Deanwich

"Sammy lunch time," 12 year old Dean called into the other room of the motel.

Small foot steps were heard and soon enough Sam was in the kitchen, sitting on the chair that Dean had pulled out for him.

"What's for lunch?" He asked, with a small lisp from his missing tooth.

"A sandwich," He said, putting said food in front of him.

"Where did you get the stuff? Dad hasn't bought any in forever," He said, picking it up.

"Don't worry about it, just eat," Dean said, ruffling Sam's hair once before sitting down and eating his own.

For the next few days, Dean made more sandwiches before Sam woke up from his naps.  A few days later Dean was sitting in front of the TV, with his head bobbing against his chest, fighting his eyes closing.  Eventually the song of the sandman won over him and he fell into a deep sleep.

A small hand shaking him, woke him up as he opened his eyes groggily.

"Sammy?"

"Wake up, it's 6,"

"What?" He asked, eyes snapping to the clock. "Oh shit, I'm sorry Sammy you must be hungry,"

"No I made myself something and I made you a deanwich,"

A confused look covered Dean's face as he followed Sam to the kitchen where the younger male pointed to the table.  Sitting on a plate was a slightly crooked sandwich.

"What did you say you made me?" Dean asked, sitting down.

"A Deanwich, you've made me Samwiches for the past few days, so I made you a Deanwich," Sam smiled brightly.

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times before reaching and pulling Sam to sit on his leg.

"Thanks Sammy," He smiled and kissed the younger boys temple.

"Your welcome," He smiled and leaned his head on Dean's shoulder as the older male started eating his 'Deanwich'.