Title: The Streets Are Oddly Vacant
Author: chash
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam & Dean (could be, like, pre-slash. If you want. But gen!)
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers to 410.
Word Count: 1000 words.
Summary: Sometimes, motels run out of double rooms.
Notes: Title from "Starlight" by Freezepop.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.


The first time it happens, Sam has been on the road with Dean for a couple months. They're in Kentucky checking out a poltergeist, and Dean gets the motel room while Sam picks up pizza from down the street.

"They only had rooms with one bed left," says Dean when Sam finds him leaning against the car. "They said they'd get you a cot."

"I'm not sleeping on a cot, Dean," says Sam.

"Suck it up, I'm older."

"I'm taller," says Sam.

Dean snorts. "I could still kick your ass."

"Not that," says Sam practically. "I don't fit on cots."

"Fine," says Dean, sighing dramatically. He takes the pizza and puts it on top of the Impala. "Rock-paper-scissors."

Sam tries not to grin too hard. Dean always throws scissors. Always. "Fine," he agrees.

Dean throws scissors and Sam smirks. "Hope you like the cot."

"No way I am sleeping in the fucking cot," says Dean, petulant.

Sam rolls his eyes. "You know, it's a giant bed. We can share for a couple days."

"Fucking cot," says Dean, which Sam takes for a yes.

*

Sam snuggles. He can't help it. If he's in bed with someone--anyone--he'll end up curled around them, close and safe.

It started with Dean, back when they shared beds in every motel and cramped apartment they lived in. He'd always liked sleeping against Dean's chest, warm and safe and protected, and Dean never objected. Sam is pretty sure he liked it too. Once he hit twelve their dad started getting two small beds instead of just one in apartments, but the motels were always two queens--one for John, one for the kids--until Sam went to college. Cots cost extra, and Sam--Sam really didn't mind. He'd been sleeping tangled up in Dean for so long he barely knew anything else, never wanted anything else.

"You're like a fucking octopus," is what Dean says when he and Sam wake up cuddled together in the king-sized bed.

"It's not my fault you make such a good little spoon," Sam shoots back easily, and somehow, it isn't weird at all.

*

It just happens from time to time--they'll stop somewhere without any doubles, and they'll get the king-sized bed instead of paying for two rooms. Every time, Dean insists on playing rock-paper-scissors for it; every time, he loses.

Every time, Sam wakes up with his arms tight around Dean, his head on top of Dean's, the two of them their own world.

They never mention it, but Dean never pulls away.

*

After the tenth time or so, Sam calls Dean on the way he's an idiot.

"Hope you like cots," says Dean, tossing a key towards Sam.

"Dean," says Sam, "can we just...forget that? Seriously. We share. It's not a big deal. Do we have to go through the whole rock-paper-scissors thing every time?"

Dean glances over. He's quiet for a minute, then he snorts. "Try to keep your hands to yourself this time, Sasquatch."

Sam just shakes his head.

*

"No doubles," says Dean as he comes out of the motel.

Sam boggles. "Seriously? This is the third time this month."

Dean shrugs. "Vacation season's starting up, Sammy. Deal."

But it's weird. It's early June, and they've never had this much trouble getting rooms before. Sam himself hasn't had trouble--every time he goes in, he gets a double, no problem.

That's when it hits him.

He sneaks off while Dean's driving off to get their Chinese, goes to the front desk of the motel with a bright smile.

"Hi," he says, "can I get a double for the night?"

"Of course," says the woman. "Two queens?"

"Let me just check that," says Sam with a smile he doesn't quite feel. He ducks out of the room and just leans against the wall, breathing steadily.

Okay.

That's interesting.

*

When Sam thinks back, he remembers that almost always after really bad shit happens, motels run out of double rooms. After he got possessed by Meg, the first place they stopped had just singles, and after Madison and the djinn too.

And now, they've shared three beds in as many weeks. And Sam died before that.

It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots.

*

The thing is, Sam doesn't know what to do with this knowledge once he gains it. It's not like he wants to deprive either of them of the only contact they can have without it being awkward--after all, they're asleep, they're not in control of their actions. Dean can write it off, Sam can ignore it, and if it makes Dean feel better, who's Sam to object?

He knows, too, that if he comments on it at all, if he asks, Dean will stop.

Sam isn't going to make Dean give this up.

If he's honest, he doesn't want to give it up either.

Sam stays awake until Dean's asleep that night, wraps him up close and doesn't let go.

*

There are nothing but double rooms after Dean gets dragged out of hell, and Sam's antsy, wants Dean to take comfort, maybe wants Dean to need it.

After Dean tells him about hell, he fucking gives up, gets the motel room himself.

"They were out of doubles," says Sam, voice even.

Dean raises his eyebrows, appraises Sam. "Really?"

Sam shrugs. "Getting towards Christmas," he says.

Dean keeps looking at him for a long minute. "I can get a cot," he says, careful.

Sam fights to keep his voice light. "You'll just bitch about how much your back hurts tomorrow. Just share the king," he says.

"You sure?" asks Dean, like they've never done this before. Like it's something new.

"Yeah," says Sam. "I don't mind."

"Better keep your hands to yourself, Sasquatch," says Dean.

"Always do," Sam shoots back, and Dean snorts.

"We can stay here a few days," says Sam after a minute, his voice quiet. "Take a break."

Dean looks at him, and he knows Dean knows exactly why he's doing this.

"Yeah," says Dean finally. "Just a few days."

It's the closest they come to a lot of things they should do.

Sam will take it.