I really can't even remember when the last time was that I read a fic that gave me wet eyes, but you did me in here:
But nothing's gonna get Sam if Dean feels safe enough to pad around barefoot in his ugliest sweatpants, whistling Metallica while he makes Sam's coffee. Dean is the weathervane, the plumb-line. Dean just is, like America or God.

Total heart clutches. The whole thing was just so perfect with this brilliant slow meandering feel and pretty much exactly what I've need to read for these boys for a long time now, but that right there got me square in the chest.