Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Author's Note: I told myself I was finished with "A Beer," that there was nothing else to add... and yet this demanded to be written... so... oh well. I have another little snit-bit that's rolling around in my head. I might post it as well. I hope you enjoy!

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"I'm not going for a tux fitting."

"Oh come on! You drove seven hours for cookies last time you came over."

"Yeah, that was for cookies man, not a freakin tux fitting," Dean growled, "Plus I remember you distinctly saying I didn't have to wear a suit--"

"And I remember you distinctly saying you'd swing by whenever you were around..."

"Which I planned to do until you said the words tux and fitting..."

"You're seriously not gonna come by...?" Sam asked, "How far are you, not far right... I mean it's time for another freakin visit don't you think." The question was rhetorical.

Dean grinned, "Guess how far..."

Sam groaned, "Dean!"

"Come on... guess..."

There is a moment of petulant silence, then, "Five..."

"Nope."

Sam released a frustrated sigh, "Dean..."

"Sammy..."

"It's Sam-- four."

"Go fish."

"Jerk."

"Bitch -- I don't hear you fishing..."

"Three."

"Bingo."

"You're only three hours away and you're not gonna come by!" Sam screeched.

"I'm not getting fitted for a tux, Sam. I'm not letting some weird dude feel up my legs."

"How do you know my tailor's not a girl?"

Dean paused, "Really?"

"Come find out."

Dean considered it then shook his head, "No way. It'll be some old, crusty dude..."

"Dean!"

"Don't you have something to study?"

"Come on man, it's been two WEEKS."

"I've been working, Sam."

"We can pretend I talked you into selling the Impala... think how much fun that'll be!"

"If he falls for that again, he's a doofus, Sam."

There was a long pause as each brother hedged his bets. Then, "Can I go and not get fitted for a tux."

Sam was silent for another beat, then, "Sure."

"Liar."

"Aw man Dean... come on!"

"I have standards, Sammy."

"Jess will bake for you..."

"Bake what?"

"What do you want?"

"A cake."

"A cake?"

"Yeah."

"What kind of cake?"

"Chocolate."

"Um, okay... fine... yeah. No problem."

"Dude. Is Jess even home?"

"No, but she will be..."

"You could bake me a cake."

"Dream on."

"Hey Sammy..."

"What?"

"You know how you said three and I said bingo?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't mean hours."

Another pause, but Dean could literally feel his brother start to smile, "Minutes?" Sam asked.

"Nope."

Dean could imagine the way the smile faltered, "States?" Sam asked.

Dean chuckled, "Nope."

There would be a frown now, "What then?"

"Blocks."

"Blocks?"

"Blocks." He said firmly and then rang the doorbell.

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