Sammy is half-asleep when Dean comes tearing into the room, the seventeen year old looking agitated and slamming the hotel door shut behind him hard enough for some stucco to come down off the ceiling, immediately jerking Sam out of his comfort zone, the thirteen year old sitting up automatically. He stares at his brother, only to get hit in the face by Dean's leather jacket as the older teenager tears it off, throwing it at Sam.

The youngest Winchester immediately tugs the leather off his face, staring up at Dean; he looks agitated, pissed off, and on the verge of tears, and he hardly shoots Sam a glance before dropping a bag of groceries on the bed and heading to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. The shower starts up not two seconds later and Sam is left staring at the door, wondering what happened while Dean was out.

Cautiously, he slides off the bed, padding over to the door and knocking on it lightly, feeling woefully unprepared for this. "Dean?"

"There's Lucky Charms in the bag. And a thing of milk. That's all I could afford for dinner, Sammy, I'm sorry." Dean's voice is low compared to the hiss of the shower, and Sam can tell he's trying to calm himself down, but it's not going very well.

"I'm not hungry," Sam says back, and he's not, really; he doesn't want to eat because if all Dean can afford is what's in that bag, they have no money left and their father isn't around. He doesn't want to waste it. "Can I come in?"

"No! Go eat, Sam!"

Sam stares at the door before walking over to the bed, pulling out the box of cereal and the carton of milk before reaching for one of the chipped ceramic bowls they carry with them, pouring the cereal into it and topping it off with milk. He grabs one of the bobby pins off the nightstand (Dean bought them as a joke and to keep Sam's hair out of his eyes during target practice) and walks over to the bathroom door, bending the pin and starting to pick the lock, holding the bowl of cereal in one hand. It takes him a while but he gets the lock undone, pushing inside the bathroom.

There's no steam, like he expected, and no naked Dean; rather, his brother is curled up in the bathtub, cold water hitting him; he's still in his jeans and socks and a shirt that looks like it belongs to John, not Dean. Dean looks at Sam, standing there with a bowl of Lucky Charms, and his eyes are red from crying. Sam's never seen Dean cry, and he stares for a moment before shakily setting the cereal down on the counter and walking over.

He slides into the bathtub, sitting on Dean's lap, and the older man shakes his head, pushing a strand of already-soaked hair back off Sam's face. "You should go eat," he murmurs, voice hoarse. "Sam, you're like a twig. You have to eat."

"I'm not hungry." Sam studies Dean's face carefully, blinking the water out of his eyes and staring up at his brother, hands going to his cheeks and squishing him slightly, smiling. "Why were you crying?"

"Dad's not gonna be home for two more weeks," Dean snaps, immediately looking apologetic and rubbing a hand over Sam's face lightly, pinching at one of his cheeks before leaning forward, forehead pressing against Sam's. "But I can take care of us."

Sam just nods; John being gone is normal by now. Sometimes Sam doesn't even realize he has a dad; he looks up to Dean instead. "I know you can."

Dean swallows, and his forehead crinkles up for a moment; Sam just sits there quietly, the only noise in the bathroom that of the water splattering down on him and his older brother. Dean finally speaks, looking down at Sam and cocking his head to one side. "I'm not going to be home much for the next few days. I'll have to try and make some money."

Sam knows immediately what that means and keeps his mouth shut despite the fact that it bothers him; instead, he nods again, leaning forward and pressing his face to his brother's chest. They're both soaking wet by now, and Dean casually ghosts a hand through Sam's hair, frowning a little. "You'll get sick."

"So will you," Sam says, but he leans back nonetheless, turning off the water and watching his brother before slowly getting out of the tub. Dean nearly follows him but Sam grabs the Lucky Charms off the counter and comes back over, sitting on Dean's stomach and holding out the bowl. "Here. You need it more than me."

Dean snorts and takes the cereal, rolling his eyes at Sam's chintzy movie line and taking a bite of the Lucky Charms, screwing his face up. "They'll all soggy now, you dork."

"It's not my fault you were too busy crying in the shower to eat," Sam says lightly, his tone teasing, and Dean pops him in the side of the head before going back to his Lucky Charms, Sam watching him eat with a placated expression.

Dean holds out the spoon, a rainbow marshmallow on it alone with a few pieces of cereal. "Here you go. I'm giving you the rainbow because you're a fag."

"You're too kind." Sam shakes his head, leaning in and taking the bite offered to him, a little milk dripping down his chin before he scoots back, beaming at Dean. "Still tasty."

Dean runs his thumb over Sam's chin, getting rid of the milk; it's little things like that, these tiny little things that Dean does for Sam, that makes Sam think of Dean as a pseudo-father. He grins at his big brother and Dean smiles in return, leaning over and pressing his mouth to Sam's forehead.

Sam loves Dean, and Dean loves Sam, and they'd do anything for each other, even if it means sharing a bowl of Lucky Charms, curling up together in a cold shower, or, in Dean's case, hustling pool to get by. That's the way it's always been, and the way it's always going to be, and right now, with Sam leaning against him and the only warmth in the room the two of them, Dean is just fine with that.