Graveyard Digger, Coffin Case Sinner

Wherever There Is You

The bell above the door tinkled as Sam entered the shop. He paused as his eyes adjusted to the interior, and heard a voice call from a room behind a row of glass cases lining one wall, "Be with you in a minute!"

Sam moved through the store, eyes flicking to a row of shelves and the items adorning them as he passed. Nothing on the shelves caught his immediate interest, however, and he continued toward the glass cases. He reached them and halted before the first one, peering through the aged glass at the items within it. An assortment of wrist and pocket watches lay scattered on the shelves inside the case, along with a variety of old coins in velvet lined boxes, several pocket knives, and what appeared to be old tobacco tins.

He moved to the next one: this one held a selection of necklaces and bracelets, some simple and elegant, others gaudy and dazzling enough to make the eyes ache. A quick glance told him he wouldn't find what he wanted in this case, and he moved to the next.

Sam raised his eyes as someone came out of the small room behind the cases and moved to stand on the other side of the one in front of him. An elderly gentleman with gray hair and kind blue eyes shot him a smile, the wrinkles lining his face lifting with it. "Mornin'," the man greeted cheerfully, "Help ya find somethin' in particular, or just browsin'?"

"Browsing for now," the eighteen-year-old returned the warm smile, eyes dropping to the case, "Looking for something for - " His voice trailed off as something in the case caught his eye, and he knelt in front of the glass for a better look. A grin touched his own features - it was exactly what he wanted. He stood again to meet the shopkeeper's gaze and started, "Can I --?" The man chuckled and, before Sam could finish, slid open the door at the back of the case and reached into it.

Sam slipped into the extended-stay motel where he and Dean had a room rented for the next month, closing the door softly behind him. He moved across the room to deposit two cups of coffee on the small table in the corner, glancing toward the bathroom as he heard the sound of running water. He placed a small brown paper bag next to one of the coffee cups, then turned to face his brother as the bathroom door opened.

Sam couldn't help his stare as Dean exited the bathroom, hair damp from his shower. His brother caught his gaze and shot him a smirk and a wink before greeting, "Mornin' Sam."

"Got your coffee," the younger Winchester nodded toward the table, and Dean moved in that direction. He picked up the coffee and took a sip, humming in approval. Sam swallowed - his brother had a way of getting to him - then moved to pick up his own coffee.

"What's this?" Dean motioned toward the bag, green gaze shifting to him.

"Got it for you at the bakery down the street."

His brother pulled the bag closer and opened it, then reached in. A moment later he was pulling out a chocolate cupcake, piled high with icing and chocolate sprinkles.

Sam shot his brother a smile as Dean grinned, and said softly, "Happy birthday, Dean."

"Aww Sammy," Dean sat the cupcake down and reached for him, pulling him into a hug and brushing lips against his cheek, "Thanks." Their mouths met in a soft kiss, lingering for a moment before they parted. He could feel the flush touching his cheeks as Dean's eyes met his own, his heart hammering in his chest as it always did when Dean was close. After a moment of enjoying his brother's arms around him, he pulled back a bit.

"I - " he paused, suddenly nervous, "I got you something."

He reached into his pocket, feeling a bit uncertain suddenly. Would Dean think it was stupid? He hesitated, but his uncertainty vanished immediately when Dean graced him with another smile and brushed a thumb against his cheek. He lifted Dean's hand in his own and pressed something into it. The other man studied the small box for a moment, then opened it.

"You don't have to wear it," Sam started, "I just thought -"

He fell silent as his brother breathed softly, "Sammy," a catch in his voice. The man pulled the silver ring from the box and immediately slipped it onto the ring finger of his left hand: it was a perfect fit. The silver ring was plain, without adornment, save for the grooves etched along the band's edges, and one around the center of the band. The grin which touched the other's mouth was brilliant, his eyes on the ring. "I love it," Dean spoke finally, voice low and rough, "Just try and stop me from wearing it."

Sam found himself in the other's arms a moment later, mouths pressed together in a possessive kiss. He responded eagerly, one hand slipping down the other man's back as Dean's fingers caught his hair and pulled him closer.

When they finally parted for air, Dean leaned in to rest their foreheads together. "I'm calling this a wedding band, y'know. Love you, Sammy."

"I love you," Sam whispered to his brother, "Happy birthday, Dean."