#thanks wincestmasanon!

[deansmixtape]

They had silver in their hair these days.  Dean’s started at his temples, and went up and around just the crown of his head, tingeing the base of his soft, spiky roots a dapper grey.  He’s a true silver fox, Sam thought.

Of course, Dean wasn’t the only one time had had an effect on.  Sam had some silver strands shot through his chestnut lengths, harder to see unless he was standing directly under a light, but they were there, and Dean loved to tease him about natural tinsel. 

Crow’s feet had set in around their eyes, and surprisingly, laugh lines.  Sam loved to kiss along Dean’s smile in the mornings, watching those lines break across his face in pure sleepy joy and contentment.

While they had only each other for company that had always been more than enough.  New hobbies were born as they settled into a way of life that seemed so fairy-tale every now and then a nightmare would catch them completely off guard.

Sam dabbled in horticulture, creating a not-so-small garden to grow and harvest fruits, vegetables and herbs.  When he discovered how much there was to learn about cultivating plants and the science behind it, the feel of the soil felt right in his hands as learning did to his mind.  Working the earth, making themselves as self-sustainable as possible was his goal.  He turned his expertise with knives and guns to hunting game for food so they wouldn’t need to make so many trips down into the closest town.  His favorite moments of solitude were his time spent fishing as a joint meditative venture doing yoga and Pilates on the banks of the lake at least once a week.

Dean turned to creature comforts – as ever – and not a surprise to Sam, Dean was a nester.  Cooking became not just a hobby but a passion.  Dean studied in his own way, spending hours on YouTube and various cooking shows to learn the art of cuisine before perfecting his own spin on it.  He took real enjoyment in providing home cooked meals, as well as being the handyman, figuring out and solving little problems that cropped up in their cabin.  Dean had always been good with tools and turned that into a real knack for beautifying their home with solid, gorgeous pieces of handmade furniture. 

They worked well together, as they always had.  Shifting from hunting to domesticity hadn’t been easy, but the transition had afforded them new views into each other’s psyche.  Discovering fresh ways to admire and appreciate the other helped their journey into the new direction they’d taken as more than brothers. 

The Winchester brothers were getting older, but growing far wiser and more wrapped up in each other than ever before. 

***

What a lovely vision of their future, I really enjoy picturing them growing old together, grey hair and wrinkles and all. You made my wincest-heart happy, thanks wincestmasanon!

[deansmixtape]

They were married.  Dean still couldn’t believe it – only because it was the culmination of everything in his life he’d never thought he’d truly have (or deserve) but always wanted in increasing ways: Sam.  Really and truly, all of Sammy was his.

On Christmas Eve, in the lightly falling snow, they’d had a very intimate handfasting ceremony performed by a local Wiccan.  They had talked about how they wanted this done, each bringing something to the table so it would truly be theirs.  Sam had talked her into adding a few blessings and using some supernaturally related items and symbols to ensure it was private and safe from anything that could ruin such a special event.

Unexpectedly, Dean had spent the two days prior hammering out their wedding rings.  Literally.  When Dean had gotten off the phone the Friday morning before Christmas Eve, he was irritable.  The rings he’d perfectly thought of and had put into motion wouldn’t be ready until after Christmas, and there was no way he was postponing what they’d planned.  So, he improvised, using some scrap metals and bunker tools to forge beautifully crafted – if only temporary – rings of gold and silver.  Sam had loved them so much when he found out Dean had made them himself that Dean could only hope Sam would fully appreciate what was coming later.

The simple ceremony was all they really wanted.  Getting married to each other was really just them baring themselves to each other and making a steadfast promise to each other above all else.  What God or gods, witnesses, or anything or anyone else thought was just background noise.  However, both knew they needed to make it legal as well, and a few days after Christmas, they had gone to a justice of the peace.

Dean twirled the gold ring around his finger, smiling a soft smile as he watched Sam sleeping next to him.  Brothers to lovers to husbands. 

Well.  Sam Wesson and Dean Smith were husbands in all the legal ways that mattered, but Sam and Dean Winchester had been soulmates from birth.  It had just taken a bit longer for them to catch up to what they’d already felt in their hearts and what the universe kept reminding them of.

The Saturday before New Year’s Eve, Dean had gotten the call that the rings he’d commissioned were ready.  He made up a short list of actual errands to do in town before letting Sam know he’d be back in a few hours, so his brother wouldn’t get suspicious.

Sam was taking the downtime to relax, tucked into a new novel, True Crime 2017: Homicide & True Crime Stories of 2017 (the annual anthology), and wouldn’t be coming up for air anytime soon, Dean figured.  With a chuckle and a swift kiss goodbye, Dean headed out.

As Dean drove into town to meet the jeweller, he couldn’t help but think about the rings.  He really hoped Sam would like them just as much as their handfasting rings.  The idea had come to him one night after he and Sam had talked about getting married.  It had been in the early stages – no date set yet, but with an actual ‘will you marry me’ moment where both of them had dissolved into relieved smiles, boyish giggles, and then soft kisses following some definite chick flick moments.

Dean had never felt so light of heart in his entire life.  It was all just right.  For once, Dean was the optimistic one where Sam had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Sam didn’t have night terrors as much as he used to, but that night after an almost full day of real open talk between them, he’d had a doozy.  No matter how close Dean was to him or how many blankets, Sam just couldn’t get warm.  He’d been chattering, not making sense, and the only way Dean could get through to him was the way he always had when Sam had suffered horrific nightmares. 

He’d pulled up into a sitting position against the headboard, dragging Sam into his lap.  While Sam tucked his head into Dean’s neck to feel the pulse of his carotid artery, Dean had brought Sam’s hand up over his chest so he could feel the rhythm of Dean’s heart so they could match beats, with Dean’s own hand over Sam’s heart.  Some gentle rocking, and in moments they were just holding each other quietly, moving as one with their hearts in sync as Sam’s breathing evened out, matching breaths with Dean.

As Dean waited for Sam to come out of his fog, he’d been studying Sam’s long, slender fingers.  He’d always appreciated Sam’s deft and graceful hands, but up close when he really paid attention he could just make out his fingerprints.  That led to Dean’s recollections of just how and where those prints had been left on Dean – and there wasn’t a spot on his body that had been left unmarked.

Unlike wiping an object free from prints, every touch from Sam over a lifetime had been seared into Dean’s skin, and he was sure Sam could say the same.  They both knew they touched each other above and beyond the norm, even before they’d been together in a more than platonic way.  Those touches were constant: fighting, assessing, reassuring, loving, adoring and always reaching out to each other no matter the situation. 

Without even realizing it, the seed for their rings had been planted, as the next day Dean had done random research on fingerprints.  Arches, loops, whorls – it all made Dean want to know how close their fingerprints were aligned.  He wasn’t sure why, no set of fingerprints had ever matched another’s, but they were soulmates.  There had to be tangible proof of that somehow. 

He obtained a clear set of both their fingerprints and had them analyzed by someone he found through Jody – someone they could trust not to turn them in.  When he got the results back, he was a little dumbstruck.  Their fingerprints matched up to 93%, and the agent had stated how very exceptional that was.  The detail of the print pattern was also unusual as it appeared that while both of them had whorls, there were also rarer arch patterns, where a smaller tented arch was tucked up under a larger plain arch.  The only place this happened was on the ring finger of the left hand in both of them.

Dean did a bit more digging about ring fingers and why that might be important, coming away from it almost a bit giddy.  The smile on his face could have been called beaming he was so happy.  Of course, it wasn’t current medical science, but knowing that mythology and Latin played a part in the lore gave Dean information he was certain would knock Sam over with a feather: the vena amoris travelled from the ring finger directly to the heart. 

Taking this knowledge and another clear set of their ring finger prints, he’d met with a local jeweller in town who specialized in custom pieces.  Dean had explained what he wanted, how very special these rings would be.  With their fingerprints to be engraved exactly to specs on the outside, he had asked for a few smaller sigils and glyphs for protection to be added to the inside of the rings.

Now that the jeweller had them ready for pick up, Dean felt a sureness about the rings.  Sam would love these.  The reasoning, the lore, the science of it all – Sam’s nerd brain would fight his inner fairy-tale princess in excitement about it.  Dean was also pretty sure they were going to have some fantastic sex tonight in celebration of his awesome brilliance.

****Thank you so much for this story, Wincestmas Anon, it’s so completely lovely and just what I wish for Sam and Dean. The rings though, oh gosh, I can just picture Dean hammering out some rings for them to use. (As well as ordering fingerprint ones too)

[deansmixtape]

The Twelve Days of Wincestmas

They had decided to forgo their typical gifts this year on Christmas Eve, instead, challenging each other to the 12 days of Christmas challenge.  Each day one would gift the other, using the song’s lyrics as inspiration.  They were each thoroughly amused to see what the other could come up with.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:  A juicy fresh pear pie

Sam had used the last of his precious Harry & David pears, and real butter in the crust.  It was flaky, tart and perfect – tender crisp and sweet like apple with a rich salted caramel glaze.  Watching Dean take the first mouthful and make a moan of bliss was more than enough satisfaction.  But being that he was still a little brother at heart, he waited for the reaction as he turned on the Partridge Family’s Christmas album.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:  Two chocolate turtles and Dove shampoo

Not exactly healthy chocolates, but the nuts in it earned him a genuine smile from his brother.  Dean knew he’d hit a home run when Sam opened the Peach Blast shampoo and closed his eyes though.  Sammy loved those fruity, floral, fancy shampoos and Dean figured adding in a week’s worth of scalp massages to their joint shower sessions would help.

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:  Three French Coq au Vin dinners

Well, three Cornish hens anyway.  Sam substituted bacon for pancetta because Dean, and used a Burgundy wine paired with fresh cremini mushrooms and an aged Brandy pulled from the library.  It wasn’t Julia Child’s – more like Ina Garten and some liberties, but even he enjoyed the meal.  Judging by the lack of leftovers and an adoring smile from his brother, they both had.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:  Four tweets (‘calling birds’)

Oh yeah, Dean felt like he’d totally cheated.  Well, it was within the spirit of the challenge, so it fully counted.  He set up an account for Sam, then sent out four distinct tweets in Sammy’s honor, @’ing the accounts of True Crime All the Time, National Public Radio, Planet Organic and We Rate Dogs.  He had created it under the Men of Letters name, so Sam could continue to use it for research and networking, but those initial tweets had Sam grinning, dimples fully on display. 

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:  Five golden onion rings

The onions were supposed to be home-grown from Sam’s patch of garden, however, they hadn’t bloomed quite as Sam had hoped for.  He settled for store bought instead, and set about making home-made onion rings for Dean.  The standard buttermilk bath was spiced up with a bit of cayenne and a splash of Tabasco, but the real kick came with the dipping sauce where he used horseradish and nutmeg for a savory taste experience.  While Dean grilled burgers outside, Sam made the rings, piling them hot and fresh on a platter.  Dean’s thumbs up while stuffing his mouth had Sam chuckling as he set about to start another batch.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:  Six goosedown filled pillows (and comforters)

Dean had counted and double counted.  Sammy had six – SIX – pillows on his bed alone.  Which was damn peculiar since they tended to both use Dean’s bed with his four pillows.  Occasionally Sam would sleep alone – when he was sick (and still Dean came to comfort him), when they were fighting (it happened on occasion) and when he just needed alone time (which Dean took to mean was secret code for no sex tonight.)  He had planned on getting them each a complete new comforter and pillow set, of the finest goosedown he could find.  They were going to be sleeping in soft, sumptuous heaven, no matter where Sammy’s precious, tousled head touched down. 

On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:  Seven origami swans

Sam spent the better part of the morning learning how to make the swans, cursing under his breath at his long fingers folding tiny bits of paper this way and that until he had perfected seven delicate swans.  He then spray painted them all with a clear coat of acrylic spray paint to make them waterproof.  After a hearty lunch of tomato rice soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, Sam suggested a relaxing bath for them both before they spent an afternoon of watching Game of Thrones.  He ran an extra hot tub, added some silly bubble bath, and set the swans to float.  When Dean joined him, Sam was already naked, welcoming him with open arms for a steamy, sexy bath. 

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:  Eight bottles of chocolate milk

Dean had thought long and hard about including some of their previous holiday traditions into the challenge to preserve them, so he looked to the local gas station for day eight.  He’d purchased eight bottles of the official drink of their childhood on the road, chocolate Yoo-hoo.  They’d learned to love the stuff as it wouldn’t spoil with lack of refrigeration, and it was easy to grab and go without much fuss for two kids who loved chocolate milk.  Dean set the bottles to chill in the fridge, and during their movie marathon of Lord of the Rings, broke them out between DVDs to enjoy with some licorice and popcorn. 

On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:  Nine porn DVDs with dancing ladies

Sam’s cheeks were flushed the brightest pink he thought he could ever imagine.  He’d walked into the adult toy store, intent on purchasing the first nine porn DVDs that included dancing of some form, then walking out.  Easy peasy.  However he found himself being propositioned by the cashier during the slowest checkout imaginable, caught off-guard and completely tongue tied.  When he mentioned the movies were for his brother (ok in retrospect maybe not the best answer at the time), the guy had just looked him up and down, smiled the filthiest depraved smile and winked, telling him a threesome with brothers was even hotter.  Not that Sam wouldn’t be into it if Dean were, but without Dean by his side, he just stuttered and clumsily made his way out the door. 

On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:  Ten copies of Lord of the Flies (in various media)

It was a stretch – and a bit excessive, but Dean thought Sam would appreciate the effort and ingenuity given it was one of his top five favorite books.  He’d managed to track down Lord of the Flies in several different languages for Sam to read and brush up on his more rusty language skills; Georgian, Basque and Catalan.  He found three versions of the film on DVD, and a copy of the stage adaptation.  There was a CD of music from the innovative ballet created based on the book as well as a BBC airing of a dramatization broadcast, plus one audiobook.  Sam’s stunned (and impressed) face was exactly what Dean had been angling for.  Truth be told, the lyrics for day ten were a stumper, but a flash of brilliance had saved the day.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:  Eleven piping hot cups of coffee

Sam had no qualms about purchasing the very pricey Breville Oracle Touch Espresso Machine.  The touch screen allowed for choosing from espresso, americano, latte, cappuccino or flat white, and adjusted the coffee strength, milk temperature, and texture automatically based on the drink choice.  Of course, it also made plain ordinary coffee as it ground, dosed and tamped the beans fresh.  It was an indulgence to be sure, but they had so little in the way of worldly goods that they treasured and he knew Dean would soon worship at the altar of delicious home brewed goodness in short order.  Sam had also signed them up for a year’s worth of deliveries from Bean Box, and he was sure they’d find new favorite roasts in no time.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:  Twelve ice cream drumsticks

There was no way he was buying Sam a set of drums.  So therefore no need for personalized drumsticks.  And while the idea of a Caribbean vacation to listen to steel drums play sounded terrific, he knew they’d never leave for such a trip.  Plus, flying was a no go, if he had his druthers.  Dean was close to picking up a bucket of KFC all drumsticks and calling it good when he laughed and thought better of it.  After dinner that night, he pulled out the box of Nestle Drumsticks and surprised Sam with a cone.  Sweet licks of ice cream turned naughty quickly, as drips left Sammy sticky and Dean decided to clean him up in the best possible way.

After the twelve days challenge, neither brother would concede defeat – or claim victory.  Instead they celebrated each other’s creativity and thoughtfulness with a twelve hour kink marathon in bed.  They most definitely did not watch anything on TV and the new pillows and comforter got shoved to the floor during one of their more athletic sessions. 

(I’ve enjoyed being your anon - I hope you’ve enjoyed your gifts! <3 sammichgirl )

****

Claps excitedly, oh it was you, sammichgirl! Thank you so much for being my wincestmas anon, I enjoyed everything very very much. This 12 days of Winchester Creativity was impressive, I love all the ideas they came up with for each other.

[deansmixtape]

Wincestmas Day 4

(a teaser for tomorrow’s fic!)

When it was time, everything fell into place.  Sam had made each of them a leather bracelet, hidden sigils under a small steel placard.  Their rings were matching hammered metal – Dean had made them as their true bands were not quite finished yet.  Those were waiting for the legal ceremony.  Right now they were celebrating the handfasting that had taken place on Christmas Eve, under a clear starry night as it had just started to snow.

Neither could have asked for more, and afterwards they celebrated simply. 

A little road trip to a lakeside cabin, the two of them enjoying each other and some of the smaller pleasures they’d come to appreciate in life: a comfortably soft bed, a good tumbler of whiskey, a slice of caramel pear pie.  They cozied up under plaid flannel blankets as Sam read to Dean some of his favorite romantic old poems.  Dean made sure there were rocking chairs on the porch to watch the early morning sunrise before they headed out to enjoy nature – their own way.

***

Ahhhhh, this is absolutely perfect, all my favorite stuff, can’t wait for tomorrow’s fic!

[deansmixtape]

December 2001 (another view)

The holiday break seemed to come quicker than he expected.  Not that it really mattered – Sam wasn’t going anywhere.  But he’d been hitting the books hard these last several weeks, losing himself in his studies.  Anything to keep his mind off making a phone call he both desperately wanted to make and fought like hell to not make.  The holidays meant solitude and quiet while knowing it would only throw him further into his funk.

Now that most everyone had cleared out, he was left to wander the campus freely without having to interact and put on a false smile.  He’d played the role of sweet, friendly freshman this semester well enough, trying to blend in and lose himself in the sea of faces.

Of course, things didn’t always go according to plans.  The hunter life he wanted to walk away from kept finding him.  People needed saving and he was reluctantly available, his conscience wouldn’t let him be so it made sense to stay sharp.  A few easy hunts kept his skills honed, taking on a couple salt and burns and one case where he’d needed backup and reached out to Bobby for help.  Monsters didn’t allow for time off when your last name was Winchester. 

The relief of a hunt being over, the joy that came with knowing your family was alive and well – Sam missed those parts immensely.  He hadn’t had contact with his dad or Dean since he left for Stanford.  He knew the choice he’d made.  Every time he thought about reaching out, his dad’s words rang in his ears and Dean’s face haunted him.  If he tried, would they even answer? 

It was a sunny but chilly day in Palo Alto.  There was a slight breeze, palm trees swaying as he walked by the quad close to his dorm hall.  It certainly didn’t feel like Christmas.  Every decoration he saw seemed out of place, too perfect and tastefully done.  He missed the too-bright plastic, cheap and gaudy décor he remembered from years past.  He ached for stolen kisses and cold night cuddling.

As he entered his room, he felt a small bit of solace.  No decorations, no reminders of what season was here.  He could just tuck himself away to read for pleasure.

Instead he found himself eating pizza and drinking his roommate’s leftover beer while watching a Die Hard marathon, tears streaming down his face.  He looked at the phone a million times before changing into a threadbare Led Zeppelin t-shirt that had lost all scent of leather, whiskey and sweat before crawling under the covers, praying that Dean was ok.

****

Oh no, Sam’s just as sad as Dean (of course)! :(  Sometimes I think they needed that separation to truly appreciate each other, even though it was wrenching and horrible for both of them. Thanks for the angst WincestMas Anon!

[deansmixtape]

December 2001

He’d been wandering aimlessly for weeks.  Taking on hunts recklessly, running on little to no sleep, driving Baby closer to that state line, than pulling further away after every case, running.  He was running in circles, never able to pull free.

Downing doubles at the bar hadn’t helped, and the thought of the curvy, red lipped brunette angling for a steamy night just made it so much worse.

So here he was at one in the morning, stumbling through the icy streets back to the barren, empty room he’d checked into just a few hours before.  It was a worse than usual shithole he’d ended up at in Nebraska.  Bitter cold and the driving wind outside cut through even the layers of flannel, wool and leather Dean was wearing. He stomped on, paying no attention to the sidewalk and walking along the road instead.

The freezing weather didn’t matter.  He couldn’t feel a damn thing lately, and he wished he could blame it on the alcohol or the winter weather.

No.  It was his broken heart.  He had been grieving for months now, his heart constantly aching and his mind a roaring void.  He’d grown despondent and more temperamental – which is why his dad had let them go their separate ways.  Said Dean needed to get his shit together and get a few wins under his belt.  Probably felt a good dose of guilt, himself. 

Killing monsters didn’t bring any joy.  Saving people had lost its special shine – the one Sam always seemed to bring out even through the horrors they’d faced.  Sam had a way of finding the silver lining no matter the storm clouds.

This was his first Christmas without Sam.  Not that Dean was terribly into holiday cheer anyway but still.  He was missing his little brother fiercely.  And that was something he wouldn’t admit to anyone, so he trudged onward.  There was a bottle of Jack and a couple of microwave burritos waiting for him.

He knew the alcohol wouldn’t really help.  It did offer him sweet oblivion though, where in his dreams Sam’s dimpled smile was soft and bright.  Where silly Christmas lights were strung in a too small dorm room as Sam welcomed him with a kiss under the mistletoe.  Where they made out while whispering naughty versions of holiday carols to each other and exchanged gas station presents, as per tradition. 

When he’d gotten inside and changed into a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, he crawled under the covers and turned on the TV.  Looking for a rerun marathon of movies he settled on the original Star Wars trilogy.  He poured himself a glass of whiskey and settled in, looking forward to those dreams.  They were the only gift he’d get this year. 

***

Oh no, this is so sad, I love it. Poor broken-hearted Dean, only having dreams of Sam to survive on, new head canon accepted.

[deansmixtape]

December 2005

After leaving Pennsylvania, Sam and Dean rode in shared anger and silence.  Demons.

They’d known about demons, they had just never had a hunt with one before.  John had always kept them at arm’s length from those types of cases, ensuring they knew just enough of the basics in case of emergency but never having to deal directly with them.

The brothers had tried several more times to reach their dad, with no luck.  Dean left voicemail after voicemail.  Sam texted and emailed.  No response, no acknowledgement, and no leads.  The resentment and irritation built within Sam, until he was ready to boil over.  Dean knew the warning signs in his little brother, and that kind of headspace combined with the still fresh grief over Jessica were a dark spiral he couldn’t let him follow down.

All Dean really wanted to do was hold him, truly reconnect with him.  He didn’t think they’d ever return to the place they were before Sam went to Stanford.  Sam had moved on, obviously.  And Dean was afraid to let Sam know he still hung the moon and stars by him. 

Driving was the only solace he had right now, so he turned up the music and let Baby stretch her legs.  They didn’t really have a destination, and with the adrenaline and frustration running through him, Dean felt he could drive all night. 

*****

Sam’s mind was a jumble of chaotic thought.  His dad, demons, Jessica, Stanford and law school.  The guilty thoughts about his visions that he hadn’t shared because they terrified him.  The guiltier thoughts the Woman in White had seen right through.  Dean.

His head hurt and his entire being felt flayed to the nerve.  He hadn’t been sleeping well, the nightmares kept coming and somehow, falling back into sync with his big brother on hunts came easy.  Too easy, it seemed.  He stared out into the dark night watching mile markers fly by, waiting for Dean to pull off the highway to a backwater town where a cheap motel and greasy food awaited. 

All Sam wanted was to lie down and sleep – truly sleep.  He didn’t think he’d ever rest easy again and he missed the days where he could just slide into Dean’s bed and cuddle for comfort.  The weight of Dean surrounding him, the scent of coffee, whiskey and that tang of sweat that was home and warmth and safety, they had always lulled him under, no matter the outside world.  The last time they’d had that was the night before Stanford.  Of course, it was also the last time they’d been intimate. 

It was too much to hope he could ever have that again – Dean had moved on.  And Sam was internally conflicted; grieving Jessica immensely, having loved her in his own way, and his constant churning thoughts of Dean.  His relationship with Jessica had never compared to his love for Dean though, and she’d always known he’d kept a part of himself reserved even if she never knew why.

*****

After six hours of nonstop driving, Dean was starting to feel drowsiness kick in.  He had turned the music over to a soft rock station when he noticed Sam fighting to keep his head straight up against the window.  He’d never admit to anyone that the entire reason Sammy loved falling asleep to such tunes is because he was trained into it from an early age, due to Dean’s own secret affinity for them.

Sam finally fell asleep to Air Supply’s Chances, and when his soft snuffling could be heard, Dean pulled Sam over towards him, so Sam could lay along the front seat more comfortably.  Within minutes Sam readjusted himself as if on autopilot, reaching out a hand to tangle in Dean’s jacket while inching up to lay his head against Dean’s thigh.  Dean could feel warm breaths on his leg, and let his hand drift down to play through soft, silky, puppy curls while Sam mumbled nonsense before exhaling a soft and clear, “Dean.”  Sam inched closer, wrapping one arm around his thigh while the other slipped under the jacket to fist into his t-shirt, fingertips brushing a sliver of bared skin.

Taking advantage of this moment of closeness gave Dean enough energy to keep driving rather than pull over.  He and Sam needed to talk, and they would.  Soon.  About dad, about Jessica, about them.  For now he just kept one eye on the road, the other on the most important person in his life.  In that instant, nothing could have made Dean a happier man.

***

Mutually pining Winchesters, one of my very favorite Wincest things, this was so achingly perfect, thank you so much Wincestmas Anon!

[deansmixtape]

It was inevitable, really.  Hero worship, fraternal love, mutual admiration in who each other was - it was always going to lead to a bond that was millennia in the making.  Unbreakable and awe-inspiring.

Sam:

When did noticing Dean’s eyes in terms of everyday bottle-green change to comparing them to Christmas tree evergreen?  Sam’s pretty sure it has to do with them finally having a real Christmas in their own place, the little cabin they’d made their home near a mountain lake. 

They’d cut down a tree and brought it in from the snow to decorate while celebrating with his special kicked-up recipe for eggnog.  Finding some holiday cheer was a bitch, but they were making themselves try.  Their first year out of the life, disconnected from everyone and everything.  That hadn’t been easy to come to terms with, but they’d both needed the break something fierce after losing anyone that meant anything to them.  They’d both pretty much said ‘fuck it’ to anything or anyone listening and finally truly walked away, holding each other up with battle scars the likes they’d never seen before.

Sam had noticed since they’d isolated themselves away from the world that the everyday looks and touches between them had shifted.  They weren’t frantic or assessing, but more reassuring.  They’d become softer and comforting.  Lingering.  And every now and then Sam’s breath would catch when fingers intertwined and Dean gave him that gaze, the one that he couldn’t quite identify because it was new.   

And Dean’s eyes, they were a deeper, richer green than he ever remembered seeing, bright with something Sam was too tentative to name.

Dean:

How did he never before notice the way Sam’s eyes twinkled?  They shone more than the soft white lights he was untangling as he strung them up, tucking them into the boughs of the tree.  Dean didn’t want to hope it meant anything more than a reflection of said lights, and yet…

Lately he couldn’t seem to stop looking at Sam.  Really looking at Sam.  Sam was different here, in this place they’d made truly their own.  He was settled, and had lost the stiffness of walking around as if he expected to have to move on.  There was an easier cadence to his walk, and he had stopped the habit of hunching over and drawing himself in.  In this space, the place they’d built together, he let himself breathe freely.  The air in which he carried himself was relaxed, at ease – and with that, a kind of beauty that was always dimmed before glowed, unfettered.

Sometimes Dean would glance over at Sam and lose himself in what he was seeing.  An appreciation grew that should bother him more, however he found himself not really caring.  His constant need to be near Sam and know they were both right there in the moment, alive and breathing turned into wanting time together in ways much more domestic.  Sitting next to each other on the couch, letting their thighs to ankles touch, until they were practically cuddling.  And cuddling was something Dean hadn’t had with Sam since they were children.  Running his fingers along Sam’s scalp when he’d fall into Dean’s shoulder, asleep with a book in his lap.  Dean found himself living for reasons to brush his hands against Sam, to walk up close behind him and just softly speak – almost in a whisper.  It was more than platonic and yet Dean didn’t know what to do or say about it.

Sam and Dean:

After the fresh scent of pine and balsam filled the cozy cabin, and a roaring fire was crackling to ward off the chill seeping in from the frosted windows on a clear, chilly, starry night, the brothers took a few moments to toast each other with Sam’s eggnog. 

Up in the mountains everything was quiet and peaceful.  And when Sam and Dean Winchester’s eyes met, an understanding was born.  Small tremulous smiles grew into adoring grins as a long awaited connection between two souls finally clicked into place, a tender kiss between them wiping away any doubt or uncertainty 

***

Oh my heart, that was so lovely and aching and perfect. Thank you so much wincestmas anon!