Sam/Dean Mini Bang 2011: All Roads Lead to You (Epilogue)
back to Part 2
(Please see masterpost for warnings)
Two Months Later
Dean joins Sam on the sofa, placing his casted arm into his lap. Sam’s opposite leg, also in a cast, rests upon a pillow on top of the coffee table. Sam readjusts, nuzzling his face into Dean’s neck and closing his eyes.
“As much as it sucks still not being at work, I like staying home with you. It reminds me of summers at Bobby’s.”
“Sammy, I get all tingly when you get sentimental on me like that.” John shuffled out of his room and into the living room, long since giving up the pretense of sticking around until Sam was better.
“Please tell me someone made coffee.” He groaned.
“Yeah, it’s on the burner.” Dean supplied. Turning back to Sam, he smirked. “So…since I have the day off, what do you want to do?”
Sam, never moving his face away from Dean’s body, told him as serious as can be, “I want to eat junk food and have you ride me before we go to bed.”
From in the kitchen, the boys heard the crash of a coffee mug hitting the floor, accompanied by their father’s expletive “sonofabitch!” Dean couldn’t help but laugh.
“You wanna say that a little louder, Sammy? I don’t think you’ve quite killed Dad yet.” Sam chuckled.
“My house, my rules.”
“It’s my place, too.”
“Yeah, but your rules apply to the impala. Mine are good here.” Dean ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, sinking further into the sofa.
“Damn straight, little brother.”
John returned to the living room with three mugs of coffee: black for himself and Dean, and cream and sugar for Sammy. He placed them on the coffee table before sitting on the loveseat to the side of the cramped space. It had been debated whether or not they should move now that the three of them lived in the same place, but Sam liked their apartment too much. Besides, Mrs. Stiles from down the hall had taken to Dean after she saw him carefully leading his injured brother down the hall when they first got back from the hospital. She liked to bake, and since she no longer had anyone living with her to eat the stuff, she started leaving pie tins and plates of brownies out for his eldest son. None of them particularly wanted to give up the free sweets. Thus, they stayed in their apartment.
Admittedly, his family was nothing like he’d expected it to be back when his boys were little, and Mary was still alive. But he couldn’t see his life any differently now if he wanted to.
“Love you, Dean.” He heard Sammy murmur as he tucked himself back into Dean’s arms, head burrowing into the crook of his husband’s neck.
Dean smiled, pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “I don’t know why you suddenly switched from horny to cuddly, but still expect sex later, bitch.”
The room echoed with laughter before the television drowned it out, but that was okay. They’d have plenty of years to laugh together.
THE END
back to masterpost
(Please see masterpost for warnings)
Two Months Later
Dean joins Sam on the sofa, placing his casted arm into his lap. Sam’s opposite leg, also in a cast, rests upon a pillow on top of the coffee table. Sam readjusts, nuzzling his face into Dean’s neck and closing his eyes.
“As much as it sucks still not being at work, I like staying home with you. It reminds me of summers at Bobby’s.”
“Sammy, I get all tingly when you get sentimental on me like that.” John shuffled out of his room and into the living room, long since giving up the pretense of sticking around until Sam was better.
“Please tell me someone made coffee.” He groaned.
“Yeah, it’s on the burner.” Dean supplied. Turning back to Sam, he smirked. “So…since I have the day off, what do you want to do?”
Sam, never moving his face away from Dean’s body, told him as serious as can be, “I want to eat junk food and have you ride me before we go to bed.”
From in the kitchen, the boys heard the crash of a coffee mug hitting the floor, accompanied by their father’s expletive “sonofabitch!” Dean couldn’t help but laugh.
“You wanna say that a little louder, Sammy? I don’t think you’ve quite killed Dad yet.” Sam chuckled.
“My house, my rules.”
“It’s my place, too.”
“Yeah, but your rules apply to the impala. Mine are good here.” Dean ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, sinking further into the sofa.
“Damn straight, little brother.”
John returned to the living room with three mugs of coffee: black for himself and Dean, and cream and sugar for Sammy. He placed them on the coffee table before sitting on the loveseat to the side of the cramped space. It had been debated whether or not they should move now that the three of them lived in the same place, but Sam liked their apartment too much. Besides, Mrs. Stiles from down the hall had taken to Dean after she saw him carefully leading his injured brother down the hall when they first got back from the hospital. She liked to bake, and since she no longer had anyone living with her to eat the stuff, she started leaving pie tins and plates of brownies out for his eldest son. None of them particularly wanted to give up the free sweets. Thus, they stayed in their apartment.
Admittedly, his family was nothing like he’d expected it to be back when his boys were little, and Mary was still alive. But he couldn’t see his life any differently now if he wanted to.
“Love you, Dean.” He heard Sammy murmur as he tucked himself back into Dean’s arms, head burrowing into the crook of his husband’s neck.
Dean smiled, pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “I don’t know why you suddenly switched from horny to cuddly, but still expect sex later, bitch.”
The room echoed with laughter before the television drowned it out, but that was okay. They’d have plenty of years to laugh together.
THE END
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