Creating swirl marks upon the steam-covered bathroom mirror Dean stood studying all of his scars. The rough pads of his fingers tracing each 'war wound'. Multiple lacerations of all forms covered most of his pecs, arms and shoulders, torso and hands. Just about every few inches there was some form of scar. His face would grimace each time he'd remember which entity or asshole had caused a particularly nasty injury.
'Fuckers..'
His wide butter-green eyes which used to shine as bright as polished silver were now glazed over, dim and tired. Stress lines graced the area on his cheeks where laugh lines should have been but never would exist. Dean's brow so furrowed and heavy with the worries of the entire world.
It really was unfair.
"God I look like shit."
Sam had been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, just a few feet behind Dean watching and listening to him when he moved right behind his brother. Pressing the full length of his strong large form against Dean's back he slid strong, loving hands possessively around Dean's waist. Then he spoke in a husky deep tone that belonged solely to Sam and made Dean's heart stop every time he heard his brother speak that way. Dean heard words whispered to him that had never been told to him before..
"I think you're beautiful."