My Impala-themed photo ops from Jaxcon 2015.

The first one is supposed to be the Boys leaning on Baby having a broment. As soon as I got up there, Jared took the empty bottle I gave him, overturned it, and started giving me a hard time for bringing them empty beer bottles. Jensen was turned away talking to someone else, but as soon as he saw the bottle, he started making the same joke. Not sure if he saw Jared doing it and wanted to be like his boy or if they’re both just on the same wavelegth, but either way it was adorable. Unfortunately, when I cleaned the bottles out, Jensen’s didn’t dry as well, so as soon as he turned it over, it started dripping on the carpet. I WAS SO EMBARRASSED I WAS DYING and Jensen started teasing me that I would have to replace the carpet.

Jensen’s op was the first one that day, and as soon as I walked up he started getting excited about my cosplay. He looked me up and down and gave me thumbs up and was like, “This is amazing.” I told him I wanted to see Dean Winchester’s reaction if he woke up one morning and the Impala was magically a pretty girl. I’m a little miffed that of all my ops from this con, I look the least cute in this one, but I COULD NOT BE MORE DELIGHTED with Jensen, because he did the CLASSIC “Jensen is really excited about something” pose:

When they were little, Sam would have nightmares. He’d wake up in the middle of the night shaking and crying with fear about monsters and the things that go bump in the night. It’d wake Dean up, since they were normally sleeping in the same bed.
He hated to see his Sammy crying, so he’d wrap his arms around him and make up stories to cheer him up. He’d tell him about trips they’d take one day, places they’d see and things they would do. Donkey rides at the grand canyon, swimming with dolphins in Florida, anything that Dean could think of to make his little brother smile. Sam was so young and focused on the stories so much that sometimes he forgot what was reality and what was fiction, but it didn’t matter.

As they got older, Sam’s nightmares stopped, and so did Dean’s stories. 

But then Dad went missing, and Sam was back in hunting and Jess had died and the nightmares started again.
Dean would notice Sam twitching and flinching in his sleep, his face contorted in fear, but when Sam woke with a start he always denied what was happening.
Dean couldn’t stand seeing his brother this way, so one night when the flinching started, he climbed into Sam’s bed and pulled him into a hug. Sam woke up and instead of pulling away and denying everything, he curled up into his brother, into his warmth and comfort. Dean started telling him some story, about past hunts when Sam was at Stanford, achievements he was proud of. Of course he embellished here and there, made boring routine hunts into oscar-worthy movie scene fights, all the cheer up Sammy. He’d do anything to hear him laugh again. 
The nightmares became more infrequent eventually, but anytime Dean saw the signs repeating themselves, he was ready, armed with stories instead of his usual guns, prepared to make Sam smile. 
He did it when Sam was racked with guilt over not getting Dean out of hell, when Sam’s wall started cracking, when he had terrible nightmares about the cage, on the nights that he actually slept that was. 

When they moved into the bunker, they had separate rooms. Dean no longer witnessed any nightmares that his brother had, and Sam wasn’t sure Dean would do anything if he did, with so much tension between them. But Sam still had them. After everything that had happened with the trials and Gadreel and being lied to and having his agency removed, he was constantly having nightmares about having no control, being trapped with no escape, having to do things he didn’t want to, killing people, killing Kevin. 
The nightmares were almost every night, and he could never get back to sleep after them.

One night, while researching a case in the library, the recent lack of sleep caught up to him and he began to fall asleep at the table. 
Dean wandered in to check on him to find his brother flinching, with the same look of fear on his face that he’d seen so many times before. His instinct to protect his Sammy kicked in and he instantly woke him up.
Sam denied having a nightmare, of course, he didn’t want to talk to Dean about these issue, partly caused by him. It was clear Dean didn’t think he’d done anything wrong and Sam wasn’t in the mood for an argument. But Dean was worried and insisted Sam talked to him about it.
So he did. He told him about that nightmare and all the other ones recently. The fact he didn’t feel in control of his own body and how horrible it made him feel. The effects of this fear and worry were so physically obvious that Dean realised his errors, his mistakes.
‘Sammy, I..I didn’t even think about all this. I just wanted you alive, man. You’re my brother, I can’t live with you dead. But you’re right, I let you down, and I’m sorry.’
Sam wasn’t expecting an apology, and the only thing he could manage in response was 'Thanks Dean’.
They sat in silence for a few moments, unspoken 'i love you’s hanging in the air.
Dean decided the mood need lightening, so he moved Sam’s research out of the way, and perched on the table in front of his brother. He began to tell him stories, but this time they weren’t made up. He told him about childhood memories they shared, the times he used to make up stories after childhood nightmares, his favourite hunts they’d been on. He was half expecting Sam to leave and not listen, but his brother sat there and laughed with him. He’d missed the sound. 

After 30 minutes or so, Sam started yawning. Dean insisted that he went to bed, going to the trouble to following him to his room and tucking him in. Sam worried over research that was left to be done, but really he loved having his big brother take care of him. He’d missed this the way Dean had missed his laugh. 
Sam slept soundly that night.