Fics like nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

“You get to have this, Dean.” The brush of Sam’s mouth against his own is the sweetest ache. Lips catch and drag and Sam whispers into his mouth, “You get to have this. If you want this, I’m giving it to you. Let me give this to you.” Dean wants to say yes. He wants to say please and I love you and thank you. For the trust, the devotion, the care. It’s not something that has ever needed to be verbalised but god, in this moment Dean wants nothing more than to tell this boy just how much he loves him. “Yeah. Yeah, Sam — I want this.” The words taste like the sweetest freedom and a thousand more years of damnation but Sam’s tongue soothes the burn of them. Long fingers cradle the back of his head tenderly, so tenderly, like he’s something precious to be taken care of, and Dean’s chest feels fit to bursting with how much he loves this kid.

Fics like nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

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