"No. No, absolutely not." Dean barked, shaking his head to emphasis how serious he was. Sam stood to the side, putting a hand over his mouth to hide the smirk, and his shoulders shaking as he tried not to laugh.

"Shut up Sam. Once again you don't seem to be bothered by this. And once again, I'm not surprised." Dean snapped.

Sam's smirk fell and he dropped his arms.

"Shut up."

"Whatever, pansy."

"Jerk.

"Bit-"

"Dean.

"-ch."

"Dean!"

"What!"

"It's for a hunt man. If we wanna get in then we're gonna have to learn to dance."

"Aw man...c'mon!" Dean threw up his hands, an annoyed look on his face before pointing a finger that screamed accusation.

"People better be thankful man!"

Sam sighed.

"Dean it's not that bad."

"Waltzing? I don't waltz!"

"It' s not that bad." Sam repeated firmly, as if reassuring a kid and not a full grown man, who was older than him.

"Waltzing?" Dean almost looked sick.

"Suck it up man." Sam rolled his eyes, over his brother's attitude.

"I don't dance!"

"You know for someone who's always saying I'm a pansy, you sure are acting like one."

"You're the bitch." Dean mumbled, sounding as if he'd just been owned.

"Over dramatic drama queen."

"Then I outrank you all."

"Dean that is so unbelievably wrong I'm not even going to respond."

Dean just grinned.

"So..." Sam was afraid to ask it.

"What?"

"We better go get lessons."

Dean looked like he was in pain.

"Dean why the hell are you making such a big deal out of it?"

"High school." Dean mumbled.

"What?" Sam asked, perplexed.

"Nothing."

Sam stared at him for a moment, expression torn between amusement and disbelief.

"You never let that answer slide with you-so I'm not gonna let it slide with me."

"Yeah because Sammy your issues are serious and you're yet to tell me." Dean looked at his brother hard, watching as Sam visibly flinched but did not look away, gaze steady and firm.

"Dean."

"Fine!" Dean said and sat on the bed.

Sam leaned his weight on his other leg and folded his arms against his chest.

"I tried to dance in high school. With the hottest babe in the school. Dude-she was sexy. The night before we-"

"Dude." Sam cut him off.

Dean smirked.

"Sammy you could learn a lot from me in that department."

"Yeah," Sam's voice dripped in sarcasm,

"I don't want to be a man whore, Dean. Now quit stalling."

"Pussy," Dean muttered before he coughed.

"And I wouldn't dance, and cause that school was 'posh' every other boy could."

Dean winced.

Sam's face cracked as he pictured it, and laughter exploded out of him, causing Dean's wince to nosedive into a look of annoyance.

"Cut it out man!"

His slightly whinging tone made Sam double over, an arm wrapped around his stomach as he supported himself.

"See this is why I don't tell you anything man!" Dean said, standing up as he searched for his jacket.

Sam sobered up.

"Wait," he said breathlessly. Dean had just put on his jacket and had a hand wrapped around the doorknob.

"Come on, I can show you."

Dean turned around, glaring the glare that scared everyone it was directed at, which meant a serious dose of Dean Winchester pain.

That glare had no affect on Sam.

"It's either me or some hot girl. Again."

Dean shrugged out of his jacket, balled it into his fist and threw it down, stamping his feet.

Sam watched with an amused expression, eyebrows raised.

"Did you just chuck a-"

"Shut up. I am not happy about this."

"We know."

"Really, dude."

"Shut the hell up."

Sam waited until Dean finally calmed down.

"Okay come on. I'm gonna be the guy-"

"What?" Dean shouted, and this time his glare intensified, causing Sam to take a step back.

"There is no way I'm going to be the girl! Screw the hunt!"

"You just chucked a tantrum like a girl."

"Shut up Samantha-you are way more of a girl than I am."

Sam ignored that.

"You're shorter," he said quietly, hating to hold that against his brother.

At Dean's expression, he took another step back, holding up his hands.

"It's just for a bit to get you started."

"No."

"Oh come on." Sam blew out a breath, tugging a hand through his hair.

"You are doing it. Suck it up."

"No I'm not and you can't make me. I'm older and what I say goes."

Sam sighed, shaking his head, now looking sad.

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this." Dean's anger dissolved into one of confusion at the sudden change of his brother's mood.

"I always knew you were a girl," he mumbled while Sam reached into his pockets.

He pulled out two pieces of small paper, and Dean squinted at them.

"What are-" Sam turned the 'papers' around and Dean saw that they were really photos.

Of him.

Dean's mouth went dry.

"How did you-"

Sam smiled, and Dean's eyebrows rose at the wickedness behind it.

"My big brother who I've been studying for years."

Dean scowled.

"Copycat."

"No," Sam's smile grew as he pocketed the photos safely. Dean stared at the place where he had just put them somewhat hungrily.

"Cause not even you are that clever."

They stared at each other, and Sam waited expectantly.

He wasn't disappointed when Dean jumped him. Being prepared-even mentally prepared-gave you an advantage.

"Give it back!"

"No!"

Sam was sitting on Dean's chest in a matter of seconds.

"You-are-the-girl!" Sam breathed an emphasis on each word.


"Now put your hand here."

"No! Dude! That is so incredibly-"

"Don't bring that word into this, it's already awkward enough."

"Stop moving my hand!"

"Well keep it where it's meant to be!"

"No! I will when I'm the girl."

"No your perveted self will move it down instead."

"Dude you're enjoying this way too much."

"Stop trying to spin in circles! I showed you how!"

"Well you're a crappy teacher."

"No like this-"

"Dude don't spin me."

"It's part of the dance Dean."

"This music is so-"

"I swear if you say gay-"

"Everything about this is gay."

"Dean!"

"You're gay."

"Oh really-I had a girlfriend for years. How about you?"

"Ouch harsh. Nah just hook ups, threesomes...the way men do it."

"Man whores, maybe."

"Bite me-you're just jealous."

"Sure-who's the girl again?"

"I hate you."

"Hate's a passionate emotion. ...no-spin-what-"

Dean's foot twisted into his other, and Sam's foot stumbled into them, causing them to both fall over each other and on top of one another.

"Of course this would have to end awkwardly." Dean muttered as he shoved Sam off him with a grunt.

"I told you-"

"No I could probably lead better, I'm the man."

"You can't even dance with your two feet!" Sam protested.

"Cause that's the girl part! Out of the two of us I'm the man."

"Says who?"

"Me."

"And what makes your word right? I'm smarter."

"You're smarter with school. I'm older. That means I'm always right."

"It does not!"

"Oh it totally does."

"Now Sammy lets try it again and you're the girl."

"I'm taller."

"You're a smug bastard aren't you?"

"Yeah I got it from my brother?"

"Whatever quit being a bitch...and be a bitch?" Dean frowned as he thought about what he had just said, and Sam just frowned in annoyance.

Dean continued, smirking smugly.

"Does this sound familiar? Suck it up, now it's your turn."

"Fine!" Sam sulked as they moved to the middle of the room.

"You're stomping like a girl."

"Bite me!"

"Like you said Sammy, this situation is already awkward enough."


"Who knew you could dance?" Sam asked after he cleaned his teeth.

Dean was just finishing up with the guns.

"Why are you cleaning them? I did that last night." Sam asked, confused as he walked over to his bed.

Dean sniffed.

"To restore my manliness."

Sam, who had just climbed under the covers rolled his eyes.

"You enjoyed it Dean. I saw the smiles when you thought I wasn't looking."

"What?" Dean's voice sounded choked, and Sam saw the hint of red on his cheeks.

"You heard me. You liked it and you're good. Who knew, Dean Winchester, a dancer?"

Dean stood up, holding a gun out at Sam, though it was empty and held no threat whatsoever.

"You tell anyone and I will-"

Sam held up his hands.

"It's all good, I won't. Like I want to tell them I had to dance with my brother and I was better at being the girl?"

Dean chuckled and sat back down.

"I told you Samantha."

"Shut up Deanie."

"So when do we go to the club?" Dean asked, changing the subject.

Sam suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"What?" Dean asked, eyebrows scrunching together.

"Now don't get mad but um..."

"What," Dean drew out the word, already sounding mad.

Sam shifted and Dean stood up, placing the gun down.

"Sam?"

"Okay hypothetically speaking here...what would you do if I told you that you didn't really need to learn to dance?"

Dean got a nasty look on his face and Sam shrunk back.

"Okay night Dean." He pulled the covers over him, as if shielding himself.

Dean strode over to the bed and yanked the blankets off Sam's head.

"Want to explain that one to me Sammy?" he growled, tone one step away from his one of "I'm going to kick your freaking ass."

Sam sighed.

"It would help but it wasn't necessary?"

Dean smacked him on the back of the head.

"Ow!" he hissed.

"What the hell man?"

"Experience okay? Normal experience..." Dean straightened at Sam's innocence and sighed.

He couldn't be mad at him for that; he didn't have it in his heart. Especially because Sam looked so young, staring up at him through his bangs.

"Fine Sammy. Only you would choose something so cheesy and gay."

"I didn't get to go to prom, and you didn't. I thought it would..." Sam trailed off, and Dean sighed again, scuffling Sam's hair somewhat lovingly.

"Okay I get you. End of chick flick moment, and no, we are not hugging."

Dean turned off the light before heading to his bed.

Five minutes past.

"You loved it."

"And you're gonna love my fist in your face."

"Oh bite me."

"Night pussy.

"Jerk."

"Bitch and you know it now."

"Photos, Dean."

".......sadistic bitch."