his sleep. Eyes flickering back and forth.
Charred, decaying, elongated fingers wrap delicately around the timber, a hissing growing loud in his ears, makes his insides feel cold as it turns to laughter, his head snapping to the door just in time to see the fingers disappear. But he doesn’t have time to scream. Now he’s standing at the door to Sammy’s nursery his mom standing over the crib, humming something he just can’t quite remember. And he really does scream as his mother bursts into flames, the renewed laughter reverberating round the inside of his skull, blackened hands curling round his flesh...
Dean jolted into consciousness, fisting the covers on either side of him, only just managing to stop himself from bolting for the door. He’s a big boy now. He’s nine years old damnit. He’s too old to go crying to his daddy. And he is crying. He bites down hard on his bottom lip. He can’t let Sammy hear. No way. His movements clipped filled with an empty rage he’s too young to understand, as he untangles himself from his sheets, wanting to make as little movement as possible. Rolling onto his side to turn away from his brother, face burrowed in his pillow, as his sobs shake him.
*~*~*~*
Sammy’s head snaps from side to side as he snorts, and he frowns a little. He doesn’t like being a big boy, he doesn’t want his own bed. He wants to be beside Dean. But Daddy says they’re not s’posed to share anymore now that Sammy goes to school like a big boy. But usually Sammy ends up in beside Dean anyways. Dean lets him. Though not when it’s hot. Not when they were all sticky. And Dean had told Sammy to ‘suck it up’, and he’s trying to do whatever that is. He hadn’t wanted to ask Dean what it was he was supposed to suck. He didn’t want Dean to think he was stupid.
He was almost drifting off again when he heard something from Dean’s bed, and he sat up, edging over to the side of his bed. Dean was crying. Sammy knew exactly what he had to do. He’d seen it at kindergarten, when Stevie had been crying ‘cause he didn’t want to be left with the other kids, his mommy had hugged him ‘til he stopped. Dean didn’t like hugs. Which didn’t make sense to Sammy, ‘cause Dean was always giving Sammy hugs, when he needed them. But Dean didn’t take them too well. He usually told Sammy to get off of him. But Sammy knew he had to make his brother feel better. And maybe this time would be different. He would make it different.
He jumped down onto the floor, crossing the small distance between their beds and climbed up into Dean’s, wrapping himself around his brother’s quivering form, who immediately stopped shaking, his back tensing for a fraction of a second, his breath catching in his throat before his tears began anew. But he didn’t pull away.
Sammy held on tighter. Dean clutched Sammy’s pudgy little hand and he wept until they fell asleep, Sammy’s hand pressed firmly against his heart.