Laundry Day.
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Dean alternated his gaze between the weeks-old magazine he was leafing through and his brother's antics.
Sam was patiently sorting out into neat piles, according to his own personal system, the bundle of dirty clothing that they had finally dragged to the Laundromat.
He chucked to himself. Only Sam could put as much concentration into laundry as he did researching a hunt.
Although he couldn't see his brother's face, his shoulders spoke volumes and these were definitely his concentrating ones!
X
The few times that Dean himself had been forced to deal with the washing, usually when Sam had been wounded or was royally pissed at him for not taking a turn, he had carelessly thrown the lot into the machines willy-nilly, receiving a series of epic bitch-faces from his younger brother when he returned with the multi-coloured clothing disaster
X
"Ah Sammy," he whispered to himself. "What would I do without you?"
As if some telepathic communication had clicked between them, his brother stopped and turned towards him.
"You know Dean. I don't know what you'd do without me. I can't even trust you to do a simple job like shoving stuff into a washer."
Dean burst out laughing on hearing his own words bounced back at him, causing a familiar frown to appear on Sam's face.
"Just what did I say that was so funny, dude?" Sam asked confused.
"Nothing, man; but I want you to know you're a never-ending source of entertainment. That's probably why I keep you around, Sammy," Dean managed to get out, as tears of mirth threatened to overcome him.
X
A pair of not too clean boxers caught him smack in the face as Sam retaliated with the only weapons he had at hand.
Dean stopped in mid-laugh more taken aback by Sam actually throwing something at him in a public place than with the collision of the pants with his face. He took the offending garment in his hand, glad to notice that it was one of his own and not Sam's and closed the few feet that separated him from his brother.
"I believe you dropped this Sammy," he smirked." Didn't know that you had a hidden fetish for throwing dirty laundry about in pubic."
Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't, Dean!" he hissed "But sometimes you really piss me off!"
"Just what did I say to turn you into an underwear pitcher? " Dean asked innocently.
"Nothing!"
"Nothing?" Dean repeated. "Then why this?" he insisted, waving the offending garment in front of Sam.
"Just," Sam said as he snatched it from Dean's hand and deposited it in the washer.
"Okaay!" Dean said cocking his head to the side. "Keep your little secrets, Samantha. Don't want to tell me what I did to get a pair of dirty pants in the face? Fine!"
X
He waited as he saw Sam struggling to decide whether to speak or keep quiet; the decision to speak must have won out as Sam opened his mouth.
"Sometimes I think that you really don't appreciate me, Dean," he grumbled under his breath as he went back to pushing stuff into the machine, making it hard for Dean to catch the words, but catch them he did.
He gripped Sam by the biceps and turned him around to face him
"Hey, until this is all a bit of fun, I'm good, Sammy, but if you seriously believe that I don't appreciate you I'm gonna take up butt-kicking in public places; maybe make it a new Olympic discipline! Look me right in the eye and repeat what you just said, if you dare!" Dean threatened shaking him slightly.
X
Sam's eyes slowly came to rest on his big brother's.
He knew he was being stupid but recently he had felt anguished and broody. There was no particular reason for it; just sometimes the hunting life got him down.
Occasionally he yearned for what could have been, for himself and for Dean although he had accepted long ago that hunting was all they would ever have until the day they took that last fatal claw wound to the chest or whatever, that would mean the end of both Winchesters.
X
"Sammy?"
He pulled himself away from his maudlin thoughts. Dean was waiting for an answer.
He focused on the eyes that were studying him, boring into him, deep down into his very soul, shouting wordlessly that Sam was his all, his everything and how could he even suspect that he, Dean didn't appreciate him.
Sam felt his moodiness lifting.
He was in complete communion with his brother; their eyes transparent windows to their souls. Two souls constructed by Heaven to start an Apocalypse prophesied in the most ancient of books, the Bible but Heaven had made an error and instead had created two souls who had the greatest love of all, a love that had brought them to the ultimate sacrifice of giving their own life for that of their brother.
X
Dean dropped his arms. The moment they had shared was seared into their essence.
"You okay, now, Sasquatch?" he smirked to cover the profound emotion filling his heart.
"Yeah, man" Sam answered, his eyes not even trying to hide his feelings as he simply turned back to his laundry, too overcome to say more.
X
XXXX The enD XXXX