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Dean exited the bathroom of their current hotel room toweling off his hair. He looked at the window and had his suspicions confirmed; that was indeed thunder he heard. It was coming down in sheets. He ignored the window and looked at his partner and the sight put a hitch in his breath.
Jerry sat on the window seat leafing through a comic book wearing one of Dean's shirts; a comfy button up that was too big in the shoulders. No lights were on except a dim wall lamp some distance away so he was bathed in the soft, milky light of the gray sky. He couldn’t see his face but he could see his lips pursed in a pensive pout. The windows were cracked letting in the smell of rain. He was sure he stood there staring for a good five minutes before Jerry noticed him and grinned.
“Why’d you go in there, there's a perfectly good shower outside.” And with that Dean fell in love all over again.
He chuckled before throwing his towel on a chair.
“Come and lie down with me, you monkey.” He said as he made his way toward one of the beds.
Jerry set the book on the seat and came over and looked down at
him with the softest smile. Dean tried his best to lie there looking cool and untouchable, but inside he was thrumming with love for the man looking down at him.
Jerry climbed in and Dean wasted no time in pulling him towards him for a kiss. They lay face to face and his hand ran up his naked thigh to sneak under the too large shirt just to feel the soft skin; the heat of him. And there was no thrill better than Jerry’s lips moving against his; his skill surpassed those he had years ago. No sign of the fumbling youth, just soft lips that figured out just how irresistible they were and owned it.
Their noses brushed as they parted, breathing each other's air. Dean couldn't resist and gave him a peck on the lips. Then on his nose. He trailed kisses across his cheek, down his neck, and to his shoulder where breathed in deeply. He smelled like Woodhue and ozone.
“You smell like me.” He pressed a kiss to the exposed skin. “You didn’t put it on your crotch this time did you?”
Jerry slapped his chest.
“I thought I was the one who ruins the mood.” He looked down. “And where the fuck did you get those shorts?”
What? I'm not allowed to wear red or have a little color? You wear worse.”
“Yeah, but it’s me. I’m allowed, your ass looks like a fire engine.”
“You're full of shit.” Dean pulled him close pressed a kiss to his hair. “If mine looks like a fire engine then your’s is the whole damn fire department.”
“Fuck you!” Jerry took advantage of his position and tickled his partner’s bare side. This started a tickle war that neither of them won and left them in breathless giggles.
When they caught their breath and issued joking apologies they lay there in comfortable silence. Jerry pushed him onto his back so that he could snuggle into Dean's arm and throw his leg over over him. The rain was beating against the window; every so often it was interrupted by thunder.
Dean looked down at the hand on his chest, at the pinky ring around the deceptively delicate looking finger. Oh, the anxiety picking out that ring gave him; the dread and excitement at presenting it and second guessing every hour. Praying it would be accepted for what he wanted it to mean.
He held his hand up to the dim, grey light and watched it reflect off the black stone. He counted each finger because he could, he rubbed his thumb across his palm because he could, he brought the hand to his mouth and kissed the ring.
Because he could.
He placed their interlocked fingers on his chest. The rain had slowed to a patter, and he could feel the heartbeat at his side in sync with his own.
Memories are indeed made of this.