Title: The Little Spoon

Author: MissAnnThropic

LiveJournal: miss_annthropic(dot)livejournal(dot)com

Summary: "Why do I have to be the little spoon?" Dean asked sourly. Two boys, one bed.

Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(

Author's Note: As I mentioned before somewhere (no telling where!), all spelling errors and typos are my own fault. I don't have a regular beta with the fortitude to tackle my stuff!

"Why do I have to be the little spoon?" Dean asked sourly.

"Because you're the little one, Dean," Sam grumbled in reply, trying to find something to do with his arm that wouldn't entail draping it over his brother. Bad enough they were back to front on the small full-size motel bed, but hugging his older brother all night would be the insult on top of injury.

"This is re-god-damn-diculous," Dean snarled, staying so perfectly and unnaturally still that one would think Sam was a cobra prepared to strike at the slightest provocation. "We should have kept driving until we found some place with two beds… or at least a king."

"You were the one who said we had to stop before the ice got any worse," Sam retorted, still moving his arm in search of that ever-elusive comfortable position - first soldier-like at his side, then flopped uncomfortably behind his back, then tucked up tight against his chest like a baby bird.

"If I had known this would be the – damnit, Sam, would you quit squirming around back there?!"

"Sorry, but there's no place to put my arm without… you know what, forget this." With that, Sam gave up and flung his arm over his brother's body.

"Ah, man," Dean groaned unhappily, but he didn't complain beyond that, as if realizing Sam had no other option short of removing his arm and setting it on the dresser.

In at least a slightly more comfortable position, Sam settled in to try and go to sleep, but it wasn't going to be easy. Dean's back was pressed to Sam's front, their legs perfectly matched and the bend of their knees fitting together like puzzle pieces. They hadn't slept spooned up since they were little. Of course, back then –

"I miss being the big spoon," Dean pouted aloud. "This sucks."

Honestly, Sam missed Dean being the big spoon, too; he remembered how safe he had felt folded into Dean's arms when he was a kid. No way in hell he was going to say that, though.

"It's not my fault you stopped growing at stubby," Sam countered.

"Bite me, princess," Dean snapped.

"Easier to just push you off the bed, then no one would have to be the little spoon."

The glare was in Dean's voice when he warned, "You try it and you're dead. That carpet smells like your dirty underwear and wet socks had sweaty sex in a dumpster."

The description alone made Sam's stomach roll. "That's disgusting, Dean."

"I've always thought that about your personal hygiene," Dean retorted snidely.

"My hygiene? Your idea of a clean shirt is one that doesn't fight you when you go to put it on."

"Just because I don't run for the fabric softener and delicates' cycle after wearing a shirt for ten minutes…" Dean began heartily, and then his retort trailed. Sam didn't encourage Dean to finish his insult… it was just as well abandoned.

The two brothers fell tensely silent as they tried to will themselves into unconsciousness. The rattle of the small room's heater was sickly. The thing was ready to give out any moment, and then one of them sleeping on the floor wouldn't even be an option, because the unmanly cuddling would be necessary for the sake of keeping warm.

"Sam…"

"What?"

"You're hot."

Sam froze and his eyes widened in the dark. "Uh… Dean… really not the time to tell me about any of your sick, incestuous –"

That earned Sam a sharp elbow in the ribcage. "No, you ass-hat, I mean you're hot. Like a freaking furnace back there. I can't sleep with you pressed all up on me running 101."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, there's nothing I can do about my body temperature. And you know what? Your feet are cold." And they were. The bottoms of Dean's feet were resting on the top of Sam's, and they were like little slabs of ice. The chill went straight up Sam's spine and told the rest of his body he was cold, even if he wasn't.

"My feet are a normal person temperature," Dean replied testily, "you're the freaky human hot water bottle."

"At least I showered recently," Sam answered shortly. "Seriously, dude, what did you roll in? A dead skunk? You stink."

"That's the musk of manliness; I wouldn't expect you to know what that's like."

"Keep telling yourself that, little spoon," Sam taunted.

Dean bristled in Sam's arms like a riled dog, then broke wind seemingly out of spite.

"Dean!" Sam yelped indignantly.

"He who smelt it dealt it, Sammy."

"Oh my god, what are you? Five?!"

"No, because if I was five, you'd be one, and I would definitely be the big spoon."

"Could you get over this obsession you have with being the big spoon? You're small – deal with it. Can we just go to sleep?" Sam asked in annoyance.

"If you'd stop hugging me with your giant gorilla arm, I would!" Dean countered, and Sam suddenly loosened the hold he had perhaps been keeping too tight around Dean's chest. He was thankful Dean couldn't see the flush of embarrassment on his face as he did so.

For a few precious seconds, the only sound was the death rattle of the room's heater.

"Sam…"

Sam was reluctant to answer, given Dean's mood up to then. "What, Dean?"

"You better not be poking me in the back in the morning."

"UGH!"

"Because I will damage you, little brother or not."

"For the love of god, Dean, please just shut up and go to sleep!" Sam begged.

"Fine," Dean grumbled and shifted to find a comfortable position.

A minute later, he was still shifting. In the process, Sam got an elbow to the solar plexus and a heel to the shin.

"Dean! Stop squirming!" Sam barked. Fed up, Sam trapped Dean against his chest and held him immobile with a suddenly tight hold around him, using the arm he had conveniently already had draped over his older brother. Not only was Sam the tall one, he was also the muscular one. If Sam really meant for Dean to stay pinned, Dean wasn't going anywhere.

"Hey! Watch it with the bear hug. What are you, afraid of the dark?" Dean groused and tried to shrug off the hold.

"Stop moving around and just go to sleep," Sam ordered as he slowly relaxed his grip on Dean.

Dean grumbled but stopped his restless shifting.

Both Winchesters settled down in their uneasy position. It was exhaustion more than comfort that dragged them toward sleep.

Just before nodding off, Dean whispered, "Sam…"

"What, Dean?"

"We will never speak of this again."

Sam snorted sleepily. "You just don't want anyone to know you were the little spoon," he mumbled back.

Before Dean could come up with a comeback, Sam fell asleep.

END