Summary: AU. A thing of comfort to hold close against the dark of night and banish fear... Wincesty angst/fluff.

A/N: It's a bit odd, but I like it somehow.

Comfort Toy by frostygossamer

Definition: A thing of comfort to hold close against the dark of night and banish fear...

Like always, Sam was curled up in his bed, all six-foot-four of him, in pink fleecy pajamas with little hearts and fluffy bunnies on them. He was 27 but, after all those traumatic years they'd been through, he now had the emotional age of an eight-year-old. He clutched his yellow teddy bear and snuffled his face into its fur, seeking comfort in the soft plush.

Dean looked down at his sleeping baby brother fondly. At times like this he could almost forget what had happened. He stood there, dewy from the shower, rubbing his aching shoulder. Truth was his whole body ached from that night's encounter with the rabid woebegone. He walked over to the side of Sam's bed and, leaning down, stroked the wandering locks away from the innocent young man's eyes. With a sigh, Dean lifted the comforter and slipped in bed beside him.

Sam stirred vaguely with the shift of the mattress, as Dean's body slid up against his. He smiled slightly without opening his eyes, and slipped back into dreamland. Dean placed a gentle kiss on his brother's temple and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close, closer. Sam sighed, acquiescing, and made a soft cooing sound in response. Dean took that as acceptance, as usual.

Sam may have had the soul of a small child, but he had the body of a well-developed adult male. It welcomed Dean's touch, and responded to it receptively. Dean had come to him so many times for this kind of comfort, after a bad hunt, or Hell, and he was never turned away. It was all about love. Sam loved his big brother so much he allowed him everything. A kiss. A caress. A fondle. A fuck. It was all love. Nothing denied...

...Dean, it's OK...

...The following morning, Dean was already ensconced in the adjacent diner, eating pancakes, when Sam wandered in and flopped dozily into the seat across from him.

"Did I sleep well last night?", asked Sam, like always.

Dean smiled warmly, reaching across to dab a little maple syrup on his nose. "You slept perfectly, Sammy", he answered.

The End

A/N: I blame this on my furry hot-water bottle putting ideas into my head. :)