“Every freckle is an angel’s kiss; pressed into soft skin with precision and unconditional affection.”

Sam looked up from the book he was reading. He studied the pair on the couch, his face soft with fondness.

Dean was snoring, his head in Cas’ lap, and he was probably drooling.

Cas’ eyes were fixed on the television screen, his face placid and content. He was absentmindedly running his fingers through Dean’s hair, making it stick up in all directions.

Sam smiled to himself and looked back down, reading the words again.

No wonder his brother had so many.