Notes: Written for oxoniensis's Hugs, Cuddles, and Kisses challenge.
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Sam used to think that dreams came in through his window.
"I dreamed about you last night," he'd would tell Dan in the morning, "but the window was only open a tiny bit. How'd you fit in?"
Dan would laugh at him, but wouldn't explain, because Sam would grow up soon enough and find out that dreams were nothing but the random firing of neurons. They never came true.
Then the nightmares started coming, and Sam would creep into Dan's room and crawl under the covers with him, burying his face in Dan's chest. After that, it was Dan's job to check the window every night, to make sure it was shut and locked, the curtains drawn.
Most nights it didn't work, and he woke in the mornings with Sam snoring quietly against his side.
Time passed, they grew, and Sam eventually learned that dreams didn't come through the window at all, they came from his own mind. "You can leave it open," he told Dan one night in a tired voice that almost made Dan want to cry. "It doesn't matter."
The night Sam died, Dan dreamed of him, before he even heard the news.
He opened his window the next night before he went to bed.
Just in case.