When Dean hits forty-five, he stops to look at himself critically and notices it, that growing bit of pudge around his middle, the one he may have seen before if he weren’t still superimposing a slim, muscular, twenty-something over his actual appearance, or if Sam weren’t buying his pants. It puts him in a bad mood all day, and leaves him feeling even guiltier when Sam constantly asks what’s wrong, trying to make his ‘special day’ special, but it’s not like his brother would understand. At nearly forty-one, Sam’s still built like a fucking linebacker, still does pull-ups and runs several times a week. If he said anything, Sam would piss himself laughing, or worse, force him to go on a diet and watch over him like a mother hen.
At dinner, Dean finds he can’t enjoy the food like he normally would and barely touches his fries as a consequence, does little more than push his pie around his plate. He wonders what he’ll have to give up, now, to get in shape, to stay at the top of his game as long as possible lest he gets slow and some monster gets its claws in his (oversized) gut.
“Dean.” Sam’s hand closes over his, and when he looks up, his brother’s eyes are soft with concern. “It’s ok.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says gruffly, nudging his plate away. “Get the check, huh?”
Sam shakes his head. “You’re not done yet,” he says, and proceeds to reach across the table for Dean’s fork, sinking it into the pie, and holds it up to Dean’s mouth.
“Sam!” Dean hisses. “People are watching!”
Sam just grins, foxlike. “Let them watch.”
Dean resigns himself to the fact that he’s not getting out of here without finishing desert, so he lets Sam feed him, bite by bite, and wipe the crumbs away from his mouth when he’s done.
“Good?” Sam asks, voice low, and Dean nods, suddenly grateful he opted for baggy jeans today.
Sam keeps a hand on him all the way back to the motel, just a light, reassuring touch that nevertheless starts an anticipatory thrum under his skin. They’re barely inside the door before Sam’s on him, grabbing the short strands of Dean’s hair and kissing him, stripping him down efficiently and tossing him on the bed.
Because Sam’s a bastard, he won’t turn the light off. They’ve fought about this before, because Sam’s like some wide-eyed little kid who just needs to see everything to believe it’s real, while Dean is often made to feel like a bug under a microscope by his scrutiny. He’s just fucking ready for them to get to the main event, ok?
Tonight, of course, Sam’s focus is on his belly, which Dean could swear is even more distended after dinner. He kisses and sucks hickeys into the soft flesh, leaves twin bite marks above Dean’s hips.
“Sam,” Dean groans, arm thrown across his face. “Sammy, please.”
“Yeah, I got you,” Sam murmurs, and finally, finally takes Dean in his mouth.
Later, after Sam’s sucked him and fucked him and brought him off no less than three times before coming himself, he curls around Dean like he thinks he’s part octopus and clutches Dean’s stomach fat with both hands.
“I like it, you know,” Sam whispers, directly in Dean’s ear. “It’s all soft and squishy.”
“You are so fucking weird,” Dean tells him, without any real strength behind it. He’s tired and sated and kind of feels like he’s floating still, because Sam is just that good in bed.
Sam presses a soft kiss behind Dean’s ear. “And you’re not gonna die because you’ve got more than two percent body fat.”
Dean doesn’t say anything to that; he can’t.
“Remember Bobby?” Sam continues, unhindered. “He was still kicking ass when he was a lot older and a lot fatter than you. And you know nothing bad is gonna happen to you as long as I’ve got your back.”
“Can you turn the fucking light off now so I can go to sleep?”
Sam huffs out a short breath of laughter against Dean’s neck and hits the switch on the nightstand’s lamp, leaving it blessedly dark.
The next morning, Dean pauses in front of the mirror before he gets in the shower, silently documenting the marks Sam’s left on his stomach, and smiles to himself. He’s no longer sure why he ever thought there was something wrong.
