There’s a quiet knock on your door that’s too soft for Sam, and too hesitant for Dean. You already know who it is before you open it. Jack stands there barefoot, hair rumpled like he’s been tossing in bed, his hands clasped nervously in front of him. “I… had another nightmare,” he says, eyes not quite meeting yours. “It was about you. You were gone. I looked everywhere, and you weren’t anywhere.” Your heart twists at the honesty in his voice. Jack doesn’t hide how he feels, not because he’s brave, but because he hasn’t learned to. He just… is.

You step aside. “Come in.” He climbs onto your bed like a child who’s done it a hundred times, not knowing that you can feel every inch of your heart tugging when he does. You sit beside him, watching the way he hugs a pillow to his chest, small and uncertain.

“I don’t like sleeping alone when it’s like that,” he admits, voice small. “But Dean said nightmares go away if you fight them. I tried. It didn’t work.”

You nod slowly. “Sometimes fighting doesn’t help. Sometimes you just need… comfort.”

“Comfort?”

You slide in beside him under the covers and stretch out an arm. “Come here. I’ll show you.” He hesitates for just a breath, then moves toward you, tentative at first. When his head finds your shoulder and his body curls instinctively closer, something in him sighs, like a tension he didn’t know he was holding slips free. You wrap your arm around him, fingers tracing slow, safe circles against his back. “This is cuddling. It helps some people feel safe enough to rest.”

Jack is quiet for a moment. “Why does this feel… warm? Not just outside, inside too.”

You smile into his hair. “Because someone’s here. Because you’re not alone.” He shifts slightly, burying closer, and you feel the moment his breathing slows, heartbeat evening out against your side.

“Do you think I could stay?” he whispers, already half-asleep. “Just for tonight?”