So, I’m alive. And I’m sorry I dropped off the face of the Tumblr world. There was a lot going on, a lot that I can’t really discuss here, but everything is good. Really, really good. But I owe you all a huge apology for just disappearing like that.
I’m not entirely back, because I’m not really writing fics anymore (at least not with any kind of regularity), but I wanted to say thank you for all the love I always got on this site. Giving it up was harder than I thought it was going to be, and I’m sorry I couldn’t have told you then how grateful I was for every one of you. You saved my life. Truly. More than once.
Spread this around, will ya? I lost all my followers and want as many of them as possible to see it.
XOXO
Tagging a few to help me get the word out that I’m not lying in a ditch on the side of the road: @littlegreenplasticsoldier @mrswhozeewhatsis @impala-dreamer @winchesterprincessbride @hollygopossumlovesj2 @kittenofdoomage @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @ellen-reincarnated1967 @feelmyroarrrr @crispychrissy @saxxxology-library @bamby0304 @atc74
Title: The Suburbs (Wincest Big Bang 2018)
Author: ilostmyshoe-79
Artist: beingcouy
Rating: Explicit
Warnings/Spoilers: Djinn AU, Porn With Plot and Feelings, Pining, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Switching, top!dean, Top!Sam, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Restraints, Apple Pie Life
Summary: Dean Winchester has everything he wants. He has a new life in the suburbs, one where he’s retired from hunting. He has a house, a new job, a safe world around him where he doesn’t question if he’ll make it through the day. He has beer in his refrigerator and he never wonders if he’s in immediate danger. And he has Sam. He has Sam in every single way.
But of course, that’s not his real life.
Sam saves his life and pulls him out of the djinn fantasy apple pie life. And now Dean has to figure out how to go back to being a hunter. A hunter who isn’t in love with his brother.
Can Dean do that? Does he want to? Maybe the apple pie life isn’t just a djinn fantasy after all.
Title: The Suburbs (Wincest Big Bang 2018)
Author: @ilostmyshoe-79
Don’t let the chibis deceive you, it’s an R-rated fic! Great read! :D I had a lot of fun coming up with pics to go with it. Hop on over to Ao3 and READ IT! It’s really good! <3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Wincest Writing Challenge: February | @cinnamonanddean vs. @ilostmyshoe-79
Prompt: Lavender - “devotion”
Rating: M| Wordcount: 530
Warnings: Underage
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester
Additional Tags: Sibling Incest, Tumblr Prompt, Underage Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Guilty Dean Winchester, First Time, Second Time, Wincest Writing Challenge
Dean studied the wall of his room critically. Sure, there was some space in between the various weapons he had hung up, but was it enough?
... did Cas even have posters he’d want to put up?
Dean shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. This really shouldn’t be this hard. Or this nerve-wrecking. It was just Cas, after all.
But then again, this was Cas.
Dean had already emptied two of his dresser drawers, mostly of the lint and cobwebs that had taken up residence there. He’d never been one to hoard clothes, mostly because that was impractical when you were living out of a duffle bag. He’d attempted to tidy the desk too, but given up when he realized he was just shuffling the few items upon it around.
He let out a frustrated groan. Dean had wanted to clear some space for Cas, and while he was relatively pleased about the half-empty dresser, it didn’t feel like enough. He wanted something visible; knickknacks on the shelves, posters on the walls, a hand-knitted blanket on the bed. Something obvious that showed this wasn’t just Dean’s room anymore.
It looked like he couldn’t even do that. His room had hardly changed and Cas was supposed to move his stuff in here today.
What if Cas ended up thinking this was a mistake? What if Cas didn’t have enough space for his things? It wasn’t as if the newly-fallen angel had much in the way of material possessions, and if Cas felt obligated to give those up just because Dean liked waking up with Cas in the mornings...
Dean was pulled out of his thoughts by the door opening. He turned to see Cas poking his head into the room, carrying a large box under one arm, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. His expression was soft and warm, and Dean felt his own lips twitch upwards in response.
“Hey,” Dean said, walking to the door to help Cas with his things. Cas shifted so Dean could grab the box, which Dean nearly dropped upon realizing that it was, in fact, a lot heavier than Cas had made it seem. “What do you got in here, bricks?”
“Books,” Cas replied matter-of-factly, still smiling as he leaned forward to kiss Dean chastely on the mouth. He pulled away after a moment, leaving Dean sighing in contentment. “Help me unpack?”
“Sure,” Dean said. He set the box on the bed and opened the top up while Cas disappeared through the door again. Cas was back a second later with a pillow and a blanket, both of which he immediately set on the bed and then laid his duffle on top.
Dean stared for a moment at the second pillow next to his on what was now, officially, their bed.
Cas didn’t spare the sight a second glance, instead moving on to his duffle bag and opening it up. He quickly transferred the entire contents of the bag to the bottom two drawers of Dean’s dresser, then folded the bag and set it on the closet shelf next to Dean’s.
Dean shook himself and started going through the box Cas had brought. As he thought, there wasn’t much in it. There was a framed photograph of him, Cas, and Sam. Beneath that were a few knickknacks Cas had collected over the years; a coffee mug Dean thought might be from Biggerson’s, smooth river rocks the size of Cas’s palm, a few dark feathers that gleamed like an oil spill. And, as promised, at the bottom of the box were books.
A few were titles Dean recognized, some he had even read and enjoyed, and yet others were things he would never in a million years admit to reading. Cheap romance novels, books of poetry, textbooks on things like history, biology, and even...
Dean snorted, his cheeks turning faintly pink as he lifted up an illustrated copy of The Gay Kama Sutra.
“Really, Cas?” he said, raising an eyebrow. Cas shrugged.
“It’s been very informative,” he said. “Charlie gave it to me.”
“Of course she did,” Dean muttered, flipping through the pages. He heard Cas chuckle quietly as he began to move the books from the box onto the small bookcase that housed Dean’s few, well-loved copies of Vonnegut.
Dean paused on one particularly... interesting illustration in the book, coughed, and quickly closed it.
“Remind me to send her a fruit basket,” he said, handing it over to Cas. Cas stashed it with the rest of the books, right next to a volume of poems by Byron.
The rocks and feathers from the box found their place on top of the dresser. The mug Cas placed on the desk, right next to the mason jar full of pens and pencils. The framed photograph found space right next to it.
And, quite suddenly, it was done. Dean blinked as Cas broke down the cardboard box he’d carried his things in with a satisfied hum.
“Is that everything?” Dean asked, looking around. Everywhere he looked, he could see Cas.
“Yes, that’s all,” Cas said, surveying the room filled with their mingled possessions for the first time with a pleased smile.
The room looked suddenly fuller, more lived-in. As if maybe Dean hadn’t needed to move things around to accomodate Cas, but instead Cas slipped neatly into the gaps Dean hadn’t even realized were there.
Dean smiled, chest fit to burst with emotion, and reached out to tug Cas closer. Cas came willingly, tilting his head for the expected kiss. Dean obliged him.
“I’m sure we’ll find more stuff. We haven’t even been to the Grand Canyon yet,” Dean said, leaning his forehead against Cas’s.
“I look forward to it,” Cas replied, leaning in to kiss Dean again.
Hello, you have been identified as An Awesome Writer™! Congrats, you rock! So that all of your readers can shower you with some extra love today, please tell us your favourite five (or as many as you want) stories of yours and why you like them and then send this to another five fic authors you think deserve this title! <3
You’re too kind, seriously. I know we’ve talked about this over the last few days, but it still amazes me that someone who writes as amazing as you do actually liked my stuff. But, you do, and thank you so much for that support!!
There are too many fics for me to list, I love a lot, but I’m gonna leave a list of some of my fav series just to show some love. The list is kinda long, so it’s all under the cut :):)
Explosions by Crazy Pink Penguin
It’s a hot and heavy fic where the main character is a phone sex operator... and Daryl Dixon calls. There are a few little prequel oneshots, and an alternative timeline fic as well. It’s all great, trust me.
How Can I Love You? by jessica-bones-winchester
A series on fanfiction.net. I’m not much of a John Winchester fan, but this is sweet and pulled on my heart strings enough to keep me going. But in a twist of events the reader finds herself falling for a second Winchester... Dean. A great read
Irresistable Danger by @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash
Negan has never looked better in this reader insert story. A slow burn that’ll have you hanging for more.
Knock by @superprincesspea
This little gem is the soul reason why I am now a proud member of the Simon Thirst Squad. It’s fluffy, it’s funny, it’s angsty, it’s hot... it’s perfect.
Our Little Secret by @sis-tafics
A Dean Winchester x Reader fic that has a new kink in every chapter, and a plot that melts your heart the further you fall into the words.
Rabid Animals by @curbitkirby
Another Peter Hale fic, only this one has a sassy OC. There’s a sequel part that is just as good as the first. Hot, complicated, funny and amazing, it’s worth a read.
Sunny Days by @kellyn1604
Negan finds a little sunshine in an otherwise dreary world when he comes across a sweet little thing called Sunny. This fic is a little different to what I usually go for, with the detailed smut and daddy kink worked in the plot, but that doesn’t change the fact that it is amazing.
The Escort by @ilostmyshoe-79
The Reader needs to find a date for her family vacation, and in a desperate move she decides to call an escort of sorts, Dean Winchester. He offers to pretend to be her boyfriend in exchange of money, but things get complicated when they get closer than anticipated.
You Know Better by @xteenwolfwritingsx
The first Peter Hale series I found... and the first I fell in love with. Another slow burn, but that doesn’t take away from the incredible plot and the complicated relationship between Peter and the reader.
I’m not gonna tag anyone, but if the people above or anyone else wants to join then go for it!! :):)
Written for @wincestwritingchallenge Round 12: Richard Silken
Prompt: I swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth.
Pairing: Wincest
Partner: @ilostmyshoe-79
Rating: E/NC17
Summary:
Dean's confusing porn with reality again, and he's really got to stop.
OR
What happens when the Winchesters are forced to share a bed.
On A03
Sequel to Two Queens
It doesn’t work.
Dean knows he has a good ass. He’s been told so by more people than he can count - most of those comments very much unwelcome at the time but enough to leave him in happy confidence that his backside is pleasing to people.
But dropping his pants and showing it off hasn’t worked. Sam remains as utterly indifferent to Dean (and his ass) as he always seems to be.
Dean tips his head back in the shower and shakes his head. He doesn’t know what to do any more; maybe he should just give up. Water pounds down over his head; the excellent pressure might turn out to be the only good thing about this motel, and Dean finally starts to thaw out, tingles radiating from his fingers and toes as he warms up. He forces himself not to linger; Sam needs this bliss as much as he does.
When he leaves the bathroom, he’s confronted with the kingsize bed. It’s like something out of a porno, he thinks; two hot guys forced to share a bed and huddle together for warmth. In the porn world, it would only end one way, even if the men were brothers; but as Sam’s said many times, he shouldn’t confuse reality and porn. The likelihood of him and Sam getting it on tonight is miniscule. He needs to resign himself to that.
He hops into bed and scoots to one side, leaving enough space for his brother. When he finally emerges from the shower, Sam looks utterly horrified at the thought of sharing with Dean, and that’s more than enough to crush all of Dean’s hopes.
Rolling over, Dean does what Winchesters do best, and thinks about something else until he falls asleep.
***
Waking in the middle of the night, Dean is surrounded by a warmth and rightness that he hasn’t felt in over four years. Sam is not just close, Sam is within touching distance, within breathing distance, within kissing distance and that’s just exactly where he should be. Dean luxuriates for a moment, Sam’s familiar breath hitting his cheek and his little almost-snores tickling Dean’s ears.
There’s enough dim artificial light trickling through the thin motel curtains for Dean to see his brother. Sam looks so peaceful asleep, as if the trials of the past few months have washed away; the frown on his forehead smoothed out and his lips gently parted. He’s beautiful like this too, of course, he’s always beautiful; but Dean is struck with how relaxed he looks. It highlights the strain Sam carries during the day, the grief of losing Jess mixing with the guilt of not being able to find their Dad, and it’s only now that it’s gone that Dean is seeing the impact.
Dean is awash with love in that moment; the love he’s felt all his life, from the moment the tiny bundle was first placed in his arms, supported carefully by a soft embrace he can barely remember; right through to the desperate hug at a wet bus stop as Sam set off into the unknown, and most recently felt through the crash of Sam’s body fighting against him in a dark room, before a girl in tiny pyjamas flicked on the lights.
Jess. Dean had been stunned when he saw her; not just because she was hot (so hot, well done Sammy), but because it was just a little bit like looking into a mirror. Light hair, luminous eyes, freckles; Dean had seen himself and hoped. And there’s the looks, sometimes; the way Sam’s eyes follow him; the frown that deepens across Sam’s forehead as he watches Dean flirt; the almost painful intensity between them when they avoid talking about Stanford. Just occasionally, Dean wonders if Sam feels the same way.
But Sam’s grief over Jess has shown his brother’s true feelings and Dean’s been forced to let go of that.
Except he hasn’t really. Twisting onto his side carefully, he looks at his brother again and his heart clenches. There is literally nothing he wouldn’t do for this boy, even give him up to college and a better life. But Sammy’s back now and all Dean’s feelings, ruthlessly suppressed over the past four years, have come roaring back. Dean wants everything of Sam; every moment, every thought, every feeling and every breath of Sam is important to Dean; he wants to know them, understand them, share them all.
It’s not healthy - he’s known that since he was nine and found Sam’s first day at school harder than his brother; since he was fourteen and wanted to fight all Sam’s battles for him; since he was nineteen and saw Sam’s long legs in a different light for the first time. But he wants, and he can’t help himself, and he needs to realise it’s never going away and make his peace with that. It’s just harder at times like this, when it would be so easy to reach across the bed and kiss Sam into wakefulness.
Trying to regain control of his feelings, he rolls back the other way and shuts his eyes firmly. As Sam said, the sooner he goes to sleep, the sooner it will be morning and he can find them a motel with two beds.
***
It’s light when Dean wakes again, his body still heavy with sleep. Trying to move, he realises that he can’t; he’s pinned by a heavy, warm weight across his waist and legs. Blinking sleepily through his feeling of contentment, it takes him a while to realise it’s Sam. His brother has pressed up against him in the night, sprawling across Dean and most of the bed, so that Dean is almost hanging off the edge.
Fucking sasquatch, he thinks, and tries to shift into a safer position. As he moves, he becomes aware of two very concerning issues: one, that he himself is hard, Sam’s leg pressing warm against his morning wood; and two, that Sam’s even harder, a small wet patch forming against Dean’s hip where Sam’s slotted tight against him.
Shame flushes through Dean’s body. He’s never been a prude about sex, and he’s been aware of his feelings for Sam for years, but still; finding himself aroused by his baby brother’s warm, sleeping, unaware body gives him the kind of guilt trip he could do without. Its drowned out almost immediately though by a different kind of heat; Sam is hard against him, and although it’s probably just a natural morning reaction, or even a dream about a different warm body, Dean still can’t control his visceral reaction.
He must unknowingly tense his body, because suddenly Sam’s squirming against him, waking up. Dean’s still too sleep fogged to react fast enough; before he can think to move, Sam’s awake, body going stiff beside him.
“Dean?” Sam asks, voice quiet. He sounds almost fearful. “Dean, I’m so sorry.” It takes Dean a moment to realise Sam’s trying to extricate himself from the tangle of their limbs, and yet more time passes before Dean’s aware that he’s making that impossible by not moving his leg.
“Dean,” Sam says, voice insistent and more high pitched than normal, a slight edge of panic creeping in. “I need to get up.”
Dean will never know what possesses him to take the risk, but he rolls so they’re face to face, legs still caught up, and rocks his hips forwards. He can feel the hard press of Sam’s cock against his own through their boxers, and the puff of air on his face as Sam gasps, his hands clutching tight onto Dean’s arms. There’s no rejection, so Dean does it again, rolling his hips fluidly into Sam’s, watching his brother’s mouth go slack with pleasure.
“Sammy?” he asks, putting as much emotion as possible behind that one word in the hope of not having to talk about his feelings in more detail.
“Yes, Dean,” Sam agrees fervently, and that’s enough for Dean to lean in and seal his mouth onto Sam’s in a deep, intense kiss. Sam should taste sour but his mouth is the sweetest thing Dean’s ever experienced. It doesn’t take long for them to start rocking against each other, Sam’s leg curling over Dean’s hip as if to trap him in place and never let him go. Dean winds his arms around Sam’s neck, pulling their heads together so that they’re sharing every tiny gasp and moan between them, no space for the outside world. He knows he should get his hand down between them and pull their boxers down at least, so that they’re skin on skin; but he’s wanted this for so long that he’s not going to have time. Everything feels so good, and he’s so sleep-fogged that he can feel his orgasm rocketing through his veins far faster than he’d like; his body speeding up and toes curling. But Sam’s in no better state, his ever-changing eyes focused on Dean’s as their noses brush together.
Sam bites down hard on his own lip, head tipping back as he comes while he’s riding Dean’s leg; and the sight is enough to end things for Dean too. He comes with a gasp, forehead knocking against his brothers as they both try to draw in a breath. It’s only a second before Sam’s kissing him again, uncoordinated but so eager, licking into Dean’s mouth as if he never wants it to end.
They make out lazily for a while, neither caring about the mess in their boxers. Dean could stay here forever, happy to ignore the consequences of their morning. Rain is still pounding against the windows and they’re probably stuck here for the day anyway, he thinks.
Eventually, though, Sam pulls back. He slides to the edge of the bed without a word, and Dean feels his heart drop. The disgust he’s been expecting all morning is obviously kicking in and Sam wants to get away from him. It’s going to break his heart; he’s lived through Sam’s rejection once, and survived, just barely. He doesn’t think he can do it again.
Pushing himself out of the bed, he fumbles for his jeans, pulling them up harshly and disregarding the mess in his boxers. He’ll sort it out at the first service station. Casting around, he sees his t-shirt on the other side of the room and strides across to pick it up.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice is small and confused; he’s standing in the bathroom door, still in just his boxers and a t-shirt. Looking incredibly young, Sam visibly takes a deep breath. “I get it if you want to leave, Dean, I’m disgusting. But wait until it’s safe to drive again, at least.” Sam turns away. “I can wait in the bathroom. Or go to reception.”
Dean’s head actually spins for a minute, dizziness threatening to send him to the floor. Sam thinks he’s disgusting? Dean’s the one who’s corrupted his little brother. Worse, Sam thinks Dean is leaving him and he’s upset?
It all takes Dean a minute to process, and in that time Sam’s gone back into the bathroom. Dean can see him, perched on the edge of the grimy bath, cradling his head in his hands. Dean hates stuff like this, hates having to work through his emotions, but this is Sam; it will be worth it. He approaches his brother softly, still-bare feet making no noise as he crouches down in front of his brother.
“Sammy,” he begins. “I don’t think you’re disgusting.” He pauses. “I am, but not you. You’re perfect.”
Sam’s eyes peek through his hands. “I’m disgusting. I made you do that.”
“I made you do that,” Dean counters. “I’m the big brother.”
There’s an interminable moment of silence. Sam’s the first to break it, taking the risk that Dean can’t quite bring himself to chance. “Did you want that?” he asks softly, and Dean nods emphatically, heart in his mouth.
“Oh thank fuck,” Sam breathes, and collapses forwards into Dean’s arms. Dean barely catches them in time, lowering them both to the cold bathroom floor. Sam’s peppering kisses against his face and it takes Dean a moment to get him to stop, framing Sam’s face with his hands.
“I take it you did too?” he asks, voice a little dry, and this time its Sam who nods, laughing.
“Yes, yes.” They’re kissing against, messy kisses across each other’s faces as they miss their mouths, Sam’s teeth nipping at his lips, his ears, his neck. Dean’s laughing too, happiness bubbling out of him. Eventually their mouths reconnect properly and Dean’s swallowing down Sam’s joy alongside his moans, his heart beating sure and fast where it’s pressed up against Sam’s, right where it should be.
I am so so sorry that this is so utterly late. I have no excuse other than being very busy and very tired. I hope you like this anyway <3
For @ilostmyshoe-79‘s Sweet Emotions Challenge. My prompt was “serenity”.
“Hey,” Sam nudges him right as he’s drifting off, “Don’t fall asleep. We’ve still got a lot to go through.”
Dean shakes himself out of his slumber, exhaustion a lingering fog in his brain. He groans, “Shit, my eyes hurt.”
Sam chuckles and drops onto the couch next to him. “Here.” He hands over the perspirating beer bottle he’s holding in his left hand.
Dean grabs for it on autopilot. “Thanks.” He takes a sip. “Maybe I should get something with caffeine.”
“Already put a pot on,” Sam says while he’s hauling books from the table and piling them onto his lap.
Dean hums, watching him. “You take such good care of me.”
Sam shoots him a look that’s half-amused, half-exasperated, and fully tired. The pair of glasses on his nose is slightly askew and he pushes them up to rub his eyes, then positions them correctly. It wasn’t until recently that he had to get prescription lenses. Dean is sure that all that nightly research on his computer is at least partly to blame for it.
“Right.” He sighs, stretches. “What are we looking at?”
Sam makes an impatient grunting noise. “What we’ve been looking at. So far we haven’t gotten anywhere.”
“Right,” Dean says again and slumps down into the cushions. God, he’s tired. It’s almost midnight and the last night only held about three hours of sleep for him. Probably even less for Sam.
Dean had never had problems sleeping. Exhausting himself on the job, working until late into the night, and getting up early usually takes care of that. The little sleep he does get he tends to make full use of.
But insomnia has been plaguing both of them for some time now. Dean doesn’t know what it is. It could be the beginning of summer, humid and full of mosquitoes, that’s keeping them awake.
Often times, Dean finds himself outside of their cabin, standing on the porch with his hands in his pockets and taking in the night sky that has never been clearer than out here in the middle of nowhere. He listens to the crickets in the grass and the rolling of thunder in the distance that’s one of the more common occurrences for the seasons of spring and summer in these parts.
He has never minded thunderstorms, always kind of liked them in fact. They’ve got a purifying quality to them. When the noise stops and the air clears afterwards, it feels like a whole new world.
“Where are you right now?” Sam asks into the quiet.
Dean looks over at him, takes in the lines around his eyes and the halo-like shine of moonlight in his hair. “Let’s leave it for now. Let’s go outside.”
Sam regards him for a moment, possibly deciding whether he should argue, should point out that the case takes precedence, but his exhaustion is too obvious and his resignation inevitable. He closes his book and pushes up from the couch with a groan of effort.
“Grandpa,” Dean chides, then bites back his own moan of discomfort when his knees straighten. Sam raises a silent but judgemental eyebrow at him.
The air has cooled from the day but it still feels vaguely like breathing syrup. Flies are buzzing in the dim shine of the porch lamp. Dean deposits his beer on the barrister, leans back against the pillar that’s holding up the roof, and watches the insects circling.
“You know,” he begins to get his brother’s attention, “I’m glad we came out here. I like it here.”
Sam says softly, “I know you do.” Then he adds, “Bunker gets stuffy after a while.”
They both know it doesn’t, they’ve got amazing air circulation, but it feels like it regardless. Dean gives him a smile. “Yeah.”
Sam is hovering in the door frame and Dean is about to tell him to sit his ass down when Sam says, “I’ll be right back.”
Dean sighs, turns back around to the dark sky, and sips his beer. There are no crickets tonight, it’s almost eerily silent and he wonders why that is. It’s got an apprehensive feeling to it, prickling at the back of his neck, as if something’s coming nature already knows about but he doesn’t.
Sam’s feet fall heavy behind him and when he turns around Sam holds out a blanket to him.
“‘m not cold,” Dean says, “It’s still way too warm.”
“It’ll cool down,” Sam returns simply and curls another blanket around his own shoulders before he sinks into one of the porch chairs. He’s brought a book with him, one he was slugging through earlier, and he puts it down on his knees.
“Thought we’d agreed to stop working for the night.”
Sam gives him a wry smile. “Do we ever stop working? Sit down.”
It’s a gentle request but one that doesn’t leave room for argument and Dean grins as he follows his brother’s example, plopping himself down onto a wooden chair. “What is it?” he asks because Sam’s still got that look in his eyes.
He holds out the book to Dean. “Read to me.”
“What?”
“Read to me.”
Dean’s forehead furrows. “Why? It’s boring.”
That makes Sam laugh. His mouth stretches until the whites of his teeth show, stark against the backdrop of the night. Sam has always been utterly stunning when he laughed.
He’s still got his arm outstretched, waiting for Dean to take the book, and finally Dean does. He opens it up to the page Sam has marked and focuses his eyes on the first paragraph. The light from the lamp shines right over his shoulder and it isn’t too hard to make out the writing, although it does swim a little before his eyes.
He watches Sam more than the page while he reads, which causes him to stop and stumble more than occasionally but Sam doesn’t say anything. He switches between staring at the sky and at Dean and Dean can’t decide which time he looks fonder.
