Disclaimer - I don't own Supernatural that privilege belongs to CW, Kripke and Co, I'm simply borrowing them for a while. I'm not making a profit, this is just for fun and all the standard disclaimers apply.
Summary- The brothers visit the park bench every day. Like clockwork. (Old age. Sort of a deathfic, but in a happy way.)
A/N – This was written for a prompt (Sam and Dean, old men sitting on park benches) over at insmallpackages on LJ. I couldn't resist filling it.
The Bench
The lake is frozen, and there isn't a bird in the sky. The brothers arrive at 10am, like clockwork, joints creaking as they lower their aged bodies down onto Its green-painted wood.
It enjoys their company; their comfortable silences. The brothers sit with their shoulders touching, as they look out over the frost-bitten horizon. There's hot chocolate, held in arthritic hands, but always savoured.
Yes, It knows them well; has done for centuries. It's proud to wear their fading names carved into the metal plaque that's fixed onto Its back.
In memory of Sam and Dean Winchester – Together, Resting in Peace.