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You’ve been on the laptop for hours, neck bent forward, shoulders creeping higher and higher the longer you stare at the screen.
Sam is beside you at the table with a book. Castiel is at the far end with a stack of lore books.
You groan, drop your chin to your chest, and roll your head in a slow circle. Something pulls tight between your shoulder blades.
“Ow.”
You reach back and try to rub the knot yourself, but the angle is wrong and all you do is make it worse.
Sam closes his book. “You okay?”
“My neck is trying to kill me.”
He comes around behind your chair. “Here.”
His hands settle on your shoulders, thumbs pressing carefully into the base of your neck.
A sound slips out before you can stop it.
Sam smiles a little. “That bad?”
“Yes.” It comes out half answer, half moan.
He finds the knot.
“Right there.” Your head drops forward. “That spot. That’s the spot. Oh my God.”
He stays on it.
“Harder?”
Sam’s eyebrows lift, but he presses harder.
“Yes.” You exhale like you’ve been holding your breath for a week. “God, that feels good.”
He shifts his thumbs and finds a new knot. Your next sound is borderline spiritual.
“A little higher.” He adjusts. “Yeah. There. A little harder. Ahhhh.”
The footsteps in the hall stop dead.
“What the hell?”
Dean appears in the doorway with one hand slapped over his eyes.
“Why does it sound like Casa Erotica in here?”
You stare at him. “What is wrong with you? He’s rubbing my neck.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Look.”
“I’m good.”
“Dean.”
Through what appears to be genuine physical suffering, he spreads two fingers apart and peers through the gap with one squinted eye.
Sam’s hands are on your shoulders. That’s it. A shoulder rub. Fully clothed. With Castiel watching from the end of the table like a confused nature documentary narrator.
“It’s a massage,” you say.
Dean squints through his fingers. “Then why does it sound like that?”
“Because my neck hurts and he’s good at it.”
“You could warn a person. Put up a sign or something.”
Sam finds the knot again, and you melt forward.
“Oh, wow. Yeah. There. Ahhhhh.”
Dean points at you. “See? That. That is exactly what I’m talking about.”
You laugh, flustered now. “Come on, that is not what I sound like in bed.”
Dean opens his mouth, then seems to think better of it. “Well, I wouldn’t know.”
Castiel looks up from his book. “There was the one time.”
The room goes dead silent.
Dean goes very still. “Cas, buddy, sometimes you have to keep your observations to yourself.”
Castiel looks genuinely puzzled. “It seemed directly related to the argument.”
Sam clears his throat behind you. “Can we please stop discussing this?”
Castiel turns to him. “Of course.”
After a few seconds, he adds, “Though Sam has much more data.”
You slap both hands over your face. “Cas!”
Dean points at him, delighted. “See, that one was worse.”
You peek through your fingers. “Is everyone done?”
Dean grins. “I don’t know. Is the soundtrack done?”
You grab the nearest pen and throw it at him. He ducks.
Sam finally starts rubbing your shoulders again, quieter this time, like maybe everyone will forget the last thirty seconds if he acts normal enough.
You immediately sigh.
Dean points from the hallway. “There it is again!”
“Leave!” you shout.
Dean backs away, laughing. “Fine. But next time, put a sock on the door.”
You turn in your chair. “It's a neck rub!”
Dean’s voice carries back from the hall. “That’s between you, Sam, and the acoustics.”
Sam settles both hands back on your shoulders and finds the exact knot.
You sigh. “Ohhhhh! Yes. Right there. Harder.”
You say that one a little louder than necessary.
Sam smiles. “You’re doing that on purpose now, aren’t you?”
You tilt your head just enough to look back at him. “Maybe a little.”
From somewhere deeper in the bunker, Dean shouts, “I KNEW IT!”