Sammy had always been overly clingy with his big brother. Despite being too old for tantrums, he nearly threw a fit anytime Dean left him alone for more than an hour. Sulking and pouting once he returned. Milking the hell out of those big brown puppy-eyes he knew his brother could never say no to.
One of Sammy’s favorite things to do was climb into his lap. Perch on one of Dean’s strong thighs while he read or watched tv, sometimes just to be close. To feel the warmth and sturdiness of Dean’s embrace. He’d bury his face in the crook of his big brother’s neck and sigh: content in knowing only Dean could make him feel like this. Soft, happy, safe and at peace.
He’d shower with Dean more often than not. Giggling innocently at his soft, gummy dick when Dean wasn’t paying attention. Only to turn around and huff anytime Dean teased him about his, complaining it wasn’t fair. De was older! He’d soon drop it though, because Dean would massage shampoo into his hair or begin gently scrubbing him clean. Using whatever scented soaps Sammy begged for this time.
Sam loved to wear his clothes. Even though 99% of his wardrobe consisted of Dean’s hand-me-downs, it was different when he wore his current clothes. Dean’s shirts and hoodies would be perfectly too big. His sweatpants like blankets around Sammy’s skinny legs. Warm and comfy and covered in his brother’s scent. He relished in how affectionate Dean got whenever he found his baby brother in his clothes. Like a little kitten purring because it was being nuzzled.
He loathed when someone else gave Dean attention. It was no secret his big brother was handsome, but he wasn’t just handsome. He was dreamy like the old movie stars they’d seen in the occasional late-night noir film on some forgotten tv channel. Most importantly? Dean was his. He’d shamelessly interrupt whatever interaction Dean was having, whether it be with a girl or another boy. He’d tug on his sleeve, sprawl on his lap, or hang off of him like a pouting lemur. Whining and huffing until he gave Sammy his undivided attention.
He just couldn’t help it. De was his! Nobody could love him or know him how Sammy did. The same way nobody else loved or knew Sam the way Dean did. Regardless of how annoyed or irritated he got because of it, Dean never pushed him away. That was always the victory Sam flaunted to whatever stranger that thought they could have his brother. See? De’s only mine.
Every night, he snuggled right up next to Dean. Buried under whatever motel blankets they shared this go around. Sammy would laugh quietly in the dark, a soft little tinkling sound, at Dean’s murmured jokes or soft tickles. They’d whisper so closely their noses touched. Talking about anything and everything. Savoring the quiet moments when the whole world was asleep, except for them.
Dean always cuddled him closely. His strong arms around Sammy like he couldn’t tolerate any space between them. He loved it, burrowing into his big brother’s hold like it was the only place he belonged. Specifically when Dean held his back to his chest and spooned his smaller body. Sam would tuck their bent legs together and hold onto one of Dean’s arms while they slept.
It didn’t matter to Sam when they both got a little bit older and they didn’t have the safety of being young boys anymore. He ignored every weak, feigned protest from Dean.
Sammy was Dean’s.
Dean was Sammy’s.