Dean is being eaten out of house and home.
Granted, this was usually made easier by the fact that Andy could get free food whenever he wanted by asking really nicely and Max could get a vending machine to dump all of its contents out onto the floor with a thought, but that isn't all too helpful when they'd both exhausted themselves. Dean is left with only his hard-earned (fake) credit cards and the backseat of the Impala to bring home enough bacon to feed Sam's growing gang of psychic freaks.
Sam's gang. As if they weren't as much Dean's as they were his. As if he didn't owe his life to most of them at least once over (or owe Sam's life, which was worth double.) Don't get attached, he'd been trying to lecture himself for months, but he'd like to see anyone hold strong under the onslaught of Andy's puppy-dog eyes or Ava's nervous chattering. Dean huffed and switched the bags of takeout onto one arm so he could get inside the motel room.
Getting only one room had stopped really being an option around the time Ava joined them, but Dean hadn't caved until they'd found Lily. After that, the girls got their own room, always next door, if they could manage it. (Not that they couldn't take care of themselves. Ava was a scarily good hunter once she'd trained up, and Lily... could kill people with a touch.)
The whole mess in Cold Oak, which Dean didn't like to think about, (All of them snatched out from right under his nose, and what would he have done if Andy couldn't reach him? What would have happened if the stress of the situation had gotten to them and they'd turned on each other?) had meant Jake coming with them, too. Lily was closest to him (after Sam), so the 'girls' motel room' became the 'girls' and also Jake's and also sometimes Andy's motel room.'
They were rarely all in the same room at once. What Dean walks in on is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.
He's got a teasing comment on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it back down and tries to shut the door quietly. They'd taken the sheets from the beds, the pillows, the cushions from the shitty couch, and made a space on the floor where they're all piled on top of each other. Dean sets the bags down, making sure nothing tips over and spills, and looks over them.
Sam's in the middle. He always seems to be. He's the only one of them that runs hot (Dean not counting towards that total owing to not having any demon blood in him.) while the rest of them are always slightly chilly. Max bundles up even when it's warm out. Jake's hands are freaking cold. Ava and Lily are nearly always pressed against each other...
Dean considers that for a minute. Yeah. Okay. That last one might not have anything to do with temperature.
The point is, Sam's the only hot one of the bunch. That's why he's at the center of the pile, propped back up against the wall. Jake's on one side of him, and Max is on the other. Dean narrows his eyes and watches the rise and fall of Sam's chest. He really is asleep. He'll probably have an awful crick in his neck later, but that's his problem, not Dean's.
Andy is on Max's side. He snores. Loud.
Ava is on the other. She snores, too. Louder.
Something Lily doesn't seem to mind. She's stuck herself comfortably between Jake and Ava, laying against a cushion, Jake's arm around her should and Ava's hand in hers. Andy's arm is splayed out in her direction, his fingers just barely brushing against her leg. She shifts in her sleep to press it into the small touch.
Dean watches for a minute longer. They all look so peaceful.
They're killers, all of them. Of someone or something.
Dean would be dead if Andy hadn't shot his brother. He'd never have put that final bullet in old Yellow Eyes if Jake hadn't held him still. A million times in a million different ways, he'd have been taken out of the game without Sam at his back.
Jake rolls his head and turns it towards Sam. Sam's ridiculous hair tickles across his face until Dean sees him scrunch up his nose and then lean away to sneeze. That wakes everyone else up, more or less, except for Lily, who can sleep through anything. Ava sits up and peers at Dean first.
"Oh, great! You brought food. We're starving." Dean raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah. You're like a pack of wild dogs." Ava squints at him, annoyed.
"Don't knock it till you try it. It's comfy down here."
"Not that comfy," Sam mutters, though he's making no move to stand up.
"Thanks, but I'm not the cuddling type." Dean's about to go kick back on the couch before he remembers that they've taken all the cushions.
"You come join us, or we get Jake to manhandle you," Ava threatens. Unfortunately for her, she's only scary when she's got a knife and blood splattered over her face.
"I'm not doing that," Jake says. Ava pouts. Dean smirks in victory.
"I will," Andy says, rolling over. Dean's smirk falls. "Get over here, so we don't all have to fight over Sam. I'm cold." No matter how many times Andy does that (which isn't often on Dean, except for small jokes like this), Dean has never gotten used to it and never figured out how to not do what he wants. He finds himself on the floor before he can even think of why he was protesting it.
And now that he's here, well...
Andy's not saying anything, and Dean could get up if he wanted.
It is nice down here.
Andy flops half on top of him, recklessly affectionate in a way Dean's gotten used to after months of being around him. Ava moves over to get between him and Lily, pressing her cold feet into his side in the process. Dean can hear Sam snort.
"Shut up," Dean mutters.
"Didn't say anything," Sam shoots back.
The food can wait. For now, they rest.