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The Wanting Comes In Waves

All Sam/Dean, All The Time

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Weight around my neck icon

Fic: Weight Around My Neck - Part 2 of 3 (Sam/Dean NC-17)


~*~Part 1~*~
Dean unpacks in his room and rearranges his weapons collection on the wall, until he’s killed enough time and gathered enough courage for this conversation. After that uncomfortable car ride, he doesn’t want to put it off even for another night. “Sam, you got a sec?” Dean asks as he walks up the steps to the library.

“Sure, of course, pull up a chair.” Sam gestures at all the open chairs surrounding his worktable in the main library room. Luckily Dean has interrupted him before he got fully immersed back into the demon curing rituals.

Dean crosses the room, goes around the table and settles himself in the chair next to Sam, nervously plucking at the knees of his jeans.

“What’s up?” Sam asks, a little worried when he sees how nervous Dean seems to be.  After their fun weekend and the conversations in the car, he’d thought Dean was in a pretty good place.

“Just so you know upfront, this was all Charlie’s idea,” Dean says without further elaboration.

“Okay. . .” Sam says, now really wondering what this is about.

“She noticed, uh…our necklaces.”

“Oh,” Sam responds in a quiet voice.

“And she wanted to know if one of them was the one that was in Chuck’s books.”

“Oh,” Sam says in an even quieter voice.

Dean forces himself to look directly at Sam “I told her where I got mine.”

“And where was that exactly?” Sam asks, feigning nonchalance.

“Here, back in storeroom seven, couple weeks ago when we were looking for more on the demon curing ritual.”

“Huh, I was wondering,” Sam says almost too softly to be heard, but still looking at Dean.

“So, uh, where’d you find yours?” Dean asks, hesitating because he knows he already knows the answer.

Sam takes a deep breath and says in a surprisingly steady voice, “Picked it up out of a motel trashcan, a few years back.”

Dean closes his eyes as if he’s been physically hurt. “Ah…so it’s,” he says in a pained voice.

“Yeah. It is,” Sam answers, finally looking away. It’s too hard to see the emotion on his brother’s face.

Dean steadies himself, counting his breaths in and out up to ten, then asks, “How come you . . . ?”

“What?” Sam asks, looking over at Dean with a sharp snap of his head.

Dean startles a little at Sam’s reaction. “Why didn’t you, uh, give it back to me?”

“Didn’t see the point at the time, since you’d thrown it away.  And I kinda forgot I even had it until I saw you wearing that one,” Sam answers.

“Huh. . . Would you mind switching with me?” Dean asks.

Sam hesitates, mind turning over all the reasons Dean could be asking this. “Why?”

Dean’s forehead crinkles up in worry, not sure how to answer that. “Because it’s the one I wore all those years, this one doesn’t feel quite right.”


Sam looks back and forth at the two necklaces closely, trying to spot any obvious glaring differences. The worried look on Dean’s face makes his decision for him. Dean’s got enough things to worry about, - this he can do for Dean. He takes the original amulet off, pulling the black cord over his head, and holds it out in the palm of his open hand, offering it for the third time to Dean. “Here.”

Dean takes his new amulet off and hands it over to Sam. They switch at the same time, so no one is without an amulet for very long. Dean’s got it back over his head in a flash, with Sam a little slower because he’s watching Dean’s face transform before his eyes.

Some of the worry and a lot of the tiredness seems to lift from the corners of Dean’s eyes, the lines around his lips from pursing them ease, and the worry wrinkles smooth away from his forehead.  He looks ten years younger, make that more like four years. All told, that’s about how long Dean’s been without his original amulet.  The amount of time that Sam kept it secret is still a tangible weight on Dean’s heart.

Dean holds it in his hand, tugging on it just a bit to settle it back into its rightful place, places his hands on the table, then looks up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “Glad you kept it Sammy.”

“Me too.  I’m just glad you still want it.”

“Course I do. I always did, ya doofus.” Dean hits him on the shoulder to emphasize his point.

Sam raises his eyebrows in disagreement. “No Dean, that’s not true, - you didn’t want it when you threw it away, and this whole time since you’ve been back, it sure didn’t seem like you did.”

Straightening his shoulders as if he’s adjusting to the weight of what this misunderstanding has meant to both of them, Dean says with an honest earnestness, “Well I did. No matter what you think.”

“Huh,” Sam says after a little while, the seconds adding up to more time than he knows he should have taken to answer.

“What, you don’t believe me or something?” Dean asks, unbelieving that his brother really doesn’t know this.

“Let’s just say that I’d like to. I wish it was that easy,” Sam says, wishing that he could just accept Dean’s words as truth.

Dean lifts a hand off the table and grasps the amulet hanging around his neck.  “Then maybe I ought to give it back to you until you do believe it.  Doesn’t seem right to wear this somehow.”

A slow smile dawns on Sam’s face, as he sees the naked look on Dean‘s. He obvious wants Sam’s formerly rock-solid belief in his big brother to be restored. There’s so much more Sam could ask, demand answers or even apologies, but too much time has passed, and when he thinks about it, Dean’s proven himself over and over again since that awful day when they’d just barely survived their visit to Heaven. “Naw, you keep it. I get it now.”

“Just like that?” Dean asks, eyebrows raised in skepticism.

Sam nods like he’s confirming something to himself. “Yeah.”

“So now we’ve got matching necklaces,” Dean muses with a little chuckle.

“Guess so,” Sam answers.

“What will the neighbors think?” Dean kids.

“Whatever they want to I guess,” Sam says, unable to hide the sadness from his voice.

“Hey, what’s that about?” Dean asks.

“What?” Sam says, looking down at his hands in his lap.

Dean touches him on the shoulder. “You sound sad or something.”

Sam shrugs, knocking Dean’s hand off. “I am, I guess.”

Dean puts his head down on the table and looks up at Sam at a funny angle, trying to get Sam to at least meet his eyes. “Why? I thought you’d like it that we finally talked about the necklace thing.”

Sam smiles in spite of himself. “I did like it. I do. I’m glad we worked that out. It’s just about what they mean.”

“Or don’t mean,” Dean blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Yeah.” Sam looks at him closely, nodding his agreement.

“Well that’s up to us isn’t it?” Dean asks, feeling a wild spark of hope surge up unexpectedly in his chest.

Sam pauses, hoping that Dean will say what that is exactly. “I suppose.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “I want this amulet to mean what it did back when you first gave it to me when we were kids. That you really trust me more than anyone else.”

Sam gets up from the table, pushing his chair back with a sudden sharp metal scraping sound. In a flash he’s pulling his surprised brother up out of his chair, holding him by the shoulders, looking at him with such sudden intensity they both feel like they’re caught by surprise in a current swiftly becoming an undertow. “I do, it does. I always did, Dean. Even without the necklace.”

Dean searches Sam’s face, asks him to answer the question he just did. “So what do you want yours to mean?”

“The same thing,” Sam answers before Dean’s done with the question.

“Done,” Dean answers before Sam’s done with his reply.

“Really? Cause you’ve said that before, and you still gave me quite a list of things to confess at that church,” Sam asks, raising one eyebrow at the memory of the whiskey poured out on Rufus’ grave and the words Dean had said about clean slates. That slate hadn’t sounded so clear back on the night the angels fell.

Dean thinks about it; remembers talking about trust and mistakes and things to atone for at Rufus’ graveside; that long list he came up with so quickly for Sam to confess. Recalls how it was all wiped out by Sam’s heart-breaking “So?” when Dean had told him to stop the third trial before he died.  And that’s what it comes down to, if he wants Sam to trust him, it’s got to be mutual, otherwise there’s nothing to build the rest of what he wants on top of. He’s missed the foundation of trust they always had, maybe as much as the physical relationship they once shared. So the only answer that makes sense is, “Yeah, really.”

Sam swallows, the dry, clicking noise audible and surprising in the sudden silence. “Dean, this is big.”

“I know,” Dean says, acknowledging just how big it is, for both of them.

Sam takes his hands off of Dean’s shoulders and turns to fiddle with his notebook on the table. “Wanna celebrate, do something fun?” Sam suggests, not wanting to let go of this moment, this night when maybe everything could come back together.

Dean doesn’t want to point out that they just got back from a whole weekend of doing nothing but exactly that. “Sure. Whaddya suggest?”

“Shooting range or swimming pool?” Sam asks with a grin.

“Tough choice, how hot did you get the pool up to?” Dean asks.

“’bout seventy-three or so, last I checked,” Sam says.

“Cool, but not too cold. Why are we still in here? C’mon.” Dean slaps him on the shoulder and slides his hand down to the small of Sam’s back, gently pushing him towards the steps.

“Alright, let me go get my suit,” Sam says, relishing the feel of Dean’s hand on his back.

Dean shakes his head, “No suits, it’s just us.”

“But Kevin,” Sam protests.

“He’s asleep for at least a few more hours, his note said he was up late with Crowley so he’s sleeping in. C’mon Sammy, chicken if you don’t,” Dean teases as they pause at the doorway.

“God, what are you six or something? Fine, can we at least bring some towels down with us?”

“Sure princess, and your floaties too,” Dean says, happy that his teasing is hitting the right spot tonight.

“Shut up Dean or I’m throwing you in with your clothes on. I swear I will,” Sam threatens with a smile that negates the threat immediately.

Down in the pool room, with its wall of windows, high arched ceiling, tiled all in soothing art-deco patterns of blues and greens, their footsteps echo and the door closing behind them clangs. Then there’s just the quiet rustling sounds of the two brothers removing their clothes quickly. Neither wanting to be the first or the last to jump in the water. Dean turns as he’s finished shoving his jeans and boxers off to the side with the rest of his stuff, clad only in the amulet.  He sees Sam standing there, only a few feet away, in the same unclad state and his jaw drops, his whole body freezing as his hand closes around the amulet around his neck.

“Leave it on,” Sam says, stepping sideways and immediately sinking to the bottom of the deep end, below the sparkling pool water.

Dean watches the water close over the top of Sam’s head and shakes himself out of his frozen state. He looks down at himself, hand clenched around the amulet, cock half-hard already just at the sight of Sam.  This was his idea, so he has to get in, even though it’ll be cold in there. But it’s where Sam is. The Sam who told him to leave his amulet on like he’s in charge somehow. He dives in, smoothly breaking the surface of the water, heading straight for his brother at the bottom of the pool.  Dean circles him once and kicks back up off the pool bottom to breathe again. Sam popping up right behind him.  Dean turns and splashes water in Sam’s face, kicking into a backstroke away to the other end of the pool.

Sam follows in a crawl stroke, quickly catching up and smoothly flip-turning at the end, streaking off underwater. An unofficial race is on. Dean pushes off hard and strong, still on his back, and catches up once Sam surfaces halfway across the pool.  They meet each other’s eye as they speed along the surface, grinning like the children they used to be, swimming races in skanky motel pools after closing hours. They quickly near the end and Sam disappears underwater for another speedy kick turn, Dean right behind, pacing him.

Back and forth for a good five laps, completely and effortlessly in sync, until Sam slows down, stopping finally to hang on the edge of the pool, coughing with what looks like painful force.  Dean stops and puts a hand on Sam’s upper back, rubbing in a slow circle, his fingers tangling with the cord of the amulet that’s now hanging down Sam’s back. The cough doesn’t seem as bad as it was before the third trial, but he still hates it anyways, hates that Sam’s still hurting.

“You okay Sammy?” Dean asks with concern in his voice, holding onto the edge of the pool with one hand and Sam with the other.

“Yeah, ’m good,” Sam answers, turning to look at Dean, which brings them closer. Dean’s arm now over Sam’s shoulder, his hand still on the nape of Sam’s neck.  Sam feels the charge running between them ramping up, impossible to ignore any longer, opens his mouth to say something, anything.

Dean licks his lips slowly, looking at Sam’s opened mouth, lips pink and wet from the pool.  He feels the thrumming restraint in his brother’s body where his hand touches Sam’s back, and leans forward that last little bit to brush their lips together.

Sam responds instantly, like he was a swimmer up on the block just waiting to hear the starting pistol finally fire. His mouth already open, he takes advantage, swiping his tongue across the seam of Dean’s soft closed lips which open to him immediately, hands coming to rest naturally on Dean’s hips.  Sam’s fingers dig in deeper and pull Dean flush against him, feeling how hard Dean already is makes him groan with anticipation.

Still holding onto the edge of the pool with one hand, Dean grasps the long strands of Sam’s wet hair, pulling down on them a bit to make the angle of their kiss that much more perfect. He presses his hips even closer into Sam’s, relishing the feel and texture of Sam’s hardness moving against his own, so hot in the cool water that surrounds them.

Sam moves one hand between them, grasping both of their cocks and beginning a slow pressing slide, up to the top, fingers dancing over their cockheads, back down to their bases in his strong grip. His other hand moves to Dean’s lower back, holding Dean tight against him. It’s hard to get any leverage in the buoyant water, so they mostly have to work with some friction. By the sounds that Dean’s making though, it isn’t a problem.

“Sammy, faster, c’mon,” Dean pants into Sam’s mouth, fucking into him with his tongue, harsh and hot and wet.

Sam speeds up his hand, the fast movement churning the water around them so that it tickles and caresses with extra bubbles and waves. He can feel his toes beginning to curl, even though they’re scrabbling against the pool wall trying to gain purchase.

“Dean, you,” Sam gasps as his orgasm overtakes him, his release warming the cool water for a moment before it floats away.

Dean kisses him deeply, holding his convulsing brother hard against him, and that extra friction is what he needs to push him over the edge too, coming over Sam’s hand, his release mingling with Sam’s in the water around them.

Sam strokes them a few more times, shuddering in Dean’s embrace.  He lets them go and wraps his arm around Dean, pulling them backwards into the water. They float for a second before sinking together. Wrapped up and reborn. They kiss under water, bubbles streaming past their faces until they need to resurface for air, Sam holding Dean against him, treading water to keep their faces above the surface.

“You feel so good like this, Sam. Moving against me all wet and slippery.”

“Like this?” Sam pulls Dean in tighter and wriggles his body in an undulating movement from head to toe, moving like a river otter.

“Guh,” is all Dean can manage to say for a while as Sam corkscrews them through the water, continuously moving against him in a flowing wave. He kisses Sam whenever his mouth is close enough, burning through with joy at how good this feels to be with Sam again. He wishes it would never stop, that they could always be so close and so in-sync like they are right now, that the angels would leave them alone and go back up to Heaven where they belong.

They both see it happen and feel the results when their amulets float out from their bodies and connect. Touching between them as if they’ve suddenly decided to become magnets.  A soundless wave of energy passes through them, damped out quickly in the water, leaving a small circular trail of waves around them.

weight2“What the hell was that?” Dean splutters as they stop and stand up in the middle of the pool, still entwined together.

“Dean, look,” Sam says with alarm, looking between them at the amulets still stuck together like magnets, glowing so brightly it’s almost hard to see Dean’s face.

“Sammy, I don’t think . . .” Dean is cut off by a familiar sounding voice which resonates out from the joined amulets.

“Sam and Dean, it’s been a while,” the voice says from what seems like everywhere at once.

Sam recognizes him first, “Chuck?”

“Yes, Sam,” Chuck’s disembodied voice answers.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean asks.

“I was wondering if you’d ever figure those amulets out,” Chuck says, laughter ringing out and bouncing back off the high ceiling.

Sam gets them both over to the shallow end of the pool and pushes Dean down onto one of the wide steps, sitting beside him close enough so that their necklaces stay together.

“Chuck, how are you even talking to us?” Dean finally manages to ask.

“I left the amulets behind as a way to contact me in an emergency. They only work if they’re used by two human vessels who are attuned to each other, like you two are, - soul mates.”

“But hold on a second, we thought you were just a prophet,” Dean says.

“No, I’m a lot more than that, Dean. I’m God. I apologize for the deception. I assure you that it was necessary. Anyways, what’s the emergency?”

A dead silence falls as they take in this revelation, only the sound of their breathing echoing off the tiled ceiling.

Sam recovers first. “The angels fell. To Earth. Metatron kicked them out with a spell.”

“That’s why no one answered when I called last time. How long’s it been?” Chuck says.

“About a month,” Sam answers quickly.

“Guess I’ll have to come back. This isn’t what I’d planned,” Chuck says, sounding a little peeved.

“Well, sorry to interrupt your vacation or whatever, but it’s pretty messed up around here,” Dean retorts, definitely well past just peeved and not hiding it at all.

“Dean, I know you’ve had a lot to deal with, but you need to speak to me with more respect,” Chuck admonishes.

“I’ll start respecting you once you come clean up the mess your damned angels have made of this place! You left and they had no one to lead them. They started the damn apocalypse, did you know that? We stopped that though, you’re welcome by the way. Then there was the Leviathan, remember them, you made them and locked them up? One of your angels let them out of Purgatory. But we fixed that too.  Now that same angel, the one you keep bringing back to life, this time he helped empty out Heaven. And this is the result, humanity always stuck paying for Heaven’s fuck-ups.” Dean finishes, a little out of breath after that rant, - he’s been holding all that in for a long time.

“I will set it right,” Chuck promises, sounding very sincere.

“That’d be swell,” Dean answers with biting sarcasm.

Sam elbows Dean sharply in the ribs. “Thank you…uh…God,” he says a little more respectfully than Dean had.

They can hear the sound of a smile, which sends ripples of energy out from the joined amulets. “You may still call me Chuck if you like.”

Dean was affected by that wave of Chuck’s happiness, it makes him a little more tractable. “Thanks Chuck, we’d appreciate some help this time around, Sam and I can only do so much.”

“You’ve done much more than I’d ever imagined. You must let me give you a reward,” Chuck insists, sounding like he won’t take no for an answer.

“How do you mean?” Dean asks with no little suspicion.

“Like ‘Peace on Earth’?” Sam suggests.

“No, something just for you two,” Chuck answers, voice booming through the room and bouncing off the high, tiled ceiling.

Sam and Dean don’t say anything; just look at each other over the glow of the joined amulets hanging between them; searching each other’s faces and communicating silently like they have their whole lives.

What do you want?

Just you, happy, alive.

Us together.

“Oh, that’s all huh?” Chuck says with a small chuckle that reverberates through the whole room, causing several tiles to fall off the ceiling and splash into the pool. “Done! You will live a long happy life together, and when you die, you’ll go together.”

“Where?” Dean asks.

“Heaven. That’s always been the plan for you two.”

“Thanks, Chuck,” Sam says.

Dean asks, “That’ll be the Heaven that we share, right?”

“Yes Dean, that’s the one.  What was it your friend called it? Winchester-land, if I recall,” Chuck says, and they can tell he’s smiling again because the water sloshes in the pool in happy-seeming, small wavelets.

“Okay, uh, good. Just checking.  Thanks, Chuck,” Dean says.

“You are welcome. I will see you soon. Tell Kevin to be ready for me.”

The joined amulets pulse brighter with their shared light for a moment, rising up between Sam and Dean, falling down against their chests with an abrupt thump, finally separated.

Dean throws himself off the step, splashing back into the water, floating on the surface looking up at Sam he holds out one hand.  Sam joins him and they float for a while joined by one hand, looking up at the tile ceiling which someone has to figure out how to fix.  They don’t say anything to each other. Because what can you say when God speaks to you in the voice of some schlub writer who wrote your story down because he was supposedly a Prophet of the Lord, when you’re naked in the pool, with your brother who you’d just had sex with for the first time in more than a year.

Finally Dean pulls them both under and starts swimming back towards the step.  As they return to the step, he breaks the silence with a deep thought. “Why is this pool so different? It’s not all gross with chlorine.”

“Yeah, it’s saltwater. Guess it makes sense with all the wards and demon proofing around here.  Feels a lot better on your eyes, doesn’t it?” Sam asks.

“Guess the pool’s even saltier now,” Dean jokes as they stand up to finally get out.

“Yeah, I’ll have to recheck the levels,” Sam laughs.

“Did we just hallucinate all that?” Dean asks.

“Don’t think so, look at the tiles over there that fell when He, Chuck, was laughing. We could create a whole new religion around this pool room, you know.”

“Come worship at the Holy Site of Brotherly Hand Jobs,” Dean says as he towels himself dry.

“Hilarious, Dean.” Sam throws his wet towel at Dean’s face.

Dean drops both the towels and steps back into his boxers. “You love it.”

“Yep,” Sam agrees, pulling his shirt back over his wet hair.

“So how’re we gonna tell Kevin that he’s finally going to meet Chuck?” Dean asks, his voice muffled as he pulls his shirt back over his head.

“We’ll just tell him. Make sure we leave out the naked details though.” Sam’s not too worried about Kevin finding out about them, but he doesn’t want to scar him for life. “He’s a smart kid, he might’ve guessed at least part of the story.”

Dean grins. “He asked me about the necklaces when we first started wearing them.”

“Yeah, me too. Did Charlie also?” Sam asks.

Dean puts his arm around Sam’s waist as they walk back up the wide stairs, bumping hips with him. “Uh huh. Guess we have nosy friends now.”

“I’m just gonna count that as a good thing for now,” Sam says, as he soaks up the feeling of Dean’s arm around him, holding him tight and close.


Kevin is awake when they come back up from the pool level.  Not exactly awake, but in the process of waking up over a bowl of cereal and a mug of tea at the table they use for eating. Sam and Dean look at each other in surprise because it’s just past midnight and they thought Kevin was down for the night.  Everyone’s sleep schedules are off because of the round-the-clock Crowley monitoring.  But Kevin isn’t at all sure what they mean when they inform him of God’s imminent arrival and that he’ll likely look like a small bearded man.

“You mean like just a regular person?” Kevin asks, pretty sure that they’re just messing with him again.

“Yeah, we actually knew him, back when the apocalypse thing was going on, the angels told us he was a prophet. Guess he fooled them too,” Sam says.

“And he knows what happened with Metatron and everything?” Kevin asks, still skeptical.

“We told him everything. That’s why he’s coming, he promised to set things right,” Dean says, smiling at Kevin’s stubborn skepticism.

Kevin whistles in a low tone. “Whoa.”

“Yeah, whoa is a good word for it,” Dean says.

“What did he say again, about me specifically?” Kevin asks.

Sam smiles and answers, “All he said about you was ‘tell Kevin to be ready for me’”

Kevin shakes his head and looks alarmed. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Us either, sorry. That was the last thing he said and then ‘poof’, gone,” Dean says with a shrug.

“Hope it isn’t something I’m supposed to have read on one of these tablets, like the angel one.” Kevin sounds worried now, like he’s forgotten to study for a final exam.

“Can you reread your notes on the angel one? Maybe there’s something in there,” Sam suggests.

Kevin nods and takes a breath. “Good idea, I’ll check. Like right now. Did he say how soon he’d be coming?”

Dean shakes his head in a negative. “Nope, no timeline beyond ‘soon’.”

“Great. Well, thanks for the heads up I guess.” Kevin throws his hands up.

“No problemo. Thanks for talking to us about the necklaces,” Dean says.

“So they really were for something, besides just what they mean to you,” Kevin asks with a smile.

Sam and Dean look at each other, not really sure how to answer.

Dean finally settles on a short, “Yep.”

They head down the hall together. Dean splits off for his room since it’s first, and Sam hesitates, unsure whether Dean wants him to follow, or keep walking by himself to his room down the hall.  Dean doesn’t say anything, just goes inside his room and starts fiddling with stuff unnecessarily. “Sammy, get yer ass in here.”

“What?” Sam asks from his position still out in the hallway between their two rooms.

“You’re not gonna sleep down the hall, are you?” Dean asks.

“No. I . . . uh, I wasn’t sure,” Sam admits.

“Well, I want you to stay in here tonight, with me. That clear enough for ya?” Dean says.

“Yeah Dean, crystal, be there in a sec.” Sam disappears into his room, and Dean goes back to considering whether sleeping nude would be okay tonight or not. He figures yes, since they were just naked in the pool (and while talking to Chuck), so he pulls back the covers on the bed, shucks his clothes off, slips in between the sheets and gets comfortable. Just as he’s starting to get worried that Sam’s changed his mind, his brother’s shadow darkens the doorway. Sam stands there for a hesitant moment, drawing out the delay with a nervous fidget.

“Wouldja get in here already Sammy?” Dean grumbles and pulls back the covers in what he hopes is an inviting gesture. How did they used to do this before? He’s forgotten, but somehow they always ended up back here.  Sam’s across the room in a few strides, standing on his usual side of the bed, looking down at his brother’s naked shoulders for a hint as to what he should be wearing to bed. Why is he hesitating? It’s just so weird, like it’s the first time and the last time all at once. He takes everything off quickly and slips between the covers, rolling towards the heat sink that is Dean.

They tangle their legs together in the usual combination; this they remember, having done it for most of their lives even before the first time, when it all started. Sam nestles into Dean’s arms, even though they’d fit better the other way, because this is what he wants tonight. Feeling welcomed back into his brother’s bed. Hopeful that it’ll become their bed, because this memory foam thing is pretty damn nice.

“Y’re bed‘s awesome,” Sam slurs as he falls asleep in the comforting warmth of a Dean-scented cocoon.

“Night Sammy,” Dean says quietly, with a whispered, “Toldja so” that no one hears. He kisses the top of Sam’s hair, and leaves his face tucked in it, falling asleep smelling that familiar smell he’s missed.

~*~Masterpost ~*~ Part 3~*~