Sam let the smoke fill his lungs, holding his breath for a long moment before gently exhaling and watching, through half-lidded eyes, as the plume of acrid smoke rose up, dispersing itself silently into the night air. He swallowed against the taste of ashes coating his throat and mouth, his tongue dry as he flicked it over chapped lips as if to moisten them. His stomach lurched and Sam clenched his eyes closed, moving his hand up to his lips and forcing himself to take another drag of the cigarette he held lightly between middle and index finger. He could endure the taste-- would endure the associations it brought to him-- for now.
The quiet creek of a door opening, then closing, sounded. Sam blew out a slow breath as his ears picked up the crunch of boots on gravel. There was a short pause before the careful reverberations started up once more, growing ever louder as those boots crunched their way towards him.
His eyes fell slowly shut as the footsteps approached nearer, their pace measured and sure until there! another pause, a slight shifting of weight from one foot to the other before the Impala sank just a little further as another’s weight was leaned against it.
Sam tipped his head back, exposing the long arch of his neck; fingers twitching ash from his cigarette as he waited for his brother to say something. Knowing it was his brother because there was no one else to come looking for him in the dead of night when sleep was forbidden to him and the waking dawn seemed just too far off.
Dean said nothing. Silence lingered between them until Sam turned his head, slanting his gaze towards his big brother. Dean’s eyes were cool as they ran over his face in unspoken vexation before he reached out to Sam. Despite the warmth of the night Dean’s fingers were chill as they flinched against Sam’s own to snatch at his half-smoked cigarette, lifting it to his lips a heartbeat later and drawing deep; the glow of the tip dancing brief shadows across his brow.
Sam straightened himself, shooting his brother a glare that was lacking of any sort of fire. A wave of sudden fatigue washed over him, forcing him to drop his scowl as he turned his face from Dean. He needn’t have bothered however, for Dean wasn’t looking at him anyway.
They were quite for a little longer, with Sam shooting surreptitious looks towards his brother. Dean lifted the cigarette butt to his mouth once more, his pouting lips closing lightly over the end, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked tobacco and nicotine into his body as easily as if he were breathing air-- the buzz of it all not even worth the addiction.
“You shouldn’t smoke, Sammy.” Dean muttered on an exhale. Sam’s heart thudded against his chest at the sound, unprepared for any exchange of words between them.
“Why?” Sam breathed out, his voice gruff. “‘Cause it’s bad for me?”
Dean’s lips twitched humourlessly as he shook his head. Sam fidgeted, frowning, feeling the beginnings of an irritation brewing within him and he soon found himself resenting Dean’s interruption of his solitude.
“Still can’t sleep?” Dean asked suddenly.
Sam jerked his head. Beside him, Dean nodded, watching from the corner of his eye as Sam’s mouth thinned.
“I’ve got some pills if it’ll help?” He offered.
Sam jerked his head again, his mouth souring for a moment. “I’d rather not, thanks.” He choked out, his fingers twitching against his thigh for a moment before he reached out and snagged his cigarette back from between Dean’s fingers.
Dean blew little puffs of smoke up into the air, wetting his lips with a grimace once he’d finished. Sam smoked till there was nothing more to smoke. He flicked the butt to the ground, stomping out the damning glow with the toe of his boot.
“Come back to bed?” Dean asked softly, his eyes staring off across the parking lot. Sam swallowed heavily, his throat grating with the motion. He nodded his head in reply this time, pushing up off the Impala and leading the way back towards their motel room.
He held the door open for Dean, following in behind his brother. Sam’s eyes raked their way over every inch of their cramped lodgings for the night. Paint-peeling walls and a distinct smell of damp greeted Sam as he cautiously made his way towards the bed. No monsters hiding in the deep, dark corners of their room. Not tonight. Not yet.
With a measured sigh, Sam toed off his shoes and socks before tugging his shirt over his head and shucking his jeans to the floor. He crawled beneath the delicious cool of the sheets and watched, openly, as Dean stripped himself down to his boxers. There was a pinched expression on his brother’s face, a crease between the eyes as he circled around the bed, climbing in behind Sam and reaching for his brother.
Sam went willingly into his brother’s arms, allowing Dean to spoon up to him from behind, their legs tangling with a hiss as Dean’s cold feet touched like ice-blocks to Sam’s warmed skin.
“Goddamn!” Sam cursed, feeling Dean’s sudden laugher against the back of his neck. A surreal sense of relief washing over him at the sound and Sam found himself smiling for the first time in a long while. “Damn well put your socks back on.”
Dean laughed louder and Sam drew his brother’s arms more tightly about his torso, making sure to first jab his elbow into Dean’s ribs.
“I’d have to move to do that.” Dean pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. Sam managed not to roll his eyes, cringing as Dean rubbed one foot up the length of his shin. He shifted in Dean’s arms till he could reach an arm over the end of the bed, his fingers groping blindly along the graze of the carpet in search of his own discarded pair.
He wasted no words upon locating them, crooking his elbow and dropping them atop Dean’s head. Dean swiftly released him, snatching the socks from his face with a wordless grumble, before shimmying down under the covers, trying to reach his feet.
Sam rubbed at his face whilst Dean struggled with the socks. His eyes itching with a tiredness he didn’t want to give in to though he longed for sleep.
“You sleeping?” Dean’s muffled voice came to Sam from somewhere near the small of his back. He shook his head, blinking the fogginess from his mind enough to answer his brother with words.
A hesitant touch stroked its way over the narrow curve of his hip; Sam flinched, shying away from the touch for the briefest of moments. Then came the kiss, pressed just above the waistband of his boxers; Dean’s wet lips holding the gesture for a minute as his fingers continued to stroke the goosebumps of his flesh.
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