holdmesamthatwasbeautiful:

Pastor Jim’s voice was very soft and laced with worry
when he said: “John, your boys. They are. Well, aren’t they a little too close?
I don’t think. I don’t think their relationship is very healthy.”

John stared blankly at him.

Of course he knew.

After all, he was the one who had to pretend not to
notice when Dean’s hand rested on Sam’s thigh beneath the diner tables; he was
the one who had to come home to a motel room and find the boys rosy cheeked and
slightly out of breath. He saw the bruised love bites on Sam’s neck; brand new
marks even though Sam had barely left the motel for a week.

He was the one who had to fall asleep to the sound of
his boys fucking; the muffled noise of Dean telling Sam to be quiet, because
dad could be awake.

Oh, John knew.

He knew there were so many things he hadn’t been able
to give them; a home, a base, a mother. There had been times when he hadn’t
been able to feed them or clothe them properly; and there had been times when
he hadn’t even given them a father.

There was one thing, though. One thing he’d given
them.

He’d given them each other, and he knew that they
carried each other through this miserable life he’d given them; they made each
other smile even when they had nothing to smile about; even if they had to go
to bed hungry.

John knew, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, put out the only light they had in this pitch-black existence
he’d thrown them into.

“John?”

John swallowed. “Don’t you worry about my boys, Jim.”
he said lowly. “They’re pulling through.”