"All that we have to do is follow the angels' commandments: No drinking, no gambling, no premarital sex."

Leah, the prophet the three of you had stumbled upon, speaks to the congregation after one of her recent visions.

"Dean, they basically just outlawed, like, 90 percent of your personality,"

Sam jokes, his hazel eyes sparkling as Dean groans and hangs his head.

"Whatever. When in Rome. You guys will be suffering too."

Sam shrugs, his hand having been resting on your thigh for half an hour now.

"Maybe a little. Still not as much as you. We can control the drinking and gambling part."

Dean glares at him, green eyes ablaze.

"Hey, I can control myself. It's the two of you that can't go a day without being inside each other."

Sam rolls his eyes, a soft smile crossing his lips.

"Guilty."

And guilty he was. How could he help it? You just always felt so damn good and looked so damn pretty. It was impossible not to show you how much he loved you when you were alone.

"But you're right."

Sam concedes.

"This is gonna suck for all of us."