Mud swirled down the drain in a dingy grey-brown. Samandriel should have taken Dean out back and hosed him down like Castiel did with Sam and Jo did with Adam. But just like his little brothers, Dean had a way of charming himself into the house, even when he showed up an hour late covered in mud and reeking to high Heaven.
There was an up side, of course. If he let Dean into the house then he could set the terms on the shower. Dean knelt on the pale yellow mat suctioned to the floor, shifting every minute or so when the embossed butterflies dug into his knees.
Calloused hands reached for his hips and he didn't have any space or time to dodge. "Dean, no, don't put muddy paw prints on me!"
A low laugh bounced off the shower walls, sound of rushing water barely covering it. "Aw, c'mon, it's not that bad."
"You and your brothers went out and rode dirt bikes for six hours, you missed lunch with us and you came back with more mud than skin and now you're touching me." Samandriel sighed in exasperation and reached for the jasmine and lilac body wash. "I should just make you stand outside while I hose you down."
Dean raised one brow and held still as Samandriel started to lather him up, save for his thumbs, which started rubbing circles into formerly clean skin. Suds ran down Dean's back, streams of warm water clearing away the layers of caked-on dirt. It wasn't really clear how the Winchester brothers always managed to get mud under every article of protective clothing they wore, but so long as none of them killed themselves in a crash no one was really complaining all that hard at the end of the day. Dean always seemed to come back the worst, even his eye brows matted down. A light kiss was pressed to Samandriel's hip and he tried not to smile, still convincing himself he was angry with his boyfriend. Dean nosed just under his belly button and he glared through a giggle, pushing Dean to sit back on his heels. A lopsided grin was all it took for his anger to wash away just like the dirt from the track. He rolled his eyes, light blue meeting green with affection and feigned annoyance. "You're terrible."
A chuckle shook Dean's frame as Samandriel rinsed his chest and stomach. "Yeah, but you love me."
Finally the tattoo on Dean's chest was visible once again, followed by the dark lines of inked lyrics on his stomach. He met Dean's eyes again, heart skipping a beat even after the nearly six years they'd been together. "I do love you."
Dean nodded and smiled, stealing quick kiss. "Love you, too."
Samandriel stood straight and reached back for his shampoo, blue bottle almost slipping out of his hand from the leftover soap in his palm. Coconut flooded the shower cubicle, overpowering floral remnants, notes of vanilla sitting heavily in the steam. Just as every time Dean sat perfectly still, tilting his head back with a small grin as Samandriel washed him down.
The usual smirk he got was different, not quite so lopsided and a little sweeter, more like a smile than anything mischievous. His brows furrowed as he molded Dean's hair into a faux hawk, brown strands coming apart and shaping easily under his skilled fingers. He massaged Dean's scalp, expecting the usual flutter of thick lashes, but Dean was making a special effort to maintain eye contact. "What?"
The man kneeling in front of him shrugged, still rubbing across his hip bones. "Nothin'."
Samandriel raised one brow but didn't remark, choosing instead to pull the shower head down and rinse Dean's hair. He pulled Dean's hands away, taking extra time with them. There was a knowing tilt to the ever-present smile on his boyfriend's face. Even as a child Samandriel had had a fascination with hands, drawing them in any pose he could think up or fit his own hands into. He turned Dean's hands over, scrubbing the palms and knuckles until no mud was left in the cracks. The spray was getting cooler when he twisted the showerhead around, chunks of second-hand dirt clearing away easily. Dean stood, grabbing the jasmine and lilac along with a rag hanging over the curtain rod.
It didn't take more than a couple of passes before Dean was completely clean, smiling down softly. Samandriel pulled him in for a kiss and reached over to turn the water off. Luckily he'd made Dean undress in the laundry room or they would have been dodging hills of sullied fabric and safety gear. They didn't bother with towels, the day hot enough that they could lay out on the bed and leave the windows open.
Half-way out the door Dean picked him up and slung him over one shoulder, ignoring his weak protests in favor of the raucous laughter. Samandriel was thrown down to the bed, covered by a wet body before he could even bounce once. They kissed slowly, Dean settling in warmly as the air cooled them down. Normally Dean smelled, well, manly. He used expensive cologne (the only thing he splurged on for himself besides his car) and men's body wash and when they'd started dating Samandriel almost expected Dean to mock him for his choices in hygiene products. Instead Dean embraced it and even let him use the feminine scents on both of them when they shared a shower.
When the kiss ended Samandriel grinned, one arm hooked around Dean's neck, his other hand on the larger man's side. "You're an incredible man."
Dean beamed, eyes crinkling at the edges as his features lifted in his happiness. "Nah, I missed lunch and I came home dirtier than hell. You washed the kitchen and I mucked it right back up."
Samandriel shook his head and kissed Dean again, licking behind Dean's irrationally perfect teeth. His tongue was trapped between them, drawn further in and sucked when he tried to pull away. When they parted again Samandriel could feel Dean getting hard, a new heat in his bright green eyes.
"You are incredible, though." He kissed Dean's wet shoulder, cold drops of water spreading across his lips. "And you smell like you're mine."
Dean chuckled and kissed just under his ear. "Only 'cause you washed me with your girly soaps." Large hands splayed out under his back and he knew Dean was about to flip them. "Not that I mind, though."
They turned over and Samandriel straddled him, hands spread wide the newly cleaned chest. As always his eyes fell to the tattoo there, fingers tracing around the edge slowly. The lyrics on Dean's lower abdomen curled around to his side and the last two lines disappeared under Samandriel's thigh. He went down to his elbows, Dean's hands running up and down his ribs.
Their lips brushed as Samandriel spoke, breath warm and smelling like the peppermint tea he'd had when Dean trudged back home. He ground himself into Dean's hip, knowing this was probably half of Dean's plan when he agreed to a shower in the first place. "You are mine."
"And you're mine, sweetheart." Dean pushed back into him, tongue darting out briefly. His voice was breathy, pupils dilating further with every passing second. The sun shone through their open curtains, the entire room almost too bright in the early afternoon. Warm wind blew in, heating the air around them and smelling like the freshly cut grass from the neighbor two houses down.
Samandriel smiled wide and went in for another kiss. Nothing would ever feel more right than this, trading kisses in bed and claiming each other for their own.