The first thing Sam does after saving the world is sleep.
The second thing he does is wake up, what feels like a couple days later, to the sound of unmistakeable laughter. Sam keeps his eyes closed, feeling heavy and warm and a little bit sore, just listening.
“And then,” Dean’s saying, “and then, ah man, ahah, you shoulda seen the look on Alistair’s face. Fuckin’ hilarious.” He dissolves into giggles. There’s a long, leisurely inhale, then, “You’re the best, man.”
“No, Dean,” says an equally familiar, angelic voice. “You are the best.” And then Castiel starts giggling too. Sam cracks an eye open.
“Guys,” he says. “You’re seriously celebrating Lucifer’s demise with pot?”
“Sammy, my man,” Dean says, beaming wide as he drags his chair even closer to the bed. “Sammy, Sammy. Sam-may.Hell yes we are celebrating with pot. And there was pie, too, but that was yesterday.”
“We saved you a piece,” Castiel says. He pauses, struggling to contain the laughter, then adds, “But then we, aha, we got hungry.”
“The munchies, man,” Dean intones. It sets Castiel off again, muffling his giggles in his trenchcoat.
“You are so going to hell,” Sam mutters.
Dean grins. “Been there, done that.”
Sam rolls his eyes. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, shaking the hair out of his eyes. He’s in Bobby’s spare room, ‘though he doesn’t remember getting there- doesn’t remember anything after Dean dragged him into the car and told him to close his eyes- and there’s daylight streaming through the grimy window. When he glances back, Dean’s still grinning.
“Hey,” Sam begins, softly.
“Ah, ah.” Dean holds a finger up, wagging it in front of Sam’s face. “No chick-flick moments. Want a drag?”
Sam sighs, holding his hand out. “Yeah, okay, why not.”
Dean passes him the joint, then leans forward and ruffles his hair. He’s smiling. “Atta boy, Sammy,” he says.
The first thing Sam does after saving the world is sleep.
The second thing he does is wake up, what feels like a couple days later, to the sound of unmistakeable laughter. Sam keeps his eyes closed, feeling heavy and warm and a little bit sore, just listening.
“And then,” Dean’s saying, “and then, ah man, ahah, you shoulda seen the look on Alistair’s face. Fuckin’ hilarious.” He dissolves into giggles. There’s a long, leisurely inhale, then, “You’re the best, man.”
“No, Dean,” says an equally familiar, angelic voice. “You are the best.” And then Castiel starts giggling too. Sam cracks an eye open.
“Guys,” he says. “You’re seriously celebrating Lucifer’s demise with pot?”
“Sammy, my man,” Dean says, beaming wide as he drags his chair even closer to the bed. “Sammy, Sammy. Sam-may.Hell yes we are celebrating with pot. And there was pie, too, but that was yesterday.”
“We saved you a piece,” Castiel says. He pauses, struggling to contain the laughter, then adds, “But then we, aha, we got hungry.”
“The munchies, man,” Dean intones. It sets Castiel off again, muffling his giggles in his trenchcoat.
“You are so going to hell,” Sam mutters.
Dean grins. “Been there, done that.”
Sam rolls his eyes. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, shaking the hair out of his eyes. He’s in Bobby’s spare room, ‘though he doesn’t remember getting there- doesn’t remember anything after Dean dragged him into the car and told him to close his eyes- and there’s daylight streaming through the grimy window. When he glances back, Dean’s still grinning.
“Hey,” Sam begins, softly.
“Ah, ah.” Dean holds a finger up, wagging it in front of Sam’s face. “No chick-flick moments. Want a drag?”
Sam sighs, holding his hand out. “Yeah, okay, why not.”
Dean passes him the joint, then leans forward and ruffles his hair. He’s smiling. “Atta boy, Sammy,” he says.
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