Here is my true heart's desire. Sam and Dean find a hotel (lalala what Lucifer? *handwave*) and are too exhausted to hash things out right that moment. But without talking about it, they mutually discover that they can't bear to be more than a couple of feet apart for a little while. And then later, there might be cuddling. IT JUST HAPPENS OKAY.
When Sam goes in for his shower he leaves the bathroom door open. Dean peels off his shirt and kicks off his boots and can't stop looking at that open door. He can hear the water against enamel but all he can see is the flicker of Sam's shadow as he moves. Just a shadow
( ... )
*melted into a thousand happy bits of bliss* Yes, this. PERFECT hugging, lovely ♥ And you with your way of finding the perfect last line every time. Bravo!
Apparently I was lying when I said I wasn't going to write any fic for this!
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“Hey,” Dean says, later. He has no idea where they are anymore, just that the sky is dark and the road is empty all around them and that it’s beginning to rain. “Hey,” he says again.
Sam’s head jerks up from where it was lolling back against the seat. He blinks, too slow, this dazed kind of look on his face.
“Hey,” Dean says, louder. Snaps his fingers under Sam’s nose, one eye on the road. He hates driving in the rain. He hates it. “You with me? I need to pull over
( ... )
The other voice mail on Sam's phonejust_ruthMay 17 2009, 00:20:01 UTC
"Sam, this is Bobby. Listen, if you and your dumbass brother have survived the shitstorm get your asses back here before I come and get you."
Sam looked at Dean, who was driving the stolen car. Dean grinned and chuckled. "We better get back there before he impounds the Impala on us."
They stopped outside of Chicago, in a high class suburb to switch cars. They not only took the owner's Mercades, they took their Rottweiler puppy too. "Shouldn't leave a puppy out in the rain like that," Sam grumbled as she chewed on his fingers.
Bobby hugged both boys - then smacked them with his hat and cussed them out until the puppy pissed on the kitchen floor.
"Wait." Sam's hands are gentle on Dean's chin, his jaw, turning him toward the bathroom light. Dean catches a glimpse of himself in profile with Sam, side by side in the looking glass. He'd look longer if he were the kind of guy given to staring at his --
Hell with that. He's earned whatever he wants. He doesn't think Sam will say no. Thinks Sam wants it, and he's afraid to ask. These little nudges, small little-boy can I? touches, they tell a world's worth of story to Dean.
Dean lets Sam touch him, leans into the press of Sam's palm, rests there for a moment.
"You've got a cut. Here." Sam brushes just beneath. "It's not big, but I want -- I mean, can I --"
It's not even bleeding. No warmth and no sting. Probably just a scratch.
"Yeah, okay."
"Sit?" Sam's already trying to guide Dean toward the edge of the tub, but Dean's not -- quite -- ready to go yet. He rests his weight on Sam, letting Sam feel how there he is. Not a ghost, not a vision, not gonna turn around and yell or walk away
( ... )
wow, this turned out... really kinda NC17.Dean's face is streaked with ash and Sam's got cuts across his arms and Dean's knees are grazed from where Lucifer forced him onto his knees and Sam's thighs are aching, and Sam doesn't care. Sam doesn't care because Lucifer's dead and Dean's alive and Sam's alive and they're together and safe and it's over and Dean's mouth tastes like salt and brimstone and salvation
( ... )
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“Hey,” Dean says, later. He has no idea where they are anymore, just that the sky is dark and the road is empty all around them and that it’s beginning to rain. “Hey,” he says again.
Sam’s head jerks up from where it was lolling back against the seat. He blinks, too slow, this dazed kind of look on his face.
“Hey,” Dean says, louder. Snaps his fingers under Sam’s nose, one eye on the road. He hates driving in the rain. He hates it. “You with me? I need to pull over ( ... )
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Sam looked at Dean, who was driving the stolen car. Dean grinned and chuckled. "We better get back there before he impounds the Impala on us."
They stopped outside of Chicago, in a high class suburb to switch cars. They not only took the owner's Mercades, they took their Rottweiler puppy too. "Shouldn't leave a puppy out in the rain like that," Sam grumbled as she chewed on his fingers.
Bobby hugged both boys - then smacked them with his hat and cussed them out until the puppy pissed on the kitchen floor.
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Hell with that. He's earned whatever he wants. He doesn't think Sam will say no. Thinks Sam wants it, and he's afraid to ask. These little nudges, small little-boy can I? touches, they tell a world's worth of story to Dean.
Dean lets Sam touch him, leans into the press of Sam's palm, rests there for a moment.
"You've got a cut. Here." Sam brushes just beneath. "It's not big, but I want -- I mean, can I --"
It's not even bleeding. No warmth and no sting. Probably just a scratch.
"Yeah, okay."
"Sit?" Sam's already trying to guide Dean toward the edge of the tub, but Dean's not -- quite -- ready to go yet. He rests his weight on Sam, letting Sam feel how there he is. Not a ghost, not a vision, not gonna turn around and yell or walk away ( ... )
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