Work Text:
“Softly my Master laid among the dew: and I, who knew his meaning and my needs, bent unto him my cheeks of tearful hue; while the dark stains he washed away, that bore the impress of the hell I had passed through.”
The nightstand light was dim but bright enough to read by as Dean tucked his finger between the pages so he could close the delicate book enough to look at the faded blue spine. “Sam... does that sound like soft core to you?”
Sam sleepily smiled, mumbling through his pillow pressed against Dean’s side. ”Kinda poetic. I didn’t know you knew how to read, Dean.”
Dean teasingly nudged Sam with his elbow looking back at the pages, “I can read good when it’s 14th century porn apparently.”