beekeepercain:

For @babybrotherdean. I feel like Dean needs some nice things.

Dean hasn’t slept in three days, and he’s tired. Sam feels him nod off again, his shoulder colliding with his and then, unexpectedly, his head following suit. Dean slides on down for a little bit and it takes that much for Sam to realise that this time, he’s actually falling asleep: it comes as a relief to him, and he pokes out his arm, letting the other’s weight balance upon it and then keep moving down more gently, without the abrupt falls that could wake him up again. He watches the rain fall outside as Dean’s head finally makes contact with his thigh and he removes his arm from the mix, reaching out to tug Dean’s long legs onto the seat, straightening out his weird twisted pose with some effort. The man lets out a soft grunt, perhaps waking up a little, but he doesn’t open his eyes or pull up again.

Sam’s palm rests over the other’s arm and he wishes the blanket was here somewhere, but it’s inside the trunk and he can’t go get it now. What they have now just has to do the trick.

“There you go,” he says absently, finger moving lightly over Dean’s skin, just below the hem of the sleeve of his dark grey tee.
“I’ll wake you up if something changes.”

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