Disclaimer: A wise man one said that I don't own Supernatural. Sadly, he was right.

A/N: I just felt the need to write a bit of brotherly silliness after watching the first episodes of the new season. By the way, thank you so much from everyone down here in Australia to those of you who make it possible for us to watch the new episodes online. Otherwise we'd have to wait until at least January to see the new season, and, quite frankly, I for one would not have had the patience, nor the self-control, to refrain from reading spoilers. Hope you enjoy this little snippet!

A/N/N: Takes place during Season One

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There was One in the Bed

"Sam."

Steadfastly ignoring his older brother, Sam Winchester concentrated on the flickering screen of the laptop sitting on the bed before him.

"Saaaaammy."

Clicking on a flashing link with perhaps more force than was necessary as Dean's voice adopted a singsong tone, Sam frowned. Apparently, a chupacabra had been haunting an abandoned farmhouse in Maine for the past decade. Moving the pointer to the top of the screen, he added the site to his favorites list, seconds before a pillow hit him the back of the head.

"OW!" Whipping his head round, he glared at Dean, who was lying on the foldout bed of their most recent motel room. "What the hell was that for?"

His brother was staring up at him, a perplexed expression on his face.

"Dude. What is that?"

"What is what?" Sam replied grumpily, turning his attention back to the laptop. Swiping the back of his fingers over his sweaty forehead, Sam wondered how on earth it could possible be so hot when it wasn't even July yet. Of course, he considered, having no air conditioning probably did not help. With a grimace, he wiped his now damp hand on his t-shirt where it lay on the bed next to him, having been discarded minutes earlier, and made a mental note to persuade Dean to fork out the extra cash, or a fake credit card, to get a room with air conditioning which actually worked next time.

Dean was still staring at him. "That," he repeated, pointing at Sam. "On your back."

"Where?" Still reading the article on the screen before him, Sam glanced over his bare shoulder in a half-hearted attempt to see what Dean was talking about.

Sitting up, Dean pointed harder. "Right there."

Sam let out a slow breath. Ever since he had won the toss for the only proper bed in the room, leaving Dean on the foldout, his older brother had been devoting all his attention to annoying the hell out of him. When coupled with the fact that the unseasonable warmth had not gentled in the slightest as darkness had fallen, and that he had nearly been strangled earlier that afternoon by an unruly poltergeist plaguing a furniture store, everything was adding up to form one very annoying day. Closing the laptop, Sam twisted round a little further, trying to see his own back. "What is it?"

Dean was squinting at him. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and, leaning back onto his elbows, his left eyebrow started to climb, ever so slowly. "Seriously, Sammy, what did you do to yourself when you were at college?"

"What do you mean?" Reaching a long arm round to his back, Sam began to prod and poke the area around his spine, trying to feel, if not see, what Dean was getting at. "I didn't do anything."

"You sure as hell didn't have that on you before you left…"

"Have what?"

"…I would've noticed, 'cos it's damn hard to miss."

"Dean, what are you talking about?" Sam asked, yet his question went unanswered as Dean put his head back down on the hard pillow beneath him.

"I've gotta say," he murmured, almost to himself, as he stared up at the ceiling. "I never would've thought you'd be one of those people."

"What people?"

The older hunter ignored him, closing his eyes. "I thought you'd just put your head down and study at college, like a good little geek..."

"I did," Sam protested.

"But hey, I guess you never really know a person…"

Sam was getting more than a little irritated. "Dean! Focus. What is it?"

The eldest on of John Winchester cracked open an eye. "You mean you don't know?"

Only just managing to restrain himself from throwing something, preferably a solid something, at his brother, Sam contented himself with simply glaring. "No, I don't know," he gritted out. "Now what the hell are you talking about?"

Dean frowned, his brow creasing in puzzlement. "Dude, how can you not know about that?"

Fed up, Sam rolled off his bed and strode into the bathroom. Turning his back to the mirror, he glanced over his shoulder, searching his reflection for whatever it was that Dean was talking about. No matter how hard he looked however, he could see nothing but a broad expanse of smooth skin which bore no marks other than the occasional white line, each of which commemorated the event of a hunt gone wrong. Yet he could see nothing unusual enough to have drawn Dean's notice for such a length of time, especially considering his brother's disturbingly short attention span, at least for matters not related to the hunt…or to women.

"There's nothing there!" Sam called, his voice echoing as it bounced around the small, moulding, bathroom. When there was no answer he moved back into the main room, only to see his brother sprawled out over the only proper mattress with a large pile of pillows beneath him. The foldout had been left empty, devoid off all manner of blankets, pillows and even sheets.

"There's nothing there," he stated for a second time.

Dean grinned, folding his arms behind his head. "Made you look."

Sam stared at the older hunter disbelievingly; slightly incredulous at the effort Dean was prepared to go to in order to annoy him. Yet when his brother just closed his eyes, looking for the entire world like he was asleep, he let out a short huff and moved over towards the main bed. "Get off," he demanded, tugging at one of the soft pillows under Dean's head in an effort to get him to move.

"Nope," the other hunter replied, his eyes still closed.

Sam frowned. "Dean, it's my bed."

"Correction: it was your bed."

Sam could feel his shoulders tightening again. He forced himself to take a slow, deep, breath. "I won it, Dean, fair and square."

"Here's the thing, Sam…" Dean paused, fixing a serious green gaze on the younger hunter. "I don't care."

"Get off!"

"I gotta tell you, Sammy, I really don't see that happening."

Releasing his grasp on the pillow, Sam grabbed a handful of the thin blanket draped over his brother. "You're such a jerk," he muttered, tugging harshly at the light cover.

"Deal with it," Dean replied easily, pulling the blanket closer about his body and away from Sam. "Now go away, I'm trying to sleep."

"It's my bed." Vaguely aware that he sounded like a spoiled brat, Sam decided that he did not care.

"What are you, five?"

"Dean! Off!"

"Hey man, I saved your ass back there. You owe me."

Opening his mouth to respond, Sam paused and looked at his big brother who was lying on his bed, clutching his blanket, and was staring at him defiantly. He swallowed. Dean had saved his life that afternoon, emptying a couple of rounds of rocksalt into the rogue spirit that was choking Sam, before performing the exorcism that would banish it from the store for good. And that was quite apart from the hundreds of times that Dean had pushed him out of the way of an oncoming spirit, had killed whatever creature was currently trying to throttle him. Hell, Dean had even taken a knife for him before when Sam had been to busy arguing with his father to pay attention to a floating butcher knife.

Silently, Sam took a step back and away.

Dean pushed himself onto his elbows, still clutching tightly at his blanket. "Where are you going?"

Sam shrugged, dropping down onto the low foldout. "Well, I'm not going to sleep on the floor, so unless you have any better ideas..."

The older hunter blinked. "Dude, I stole your bed."

"Yeah. I can see that."

"And you're not gonna do anything?"

Sam shook his head. "You're right," he said simply.

The older hunter fixed him with a sharp gaze which Sam returned without hesitation. Finally, after long seconds had passed, Dean broke the gaze. "Damn right I'm right," he muttered. "I'm surprised it took a geek like you so long to realise it."

Drawing his longs legs onto the rollout, Sam rolled onto his side so that he faced his brother and watched as Dean punched his large pile of pillows a few times, moulding them to the right shape before settling down under his blanket.

"Hey, Dean-" he began, yet found himself interrupted instantly.

"Shut up, Sammy."

Unable to prevent the smile which tugged at his lips, Sam reached up to flick off the light-switch which sat handily above his head. Darkness immediately swamped the room and he lay back down, wincing as the bare mattress beneath him dug into his neck. "Jerk," he muttered loudly, only to be cut off as a thick pillow hit him in the face. Grinning, Sam pulled it off his head and moved it to the top of the bed. Closing his eyes, he buried his head into the pale softness with a low sigh.

"Night, Dean."

His only reply was a snore.

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Next chapter: Sam decides that giving up his bed once to Dean is quite enough.

(sighs dreamily) I like reviews. Hope you enjoyed this bit of silliness!