A/N: Okay, so this project is exactly what it sounds like, just good old fashioned hurt and comfort and brotherly fluff. Most will end up being episode tags, though some original story lines will work their way through at some point. Each chapter will be a cannon compliant stand alone. Also compliant with my Confessions 'Verse stories, though not necessarily set in that universe. I will also accept prompts for this project, just pm them to me, though I'll be honest, this project will get updated when I have the muse and need a break from my AU's which I update nearly every other day. One's angsty and the other's flat out dark, so I needed some fluff.

Enjoy, and please review, it really means the world to me.

Enjoy your weekend dose of big brother Dean.

As Always,

EverReader

How To Fix A Winchester

Chapter 1

"The Unfortunate Thing About Rabbit Food"- a tag to S1E4

They had only dropped off Charlie a few hours back when Dean pulled off the highway. He cruised the streets of the small town until he spotted what he wanted.

Maneuvering the Impala into the diner's tiny parking lot, he parked, glancing over at his brother.

Best he could tell, Sam was asleep with his eys open, had been that way for the last hour, at least.

"Sam." Dean said the word with the low, gentle authority he'd learn to use decades ago, whenever he had needed to rouse a still sleeping Sammy because of an impromptu midnight car ride (all too common in their relatively short lives).

Sam blinked, startling a little and Dean suppressed a snort. Sam glanced around, mild confusion gracing his features.

"Where..." He squinted at the diner and shook his head again, "Um, what time is it?"

"Lunchtime, kiddo." Dean answered, slapping Sam's shoulder lightly. He managed not to frown at the realization that Sam had lost more weight than Dean had thought. Sam tended to dress in layers, which had hid until now the fact that his collar bone could easily be felt, his shoulder bony and thin.

It wasn't really unexpected, Dean thought to himself sourly, as he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Sam eat more than half of his meal. And half a salad didn't go very far when you burned calories the way the Winchesters tended to.

"I'm not hungry." Sam replied immediately, and from his position outside the car, Dean rolled his eyes skyward.

Well wasn't that a shocker. Sam wasn't hungry. Hadn't been hungry for most of the past two months, as far as Dean could tell. Rolling his eyes again at the fact that he was about to stoop to the sneak tactics he'd had to employ during Sam's childhood, he leaned down to look into the car, jade eyes meeting hazel.

"I'm just gonna stay out here." Sam started tiredly, rubbing his eyes in a way that made Dean remember a three year old Sammy who desperately needed a nap.

Dean intended for Sam to get just that, but first things first. He needed to get some decent food in Sam.

"Suck it up, Sammy." He said good-naturedly. "I don't wanna have to stop later because you suddenly realized you're hungry. Don't be a diva." He held his breath, waiting.

"Jerk." He heard Sam mutter from inside the vehicle, and Dean grinned triumphantly when Sam got out, slamming the door with a scowl.

"Bitch." Dean replied, forcing down his grin as they walked into the diner.

Studying the menu, Dean searched for something that fit the bill. Eyes landing on the soups of the day, he nodded to himself. Plan of attack firmly in place, he laid down his menu.

The waitress, a pretty, forty-ish woman with auburn hair smiled at them, eyes softening when they landed on Sammy, and Dean had to shake his head at Sam's completely unconscious ability to render any maternal figure in a fifty mile radius completely at his mercy.

"Darlings, what can I get for you? You look about half-starved, hon." She said sympathetically to Sam, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

Sam flushed, uncomfortable with attention, the way he always was unless he was acting undercover.

"Hmm, coffee, black's fine, and um-mm, the grilled chicken salad." He shifted uncomfortably.

"That it, honey? We have some great garlic bread, with cheese on it, how aout I bring you a couple of slices of that too. A tall glass of water like you needs more than just rabbit food." She urged helpfully, and Dean cheered mentally, thanking god for empty nesters.

"Sure. Sure, that would be fine." Sam blushed and smiled at her, and Dean smiled triumphantly. He would have happily paid for it, but he'd bet dollars to donuts the garlic bread wouldn't appear on their tab.

She turned to Dean, and Dean was pleased to see appreciation in her eyes when she looked at him.

Dean knew the truth. He was a damn fine specimen of a man, after all.

"Bacon cheeseburger, double, extra bacon. Fries, chocolate shake. Oh, an an order of onion rings." Her eyes widened slightly, but she nodded, glancing lightning fast at Sam before looking back to Dean, and Dean thought she might be on to him, but she didn't say a word, just wrote down his order with a small smile.

Dean snapped his finger, as if the thought had just struck him. "Oh, hey, what kinda soup you got on today?" He asked, and the waitress's grin widened.

She had definitely made him.

"Pot roast, potato bacon, minestrone and chicken noodle." She recited with a tongue in cheek smile, and Dean took a moment to enjoy their camaraderie.

Sam was staring at Dean, agog.

"Seriously, Dean? That's a ton of food, even for you. And since when do you even like soup?" He asked, wrinkling his nose.

Dean watched as the waitress practically melted at the cuteness overload that was Sam Winchester, and began to wonder idly if he was gonna have to wrestle her later to see which one of them took Sam home.

It wouldn't be the first time someone's overactive mommy-instincts had them trying to adopt Sam, it had been happening most of Sam's life, much to his embarrassment. Waitresses, teachers, ER nurses, hell, even witnesses.

Grandmothers tried to give him cookies. Lady cops reminded him to wear his seat belt. Minivan mom's in the middle of passing out sandwiches to their children would try to give Sam one too.

He'd even seen fatherly older men ask Sam where his jacket was. It was just one of the facts of life. People looked at Sammy Winchester and wanted to take care of him.

But Sam was Dean's little brother, Dean's responsibility, and Dean had spent more than two years racking his brain for a way to get him back. Though he would give anything for it to turn out differently than it had, he sure as hell wasn't letting go of the kid now.

Dean knew how to take care of his kid better than anyone.

'Let's go with the minestrone." He said, handing the menu to the waitress with a smile, and she nodded approvingly. Inwardly, he grimaced, he personally hated soup, particularly minestrone. Give him a good bowl of chili any day.

"Dude, you hate minestrone." Sam said confusedly.

Dean knew that Sam liked it, though.

"Used to." Dean agreed off-handedly. "Had some killer soup down in New Orleans, though and been craving it ever since."

"You realize you're thinking of gumbo, right?" Sam asked, bitch facing him.

"Huh." Dean replied, as if the thought had never crossed his mind.

Game, set, match.

Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Sup Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural

Their waitress (Corrine) brought their food a short time later, tray balanced so full Dean was impressed by her defiance of physics. He reminded himself to leave her a hell of a tip.

He noticed how she casually set down the food, Sam's salad and (four!) pieces of garlic bread in front of him. She also set down a glass of milk and Dean had to repress a chuckle at her audacity.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I ordered coffee." Sam looked up at her, eyes large and apologetic.

"Don't worry about it, hon, I poured it by mistake and I couldn't exactly pour it back now, could I?" She winked discreetly at Dean and Dean nearly choked, pushing his lips together firmly to choke down his laughter, glad Sam was so tired, or he knew his little brother would have caught on to them ages ago.

She set down the rest of the food, making a point to place to onion rings between the two boys, and setting Dean's soup off a little to the side.

They thanked her and she bustled off, tossing Dean another wink as she went.

Sam was staring wide eyed at all the food.

"Dude." Was all he managed, and Dean had to silently agree with him. There was more food on the table right now than they'd seen in whole weeks during their childhood. Remembering hungrier times only made him more determined, though. He'd have to hit up another poker game sooner rather than later, but it would be worth it, if he could just get Sam to eat. Sam hadn't gone hungry on Dean's watch since he'd been sixteen, newly back from Sonny's with a new appreciation for just how much teenage boys were supposed to have to eat. Sonny had never let him or the other boys go hungry, and it rubbed in Dean's face the reason why Sammy was so much smaller than all the other kids his age.

Growing kids weren't supposed to live off peanut butter, no more than 6'4" college kids were supposed to live off lettuce.

The kid couldn't keep going on like this, losing weight, losing sleep. It dulled his reflexes, made him vulnerable to the baddies. It also set him up for a mean fight with the first nasty cold or flu virus he came across, and the kid wasn't getting sick or hurt on Dean's watch.

They started eating, Dean with gusto, Sam picking the bits of chicken out of his salad desultorily. Dean was pleased to see him eat first one, then two pieces of the garlic bread, and he had already absent mindedly drained the glass of milk, and was now working on his coffee.

Dean tossed him a couple of creamers, knowing Sam hated black coffee, and Sam smiled at him, surprised, but appreciative.

'Thanks." He said genuinely, and Dean's heart swelled. God, he had missed his kid while he'd been away.

Moving on too phase two of his plan, he pulled the bowl of soup over in front of him. Blowing on a steaming spoonful, girding himself to take a bite.

He didn't have to fake his look of disgust, and Sam laughed, shaking his head.

"Told you so." He said smugly, and Dean flipped him the bird, though he was more glad than anything to see him laughing.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Hey, you like this crap, right?" He pushed the bowl towards Sam, displacing the half eaten salad. "You eat it. We gotta pay for it, might as well not waste it."

He could see Sam wavering for a moment, but Dean's logic was sound enough, their childhoods making wasting food a cardinal sin.

He shrugged finally, picking up a spoon and taking a tentative sip. His eyes widened a little.

"This is actually good." Sam said in suprise, not even noticing as he picked up another piece of garlic bread and took a bite.

Dean did a mental victory dance, then grabbed an onion ring, moaning in sheer physical pleasure.

"Holy crap, dude, these are awesome. They taste just like the ones Bobby makes."

"Seriously?" Sam asked, pleased excitement in his voice as he reached out for one, dunking it in some ketchup.

They didn't, of course, Dean had never come across a diner that could match Bobby's homemade onion rings, but these were pretty good, and Dean knew Sam loved them, though he never ordered them for himself.

"Nah..." Sam shook his head decisively. "You haven't been back to Bobby's in too long, Dean. These aren't even close. They are good though." He added as an afterthought, popping another one in his mouth.

Sooner, rather than later, they had cleared an alarming amount of food from the table. Only half a piece of garlic bread remained, the soup was finished, the onion rings demolished. Sam had even ate a little more of his rabbit food.

Dean had practically inhaled his own burger and fries, and he realized he'd probably been missing some meals too, with all his worries about Sam and Dad.

He signaled for the check, and Corrine brought it, along with two pieces of apple pie, complete with ice cream. "I bet the cook you guys could finish more of your food then you'd leave behind, and I won. Pie's on the house."

She smiled at them both indulgently, and Dean corrected his earlier plan.

He was leaving her a massive freaking tip.