Sam worships every single one of Dean’s scars.
He grabs Dean’s hand when he’s passing by, kissing the jagged scar across his palm.
He brushes his thumb across an old bullet wound, a raised bud that feels strangely soft to the touch.
He skates his tongue along a massive scar on the outside of Dean’s thigh, one that curves inward and ends just below the junction between his thigh and crotch. It makes him proud the way he can make love to those scars and quash the shame Sam sees cross his brother’s face when he looks at his reflection.