(no subject)

[elinorwise]

Sam is bewildered that he failed to notice for the first twenty-six years of his life that Dean is really, stupidly beautiful. It's a realization on a par with suddenly registering that Dean has two heads or even no head at all; it's obvious and right there and somehow Sam never saw it.
"We had to go without front or back fastening," Raum says in an undertone, admiring his handiwork. "It was too fussy a look, all those ribbons. But he would insist on wearing his jeans underneath, which totally ruins the lines. I'll make sure he's naked underneath when it's time for you to ravish him on Lucifer's altar."
Sam's suit really is too tight.
The organist tries to match his pace to Dean's, but Dean is apparently in a hurry to get up the aisle and get things over and done with, either spurred on by the promise of sex or because he knows he can't take the robe off until then. The music becomes a frantic, tuneless jangle of notes and cuts off sharply when Dean reaches Sam.
"Wow," says Sam. "I do like your pretty dress."
"Don't say another fucking word," Dean growls. "They said it was vital. Goddamn demons." His gaze roams over Sam appreciatively. "Huh. Do we get to keep the suit? 'Cause I'd really like to tear it off you with my teeth."
"Boys," Bobby says. "Can we hurry this up? I wanna start forgetting this ever happened as soon as I can."

Оригинал записи на Дыбре