holdmesamthatwasbeautiful:

It’s normal for them, these days, to allow their
fingers to twine when they’re in public. It finally comes naturally, after all
these years of hiding, to give each other a small kiss in the line at the gas
station; to ask for a king sized bed without blinking.

It’s just.

It’s just that sometimes, Sam can’t help hearing the
whispers behind them. The dirty looks they’re thrown in bars, when a rosy
cheeked Sam places a peck on Dean’s cheek. Sam feels their disapproval in his bones, and for someone like Sam who’s
spent his life yearning for normalcy but never conquered it, it hurts.

That’s when Dean turns to Sam and places one hand at
Sam’s neck. It feels warm and safe when Dean pulls Sam’s face down, fiercely protective,
and whispers: “Don’t listen to them. I’ve got you, Sammy. We’re good, OK? I
love you.”

Sam kisses Dean. It feels so simple, so lovely; and
Sam thinks, Perhaps normalcy is subjective.