#i miss when there were only 3 bitches who'd ever read these books

[dykeandballs]

stop the violence

[hebrokein30]

for @wincestwednesdays day 3: radio

Müde bin ich, geh zur Ruh'

Dean likes going to bed. It's one of those mundane, boring, humiliating human things but hell. Dean is allowed to enjoy himself with that at least. It's the in between hunt nights he enjoys the most. Where he really can get into it without having to think too much about other things. There's a whole process behind it. When they were children, Dad would make them share a bath and scrub themselves clean (there was a whole lot of water splashing and kicking and screaming involved) and if they were lucky they could watch that new action movie on TV, which Dean looked forward to, and then Sammy'd sit in bed next to him and read from his little children's book and Dean would pretend to be annoyed but would listen to the little lisb in Sam's speech because he still kept losing teeth. That changed over time, and so did the books, becoming first adventure stories and fantasy, which he enjoyed, then Sam developed a taste for fancy artistic stuff, which creeped Dean out (who'd wanna read about someone turning into a giant bug for gods sakes?). When Sam started reading articles about the differences of pest boils in different animal species, Dean'd tell him to fuck off or shut up. It usually worked. After Stanford, Sam developed a habit of keeping the little portable radio on the bedside table and listen to police chatter, anything he might find important. When it wasn't that bad anymore, sometimes he'd find a comedy show station, which he didn't really enjoy but Dean found hilarious and so he kept it on until Dean's laughter faded away into snoring.

Dean turns off the shower with a satisfied sigh. His skin is tingling and raw from the hot water and the excellent pressure, he's smelling nice and clean and that's about the best thing in the world. Well. Almost the best thing. Definitely up there in the top ten anyway. "Drained the pipes yet?" Dean's turning to find Sam standing by the sinks, wiping a mirror with a towel which, oh yeah, did steam up pretty good. "Gotta take care of the pipes Sammy", he says, making his voice sleazy the way Sam hates but secretly loves, Dean knows that. "'S important. Wouldn't want them to rust." Sam rolls his eyes but there's a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "My pipes ain't rusty", Dean finishes, drying his hair with a towel. "No", Sam says, his tone low, "I make sure of that." Dean emerges from the towel and catches Sam's gaze in the mirror, trailing slowly over Dean's naked body. Dean grins. "Hurry up, bitch" he says, and strides out of the bathroom, butt naked. He can do that now, in this place that only belongs to them. He dresses in his room, the softest boxers he could find and nothing else, because Sam is an oven and he doesn't want to die from heat exposure. He gets into bed and sighs at the feeling of his mattress giving into the curves of his body. Best damn thing he ever bought, this mattress, and Sam can roll his eyes at that until they're stuck to the roof of his head. Dean just closes his eyes when Sam strides into the room and makes the mattress dip under his weight. He smells like peppermint and aftershave (the weirdo shaves at night) and so Dean let's himself be pulled into the dip Sam is making. "Scoot over", Sam says and Dean wiggles away a bit, eyes still closed, until Sam is finally lying down and then Dean presses up against him again, his nose burying into the middle of Sam's (very fantastic very comfortable) chest. Sam oofs, but doesn't push him away, and Dean feels him getting comfortable, a hand at Dean's back, keeping him close. Dean hums and feels himself relaxing. The room is cool, but Sam is warm, and the bedsheets smell nice because he bought them and washed them and changed them himself, just this morning. There's a click and the light behind Dean's eyelids turns black. He sighs again, breathing deep. He could fall asleep in the next three seconds he really could. There's just something missing. Sam keeps fumbling around behind Dean's back. Deans just about to open his eyes and see what's going on, when someone starts talking way too loudly into his ear. "But how did they manage to decapitate the victim with--" "Sorry, sorry!", Sam says, and Dean jumps, startled, only lying down because Sam keeps pressing him down into his chest with the hand on his back, stroking clumsily in an attempt to soothe him. "Dude, what the hell?" Dean says, and then "Is that your freaking podcast again?!" "It's the last episode of the season". Dean buries his nose into Sam's ches and groans. "This thing has seasons?!" "Shhhh", Sam says and doesn't dignify Dean with an answer. He has turned down the volume significantly though and curled up around Dean, his nose in Dean's hair, making a cocoon of their bodies. "...what happened, between that afternoon and when the bodies were found strung up over a river?" Dean groans again. "You know, for Christmas I'm gonna get you those headphones you refuse to buy. Or you could get me a nice pair of earplugs. I heard they were good for, you know, silence and sleeping". But Sam only hums, totally relaxed, the bastard. Dean closes his eyes again and tries to get into his sleeping groove. One day Sams little podcasts are gonna give him worse nightmares than the one time Sam read about governmental sleep experiments. Even if its just for the shock value of having this thing played directly into his ear. But the voice behind him is quiet enough to fade into a background murmur, easy enough to ignore, and Sam is still warm and still smells nice and familiar and it's...not so bad. Dean likes going to bed after all. Sam's little nerdy podcasts are just part of the process.