Sooo it started snowing where I live. And coincidentally enough I happen to have started Supernatural! Soooo⊠yeah I kinda had to do this fic. I love this duo so much, I love them. I wanted to do a fic of the brothers just being brothers.
Warnings: None aside from tickling, so if thatâs not your cup of tea just keep scrolling. ALSO this is not a ship at all, it is entirely platonic and brotherly (theyâre brothers), so if you are a âshipperâ then please get tf out. Thanks.
Summery: Sam wants to experience the nostalgia he had towards snow when he woke up to a winter wonderland one cold winter morning. Dean of course is annoyed and doesnât want to be childish, but Sam will convince Dean to enjoy it with him.
The sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the battered and cheap motel room. The older Winchester, Dean, groaned as he rolled over in the creaky bed, trying to block the light with a pillow. He was not a morning person, especially not the morning after a grueling hunt. Every muscle in his body ached from the fight theyâd barely survived the night before.
On the other side of the room, the younger Winchester, Sam, was already up, sitting at the small table with his laptop. Typical. Dean could hear the soft tap of keys, but something about the atmosphere felt... different.
Dean cracked one eye open, prepared to grumble something sarcastic, when he noticed Sam staring out the window, a rare, boyish smile spreading across his face.
âWhatâre you grinning at, Sasquatch?â Dean muttered, his voice gravelly with sleep.
Sam turned to him, eyes alight with something Dean hadnât seen in a while. Pure, unfiltered joy. âLook outside, Dean.â
Dean groaned, reluctantly sitting up. His joints protested the movement as he shuffled to the window. Pulling back the faded curtain, he blinked against the glare of pristine white. Snow. Thick, powdery snow blanketed the world outside.
âWell thatâs just great,â Dean grumbled, unable to help thinking about his 1967 Chevy Impala. âGuess Iâll be digging Baby out all day.â
Sam rolled his eyes. âYouâre such a buzzkill, man. Itâs beautiful out there. Donât you remember how much fun we used to have in the snow when we were kids?â
Dean snorted, turning away from the window. âYeah, fun. Like when youâd pack snow into icy death balls and aim for my head. Or when I had to dig you out of a snowdrift because you thought you could jump off the roof into it.â
Sam chuckled, unbothered by Deanâs grumbling. âCome on, you know you liked it. Just admit it.â
âI donât like snow, Sam. Never did. Itâs cold, wet, and got me sick more than enough times.â Dean said firmly, grabbing his flannel shirt from the chair. âBesides, weâre too old for that crap now.â
Sam folded his arms, his grin widening. âToo old? Really? Since when did you start sounding like an old man?â
Dean shot him a look but didnât reply. He shuffled to the coffee maker, muttering about needing caffeine to deal with his annoying little brother.
But Sam wasnât done. âCome on, Dean. Just for a little bit. Letâs go out there.â
Deanâs head whipped around. âNo. End of discussion.â
âWhy not? Itâs just snow. Youâre acting like itâs lava or something.â
âBecause I donât want to, thatâs why.â Dean took a sip of his coffee as he sat down at the table, determined to ignore Sam.
But Sam wasnât going to let it go. âYouâre no fun anymore.â
âNever was.â Dean responded simply.
Sam leaned forward, an impish glint in his eyes. âRemember that time I nailed you with a snowball so hard you fell into Dadâs car and dented it?â
Deanâs lips twitched, but he refused to give Sam the satisfaction of a smile. âYeah, and I also remember Dad making me shovel the entire driveway as punishment while you hid in the house like a little wimp.â
âI was ten,â Sam protested, laughing. âAnd you were way too dramatic about it.â
âWhatever.â Dean shook his head, but he could feel his resolve starting to crack.
Sam pushed his chair back and stood. âCome on, Dean. Just for a bit. Weâll stand in the snow, soak up the nostalgia, and come back inside. I promise.â
Dean sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. âFine. Whatever. But we go back inside right after. I still need my energy to dig out baby.â
âDeal.â Sam said, grinning triumphantly.
Bundled up in their jackets, hats, and boots, the brothers stepped outside. The crisp, cold air hit Deanâs face, and he shivered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Sam, on the other hand, looked like a kid on Christmas morning.
âMan, itâs been forever since Iâve seen snow like this,â Sam said, gazing around. âHey, remember when Iâd beat you so many times at those snowball fights weâd have?â
Dean groaned. âOh, here we go.â
Sam chuckled. âYouâd always brag about how you could beat me, but I got you good more than a few times.â
âPlease. I wiped the floor with you every single time.â Dean shot back.
Sam raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. âOh, is that so?â
Dean nodded confidently. âDamn straight.â
Without warning, Sam bent down, scooped up a handful of snow, and hurled it at Dean. The snowball smacked him square in the chest, leaving a wet patch on his jacket.
âSon of a- Sam!â Dean exclaimed, glaring at his brother.
Sam grinned, already forming another snowball. âYou said you were the best. Prove it.â
Dean hesitated for a moment, torn between annoyance and the undeniable urge to retaliate. Finally, he bent down, grabbed some snow, and lobbed it at Sam, hitting him on the shoulder.
âOh, itâs on now,â Sam declared, laughing as he ducked behind a tree.
The snowball fight escalated quickly. Dean darted behind the Impala, using it as cover, while Sam ran circles around the motelâs small yard. Snowballs flew back and forth, laughter echoing in the cold air.
âYouâre getting slow, old man!â Sam taunted.
âKeep talking Gigantor!â Dean shouted back, hurling a snowball that narrowly missed Samâs head.
Eventually, Dean got the upper hand. Spotting an opening, he charged at Sam, tackling him into a snowbank. Sam yelped as the cold seeped through his layers.
âDean! Itâs freezing!â Sam protested, trying to wiggle free.
Dean smirked, sitting on Samâs legs to pin him down. âOh, thatâs too bad⊠my hands are cold.â
Samâs eyes widened in panic. âDonât you dare.â
But Dean was already shoving his icy hands under Samâs jacket and sweater, pressing them against his warm sides.
âDehehehean! Stohohop!â Sam squealed, writhing as Deanâs cold hands sent jolts of sensation through him. âItâs sohoho cohohold!â
Dean laughed, thoroughly enjoying his brotherâs misery. âWhatâs the matter, Sammy? Canât handle a little cold?â
âPlehehehease nohoho!â Sam gasped through his laughter, squirming violently as he tried pulling his brothers hands out.
âOh, I just remembered something else I used to do to you,â Dean said, his grin turning mischievous.
Sam froze. âNohoho! Dehehehean, donât!â
Too late. Deanâs fingers started to wiggle against Samâs sides, this time tickling him mercilessly. Sam burst into uncontrollable laughter, his voice breaking into high-pitched squeals.
âAHahaha noHOhOho plehehease!â Sam flailed, his arms uselessly batting at Deanâs shoulders. âDehehean, I cahahanât!â
âDude, youâre way too ticklish for a grown ass man.â Dean teased, his hands moving to Samâs ribs, then his stomach, finding every spot that made Sam jerk and shriek. âThis is even better than I remember.â
âAHaha noHOhOHOt tHEhEhEhre! Stahahahap!â Sam howled through the cold air, his face red from laughter and the cold.
Dean, grinning like a madman, didnât let up. He moved his fingers up to Samâs armpits, and Sam practically lost it, twisting and bucking to try and escape.
âDEHEHEAN! PLEHEHAHAHSE NOHOHO MOHOHOHRE!â Samâs laughter was broken and desperate, but Dean couldnât stop laughing himself. He had all too many memories when Sam would completely lose it from being tickled. He was still way too ticklish for his own good, but Dean was glad that some things about Sam just never changed.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Sam, Dean relented, collapsing into the snow beside his brother. Sam was left gasping, his face flushed and tears of laughter watering his eyes.
Dean smirked at him. âYou are still such a baby, Sammy.â
Sam shot him a glare but couldnât hide the reluctant smile tugging at his lips. âYouâre the worst.â
âYeah, but you love me, dontcha?â Dean grinned, nudging him playfully.
As the snow fell softly around them, the two brothers lay side by side, laughing and catching their breath, letting the cold and the moment wash over them. Maybe the cold and snow wasnât so bad to Dean after all.
Thanks for reading! â€ïž