Work Text
Baby's doors close at the same time, a weird thing the brothers unconsciously acquired thanks to all those years on the road together, and Dean doesn't waste time before he ignites the engine.“Tell me why you want to go to the beach again?”Sam turns to him with a slightly nervous face but still answers clearly, “Because you were weirdly out last night and because I also thought it was a good change of scenery.” Dean doesn't say anything to that, only nods and starts the ride to their destination. “Are you— is that okay?”“Sam.”And yeah, maybe Sam should shut up and let his brother drive. If it wasn't okay, they wouldn't be on the road. They wouldn't even be in the car actually, they'd be arguing about doing it, so he relaxes in the seat. He's the one to turn the volume up this time, making Dean smirk knowingly. They're halfway there when they exit the motorway for a restroom stop and Sam is back to being unsure and fidgety.“Stop that already,” Dean scolds, “I told you I was fine. I might have turned mute but it lasted less time than usual so it's all good! Look at me, I'm awesome!”“Don't you wonder why?” Sam almost whines, which Dean struggles to understand. “I didn't think about it yesterday but usually, muteness keeps you regressed longer. You've never got back that fast before.” “Oh, god, can't you be more like me and say it's because you're the best or something? I know you love using my makeshift younger self—”“I'm not using you!”“—against me to pamper me all you want but, Sam, I'm fine. I feel fine.”Dean honestly feels good, he's not lying about it this time, so he lets his brother watch him as he pleases, analyzing him even, until Sam eventually looks satisfied. Well, not entirely satisfied but he's getting there, he thinks.He quickly realizes his mistake when, back at the car, Sam asks for his jacket, stating that he'll nap in the backseat for the remainder of the ride, but Dean knows better than to stem it; trust Sam to put himself into his own regressed state for worrying too much about Dean. So he agrees, helps him settle, cards his fingers through Sam's hair for a little while, and tells him again that everything is fine, that he doesn't need to do that but that he's still here if Sam needs him. Better safe than sorry. A few miles later and the beach now fast approaching, Dean glances in the rearview mirror for what feels like the thousandth time. He smiles a little at the sight of Sam sleeping with his nose tucked in the collar of his leather jacket before he realizes what it means. And honestly, Dean should have known immediately, right when Sam asked for his jacket. So he really shouldn't be surprised when he sees his brother frown as he opens unfocused eyes, nor should he be when he hears his sleep-induced voice call for their dad. He should really not, but that still doesn't bode well at all and it's the last thing he wanted to deal with when he let Sam go into his own mind.He steals himself up and grips the steering wheel harder when the small voice sounds again, a slight shiver embedded into it.“Dad? Where are we?”“We're almost there, baby boy. We're going to the beach, remember? You asked.”He tries for nonchalance, using the endearment he only uses with regressed Sam, that their dad never used, to help him gather his surroundings and appease him before shit hits the fan. It fails unfortunately, because his brother starts to panic anyway.“Where's Dean? Dad, you didn't abandon him on the last stop, did you? I swear it wasn't his fault! I was just—”“Sammy, I'm here. See? I'm the one driving. Dad's not here.”“You have to go back! I have his jacket, he doesn't have his wallet, he doesn't—”“Look at me, baby boy.” Dean forces a soothing tone despite himself feeling growing anxious as well. “Calm down and really look at me. Dad's on his own right now. It's just you and me.”“Dean?”“That's me!” He smiles wide and turns around. “Are you okay, baby boy?”“Dee! I'm— I'm— What's going on? Why—”“Okay, okay, I'm here, just—” Eyes back on the road, he blindly reaches behind him, Sam immediately clinging to his arm and sniffing pathetically, breaking his heart. “Can you give me a minute? I'mma find somewhere to stop the car and— There.” Allowing Sam to keep his grip on him, he maneuvers to take the shoulder and leave the highway, driving a little longer until he can park. “Okay, just a few more seconds, baby boy. Hang on.”“Dee…”“It's okay, Sammy. Dad's not here and I'm not forgotten in the middle of nowhere, I'm right here with you. Let me go so I can hop in there with you, yeah?”Sam's mind fortunately clears enough for him to assess his words and Dean doesn't even think about leaving the car to go back in; he just climbs across the front seat, almost falling into Sam's arms when his brother desperately tugs on him.Dean coddles him for a while, whispering soothing nonsense into his ear and rocking him back and forth as he would do when they were both younger.“Feeling better now?” Sam nods but still hides in his neck, and Dean shouldn't smile but his brother is too cute not to, now that everything is seemingly settled. “You still want to go to the beach? You remember you wanted it, right?” Another nod. “We’ll build sandcastles, play in the sea if you want, we'll even eat ice cream. You want ice cream?”“Yes!” Sam immediately lightens up and almost jumps with excitement. “Chocolate and vanilla! And whipped cream!” Then he sobers up, shyly asks, “Can I have whipped cream?”“Everything you want, baby boy.”“Then I'm staying on the beach.”“No sea?”“No water, only sand.”“Sounds good.” Dean seals the deal with a kiss on Sam's forehead.*The rest of the day passes without any more hitch, Sam laughing out loud and Dean staying close to him, often clearing his hair from sand just to touch him and remind the both of them that everything is really fine.They built two sandcastles and ate two ice creams to celebrate each of their successful constructions before Dean decides it's time to go. He laughs when Sam's yawn doesn't cover his disagreement and playfully pushes him around in the sand to prove his point. When Sam actually doesn't retaliate, he says, “See? You're too tired to even fight back.”“Nooo… I don't want to go home.”“Come on, baby boy, let me help you—”“No! I'm good here. Comfy.”Dean groans for the form but smiles right after that. “And who's going to bitch about the sand everywhere in the near future?”“You!” Sam giggles.Dean rolls his eyes because his brother is obviously right; he hates the feeling of it in his clothes. But it's totally worth it this time.“Yes, but you're going to bitch as much so—” he tugs on Sam's arms to get him to sit up then turns around and bends over to hoist him on his back. “—up you get.”“Yeehaw!”“Oh my god… Stop wriggling like that or we'll both fall and I can't be sure you won't hurt yourself. Come on.”If he wanted to sound a little sterner, Dean shouldn't be chuckling, but a regressed Sam who's that happy is always too fun to pass up the opportunity. He knows he'll quickly calm down anyway, what with the crying and the beach atmosphere wiring him out. Dean feels drained as well, having stressed about Sam then laughed with him.What a day, he thinks.Soon enough, Sam settles down, his face tucked in the side of his neck and his arms loosening around him; he's surely falling asleep so Dean makes sure not to jostle him too much on the way back to the car.