Dean was sitting on the bathroom counter glowering at the door. Sam had yelled at him when he'd tried to finish his pie while he was doing research so Dean had taken refuge in the bathroom with his pie and whipped cream.

He took another bite and smiled despite himself. "Oh baby, you are so good to me."

He moaned in bliss as he topped off his next bite with whipped cream.

He was about to take another bite when Sam slammed the door open so hard, Dean was slightly worried it was going to come off the hinges. He froze, fork halfway to his mouth and jaw hanging open.

Sam winced and spun around. He stood there for a moment breathing unsteadily and glaring at the floor before finally saying, "Close your mouth. And quit… being obscene with your pie."

Dean scowled at Sam's back. "I'm not being obscene!"

Sam whirled back around and gave Dean his best 'You're kidding me, right?' look. "You're sitting in here moaning and talking dirty to your pie. You're distracting me. So stop."

Dean gave him an apprehensive look. "Distracting you? That better be a pg rated distraction Sammy or I'm gonna need therapy after this."

Sam scoffed and looked up at the ceiling for strength. "You're going to need therapy? I'm the one stuck out here thinking about… about… your stupid pie and your stupid whipped cream and your stupid mouth so just give it a rest!"

Dean took a moment to absorb that, felt a small panic attack coming on, and decided he needed a bite of pie for solidarity.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, clearly about to have a conniption fit. "Stop eating the pie!"

Dean gave Sam an overdramatically scared look and swallowed carefully, automatically licking his lips quickly to make sure there were no crumbs.

"Stop licking your lips!" Sam groaned, covering his face with both hands.

"Sam, get out of my bathroom," Dean snapped, rolling his eyes and holding his pie to his chest defensively. "I'm about to take a shower and I think being naked is worse than eating pie so I'd really like you to leave now."

Sam's hands fell to his sides and he gave Dean a helpless look, slowly turning the color of the cherries in Dean's pie. "Please don't talk about being naked," Sam mumbled weakly, forcing himself to turn around and walk out of the bathroom.

Dean winced and gave Sam a horrified stare. "Please don't think about me naked!"

Sam replied by slamming the door.

Dean finished his pie as quietly as he could, Sam only threw four things at the door and shouted once. Dean was calling that a win.

He turned the shower on in the middle of Sam's ranting. Dean wasn't exactly sure what Sam was complaining about anymore but he hadn't stopped talking in the last five minutes. As soon as the water started running, the ranting stopped.

Dean froze, one leg still in his jeans, and cocked his head, glaring suspiciously over his shoulder at the door.

"Sam?" Dean called out after a long moment.

"Dean?" came the dry response from about one centimeter away from the door.

Dean gaped at the door and felt his throat constrict in a way that he knew was going to make his voice sound slightly close to hysterics. "You're not actually standing at the door listening to me shower, are you? Because that's kind of really not okay with me and I think you should get back to your laptop right now before I come out there and make you."

There was a beat of silence before something thunked against the door and slid down to the floor. Dean had a sneaking feeling that the something had actually been Sam.

"Please don't talk about coming out here naked and making me do things. Use your stupid upstairs brain for once and stop making this so hard on me." Sam's voice was rough and low enough to make Dean uncomfortable.

Dean stalked over to the door, kicking his pants the rest of the way off when he almost tripped, and yanked the door open so he could glare down at his little brother while he informed him indignantly that he wasn't naked. This didn't go exactly as planned because Dean hadn't taken into account the fact that Sam was leaning against the door and Sam flailed a little when the door suddenly vanished from behind him.

Dean glared down at Sam and snapped, "I am not naked."

Sam stared up at Dean from the flat of his back in shock for a full minute before his face flushed and he made a choking noise, flinging his hands over his eyes.

"Oh God, I can see up your boxers."

Dean's main line of defense when a situation made him uncomfortable was generally just to say the first snarky thing that wanted to leap out of his mouth. So, with barely a pause to take in what had been said, Dean gave Sam a slow smirk, raising his eyebrows into his classic leer.

"See something you like?"

Sam made an undignified noise that may or may not have sounded something like a squawk and scrambled backwards, right back out into the main room.

Dean grinned in triumph as he swung the door shut. He decided not to worry about whether Sam was listening at the door and he slipped his Buffy boxers off his hips as he padded over to the shower.

Five minutes later, Dean was in the shower, slowly relaxing under the steady stream of hot water. As long as he treated this the way he would any other nonlife-threatening weakness Sam accidentally revealed and teased him mercilessly, this was actually kind of pretty fucking hilarious.

Like when they'd had to go after the crazy man eating clown and he'd made Sam do everything clown-like he possibly could, if he just made Sam as uncomfortable as possible then everything would be normal.

A lazy smile made its way across Dean's face, his new agenda for the foreseeable future was to make Sam uncomfortable without letting on that it was on purpose. He thought maybe this was the best plan he'd ever come up with, it was going to be funny as hell.

Dean shut the water off and climbed out, not bothering to towel off at all, and slung his towel as low as he could on his hips. Dean looked in the mirror and eyed his towel with a smirk, another half an inch lower and he would be downright NC-17.

He opened the door casually and sauntered over to his duffel bag, taking care to walk as close to Sam as he could without it being obvious. Sam swallowed audibly and Dean had to force himself not to laugh. He leaned down to sift through his clothes, sticking his butt out just enough to make it the focal point, and took his time picking out his boxers for the day.

Dean set a pair of black boxer-briefs on the bed behind him without turning around and moved his hands to the towel as though he was going to drop it so he could get dressed.

Sam made a strangled noise and the chair clattered to the ground as he raced into the bathroom and slammed the door. The shower turned on a few seconds later.

Dean snickered quietly to himself as he plucked a different pair of boxer-briefs out of the bag and slipped them on, leaving the black pair on the bed. He pulled out the pair of jeans Sam had shrunk in the wash a year ago and tugged them on. They'd been his favorite pair of jeans before Sam had shrunk them. The only place they were almost too tight was in the ass though so Dean figured they were perfect. The last time he'd worn them out to a bar, he'd gotten hit on by a record eight people.

He didn't put much effort into selecting his shirts for the day, he was pretty sure he didn't have to try to be attractive and it felt a little too girly to put that much thought into an outfit no matter how great the comedic pay off was promising to be.

Dean grabbed his phone off the nightstand and dialed Bobby before he could change his mind.

"What is it now?"

"Well hello to you too, Bobby."

"Yeah, yeah, I left twenty minutes ago. Are you calling to tell me I have to come back?"

Dean paused and glanced at the bathroom door. Sam was going to kill him for telling Bobby about this.

"We're thinking that curse might not have been as impotent as it seemed."

Bobby cursed loudly for a minute and Dean heard tires screeching, presumably as Bobby swung the car around back towards town without touching the brakes much at all.

"What are the symptoms? You don't sound too panicked for your brother having witch mojo on him, is he okay?"

Dean laughed shortly. "Oh he's fine, he's just a little…excitable at the moment."

"Excitable?" Bobby drawled, sounding skeptical. "How so?"

"Trust me, you don't want to hear this on the road."

"Dammit Dean, you boys are gonna be the death of me when are you gonna learn that you gotta be careful?"

Dean scoffed. "We are careful! We just have bad luck, that's all."

"Yeah, it's got nothing to do with you idjits rushing in halfcocked every damn place you go."

Dean spluttered a little, scowling at the phone when he couldn't come up with a decent come back. "Just get here."

He could almost hear Bobby rolling his eyes at the phone. "On my way."

Slipping the phone into his shirt pocket, Dean turned to the bathroom door suspiciously. Sam was usually in and out in five minutes flat. It had been close to fifteen. He stood up and walked over to the door, listening for a minute.

"Sam? Come on, what's taking so long?"

There was a clatter that sounded like the complimentary shampoos hitting the tiles and Dean quirked an eyebrow.


"Mmmmnnnngh, oh God."

Dean's jaw dropped and he felt his face heat up as the water shut off abruptly.

The door opened a few seconds later and Sam leveled him with a glare so furious that, even if Dean had known what to say in a situation like this, he'd have forgotten it all.

"Do not speak to me while I'm in the shower," he said tightly, eyes glued to Dean's open mouth. "And if you do? Don't call me Sammy."

Dean's mouth snapped shut and he swallowed hard, tongue flicking out to wet his lips nervously. Sam's eyes followed his tongue intently.

"My eyes are up here, Sammy," Dean said, sarcasm soaking his tone. "And dude. I called you Sammy when you were like five. That should so not be a trigger."

Sam squared his shoulders and gave Dean a mulish frown. "If I tell you it always has been will you stop calling me that?"

"I don't want to know your triggers," Dean snapped, wincing. "And no I won't stop calling you that, probably couldn't if I tried, but thanks for associating it with sex."

Sam rolled his eyes and gave Dean his very best bitch face. "What was so important that you had to interrupt my shower to tell me?"

"I really don't think there was much showering going on in there," Dean said letting a grin slide onto his face.

"Dean." Sam was clearly not as amused by Dean's snarky comments as Dean was.

Dean sighed and wandered back towards his bed. "Bobby's on his way back, so hurry up with your… showering."

Sam stared at him. "Bobby? You told Bobby?!"

Dean grinned in earnest this time as he popped a quarter into the slot and his bed began to vibrate. "Nah, thought I'd let you have the pleasure. He'll be here in ten, so hurry up Sammy."

Sam's eyes flickered between his face and the vibrating bed a few times. "I hate you."

"Love you too!" Dean yelled after him as the door slammed shut again.

A/N: Hello again my lovely readers :] I hope you like the new chapter, reviews are food for authors and I am absolutely ravenous! If you like it, toss me a comment, let me know what your favorite parts are so I know which directions the next few chapters should head. Story alerts and author alerts make me dance with glee but they also make me diiiiie of curiousity, so if you alert me let me know why you liked it? Pretty please? With Sam and Dean Winchester on top? ;]

Next chapter: Bobby helps our boys figure out exactly what's wrong with Sam and how long this particular type of curse typically lasts just in time for Castiel to show up. He has a case for Sam and Dean but is Sam really in any condition for a case? And what has Dean got up his sleeve? Is that... a popsicle? No... It's a banana? No... Vanilla Ice Cream? Whatever it is, Sam doesn't have a snowball's chance against Dean doing what Dean does best: Being sexy.