Send me a ♬ and I'll put my IPod on shuffle and write a drabble for our muses based on the song.

Song; Sunday Morning — Maroon 5

     Rubbing his eyes, Sam slowly awoke at the sound of light rain fall tapping at the roof above, small droplets trailing down their bedroom’s window pane. Glancing over slowly and carefully, hazel orbs read 10:00 A.M. on the alarm clock beside him. Smiling, he rolled back over and nuzzled his face into the crook of his brother’s neck.

     Maybe it was the way Dean was cradling him, or the way no sunshine beamed through their aperture, but the younger Winchester couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a good night of sleep. What little sleep they did get, however; a majority of the evening was spent rolling around in between the sheets, soft whimpers and moans of each other’s names evading their lips. Sam memorized his older brother’s touch by heart now, as well as his tongue lingering with his taste.

     After sharing such a primitive and exuberant night together, the peaceful aura that filled the Sunday morning expanse was refreshing. With legs and fingers intertwined, Sam allowed his lips to press down on his brother’s temple, waking him up calmly and blissfully. 

            “—-Good morning, jerk.”

     The words deserted him in a fleeting hush as a gentle smile touched at his features. He wished for nothing more than to wake up like this every morning for the rest of his life — listening to the sounds of the rain pour outside, studying the pace of his brother’s rapid heart beat in the bed beside him. With seemingly nothing to do all day, Sam looked forward to spending his morning lying effortlessly beneath the covers and holding Dean in his muscled arms as their steady breathing matched with one another.

     If only this moment could last forever. Alas, he was no simple-minded idiot, and knew that things would soon have to return to how they once had been. The brother duo would rebound to the Impala and drive from town to town in their never ending quest for supernatural sons of bitches. They had saved countless lives together, but when would they get their happy ending? 

               When would they get to save each other from this lifestyle? 

     Fingers slowly danced up Dean’s torso as the taller man flipped him onto his back and allowed for curious hands to explore the depths of his body. Sam hit his lips against his brother’s with a fiery passion, causing a friction in the sheets to come undone and the rest of the world started to disappear. 

                                     { Driving slow on Sunday morning

                                                                              —-and I never want to leave. }