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This can’t be happening. There’s no way this is happening.

Sam is fourteen. He is a hunter; he’s seen ghosts, werewolves and vampires. He’s killed those things before! Still here he is, in the middle of the night, trying to find a way to remove the bedsheets without waking his brother. Because Sam’s life is never easy, the one night he wet the bed just had to also be the night where he shared a bed with Dean.

“What the fuck are you’re doing Sam?” He heard Dean’s sleepy voice whispering.

Sam freezes and looks at his brother. His eyes are still closed. Maybe he won’t be able to smell it.

“I was thirsty.” He tries to lie, but his brother always knows when he’s lying. Without even looking at him, he knows. He doesn’t say anything at first, and Sam hopes that he’ll just go back to sleep.

“What is that smell?” Dean makes a disgusted face and sits up. “Did you pee in the bed?” He jokes. Of course he jokes, because teenagers don’t pee the bed.

Sam doesn’t respond, he just keeps staring down at the bed. He's not gonna cry. Even though it’s absolutely humiliating, he won’t cry. His brother looks at him with big eyes and Sam can tell he’s ready to laugh, to make fun of him. Because how weak and stupid can he be to wet the bed at his age? He keeps asking Dean to treat him like an adult, and here he is acting like a child.

Dean must see how much Sam’s body is shaking, or maybe he sees the tears that start to fall down his cheeks, because he doesn’t laugh. He turns on the bedside lamp and gets out of bed.

“Why don’t you go take a shower Sammy?” He suggests softy.

“But I-I need to clean the bed.” It’s barely a whisper but it’s all Sam can manage without bursting into tears.

“I’ll take care of things out here. You just go take a shower and clean yourself up, I can handle this.”

“Dean, I wet the bed. You can’t … I can’t make you clean up my mess.”

Dean walks towards him, and in a second he has him in his arms, hugging him gently. Sam puts his head in the crook of Dean’s neck and sobs.

“It’s okay Sammy. It’s not a big deal; this kind of stuff happens all the time,” Dean soothes.

“Yeah maybe when you’re five, not when you’re fourteen.”

Dean caresses his hair before giving him a little kiss on the forehead. “It happens. People just don’t say it. Come on now. Go take a shower, and then we’ll go back to sleep.”

Sam nods and reluctantly leaves Dean’s arms. If he could stay in those arms forever, he would do it without any hesitation. He feels so safe and so calm when Dean hugs him. It happens less and less often, and he misses it so much.

He walks into the bathroom and closes the door before entering in the shower. It’s a good thing John hasn’t come home from the bar yet. Sam can’t imagine how his father would have reacted. He’s not a bad father, but most of the time he doesn’t know how to react and only makes things worse.

But Dean always knows exactly what to do. It’s like he has an extra sense, one that’s just for Sam, which tells him exactly how to react when Sam is in a bad mood or a bad situation.

Ten minutes later, Sam gets out of the shower and he’s surprised to find a clean set of pajamas on the bathroom sink. He didn’t even hear Dean come in.

When he goes back into the room, the bed is clean and remade and Dean is already under the covers. He climbs into bed, leaving as much room as he can between him and his brother. How he is supposed to look his brother in the eye now? He feels so ashamed. Of course Dean used to change his diapers, and he was the one who potty-trained him. But that was more than 10 years ago.

He must be thinking too loud because before he can do anything, one of Dean’s arms is at his waist pulling him towards his chest and the other is stroking softly through his hair. Sam falls into the embrace and presses himself as much as he can against his brother. He feels Dean smiling before kissing his head and tightening his embrace.

“Night, bitch.”

“Goodnight, jerk.”

And just like that, Sam knows that everything is going to be ok. Because it’s Dean, and Dean always makes things better.