Title: Welcome To Middle Age
Author: Alltheshrinks
Pairing: Dean/Sam, past past Lisa Braeden/Dean, Past Jessica Moore/Sam
Fandom: Supernatural/Backdraft
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The Winchesters, Supernatural And Backdraft DO NOT BELONG TO ME.
Series: 1) You Go? We Go!
Note: This is set 2 years after You Go? We go! and is a look at Sam’s thirtieth birthday. I have actually been to the Evel Knievel Museum and the Robbie Knievel non jump was a hilarious happening between myself and a very dear person in my life. So as my creative writing professor always said, “Write what you know.”
Note2: I hope you enjoy. Also -kudos are life and comments make me insanely happy. If you have questions or want to see something message me. My Twitter is All_the_Shrinks.
Summary: Two years after Sam joins the Fighting 17, Sam turns 30.

***

Chapter 1

Strong winds and rain had caused a myriad of accidents on this soggy, wet, spring afternoon. Alarm calls were going out faster than the KCFD could respond.

A three car pile up, which necessitated the use of the jaws of life, had been cleaned up and 17 was returning to the station. As soon as the firemen, exhausted and soaked, stepped out on the concrete of the apparatus room, another alarm sounded.

Lieutenant Dean Winchester offers his groaning brother a smile as they climb back on board the truck. “Better get used to it, Sammy. It’s tornado season in the Midwest.”

Sam glares at his sibling before covering his eyes with his helmet and leaning back in the seat.


*******


An 18-Wheeler had hydroplaned off the highway and taken out a guard rail before coming to a crashing stop at the bottom of an embankment. The driver had been trapped for hours as the department held their breath that the diesel fuel in the truck wouldn’t ignite.

Engine 17 had stayed vigilant, hose team ready to extinguish any flames, while crews took turns cutting the injured man free.

It was well past midnight when EMTs were finally able to pull the barely conscious, disoriented man from the tangled heap of metal.


*******


Dawn was breaking quickly as the company returned to the station for the third time this shift. The usual banter and Tom Foolery was subdued as exhausted firemen funneled into the showers.

An hour later, after completing the alarm cards and necessary paperwork, Dean finds Sam sleeping in his bunk. He’s curled in on himself like a toddler and Dean fights the urge to lean down kiss him.

“Sam,” the older fireman says in little more than a whisper. Getting no response, he tries calling Sam’s name a little louder.

“M’sleeping,” Sam says and rolls over in the tiny bed.

“Sammy, wake up, shift’s over.” Dean shoves against his brother’s shoulder to rouse him.

Grumbling and still disoriented, Sam sits and rubs his eyes with his fist. The room slowly comes into focus and his eyes are drawn to the the only other person in the deserted room, Dean.

Dean is smiling at Sam like he’s two seconds away from ripping his clothes off. Naturally Sam returns the seductive leer and wonders idly if they are alone in the station.

“Don’t even think about it!” Dean, who is always attuned to his brother’s moods and trains of thought, shoots down any attempt to get amorous in the firehouse. “Let’s just head home.”


*******


The drive to the cabin is only delayed by Dean hitting a bakery for donuts. A quick in and out and soon the brothers make it to their home.

The cabin is in various stages of repair and now sports a huge shower and large bedroom with a king-sized bed. The rest of the house is covered with plastic coverings and carpentry tools, paint and saw dust decorates huge areas of the living space. Sam feels more at home here than he ever has anywhere in the world.

Sam is still groggy and napped the entire drive to the river, he only stirs when the engine to the Impala is cut and Dean opens the driver side door.

Dean leads his brother inside and smiles when Sam falls face down on the mattress. Two years into the job and Sam still struggles with the 24 hour on duty shifts. The older fireman wraps his arms around his already snoring sibling and breathes in the clean scent of body wash and shampoo. He lets the soothing familiarity of it lull him to sleep.


*******


Sam isn’t really sure what wakes him. He’s having the best dream ever and there is tight, wet heat wrapped around his painfully hard erection.

When his eyes finally open, the mid morning sun is highlighting the small amount of golden red in Dean’s hair as he swallows him down. “Jesus Christ!” Sam exclaims as his brother hollows his cheeks and Sam’s cock bumps the back of his throat.

Dean pulls off with a loud pop and says, “It’s actually Dean. And good, you’re finally awake.” The older man climbs up his still sleep warm brother’s body and settles in his lap.

Deep probing kisses and tender touches rouse Sam further and it isn’t long before he’s wide awake and so turned on that he could cut glass with his dick. He uses the extra muscles that he’s packed on to flip Dean over and press him into the sheets.

Dean moans at the sudden urgency of Sam’s hands and mouth and instinctively wraps his legs around the younger man’s waist.

Sam’s fingers travel across Dean’s strong thigh muscles and perfectly shaped ass to knead the flesh there before caressing the cleft and finally the furrowed hole.

He stops when he realizes that it’s already slick with lube and two fingers slide in without any resistance. He breaks the kiss and looks down into his arching brother’s face. Dean’s eyes are heavy lidded and lust blown, his trademark smirk is pulling up the corners of his mouth.

“Happy Birthday, Sammy,” Dean whispers and watches the confused smile play across Sam’s face.

“Today’s not my...” Sam glances at the calendar over the nightstand on Dean’s side of the bed. The schedule for the station written in Dean’s neat handwriting with May 2nd circled by a heart.

“I wanted to tell you this morning, but the accident didn’t seem like the right time or place. Then you were so tired after that, I just let you sleep. But I couldn’t wait any longer.” Dean’s long, dexterous fingers caress Sam’s cheekbones, noses brushing together. “God, I’m not sure which one of us is getting the gift.”

Sam kisses his brother’s cheek and continues to brush against that tight bundle of nerves deep inside the older man. “Definitely me,” he admits honestly, watching the blissed out look blossoming across Dean’s face. “The things I want to do to you.”

Once a third finger has joined the unrelenting assault of the older fireman’s prostate, Dean groans out, “Come on, Sammy, it’s your birthday, just let me...” the words stick on his tongue as Sam’s other hand tightens around his erection. It’s just this side of too painful and Dean arches up off the mattress. “Fuck...”

“That’s the general idea,” Sam smiles into another searing kiss, tongue delving as far back as it can, the rhythm matching that of his exploring digits.

Dean isn’t sure when his little brother gained the upper hand in seduction game, but he’s too turned on and too boneless to protest. Thirty definitely agrees with Sam. Corded muscles that have finally filled out too long limbs, along with a calmer temperament then Dean has ever seen out of his brother. Sam has settled into a thoughtful, compassionate responder.

“Please, Sam. This is going to be over way too soon. Let me...” Sam withdrawals both hands and grabs ahold of Dean’s ankles. He forces them over his shoulders, then retrieves the lube from the nightstand. Dean watches through half mast eye-lids as the cool, slick liquid is drizzled over both of them and Sam pumps their erections furiously. Then, with one smooth thrust, he’s buried deep inside of his sibling. The hot burning stretch of muscle causes Dean to arch further off the bed.

“Fuck!” The expletive is forced out of the older fireman’s lungs as Sam bends his brother in half on the bed. Strong hands that engulf smaller ones hold Dean down to the mattress. All he feels is Sam, inside him and around him. His weight nearly crushing him and the scent of him overloading his senses.

Sam’s hips have started pistoning so forcefully that the headboard is knocking drywall onto the bare wood of the floor and Sam’s strong hands are the only barrier between his brother’s head and the hard oak framing. Every thrust forces the older males lower body further up the sheets until he’s compressed so tightly that he’s afraid his spine will crack.

Sam grabs Dean’s wrists tightly and yanks, using all of his muscles and momentum to sit back on his heels and propel the older man into his lap. Dean’s hands scramble to find purchase as the impact knocks the wind out of his chest. Sam is forcing his brother’s hips up and down so brutally, that half moon divots from the younger man’s nails are starting to bleed.

Dean can’t even find leverage as his sibling manhandles him much faster than he can keep up with. The broken skin of his hips and sweat flooding his eyes is lighting his pain receptors on fire. It’s just this side of too much, and his orgasm starts to uncoil from his spine before he can stop it. He comes in a wordless scream, only able to open his mouth but unable to make any actual noise. Hot spurts of his seed cover Sam’s throat and chin. The knowledge that his brother just came untouched and so forcefully sends Sam over the finish line. He holds his brother’s hips down tightly on his lap until his own climax has stopped.

Sam falls back on the bed taking a barely lucid Dean with him. His softening erection is slipping out and he can feel cum cooling on his body. Dean hasn’t moved since his own release and is laying in a heap on top of Sam.

“Dean, get up. I need to clean us up,” the younger Winchester brother says into his sibling’s sweat soaked hair.

“Dean can’t come to the phone, he’s dead. Orgasm killed him.” He says groggily, making no effort to move.

“Dean! Seriously, move,” Sam shoves his prone brother off and retreats into the bathroom. Once he cleans himself, he approaches the curled up form of his older sibling and cleans his stomach and between his legs. He smiles affectionately at the slumbering tangle of limbs that is way too cute to be a hero of the city. He gathers Dean in his arms and drapes the duvet over them.


*******


Sam wakes a couple of hours later to an empty bed. He smells the faint scent of smoke and it tickles his sensitive nose.

“Dean?” His voice barely a whisper as he lets muscle memory guide him through the cabin and closer to his blood. “Where’re you?” His sleep addled brain still won’t shake off the last stages of unconsciousness.

“Sammy?” Dean looks up from a stack of fire reports that he’s completing. Wearing grey boxer briefs that Sam is sure that are his and a KC Royal tee that looks suspiciously like his father’s. Dean’s smile is soft when his eyes find it and the glint in those otherworldly green eyes is majestic. “Finally up?”

Sam tracks Dean’s eyes to a purple monstrosity on the granite counter top. There are more than two dozen candles atop the confectionery death sentence, already burnt halfway down. Melted wax pooling on top of pure sugar icing. The sight makes Sam’s teeth ache.

“Happy Birthday, to you...” Dean’s smoke roughened voice mimics Marylin Monroe’s ode to the 35th President almost perfectly, until Dean realizes the ridiculousness of the situation and folds over onto himself in a silent vibration of giggles.

Sam immediately straddles the older fireman and kisses him as passionately as possible.

Dean pulls away and cups Sam’s face and turns it towards the melted icing on the purple confection which looks like it was Barbie in its last life. “Blow out your candles before the place burns down. And I’d let it, because this is so my day off!”

Sam takes as much air into his lungs as possible and blows the 30 candles with enough force that some pigs would be homeless, if this was a fairytale. All but 2 candles are extinguished and a second breath eliminates the remaining threat.

He gathers icing on his middle and index finger while still balancing precariously in Dean’s lap and offers the saccharine nectar to his big brother, smearing the periwinkle dye onto plush lips. Dean tilts his head back as a reflex, but then opens his mouth to prevent the substance from traveling up a nostril.

“Hmmm...” he hums while sucking the digits between his lips and allowing his eyes to close in a pornographic expression. Sam feels his cock start to harden against his boxers and withdrawals his fingers. He replaces them with his own lips and chases the taste of the frosting by fucking his tongue far back into the older man’s mouth. Dean grabs at his hips with a bruising grip and grinds his own erection up and into Sam’s. The younger Winchester’s fingers delving under his sibling’s shirt, caressing warm, smooth skin.

Dean breaks the kiss once again and rests his forehead against Sam’s massive chest. He takes two shaky, but calming breaths and then separates his brother’s groin from his own and prompts Sam to stand. “As much as I’d love to stay here and screw your brains out, I have more plans for your birthday. Someone has to welcome you to middle age.”

Sam suddenly feels terribly guilty. He missed out on so many of his brother’s milestones by being scared and selfish. The flush on his cheeks burn and he ducks his head. “Who welcomed you to middle age?”

Dean stiffens. “They weren’t you, Sam. So they don’t matter. All that matters is that you are here now. Life outside of me and you? Irrelevant.” Dean rises to the balls of his feet and kisses the corner of Sam’s mouth. He takes his hand and pulls him towards the bedroom. “Shower.” Dean commands and adds, “alone. I’ve had mine and we will never leave.”


*******


Dean shoves a fitted button down and a pair of dark washed jeans towards Sam as he exists the ensuite. His own outfit of similar jeans and a thin olive cashmere sweater, that makes his eyes appear huge and impossibly emerald. Sam dresses quickly, not wanting the electricity crackling in the air to ruin his brother’s plans.

Dean shrugs his leather jacket on and leads Sam outside to the car. The late spring day, is breezy and cool still, but not cold. It’s 2:30 and Dean points the car west on I-70 E and soon, Sam sees the congestion of a city and the signs for Topeka.

Dean parks the car outside a structure in downtown Topeka, retrieving a parking stub and leads Sam into an unfamiliar building. The closer they get to the entranceway and Sam recognizes the white flags with blue and red stars. He begins immediately laughing. “Oh my God, Dean. I forgot about this,” His smile a blinding white as he throws his head back in a chuckle.

His reaction is infectious and Dean finds himself grinning from ear to ear. “Well, I didn’t. Remember when you were five and you jumped off the garage dressed as Batman? Broke your arm.”

“I only jumped because you jumped first. My whole life, I watched you. Imitated you.” Sam sobers a little and Dean knocks their shoulders together.

“Well, I was nine and clearly you were  not watching close enough, because I was dressed as Superman and everybody knows Batman can’t fly.” Dean gives Sam a fond smile. One that makes him forget about the gentle teasing.

“You had to drive me to the ER on the handle bars of your bike. Mom was pissed...”

Dean’s smile widens. “But dad... dad called you his Little Evel Knievel. Had to be the first to sign your cast. The whole company decorated it. I was mad.”

“If I’d known it was such a sore spot, I’d have made 17 sign yours after the warehouse...” Sam pauses. They didn’t bring up the fires that were set by fellow firefighter, Rufus Turner and the people they’d killed. How Rufus’ stubbornness has lead to his own death or how Brady had been disfigured.

“It’s ok. Remember how you dressed like Evel Knievel for Halloween that year. First year you weren’t a fireman.” Dean approaches the deserted ticket window and pays the admission. He drags Sam by the hand and Sam pulls back as if he’s been burned. “Stop, no one here knows us. It’s ok. Let’s just enjoy your birthday.”


*******


The museum is loud and extremely kitsch, but the brothers find themselves enjoying all of the pieces of memorabilia and factoids scattered around the garishly decorated, stuntman’s shrine; which was legitimately hit hard by the 1970s.

“Hey, Dean, remember when his son tried to jump the Grand Canyon?” Sam asks, smiling at the memory.

“Remember? You mean when Robbie let a little wind keep him from jumping a live televised event? We had that brush fire that raged for 3 days and I came home off a 56 hour shift to watch... nothing. He didn’t even jump. I was so angry. I wanted to fly to Arizona and make him jump myself. Un-fucking-believable.” Dean shakes his head and laughs along with Sam at the absurdity of it.

“I had my Jr Prom that weekend. I didn’t go, we drank beers and skinny dipped at the river.” Sam’s voice is wistful.

Dean pulls Sam along towards the computer simulated motorcycle and tells Sam to try his luck. The brothers take turns crashing spectacularly in high definition, until a pair of younger boys approach and quietly wait their turn.

“Let’s go,” Sam leads Dean towards the wall of trophies and leather riding costumes displayed against the rear exit. A cursory once over and Sam is ready to go.


*******


“Have fun?” Dean asks as he unlocks the passenger side door. Pausing to peck Sam’s lips before allowing his sibling to enter the vehicle.

Sam’s grin is blinding. “I really did.” He answers and Dean gets behind the wheel.


*******


The sun has completely disappeared when Dean parks the car outside a restaurant with stucco exterior, seated caddy corner down a one way street. Violin music plays softly and the over powering aromas of tomatoes and spices assault Sam’s scenes.

The Italian Restaurant is authentic and extremely elegant, without making the two blue collar firemen feel outclassed.

Dean orders with accurate pronunciations and gets a very good bottle of wine to go with dinner.

Sam eats pasta and breadsticks until he’s stuffed. Finishing off Calamari, Chicken Parmigiana, half of Dean’s lasagna and most of the wine. A large birthday portion of Tiramisu ends the meal, with the waiters and even the manager fawning over the young lovers. No one suspecting they are anything other than two deeply in love young men, celebrating a birthday.

The wine has given Sam an adorable blush and increased the hilarity of everything. He’s not drunk yet, but pleasantly buzzed and easy to touch and giggle. They hold hands and run to the Impala. Dean pointing it away from Kansas City and deeper into the city.


*******


Dean parks the car outside a very nice hotel in Topeka. It’s not a five-star, but still very nice and clean. “Dean, we work tomorrow,” Sam’s voice is laced with confusion as Dean retrieves his duffle bag out of the trunk.

“Nope, you requested a vacation day for your birthday and your L-T had no choice but to approve it. And I couldn’t let you celebrate alone.” Sam presses the smaller man into the metal of the muscle car and kisses him with everything he has. Dean melts into it and soon they are rutting against each other like horny teenagers.

“Sam, not that this isn’t nice, but I really don’t want to spend your birthday in the pokey for indecent exposure.”

They check into their room and take in the surroundings. The place is fashioned after a rustic hunting lodge, with faux wood rafters and a fireplace. A large elk head is mounted on the mantle and Sam laughs in spite of himself. Dean produces a bottle of liquor of begins methodically stripping the birthday boy of his clothing.

Sam finishes a glass of bourbon and hangs Dean’s sweater across the elk’s face and snorts out a “This isn’t a free show,” just in time for Dean to tackle him down on the King Size bed.

The older fireman kisses him slowly and lovingly before taking Sam’s face in his hands and looking into his hazel eyes. “It’s your birthday, what do you want?”

Sam recognizes that Dean is asking what he wants in the sexual sense, but Sam is feeling past buzzed and extremely nostalgic. “I have everything I want. I have you, with me everyday. I’m saving people, I’m making a difference. I have my family with me and I’m doing what I’ve wanted to do for as long as I can remember.”

Dean feels tears prickling at his eyes, he tries to lighten the mood, “The fighting fires or banging your brother?”

“Both,” Sam’s reply is a whisper as he rolls over on top of Dean and nips at his jaw and down his throat.

“You know there’s a hot tub...” Dean says as he arches into Sam, exposing more of his gracefully, long neck.

Sam stops mid kiss, “Why didn’t you say so?” He gets out of the bed and holds his hand out to Dean. Who grabs it immediately.

***

Chapter 2

There is condensation dripping off the Bourbon bottle as Dean holds it over the side. The heat and bubbles from the water is superheating his submerged skin, while the aged rye and his brother’s slow smile is burning him up from the inside. It pools in his stomach and threatens to burn him alive. Dean Winchester is no stranger to fire. He plays with it on a daily basis, in one form or another. The literal flames of industrial fires and destruction call out to him like a siren song. Then there’s the fire he plays with when he’s not saving lives. It’s just as dangerous and he’s drawn to it like a moth.

Most days, he shoves the immoral part of the second type down in the recesses of his brain. Where he doesn’t think about burning for an eternity for sins that he never had a choice in. Where even a life of bravery and self sacrifice can’t keep him from Dante’s Inferno. It’s almost a poetic end to his life.

There were years he denied himself of love and touch; he offered up his lungs, his body to the demon, lest it take him instead. Thought that a life of misery and good deeds would keep both of them away from damnation. Sam came back and Dean gave in, though he never really had a choice. He was always Sam’s. Always the gasoline to Sam’s matches.

Sam’s skin is flushed pink and his borderline too long hair curls around his ears. There are water droplets scattered over his long throat and his eyes are glassy. Dean says a silent Hail Mary to a deity that he doesn’t believe in and sets the bottle on the rim of the hot tub. He’d cross himself, but that would add insult to injury, considering what he’s planning to do.

Sam looks at him quickly before rising to his knees in jets of the water and closing the distance between their bodies. The low light from the fireplace reflecting copper in his eyes, his hands large and strong as he cups his brother’s face.

Dean leans into his touch, his own hands finding the lean plains of the younger man’s lower back as he settles against him. Their lips crash together almost as urgently as their groins and soon, Sam is balancing on top of the older Winchester’s muscled thighs.

It only takes a couple of thrusts before Dean’s erection is rock hard. He’s been halfway there since waking up in the cabin and finishing his reports, while the object of his affections slept off weariness from the full 24 hour shift.

Sam pulls his mouth away and throws his head back in a boyish laugh. “Did you really tell Ben that I died in a hot tub accident?”

It’s not the question the lieutenant is expecting and he let’s out a throaty chuckle. “You really want to talk about that? If you can have independent thoughts, I must not be doing something right.” He reaches out for his sibling’s engorged length and strokes it roughly. Sam’s unintelligible moans against his lips tables the discussion and Dean reaches blindly around for the towels at the base of the water.

Dean blots water off of both of their bodies and leads Sam to the huge king-sized bed that takes up the majority of space. He lays on his back and hangs just his head off, before completely swallowing Sam’s cock down and opening his throat. Sam’s knees nearly buckle and he has to grasp the large bed post to keep from falling.

Dean’s body is arched as tight as a violin’s bow and fingers pull at the globes of Sam’s ass, forcing Sam in and out in a sinful rhythm that hurdles the younger man close to the finish line.

“Stop,” the word is broken and raspy and it nearly kills him to say. Dean only lets up on the suction slightly as he tries to figure out what the problem is. The lack of oxygen and his own arousal war with the sound of his blood rushing to ears in a confusing combination.

Sam shoves at his shoulders and Dean slides further onto the bed. His head bounces against the mattress and he feels the padding dip before he realizes what Sam intends. The younger brother’s knees settle on each side of his head and then Sam is taking him in his mouth. Dean groans out, but quickly resuming the task at hand.

It only takes Dean swallowing around Sam to force him over the edge. Sam momentarily stills his mouth to force his erection further down his sibling’s throat.

A couple of moments pass and he seems to remember that he is supposed to be returning the favor. His aftershocks have subsided and now he quickly sucks the older fireman back down.

Sam breathes through his nose and opens his throat. He allows his fingers to collect the mess of saliva and semen at the base of Dean’s cock and smear it past his perineum. His middle finger circles Dean’s hole before thrusting past the first ring of muscles.

The younger brother is bobbing his head up and down quickly and his finger is seeking out that small bundle of nerves that will cause his brother to come undone.

Dean is moaning against his own fist at the foot of the bed. He’s trying, unsuccessfully, to not thrust his hips. When Sam rubs over his prostate with practiced fingers and groans around his length, Dean comes down his throat without warning.


*******


There’s sunlight streaming through the windows when Sam opens his eyes, Dean is solid and warm in his arms. He’s spooned up against his brother’s back, chin resting on Dean’s shoulder. The younger brother yawns and looks at the clock. It’s nearly ten am and they need to be getting up.

It’s not often that Sam wakes before Dean does. His brother’s own internal clock more precisely tuned after years of waking at five.

This morning, Sam takes advantage and leaves the room to seek out food. The restaurant of the hotel is quaint. It feels as if a ski lodge and a Woolworth’s lunch counter had a bastard love child, that grew into a hipster.

Sam orders bacon, eggs and coffee to go, while taking in the vast array of taxidermy that is littered around the room. It’s a little unnerving, all those dead eyes watching.


******


Dean is awake and has begun packing their belongings up when Sam returns to the room.

They abandon the breakfast to get cold as Sam lets Dean fuck him in the shower, slowly and throughly. The water turning cold before the feeling returns to Sam’s legs.

Dean exits the shower, just to have all six feet, five inches of his brother tackle him on the bed.

“What has gotten into you?” Dean laughs and Sam nips at his jaw line.

“I think the correct question is, ‘what hasn’t gotten into you?’ yet, anyway.” Sam says as he descends further down Dean’s body to peck and lap at his brother’s abs and then his already hardening cock.

“Just stop talking,” Dean laughs even harder, only to gasp as Sam swallows him down again.

It’s only seconds before Sam has moved his mouth to Dean’s opening and is pumping his tongue in and out of him.

Lubed fingers soon join in the stretch and Dean is louder than a porn star beneath him. “Fuck, Sam! Hurry up!”

Sam removes his fingers and grabs at Dean’s hips. He lines himself up and sinks into his brother in one fluid motion.

The older man, meets his thrust up off the mattress in a rhythm that will have Dean feeling this for days. Sam can’t help but smile a little at the times when his brother seems a little more bow legged than usual.

The younger brother has bent Dean in half and his pounding his hips into his sibling with strength that Dean is afraid will break the bed. No mercy, no quarter is granted until he reaches up and grabs Dean’s weeping dick.

Dean cries out once and it’s all over. He erupts all over both of their stomachs, warm and sticky.

Sam only last another few seconds, with Dean tightening around him as erratically as the rhythm of his pounding heartbeat. His own hot release, pours out of him like a hose line.

Sam stills his hips, careful not to crush the man beneath him and allows his vision to return to normal. He shifts to one side and Dean starts to laugh.

“What’s funny?” Sam looks at his brother as if he’s lost his mind.

“Okay, A? You nearly broke this bed. B? I’m pretty sure that I’m broken, and c? We missed check out.” Dean’s eyes are closed but his smile is blinding as he turns his face into the pillow. “Good birthday, little brother?”

Sam settles into Dean’s side. He’s happy and satiated, even if a little hungry. He closes his eyes and nuzzles his face into Dean’s neck. “Great birthday!”

***

Next story in series - Tangled Up In You.