Sam and Dean watch more than porn.


There are Angel re-runs on TV. Sam and Dean have rounded up a hunt that lasted three days and is fairly routine: find what killed those kids, locate the grave, burn and salt the damn bones without getting hurt. Too much. Drive back to the motel, get cleaned up, patch each other up. Routine, alright.

So they're tired, and Dean says they can take a rest because he thinks he saw the cutest red-head possible studying in the library (where he had been tracking some old records) and hey, he's so not going to leave until he…

"Right. Whatever. Don't want to know," Sam says and waves goodbye at him.

The redhead turns out to be a lesbian, a fact that makes her even more desirable to Dean's eyes, but over the drink he finally convinced her to take with him she says she loves her girl-friend and won't cheat on her, and no, threesomes are totally out of the question, but if she ever was to change her mind about guys and sleep with one, she'd definitely start with Dean, cuz he was hot alright, 'kay? She says goodbye leaving a small strawberry scented peck on his lips, and Dean shrugs, because hey, it's a town, plenty of girls around. So.

Dean has a brief stint in the bar bathrooms with a ditzy brunette he doesn't really dig, but has the right body and smell, and somehow there, right when he's zipping up his fly, content in that easy not too bad lay, she wants to give him one more kiss and somehow they end up on the floor. He gives a gasp of pain, because his ankle? Shouldn't feel the way it does.

He cusses, tries to get up, steps on it. Hurts like hell. No fucking way he'll manage to step on the Impala's pedals without screaming all the way. He closes his eyes when he calls Sam up, because he knows Sam is going to ask how, and he'll reply after sex and then Sam will laugh so much that he won't stop for the next decade or two, but Dean doesn't have a choice.

Sam takes a cab, finds him, manages to not laugh at the brunette flustering over Dean like a mother hen or a love struck puppy or simply a ditzy brunette hoping for a second round, and then drives him to hospital where the doc pronounces it a sprained ankle and tells him he needs to let it rest for a couple of days.

And all the way Sam is laughing, laughing so hard there are tears falling down his face, saying smart remarks about how Dean's afterglow is so interesting.

"Hey, at least I got to screw," Dean mumbles.

"You referring to your foot, Dean? Cuz if there's one thing screwed here, it's this," Sam says in a new fit of laughter and Dean pouts all the way to the motel.

Dean decides to spend the next couple of days vegetating, and Sam shrugs and says that a break will work out fine. And at least, Dean thinks, he has shut up about the whole screwing your foot thing.

There are Angel re-runs on TV. It looks action packed, and it has demons, so Dean wants to watch it. He laughs himself silly over how demons work in the show, or how they look, but whistles between his teeth when Cordy appears on stage.

"It's a girl show," Sam says. He props the pillow better against his back. "Jess loved it. All those pretty men and few women…"

"Pretty men?" Dean asks. "You going gay on me, sweetie?"

Sam rolls his eyes, reaches for the remote and changes channel and Dean reaches back and snatches it out of his hands and says "No, we're NOT watching law and order."

"We're not watching Kayla and her friends either," Sam says when Dean leaves it at the Super Sexy Sat. Dean tilts his head, absorbed in the image of blonde naked entangled women, but doesn't zap.

"Dean!" Sam says in exasperation. It's not like he doesn't watch porn, it's just that watching porn with your big brother is…freaky. Kind of like discovering that your parents are still having sex. Or something.

"What? You can't enjoy women now, honey?" Dean grins and Sam rolls his eyes.

"Just give me the remote."

"No fucking way," Dean says, and then squints.

"What?" Sam asks. "You haven't had sex for the last five hours and you've started to squint?"

This time Dean rolls his eyes, but doesn't respond and suddenly he goes AHA! In triumph.

"What?" Sam says, still pouting.

"I thought that blonde looked familiar," Dean says. "I recognized her tattoo. Man, I'm telling you, best blowj…"

"Whatever," Sam says.

Dean shrugs, flicks through the rest of the channels, flicks back to Angel. It's a good show. The demon research behind it is worth shit, but Sam knows that Dean's eyeing Angel's cool style thoughtfully and Cordy with a smirk.

"If I was him?" Dean says pointing at Angel. "I'd have nailed her already. This guy is an idiot. And she's seriously hot. When she's not speaking."

Sam doesn't deign him with an answer. After a while, both fall silent, absorbed in the tale in front of them. It's the episodes with Cordy having visions, and Angel going insane and making choices.

"Dude…" Dean says. "They work like family."

Sam doesn't reply. He keeps on looking absorbed, and then goes out to pick up something to eat, and when he comes back they watch some more.

"They could make a show of us," Dean says at some point. "The Adventures of Dean Winchester."

"Of Dean Winchester?"

"Fine," Dean says with a royal flourish of his hand. "The Adventures of Dean Winchester and his sidekick, Sammy."

"Really?" Sam says in a I'm rolling my eyes now voice.

"Yeah. Except not possible, cuz there's no one handsome enough to play me."

"Yeah, right," Sam grins. "And simulating your range of emotions? Tough one."

"Exactly."

"Like, that time you were so scared to get on the damn plane?"

"Exac…what?!" Dean says. "I wasn't scared I was just…"

"Freaked?"

"Not…happy about it," Dean says. He shudders. "Jeez. Planes. 'Sides, I did get on the damn plane, didn't I?"

Sam grips the sides of his bed and starts humming Metallica with a scowl on his face, moving back and forth rigidly.

"Shut up." Dean says, and Sam grins back at him.

When Dean falls asleep, Sam looks thoughtfully at Cordelia on screen, and then turns the TV off and falls asleep.

The routine is repeated the next day. Sam swears that they'll both have square TV eyes by the time they leave this place.

It's the episode where Fred is introduced, and Sam is not watching because he's searching the net for information about people with visions, and suddenly Dean has another of his aha moments.

"Dude!" Dean says all excited. "Look at Fred!"

"I'm sure she's hot," Sam says without looking up, and then a crunched up food wrap is thrown on his head.

"I said look," Dean says, and Sam sighs in his most exasperated way and looks.

"Hey, she's like…"

"Andrea!" Dean says, almost bouncing. "She's just like Andrea! So doppelgangers are real. Hey, you think there's anyone out there walking with my face?"

"You mean other than a skinwalker?" Sam says.

"Yeah?"

"Well… you said that finding someone to play you would be hard so that should come in handy, don't you think?"

"Smartass."

"That'd be me," Sam says, looks at Fred a bit more and then goes back to researching.

Dean rubs his eyes and looks at his brother. They've been cooped for a couple of days now, and vegetating is really not his thing, but he is not blind. Sammy has a little worry worm nibbling on his brain and he won't talk about it.

"Sam, what are you researching?" he asks.

"Just checking mails," Sam says, and Sam is great in lying to everyone else except Dean.

"You worried about the vision thing," Dean says. "You watched the show and you got influenced. Jesus. I think staying indoors has turned you weird. Not that you weren't before."

Sam shakes his head.

"Visions are…" he feels unable to articulate further. The most famous people he can think of are Joan of Arc and Nostradamus and their ending wasn't exactly spectacular.

"Centuries ago I'd have been burned at a stake," Sam says.

"Or worshipped like a shaman or something," Dean counters and gets up. His ankle is not top shape, but he can manage. "Come on, pack up, we're going, before you start asking me to buy you a leather coat, cuz seriously? Leather? Looks good only on me."

Sam's hand wraps around his arm.

"Dean," he says and there's worry in his eyes. "These visions…I just…I got a bad feeling about them."

"We'll figure it out," Dean says.

"It's not a TV show, Dean," Sam says. "Happy endings are not a prerequisite."

"Prerequisite," Dean says. "Did they teach you that in that fancy Law school of yours?"

"Dean," Sam says and his lips have that pout about them. "I'm serious."

Dean sighs.

"Me too. We'll figure it out. Trust me."

He goes back to packing, then turns with a megawatt smile to his brother.

"'sides, my car is cooler than Angel's. And I get laid more often."

"And when the show starts they could all wish you to break a leg. Or sprain it."

Dean grins at him. Sam grins back and starts packing.

They pay…well…sort of, and leave. One of them still limping.

-The End.


DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Winchesters, nor Angel the series, but boy, do I wish I did.

NOTE: I woke up at 7 o'clock one morning and jotted this crazy idea down in my cell phone. Some parts aren't even changed.