#pornxguy

dean scoffs.  ‘ you’re the baby.. baby. ‘  sam rolls his eyes. he takes the side of dean’s face in his hand, holding him still. the other hand, his dominant hand, meticulously apples eyeliner to the inner fold of dean’s lid, careful not to touch his eye. dean struggles with keeping from flinching, but he does his best, eye twitching mercilessly. when sam is satisfied, he retracts, and dean takes the moment to comically blink, opening his eyes over-wide and slamming them shut.  ‘ okay. now the other eye. ‘   dean groans, but it’s lacking any real teeth; sam swaps sides, looking at him with a delicate but focused expression that dean always thought was cute, remembers him doing it when he was a kid. he hardly struggles this time, still as the tip of the liner recolors his skin. 

‘ is that it? ‘ ‘ what? no. dude, that’s just eyeliner. and i hardly put any on in the first place -- you have big eyelashes. ‘  ‘ i’m not sure how i’m supposed to take that. ‘  ‘ uh .. well, you’ve got round eyes and thick lashes -- you don’t need a lot of attention to them. there’s other stuff i need to do. ‘ 

dean scrunches up his nose, but says nothing else. sam pulls out a thin tube, twists one end. dean knows this is mascara -- had a girlfriend who asked him to put hers on back in high school. sam lightly brushes his lashes, but hardly does anything else; it’s over faster than dean expected. 

then there’s a powder kit, and dean looks at sam, who lifts his brows.  ‘ i feel pretty. ‘  he says, sees the telltale dimples press into sam’s cheeks, and the sense of satisfaction that swells up inside of him feels like a balloon. sam  smooths the pad over the edge of his cheekbone. 

it feels like an era before sam makes this short, popping sound, then hums. he affectionately runs his hand over dean’s head, who is half tempted to swat him away, that’s my move, sam, but instead he lets it happen, gives him a stare that’s meant to be serious. the amused crows feet betray him. sam reaches for the handheld mirror, turns it. 

dean is genuinely surprised by the work sam’s done. he does not ‘look like a chick’, as he had sarcastically speculated. sam’s strengthened his features, covered up a few imperfections. a few years have left his face. sam’s even remembered the nicking scars that dean’s forgotten.

‘ see. you look good. ‘  ‘ i feel like i’ve got a pound of chalk on my face. ‘ 

sam flares his nostrils. dean cuts him off. 

‘ but ---- i gotta hand it to you, sammy. you did do a good job. i didn’t think you could make me look even better. ‘ 

not like you made me do it.

of  course  he  hadn’t  INTENDED  for  his  words  to  affect  dean  so  thoroughly  ,  to  rip  through  that  steely  exterior  of  bravado    &    his  imperfectly  crafted  facsimile  of  stability.  in  the  end  ,  if  he’s  the  BLADE  ,  then  he  supposes  perhaps  dean  truly  is  simply  the  paper  in  his  way  ,  torn  at  every  edge  ,  scorched  RAW    &    beyond  redemption.  he  listens  ,  the  picture  of  CALM    &    regal  poise  ,  lips  thin      /      tight  ,  betrayed.  it’s  so  LIKE  humanity  to  assume  they  know  how  angels  think  ,  how  they  cope  ,  the  FEELINGS  they  suffer  through    ;    for  sure  their  emotions  do  not  rule  over  them  ,  they  lack  the  same  intensity  ,    &    their  existence  is  FLEETING  ,  but  they  do  present  from  time  to  time.  THEY  STILL  HURT.

he  smiles  ,  MOCKING  ,  head  canted  at  the  words  just  barely  reaching  him.  it’s  like  he’s  underwater  ,  surrounded  by  sounds  but  not  quite  processing  them.     ❛    you  seem  to  forget  this  ,  dean  ,  but  before  YOU  ,  i  had  never  even  considered  REBELLION.  i  was  following  ORDERS  ,    &    those  orders  told  me  to  lead  my  comrades  into  hell    &    save  you.   ❜     he  paces  ,  to    &   fro  ,  a  habit  he’s  picked  up  since  earth.  since  becoming  more  HUMAN.     ❛    you  didn’t  want  to  leave  ?  fine.  i  didn’t  WANT  to  save  you.  i  didn’t  WANT  to  lead  so  many  of  my  FAMILY  to  their  deaths.  you  aren’t  the  only  one  who  has  LOST  PEOPLE  ,  dean.  you  can’t  even  BEGIN  to  understand  what  i’ve  seen.  what  i’ve  done.   ❜     

pornxguy:

There is little else that Dean loves more then working on the impala. It calms him down. It was familiar. He knew every inch of her body, knew what was under the hood, nothing about the chevy could surprise him. In a field of work like hunting surprises come everyday and it’s nice that he doesn’t have to hold his breath.

Dean begins to hum, a bit off key, as he continues tinkering with the oil. At one point he swipes a greasy hand over his cheek which smears oil across freckled skin. He doesn’t care. By the end of the day he’d likely be unrecognizable under grease and soot. Reaching for the cloth in his back pocket Dean rotates a valve which hisses as pressure releases. Sam has been reading his mind. The elder barely has to motion towards the tool he wanted when Sam hands it over. These are the best times and nothing has really changed about it over the years.

If they had been outside in the open somewhere curious eyes could catch them Dean might have jumped at the touch. It has been awhile since they’ve started whatever this thing is between them but Dean still has some issues to work out. Not about Sam but about other people’s perception of him.Dean has to be the tough older brother no matter what and being gay just doesn’t fit with that role. So there are some kinks to massage through but they’ve come miles from where they had been.

Dean scrubs his hands off with the cloth then straightens to turn his head towards Sam. This is why he’s thrown any ideas of him or Sam being normal right out of the window. He’s gone over many hurdles about conflicting thoughts of sexuality, about the morality of this choice they make every day and he always ends up here. With Sam. With the little things Sam does to make Dean feel like he’s wanted. The hunter would never confess out loud but being needed is a strong pull towards a relationship. While the touch of Sam’s hand over denim may not appear earth shattering to an outsider it means the world to Dean.

It means he matters and that even though Sam has grown into a scruffy haired nerdy giant who is fully capable of taking care of himself- he still needs Dean in some capacity.

Sam smiled when Dean looked his way, noticing the smudge of oil on his brother’s face. In another life, he could imagine Dean as mechanic, elbow-deep in car parts all day and perfectly happy to come home smelling like grease and fuel.

Selfishly, Sam considered that he wouldn’t mind that, as long as he was still the one Dean came home to.

“Need anything to eat? Or drink?” he offered instead of letting himself consider might-have-beens. He had genuinely come to love his life with Dean, but he couldn’t help the occasional dream of a life where they were safe, and away from supernatural turmoil. Where his biggest concern would have been making sure Dean didn’t kill himself with high cholesterol rather than the constant threat of disembowelment and gunshot wounds that occupied Sam’s thoughts every time they stepped out the door.

There was shit you said, and shit you didn’t.  Things you pushed under the rug because- you didn’t talk about it.  It hit too close to the nerve and opening that door just welcomed all kinds of shit.  It was that full closet you couldn’t get closed again, things you couldn’t process without- well, without being three different personalities in your head while you were in a damn coma.  This- wasn’t hell, but it felt like it could open those doors if he wasn’t careful.  No one had ever reached that level enough to open that door from torture.

But every now and then they could get close to hallucifer or something else.  

This, again, wasn’t one of those times.  Dean couldn’t seem to handle any of those times though.  When he said it wasn’t important, he meant it.  Then again, any torture was almost run of the mill anymore, or kidnapping.  At this point it was almost like he should accept the fact that if he went on a hunt, it was going to end up in a headache.