Gemini (Supernatural Rewrite Sam x Reader x Dean)

Playthings

A/N: Oh... we are so back. Thanks for your patience.

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"Shhh. You have to be quiet, or else he's going to find us," Dean whispers. His voice is low, deadly serious for a seven-year-old. You're curled up on the wooden floor of the linen closet, knees to your chest, one hand clasped tight over your mouth to stifle any noise. Dean peeks out into the upstairs hallway, checking for signs of movement before gently pulling the door shut behind him, sealing you both in darkness.

But the slats let in sunlight, creating narrow stripes of gold across the two of you. It's enough to keep the dark from feeling scary. Your eyes adjust, and you can just make out Dean's face across from you. His bottom lip is tucked beneath his front teeth, well, just the one, because the other is missing. You wonder where it went. The last time you saw him, maybe a month ago, he still had it. That was before their latest long trip with their dad. You never know where they go. You never ask.

Dean and Sam are always coming and going. Since their house burned down and their mom died, they've been moving around. Your mom says it's because their family likes adventures and exploring, but you've overheard enough whispered arguments to know that's not quite true. This past week and a half, the boys have been staying with you while their dad is off on another "adventure," the kind that's apparently too dangerous for kids. Your mom doesn't like him. You've heard her tell him so...saying it isn't right, the way he drags them into danger.

The two of you stay quiet for a while, but eventually a small giggle escapes your lips. You can't help it. This is too fun. Hide and seek with Sam is always a blast, and you're confident a two-year-old will never find this spot. Dean's eyes widen in warning, but it only takes a few seconds before he's laughing too. Quiet giggles turn into breathless laughter. You're trying to muffle them but failing, both of you shaking with joy.

You're laughing so hard you don't hear the footsteps until it's too late. The closet door flies open, and a squeal rips from your throat as you're suddenly lifted off the ground. Dean shrieks in surprise. But then you see who it is, and relief rushes through you.

"Found them!" John Winchester says, cradling you effortlessly in one arm. Sam stands beside him, proud and wide-eyed. He grins, bouncing on his toes.

"Good job, Sammy," John says, smiling down at his youngest before looking over at Dean. "Were you good? Keep your brother out of trouble?"

"Yes, sir," Dean replies quickly. You notice how stiff he gets. Not scared, exactly, but different. More like he's holding something back, answering carefully as if there's a right and a wrong answer.

Your mom's voice drifts up the stairs. "John? Did you find them?"

Beth rounds the corner, smiling when she sees the four of you in the hallway. But behind her expression is something you recognize. It's the look she gets every time the Winchesters are about to leave again. A flutter in her chest, knowing their visit is almost over. Still, she hides it well. She reaches out to take you from John's arms, balancing you on her hip as he sets Dean down gently.

"I hope you're hungry," she says cheerfully. "I made a special dinner tonight. And if you need a place to crash, I can make up the couch. There's no motel for miles, and it's late."

John rubs the back of his neck, offering a polite smile. "I don't know..."

"We should stay!" Dean blurts, tugging at his dad's pant leg. Sam mimics him, grabbing the other side.

John chuckles under his breath, then glances at you. You hit him with your best puppy-dog eyes. It works. A sigh slips from him, and he gives in. "What the hell. What's on the menu?"