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Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

This work is a submission for the Christmas/Holiday/Winter OTP challenge. I got it from my friend Gabriel on tumblr. Although, sadly, I can't remember the name of the original blog.
“Guys? Did you know we had a fireplace?” You called out, moving another box away from the grate.

“Really? Sweet!”

“I didn’t know.” Sam said, poking his head into the doorway. Dean slid past him with a grin.

“You do know what this means, don’t you?” You said, leaning back and watching Dean clear away the rest of the boxes. Sam came in and took the box from you, putting it to the side.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell us.” Dean called over his shoulder.

“I claim this room as mine!” You said, raising your hand. Sam raised an eyebrow.

“What for?” he asked watching as you inspected every corner of the room.

“Are you kidding me? A bedroom with a fireplace? How sexy is that? Plus, you guys know I’m always cold.” You said.

Sam and Dean stood back and watched you as you bounced around excitedly. You were murmuring excitedly under your breath about beds and dressers, completely forgetting that they were in the room.

“Yeah well, there won’t be any room for you in here at all unless you help us move these boxes, (Y/N).” Dean called. You turned to him with a sheepish grin.

“Ah, right….”



Three hours later, the room was emptied, swept, mopped and dusted. You were laying facedown on the couch groaning in pain. Sam looked over at you from his research.

“You alright over there?” he called.

“I’m dyiiiiing.” You wailed. “My back is brokeeeen.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“No one told you to clean the entire room in one day, (Y/N)…”

“But Deaaaan, fireplace.”

“Its your own fault.”

“Deaaaaaan.” You moaned, reaching toward him, arm waving pathetically. He sighed and walked across the room, kneeling before your face.

“What?”

“It huuuuurts, Dean.” He sighed and dragged a hand over his face. You looked a right mess. Your hair was grey from dust, and the white apron you’d been wearing was covered in black dusty handprints. The pleading look in your eyes was somehow made more effective by the smudge of dirt on your cheek. One that you’d clearly tried and failed to get off.

“So what do you want from us?” Dean asked. “We’re looking for any new cases.” You looked bashfully at him, expression shifting from miserable to something more coquettish.

“Well…There was one thing.” You said slowly. “Just a tiny thing, really. I’d be quiet and it’d be super quick.”

“And that would be?” Dean asked, eyebrow raised.

“Well…maybe… a massage?” You said hopefully.

“A massage?” Sam laughed. “Really (Y/N)?” You pouted.

“C’mon guys, I can barely move…This really hurts!”

“And who would you want to give you this massage?” Dean asked, leaning closer to pull a cobweb out of your hair. You shuddered at the sight-, cringing.

“Sam could do it, couldn’t he?” Sam shut his book, looking over at you curiously.

“What makes you think that I know how to give a massage?” he asked. You shrugged, giving him a quick once over.

“You have large hands.” You replied. “Big warm hands are usually a plus when giving massages.” You snickered. “Besides, you seem like the type.”

“Hey,” Sam protested, folding his arms. “What type is that?” You met his eyes with a laugh.

“The type who was always ‘best friends’ with the girl he had a crush on. She’d hang out with him a lot and do a lot of best friend stuff with. Including,” You paused here to insert a wink. “giving shoulder massages. Am I wrong?” Sam huffed and folded his arms.

“So what type does Dean seem like?” he said loudly. You looked back at the older Winchester. Pausing as you contemplated him, you gave a slow smile.

“Dean was the type that girls liked to sneak out with. They’d tell their daddies they were going to the pep rally and meet him in his car or under the bleachers.” You started to say more, but stopped at the sound of Sam’s laughter.

“She’s got you there, Dean.”

Dean snorted and moved closer, taking a seat atop the small living room table.

“Ok, so you guessed a simple thing, but that doesn’t mean you got it all right.” He leaned forward, pressing his hands to your back. He began to move them slowly, fingers pressing into the tense spots. You moaned quietly as his hands began to undo the knots in your shoulders. “While Sammy was giving friendly shoulder rubs in the library,” Dean said, smirking when you gave a loud gasp. “I was learning the fine art of the full body massage.” Just when you began to relax, Dean stopped.

“Hey!” you protested.

“I’m not doing it like that, you’re filthy.” Dean pressed a finger to your side, making you jump. “Go take a shower.”

“But-“

“No shower, no massage.” You groaned and rose painfully to your feet. You shambled out of the room, cursing under your breath.



Although, you conceded. Now that you were standing underneath the hot spray of water, you felt a lot better. It had taken three washes to get all of the dust and filth out of your hair. A knock on the door caught your attention.

“Yeah?”

Through the curtain, you saw the door open slightly.

“Hey, Dean asked me to bring you some clothes.” Sam said. You saw him place a bundle of clothes on the edge of the sink. You smiled as he determinedly looked in any direction but the shower.

“Thanks Sam.” You turned off the shower when you heard the door close. Once you finished dressing, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. You rolled your eyes as you headed back to the living room.

“Really Dean, you picked out an ACDC shirt for me? And, I mean. It’s got no sleeves…” Dean turned and whistled, looking you up and down.

“Actually, that’s Sam’s shirt, but nice.” He said with a grin.

“Sorry,” Sam said sheepishly. “You’re so much smaller than me. I thought you might want something that wouldn’t be too big. I didn’t want to go through your things.”

“No,” You said, raising your hands. “It’s fine. I’m glad you kept me from being eaten alive.” You tugged at the dark colored boxers you were wearing. “So are these yours too?”

“Hey! Those are mine!” Dean said. “I was looking for those!” You laughed.

“Superman, huh? Should’ve known.” You said, flopping onto the couch. Dean glared, poking you in the side.

“Stop talking and lay out properly.” Dean scolded. You stifled a laugh, but followed his order, lying flat on your stomach and not moving.

The first press of his hands against your back made you shiver. He pressed his hands against you lightly, stroking slow lines up and down your spine. He swept your hair up over your shoulder, baring your neck to his view. You sighed as his thumbs pressed against the base of your neck, rubbing in slow circles.

The slow sure motions of his hands began to escalate as he pressed harder. Soon, you were biting your lip, trying not to moan as he worked the kinks loose from your body. You knew he could see the goosebumps that lined your arms. ‘Don’t make it weird.’ You chanted in your head. That was all you had to do. As long as you could control yourself, he wouldn’t feel awkward. Just concentrate on relaxing.

“You ok?” Dean asked. You jolted at the sound of his voice and cleared your throat.

“Yeah, fine. Why?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light as you turned slightly toward him.

“Well, you suddenly got tense all over.” He said. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, you’re doing great.” You reassured.

“Hmm, it seems like this is worse than I thought. You weren’t kidding, this must’ve really hurt.” Dean’s thoughtful expression morphed into a wicked smirk. “Guess I’ll have to break out the big guns.” You froze. Wait, what?

“Uh, Dean? What do you mean?”

“Just relax,” he said, pushing you back down to the couch. “You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

“Enjoy? H-hey w-wait! I- ahn!” Your voice trailed off into a gasp. You’d thought that Dean was good with his hands before, but now you stood no chance. Within two minutes he’d turned your entire body into a puddle. Halfway through, you’d buried your face in the couch pillows. You knew you were moaning shamelessly but you couldn’t stop. He didn’t seem to mind though, he’d paused for barely a moment after the first one, and then continued.

He’d controlled your body ruthlessly. Every knot had been hunted down and exterminated with his usual laser focus. You were limp from your neck down to your knees. You wanted to call for a surrender, but you didn’t have the energy to lift a finger, let alone a flag.

“Alright Dean, geez.” Sam said, clearing his throat. “I think you’ve proven your point.”

“Point?” Dean asked, voice husky. He looked up at his brother, blinking slightly.

“That you can give a good massage.” Sam reminded. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I think (Y/N) gets it.” Dean looked down at you, watching you take deep shuddering breaths.

“Sorry.” Dean mumbled, licking his lips. He sat up moving away from the couch. “Guess I got a little too into it.” You just shook your head and gave him a shaky thumbs up. You’d tell him it was good when you remembered how to talk. “I still feel a little bad though.” He said.

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Well, I promised (Y/N) a full body massage. I never got to the foot massage.”

Sam sighed and stood up, closing his research notes.

“I’ll do it.” He said, rounding the map table. “We can switch. I needed a break anyway.” Dean nodded and headed to the table. You jolted slightly when you felt Sam’s hand on your shoulder. “You ok there?” You looked up into his warm brown eyes and nodded. “Here, sit up.” Between Sam’s strong arms and your newly rejuvenated muscles, you found it in you to move into a sitting position. You sighed as you rested your back against the arm of the couch.

Sam sat down in the middle of the couch, tugging your feet into his lap. You felt your body tense as you watched him warily. Your feet were horribly ticklish, and you’d need all of your wits to keep from accidentally kicking him. He caught your look and laughed.

“Nervous, huh?” Sam asked. “Don’t worry, I’m not just brute strength like Dean over there.”

“Hey!”

Sam ran a single finger down the sole of your foot. He smiled when your leg jumped in his grip.

“Ticklish…I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do, I wouldn’t wanna be held responsible for your injuries.” You said, smiling.

“Fair enough.” He said, lightly stroking your calves. “But for the record,” He paused, fixing you with a slow smile. “I dated my ‘best friend’.”

He took one foot in his hands, rubbing it softly. He was careful not to put too much pressure on the middle of the foot. He began to gently stroke the bottom of your foot with his thumbs. Slow firm pressure that made you sigh and relax, closing your eyes. Aside from a few close calls with you twitching and giggling, you made it through. His gentle touches made you feel drowsy, the stroking feeling lulled you into a light doze. Your eyes were closed, and you knew you were tired, but you still felt like you ere awake. You could hear the sounds of the guys’ voices nearby, although they were muffled, as though through water.

When you opened your eyes again, you were still on the couch. But something was different, you felt warm and comfy, not cold like the living room usually was… And in front of you was a fireplace, with a roaring fire inside. You sat up quickly, looking around. You were in the newly cleared out room. But it wasn’t empty anymore. There were a couple of drawers and a desk inside now, set up against the walls. The sound of grunting startled you.

“Hey, you’re up.”

You turned to see the Winchesters struggling to get into the room. They were carrying what looked to be a large dresser between them.

“Sam, turn it!”

“I am turning it Dean.”

“Well since I can’t get through the door, I’m gonna have to say you aren’t turning it enough.”

“Just lift it higher, Dean.”

“Any higher and I won’t be able to see, Sam. Not everyone is freakishly tall.”

“Stop complaining, we’re almost done.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”
You stifled a laugh as you watched the two struggle and finally fit through the doorway. They set down the dresser with a sigh. Dean groaned, rolling his shoulders.

“Now I’m the one who needs a massage.” He complained, flopping onto the couch. You moved your legs, leaving enough space for the other two to sit. Sam held his hands out to the fire.

“Alright, I’ll admit. This is pretty cozy.” He said, smiling and rubbing his hands together.

“We’ll go out and get a mattress tomorrow. I know we’ve got a couple of spare frames around here somewhere.” Dean said, leaning back. Sam nodded, sitting in the middle.

“Thanks guys,” you said. “This would’ve take me forever.” You laughed at the matching annoyed glares they gave you.

“We wouldn’t have made you do it alone…I still don’t know why you didn’t wait for us to help with the cleaning.” Sam said. You shrugged. You sat up straight, snapping your fingers.

“I know exactly what this moment needs.” You stood and stretched, groaning in pleasure as you felt the muscles shift and pop. You walked out of the room, ignoring their questioning looks. “Can you move one of those little drawers over for a table? I’ll be back in a bit.”

You came back with three mugs and other assorted items on a tray. You set them onto the tiny table, smiling as the guys looked on curiously.

“Hot water?” Dean asked. You laughed and shook your head.

“Hot Chocolate! And tea, for whoever wants any.” You made your drink and then sat back and watched as the guys excitedly set to work on making theirs. You’d brought the tea mostly for Sam. But he reached for the chocolate mix, same as his brother. You briefly wondered if the boys would ever cease to surprise you. You wondered if Dean had found the-

“Ah sweet, marshmallows!” You chuckled.
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