I’m obsessed with A) your art, B) your coloring pages, and C) writing kid!Dean and kid!Sam. This is the result.
The pillow is Mary’s, salvaged from the remains of their house after the fire. It’s itchy and tattered and a rather alarming shade of pink, but it’s Mary’s, so Dean treasures it. Every night he falls asleep with his nose buried in its fabric, imagining that even after two years he can still smell her sea cotton perfume.
Sammy, curled next to him most nights, has no memory of the pillow’s original owner. In his mind, it’s Dean’s. It always has been. When he falls asleep, it’s to the sound of his brother’s breathing, the softness of his shirt clutched in Sammy’s little fist, the scent of musty cloth and children’s shampoo surrounding him like a fog. To him, the pillow means comfort and safety and Dean.
But some of the other kids laugh at it. They call Dean a momma’s boy, a cry baby, a girly girl, day after day after day until he can’t take it anymore, until his head is pounding with hurtful words. In a fit of tearful humiliation, he stomps into his bedroom and throws his prized possession under the bed, where it’ll be hidden from prying eyes and taunting smirks.
That’s where Sammy finds it later that day. Reaching under the bed for a long-lost toy, his fingers skitter over the familiar fabric, and he pulls it out in confusion. Dean loves this pillow; what is it doing under the bed? Sammy dusts it off and climbs into Dean’s bed, toy already forgotten. With Mr. Moose held tightly in his arms, he settles in for a nap, nose buried in the scratchy fabric, imagining the warmth of Dean’s body next to his and falling asleep with very little trouble.
Dean wanders in a few minutes later. Seeing his brother curled up with their one physical connection to their mom, he stops short. In an instant, any embarrassment he may have felt is forgotten, because who cares what the other kids says? Sammy certainly doesn’t, and that’s all that matters. Mary is too important to let dumb kids get under his skin.
So when Sammy wakes up to find his nose buried in Dean’s chest, safe in his brother’s embrace, he doesn’t think anything of it. He just smiles and snuggles in deeper.
He also doesn’t speak up when Dean takes to openly dragging the pillow around the house, his grin impish and his eyes shining defiantly; Dean’s always been a weird one anyway.
((Eee this is adorable! :D My comfort item as a child was a pillowcase, funny enough xD ))