winterlive | (no subject)

No porn, you heathens. ~~Yet.~~

"Ow."

"Don't be a wuss."

Lindsey would have glared over his shoulder, but it's stupid to move when the guy behind you has a needle in your back. Instead he looked over at the other brother, seated at the table and tapping at the computer, the blue glow washing out his face. "Your brother always this big of a jerk?"

"Yep," Dean replied without batting an eye, as Sam dug the needle in a little harder. "Sometimes bigger."

"Good to know," Lindsey said, letting his head drop back down on the pillow.

Sam pulled the needle away and spoke to Lindsey's back in his calm, quiet, little-bit-withering kind of way. "If you don't quit squirming, your back's going to read as a prayer to the Hindu god of marbles."

"Okay, okay. Sorry." Lindsey tried to relax and Sam went back to what he was doing.

Dean, still not looking away from the screen: "So. You been hunting long?"

"Not long. Just about a year now."

Dean nodded and then shut the machine off. He stood up and stretched, making a face as his t-shirt rode up and expose a little of his stomach. He dug a beer out of the mini-fridge, uncapped it with a twist of the wrist, a little hiss, and sat on the opposite bed to watch Sam work. "What got you into it, if you don't mind me askin'?"

Lindsey winced as the needle dug in sharply, and Sam muttered an apology which Lindsey shrugged off - it gave him the time he needed to come up with a sort-of-accurate reply for the sort-of-in-the-know. "Got chased after by a vampire. Almost took me apart, but I left town before he could track me. I'm looking for a little payback, but I left a bunch of stuff behind and I can't take him now. Not yet."

Sam pulled back and Lindsey could hear him screwing with the ink. "Vampire? Really? We don't see too many of those."

"You don't." Dean took it as a question and shook his head, swigged off his beer. Lindsey couldn't sense any tension at his back, either, so at least they believed him. "Well, they're pesky, but they're big on the classics. Holy water, crosses, stakes."

"Good to know," Dean nodded. "How you doin' there, Sammy?"

"Almost done," Sam said, a note of pride in his voice. "Come on, have a look."

Dean swung his legs over the bed and came over; Lindsey bore their regard for about a couple of seconds before he had to ask. "Well? It's all right?"

"Not bad," Dean affirmed. "Not bad at all, Sammy."

There was the sound of caving leather, a shift on the bed, and Lindsey could almost see the shoulder-punch. "It's Sam, you loser."

"You missed a spot there, junior." Lindsey felt Dean's finger brush his back, just barely.

Sam's voice was irritable, but good-natured. "Shut up. I told you it wasn't finished."

Lindsey felt the needle poking at him again and couldn't help but smile as Dean fell back on the bed and grinned. These were solid people, these two - dumb as all get-out, of course. Wouldn't last a minute in Wolfram and Hart. But good, all the same.

They did their part. Just did what needed doing, and never bellyached about how bad they'd been or how they got where they were. Didn't look down on people or get swelled heads - Lindsey'd seen the fake credit cards, and he'd be willing to bet Dean's computer ran a few email scams, too. They just were what they were. Bettered the world, and shut the hell up.

Heroes.

Lindsey restrained himself from scratching at the designs on his chest - Sam had just done the edging, drawing the lines for someone else to fill in - they were healing and itchy as fuck.

"So, what d'y'all do for fun?"

Dean looked over at Sam, and Lindsey felt Sam shrug. "Go ahead. We're running low on money and I've got some stuff I should be catching up on."

Dean smiled a wicked little smirk. "You like pool?"

"Sure."

"Can you lie?"

Lindsey couldn't help but laugh.