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Everything is irritating. The groan of the pipes, the turn of pages. The chill in the air, the words on the page. The relatively innocuous thing Dean said five hours ago.
His whole body coils with tension, waiting to snap. It’s stupid, because none of this should be getting to him. None of it should even register, really. But it is, it’s all getting to him, winding him up more. He doesn’t even know what set it off.
The door opens and Sam wants to snap at whoever opened it, whoever dared interrupt his calm and quiet. He barely restrains himself, but some of it must show on his face, because Benny raises an eyebrow, watching him.
“Somethin’ wrong?” he asks.
Sam shrugs. “Just…a little tense,” he says. It’s an understatement, to say the least, but he doesn’t know how to define what he’s really feeling.
“Want a break?” Benny asks. “That help?”
Even that makes Sam want to snap, want to snap about how he doesn’t need to be catered to, he’ll work it out, he’ll finish what he’s doing. He restrains himself, and nods. It might be a good idea.
Benny walks over to the couch and Sam gets the hint to follow. He pushes his chair back and gets up, slouching over to the couch.
Benny leans against the arm of the couch and pats his chest. Sam gets the hint; they sit this way often enough. He’s honestly not sure if he even wants to be touched, if this is a good idea, but he usually likes this. And Benny will let him go if he changes his mind, and he can go sulk in silence somewhere alone, if he needs.
So he kicks off his shoes and lays down, head on Benny’s chest, body between Benny’s spread legs.
Benny doesn’t have a heartbeat, which should be weird, but right now, honestly, the silence is exactly what Sam needs.
Benny just lays there like that for a minute, and Sam feels himself start to relax. Benny must feel it too, because he hesitantly reaches up and begins to stroke Sam’s hair.
That feels good, like it always does. Really good, actually. Calming. Sam lets his eyes slip closed.
A few minutes later, he realizes how relaxed he’s grown, how the weird tension is all but gone, how his mind has wandered into pleasanter directions. “Thank you,” he whispers.
Benny stops stroking for a moment to lean down and kiss the top of Sam’s head. “Any time,” he says sincerely, and then continues to stroke his hair.