"Dean, I really don't wanna do this."
Sam was standing in front of the mirror in his and Dean's bedroom and unsuccessfully trying to tie his stupid bowtie. It was useless; the unruly thing stubbornly refused to tie correctly and at the moment was making his neck look like some sloppily wrapped Christmas present. How did these things even work? Dean walked out of the adjoining bathroom and over to him.
"You're hopeless. Here, let me." Dean smacked his hands away, tying the bow quickly and expertly.
"Wait, where did you learn to tie a tie?" Sam watched their reflections in the mirror, his brother's hands working quickly at his neck. Dean wasn't even dressed yet, wearing only a towel slung around his hips instead of the other expensive tux Bela had bought for them earlier and he would probably be late.
"Dad taught me," Dean answered simply. When a more elaborate explanation didn't present itself, Sam couldn't help but start in with the questions.
"When?" Crooking an eyebrow, he tried to recall a single time he'd ever seen their dad even wear a bowtie.
"Prom. Remember the year I went with Michelle Hart? Mmm…she was hot." Smiling at the memory, Dean finished with the tie, backed away, and began eyeing Sam up from head to toe.
"Anyway…." Sam rolled his eyes and scowled into the mirror, choosing not to comment. He remembered that night pretty vividly, sitting alone in the hotel room while Dean was out partying and doing God knows what else.
"What's with the face? Aren't you excited for your hot date?" Dean smirked evilly at him in the mirror.
Sam sighed and began straightening his cuff links; little gold charms shaped like sailboats, also bought by Bela. "Do I really have to be the one who goes with her? Why can't you?" Sam heard his voice, and knew he was on the verge of whining, but he didn't care.
"Because it wasn't my package she was eyeing up earlier. We need information from her, and she is more than willing to give it to you. More than willing."
"Yeah, I get it!" Sam barked. "Fine, I'll go with Gertrude, but you owe me big time."
"Uh-huh, sure. Don't act like you're not excited. Hey, a word of advice? Wear a condom." Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder, a huge smile on his face.
There was the sound of a car honking outside and Sam rolled his eyes again before giving himself one last look in the mirror and then heading for the door. "Whatever, Dean." He shut the door behind him with a little slam.
Dean could hear him clomping his big feet all the way down the stairs and he couldn't help but smile to himself about Sam's predicament. He waited a couple of minutes and then walked to the window and saw his brother shut the driver's side door of the navy blue beamer parked in the driveway and then walk around to the other side and open his own door. Gertrude sat waiting to pick him up, like she was his grandma picking him up from school. Except this grandma had a lot more on her mind than baking cookies. Dean smirked as Sam folded his body into the passenger side and the car pulled away.
"Dean! Are you ready yet?" He rolled his eyes as Bela's voice floated up the stairs.
"Yeah, just give me a minute."
He turned and glared at the tux laid out on the bed. The suit mocked him, ready to itch him to death and quite possibly strangle him. Sighing, he started slipping his towel off to change into the monkey suit. The pants weren't so bad, but the shirt buttoned right up his throat, pulling the cord of his amulet more closely around his neck. The sleeves felt constricting where they buttoned around his wrist bones. Grimacing, he shrugged into the jacket and stepped into the awful new shoes. Bela had naturally chosen black Italian leather, outrageously expensive and twice as uncomfortable. Leather dress shoes quite simply had to be made in Hell, that's the only reason they could be so terrible. He laced them up and knew exactly where he would have blisters by the end of the night. Sighing, he stepped over to the mirror to tie his own tie. The look on his face reflected his grimace back at him as he tried to move and flex his arms from inside his hellish deathtrap. This thing was more ridiculous than even some costumes he'd worn; he looked like a friggin' waiter for crying out loud! Eyeing himself, he spun around to see the back of the suit. Yep. It was official; he looked ridiculous.
"Oh, come on," he mumbled to himself, "I look so stupid! I can't be seen out in public like this!" Dean looked at every angle of his body in the suit and hated every inch of it. Bela was going to crack up the second he got downstairs, and Sam…well, he didn't even want to know what Sam was going to say.
"What is taking so long? Sam's already halfway there... with his date," Bela called up a second time.
"So not okay with this!" Dean yelled back down the stairs, taking a final look in the mirror. He sucked in a breath, and left the room.
"What are you? A woman? Come down already!" Dean heard her voice clearly as he descended the stairs. As he reached the last step, he looked up into Bela's face and saw her standing there and waiting for him in a long, fancy black dress. She was given him a wide-eyed stare, with an even wider smile on her face.
He scowled and slapped the sides of his thighs. Oh great, here it comes. "Alright, get it out; I look ridiculous!"
Bela's eyes slowly dragged down his body. "Not exactly the word I'd use."
"What?" What did she mean 'not the word she'd use?' She couldn't be implying that he actually looked good. And, wait a minute, why was she staring at him like that?
"You know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex."
What? For a second he thought she was joking. After all, after all the ways she'd screwed him and Sam over, she couldn't possibly think…but she wasn't laughing. He stared at her still frame, the hungry eyes slowly scanning over every inch of his body and the smiling mouth that was in no way twisted up into an amused or joking grin. Wow. So he really did look hot in his tux.
He shifted his weight uncomfortably, then hunched over a little, crossed his hands over his chest, and scoffed. "Don't objectify me."
She didn't laugh. Instead she raised an eyebrow and stared as if waiting for a response, so he stepped past her and headed for the door. Normally he thoroughly enjoyed getting attention from women, but the problem was that he'd gotten to know her and…well, she was kind of an evil, heartless bitch. Even if he wasn't with Sam, if she was waiting for him to commit to being alone in a room with her when he wasn't armed with at least five weapons, they were going to be standing there an awfully long time. Still, he couldn't help but smirk a little at knowing how hot he apparently looked. If he could do that to Bela, he wondered what effect he was going to have on Sam. "Let's go."
When Sam walked out the door and approached Gert, she was leaned up against the driver's side of her little navy blue beamer as if she was trying to look like some Playboy pin-up, and he groaned internally as he fully realized just how painful this night was going to be. She grinned seductively at him, or as seductively as a seventy year old woman can, and he returned a polite smile.
"Oh, hello. Don't you look handsome?" Gert looked him over way too appreciatively.
Sam cleared his throat and nodded at her. "Um, thanks. You…too."
He reached beside her and opened her car door for her, trying to look polite and professional, but in another instant had to wince and lean away as she turned her face into his neck and sniffed. She looked up at him with love struck eyes and his face twitched into an uncomfortable smile as he quickly headed to his own side of the car. Dean was going to owe him big for this. The seat was pushed up a bit too far, and he had to really bend his knees to make his legs squeeze all the way in.
Gert let out a little giggle. "I'm sorry. Haven't had a good sized man in the car in a while." She leaned over Sam's lap and reached for the lever. He flinched, and suddenly the seat shot back, freeing up his knees but landing Gert's wrinkled face a little too close to his lap.
"Uh, yeah. Great. Thanks," Sam stuttered, trying to push her off gently. "We better get going."
"Oh! Eager to get out in public huh? I understand entirely," she said, roving her eyes over him. They drove in silence for a moment and Sam used the time to mentally prepare for the evening. He was with this woman tonight and there was no way out of it; she had the invitations to the party. But they wouldn't be there long, a couple of hours at most to give Dean and Bela time to sneak past security and get the hand of glory. He could survive for a couple of hours, he could… Something soft landed on his knee. Gert's hand slowly made its way up his thigh, caressing and rubbing circles in random places. Sam cursed his natural politeness, wishing he could be like Dean for once and shove her off. He wiggled his knee to the side, trying to get out from under her assault, but his knees banged painfully against the dash with each movement. This only encouraged her, and she somehow misread his movement for desire. Her hand continued its journey north and lingered dangerously close to his package. Oh god, this was not happening. Finally reaching last resort status, he quickly reached down and grabbed her hand, twining his fingers with hers and locking them securely on his knee.
"Um..so. Tell me more about your niece?" Sam said in an attempt to divert Gert's attention away from molesting him.
"Oh, I don't wanna talk about that. Let's just have fun tonight, hm?" She ran her thumb over his and then used her fingertips to caress his knee.
Sam stared down at her fingers rubbing small circles into his skin. "Actually, Missus Case –"
"Ah, ah. Miss Case."
"Sorry, Miss Case, I was hoping we could keep this professional." Gert stopped rubbing his knee and he looked up to see hurt and rejection etched into her wrinkled features. "I mean," he smiled uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, "me, my partner, and Alex, we're still on the case, and we only have so long before we gotta blow outta town, so I was hoping to use tonight to, uh, interview you and figure this thing out."
She smiled warmly at him before quickly turning back to the road. "You're acting about as nervous as my late husband did on our first date. You know, you even kind of look like him. He was tall like you." She scanned her eyes down his body with the corner of her eye before resting them on his lap. "And boy, was he big all over!"
Sam's face flushed a deep shade of red and he thought he might be sick. His size was no concern of hers. He didn't even want to think about how and where she wanted this night to go, but he already felt like he needed a rape shower. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and waited for them to just finally get to the party, where he could drink to forget that he was being molested while Dean and Bela grabbed the stupid hand of glory they needed so they could get the hell out of this town.
As Dean entered the party with Bela, he glanced around the roomful of dancers, looking for Sam. He wasn't hard to spot, being one of the tallest and most awkward looking people in the room. Gert was pressed up against his body like a suckerfish with her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her face, while Sam looked like his face had been etched into permanent scowl. Sam looked up just then and he caught Dean's eyes and in an instant the look on his face melted away into one of pure awe. Dean smiled softly, and fought the urge to fidget under Sam's intense scrutiny. Guess the suit really was working for him. He made a mental note to keep it on later as opposed to just throwing it off the minute they'd walked through the door like he'd originally planned. He eyed Sam up and decided he should keep his tux on, too as he imagined slowly stripping him naked, removing the tux for him piece by piece. Just then Gert looked up at Sam and whispered something and the grimace returned. Sam looked down at her, and the spell was broken. Good timing too, or else people might notice how hard they had been staring at one another. Time to get to work anyway.
He let his eyes scan the room, seeing all the guys in their monkey suits and the chicks in their long, expensive dresses. Why did people do shit like this, anyway? Wouldn't it just be cooler to do fundraisers like this at a clambake? He'd bet there would be a lot more people coming around to donate money to endangered animals, or museum conservation, or whatever the fuck this thing was for if they could actually do something fun.
Bela turned her head to him and looked like she was about to say something when her jaw suddenly dropped and she stared embarrassedly at him. "Are you chewing gum?" He stopped chewing and tightly shut his mouth. Was he not allowed to chew gum? Apparently not because she scowled at him and rolled her eyes. "Try to behave as if you've lived this life before, yeah?"
Dean looked around to make sure no one was looking and then quickly stuck the gum on the underside of some fancy fountain sitting in the middle of the room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bela roll his eyes but ignored it. He got rid of the gum; that was what she wanted, so what else could she expect of him? She smiled politely at a passing couple and then tugged him roughly by the arm, leading him through the dance floor and over to the bar where they both grabbed a glass of Champagne from a passing tray and sat down. From across the room he saw the crazy old bat slowly sliding her hands down the middle of Sam's back. Sam pulled away the second her fingers reached the top of his ass and then grabbed her hands. He showed his teeth as he smiled to her, something Sam often did when he was angry and trying to hide it, and then said something to her before he left her side and practically ran over them.
When Sam joined them he was wearing his classic bitchface. "Exactly how long do you expect me to entertain my date?"
Bela smirked at him, clearly enjoying Sam's discomfort as much as he was. "As long as it takes."
Sam's bitchface deepened to a whole new level and Dean had to fight the urge to laugh at his brother's misery. "Look, there's security all over this place, alright, this is an uncrashable party without Gert's invitation, so..."
"We can crash anything, Dean."
Dean smirked wickedly. "Yeah, I know, but this is easier and it's a lot more entertaining."
"You know there are limits to what I'll do, right?"
Dean's grin widened. Of course there were limits to what Sam would do; this night wouldn't be any fun at all if he thought Sam would actually sleep with that old bat. Although, as he saw her approaching them with two glasses of Champagne out of the corner of his eye, he thought about how hilarious it would be if she got him drunk enough that he let her play grab-ass with him for a while without fighting back. Man, that would be years' worth of material he could use to rip on Sam in the future.
"Ohhh, he's playing hard to get, that's cute." He got up and gestured for Bela to do the same. "Come on." Still smirking, Bela got up off the stool and linked arms with him. He clapped Sam on the shoulder. "I want all the details in the morning!" With that he winked and walked off with Bela, leaving his scowling brother to deal with the crazy cougar.
Sam kept inching closer to the edge of the dance floor, getting closer to the stairs where Dean and Bela had gone up over twenty minutes ago. They were taking an awfully long time up there. Were they were having trouble finding the hand of glory? Maybe they'd found it but they were having trouble hacking through the security system. Things would have been so much easier if Dean could have gone to the ball with Gert and he could have gone upstairs. After all, most of what Dean knew about computer hacking and security systems had come from him. And just a few minutes ago one of the guards had run up to check on them. Hopefully Dean and Bela had anticipated that. Gert grabbed his ass again, bringing him out of his current train of thought. A couple dancing close by turned to stare at them and he smiled and nodded politely at them.
"Um, missus – Gert?"
She looked up at him with a dreamy, drunken smile. "What is it, darling?"
"Um," he took her hands off his ass and brought them back around his waist. "Could you…stop grabbing me?"
She looked at him, confused. "What?"
"It's just…people are staring."
She grinned at him. "Let them stare. They're just jealous. You know, tomorrow everyone's going to be talking tomorrow about the handsome young man I brought home."
Sam's eyes widened and he swallowed hard. "Yeah, about that. I actually wasn't planning –"
To his left, the guard ran back down the stairs, wearing a huge smile on his face. Immediately he raced to one of the other guards standing just a few feet away from them and tapped him on the shoulder. Shit. Something must have happened. Sam felt his body tense as he prepared to throw Gert off of him and run if need be.
The other guard turned, saw the expression on his friend's face, and grinned as if he was about to be let in on a funny joke. "What?"
"You know that couple I just brought upstairs? That hot British chick and her husband?"
The second guard leaned in and his grin widened. "Yeah?"
"Well, it looks like the two of them are having a lot of fun. I think once she and her husband are done with the room, I might go up and ask for a turn. That girl is a freak!"
"Really? That stuck up bitch in the cocktail dress? She looked so prim and proper."
"When I went up to ask if they were done with the room, she didn't answer the door looking so proper, if you know what I mean," he said, elbowing his friend in the ribs.
The second guard's jaw dropped and he put his hands on his hips. "No shit!"
"Yeah. And, with what I saw, I think her husband wouldn't mind sharing, you know?"
The second guard leaned back and opened his mouth in glee, clearly enjoying the scandal. "That so?"
"Yeah. I'm going back up there in fifteen minutes to see if he's got his pants zipped and see what happens."
"Go for it, man. She's pretty hot."
What? Sam felt his heart make a sickening thud in his throat. What had the guard just seen? What did he mean that she hadn't been 'proper' when she'd answered the door? As in, not dressed? But that was impossible; Dean wouldn't cheat on him. Would he? No, at least not with Bela. She'd shot him for chrissakes! She was stuck-up, cold, heartless, and had amazing legs, a tight ass, perky little breasts, perfectly curved lips…shit. Could this really be happening? Could they really be…while he was downstairs being groped by a relic old enough to be on display in the Smithsonian? He thought of Dean and Bela in that room, her hands all over him, removing his tie, touching his flat, muscular stomach, removing his pants, pushing him down on a couch…and his whole body tensed. A waiter walked by with a tray of Champagne and this time he grabbed two and downed them like shots, not even caring anymore that it made him look tasteless. Missus Havisham hanging around his neck all night had pretty much done a great job at that by then anyway. Most of the people at the party probably thought he was some high-end hooker.
About five minutes later, Bela came down the stairs with a smug look on her face. She first glanced at him and then shot the guard who had looked in on them a wink as she adjusted her dress strap, pushing it back up onto her shoulder. Right after that Dean came down the stairs, looking down at the floor seriously as he pulled at his bowtie. Had he just retied that? He looked back over at Gert and pretended to act surprised when they finally approached and Bela put her hand on Gert's back and asked her if she was having a good time. She grinned at Sam as she pulled his "date" away from him and he breathed a sigh of relief as the old woman let go her grip.
"He's delightful!" she exclaimed. Then she leaned in and said, "He wants me," in a voice that was clearly supposed to be a whisper but didn't quite work out that way in her drunken state.
Bela began guiding her through the door and then grinned back at Sam. "I'm going to get Gert into a cold shower."
Dean laughed and tried hiding it with a cough and Sam smiled at her and nodded. "Great idea."
"See you at the cemetery," she called back as she and his "date" walked through the door. Sam sighed. Thank god it was all over and he'd survived. But when he and Dean got back to their place, he really, really needed a shower. He reeked of mothballs, old lady perfume, and sweat.
Dean, of course, sniffed him and then proved to have a more eloquent way of saying it: "You stink like sex."
Sam huffed out a breath and began trudging towards the door. "Go screw yourself, Dean. I need a shower, a valium, and a whole lot of therapy after tonight."
Dean laughed. "Aww, what's a matter Sammy? She wasn't your type?"
They could see the car finally and Sam had visions of a hot shower, a cold beer, and a warm bed with Dean beside him after they got rid of that hand of glory. But, of course, Dean had to first be a jerk about what he'd put himself through. "You know Dean, you could stand to be a little more sensitive."
"Yeah, sorry Sammy, but it's just too funny." They climbed into the car and shut their doors behind them. "Well, I had some fun at least." He laughed.
Sam furrowed his brows and frowned and then Dean shot him an innocent look. "What?"
"Nothing." He wasn't sure he really wanted to know just how much fun Dean might have had. Images of Dean and Bela began to flood his mind. Bela smiling and licking Dean's lips; Dean getting down on his knees to remove her panties from underneath her dress; Bela laying on top of Dean, straddling him as she unbuttoned his pants… He began ripping off his bowtie in frustration. "You got it, right? Tell me I didn't get groped all night by missus Havisham for nothing."
"I got it…Missus who?"
"Never mind!" he spat, feeling testier by the second. "Just let me see it" Dean pulled his handkerchief out from his breast pocket and began unwrapping the fabric. About halfway through though, his face changed from cocky to confused. Oh no. "What?"
His question was answered in the next second when Dean finished unwrapping the fabric to reveal a sailboat in a glass jar. Dean scowled. "I'm gonna kill her."
Sam sat in silence for most of the car ride home while Dean ranted without pause. "...You know, Sam? Bitch goes out and buys us these friggin monkey suits, makes herself seem like she's some kind of ally of ours, then takes us to that stupid ball – and fucking angry sex my ass - I should have known better. I mean, she fucking shot you! And – and – and then –"
Sam twisted in his chair, cocked his eyebrow, and gave Dean a hard stare. "Wait a minute, back up, what did you just say?"
Dean paused for a minute, as if rewinding everything he'd just said in his mind. Sam could tell when he'd gotten to the comment in question because his face changed from anger to something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Guilt maybe? But then his expression quickly changed again as he reconstructed his angry mask. "I said she shot you. I mean, Jesus Sam, we should have killed her months ago!"
Sam squinted his eyes at Dean, his growing suspicions gnawing at the pit of his stomach. "What did you just say about angry sex?"
Dean stared angrily at the dash. "Nothing, Sam. I didn't say anything. But that bitch…" He continued with his rant, carrying on as if Sam hadn't interrupted. He began coming up with elaborate murder plots, each one detailing a more creative way for them to kill Bela. Sam stopped listening about the time Dean introduced chainsaws and acid into the equation and just let his brother go on as he sat quietly lost in thought.
He tried to reconstruct the events of the evening. Dean looked really hot in his suit and he was sure that he wasn't the only one to notice. He and Bela were upstairs for a really long time, more time than he was sure was necessary to get the hand and then there was the guard and his comments, the obvious clothing readjustment… and now this? What could he have possibly meant by "angry sex"? As in, they had angry sex upstairs? The more Sam turned it over in his mind, the uglier the scenario became. "Angry sex my ass" – what did that mean? Did Dean get the hand and present it to Bela right before she offered 'angry sex' to him so she could steal it while his clothes were off? She would do something like that, but would he? Realistically, why else would he try to hide it?
When they pulled up to the house and Dean was still going strong with his murder plots and anger. "I mean, really Sam, I swear to God, if I ever see that bitch again –"
Sam sighed heavily. "We're not really going to kill her."
Dean looked at him for the first time since they'd gotten into the car and raised his eyebrows. "Why the hell not?"
Sam got out of the car and slammed the door behind him, quickly followed by Dean and they began to trudge up to the house together. "Because she's human."
Dean sniggered. "Yeah, barely."
Sam opened the front door and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Dean."
He wrenched the door open and quickly made his way upstairs, already throwing his bowtie off and to the floor. He just wanted to erase this night from his memory. It all felt like some sort of very horrible dream. He ripped open the bedroom door and immediately began taking off pieces of his tux.
Sam turned around and saw Dean holding out his bowtie. "Something going on that you wanna share with the class?"
Sam threw his suit jacket to the floor and began attacking the buttons on his shirt. "No."
Dean threw the bowtie to the floor and backed away, a scowl on his face. "Alright fine. Whatever."
Sam watched Dean as he shoved his pants to the floor and stepped out of them and ordinarily he would be using this time to ogle his lover and make suggestive remarks, but at the moment all he could think about was Dean and Bela, fucking each other while he waited patiently downstairs. Literally, he was right downstairs when it happened! How could Dean do that to him? Did he really miss women that much? He knew Dean must miss them at least a little; hell, even he missed women sometimes with their soft curvy bodies and grabbable breasts but Dean was all he wanted anymore. Was he no longer what Dean wanted?
Dean sighed contentedly, and Sam looked up to see him in his worn jeans, wiggling his hips. "That is so much better. I swear, I better not ever have to wear a tux again."
"For what it's worth, you looked pretty amazing in that suit," Sam said quietly. "I'm willing to bet everyone in the room thought so."
"Yeah, well, no thanks to Bela that we had to wear those stupid things to begin with. I can't believe that bitch just used us to get what she wanted!"
Sam threw his shirt and collar to the floor and then quickly moved his hands to unbuckle his pants. "Yeah, well, she might have been more help to us than she realized."
He threw his pants off and Saw Dean throwing on a red flannel button-down shirt, his eyes looking down and focused solely on the buttons. "Yeah? How so?"
"Well, as it turns out, Missus Case's niece Shiela accidentally killed her cousin in a car accident. And those two brothers who saw the ship? They killed their father for his business and insurance money."
Dean had finished buttoning up his shirt and flopped down on the bed, looking deep in thought. "So, you put that all together and…I got nothing."
"Don't you see, Dean? Sheila, the brothers, they both killed people in their own families."
"Yeah, but Sheila, I mean, that sounded like it was just an accident."
"So, she didn't intentionally kill someone in her family."
Sam shrugged. "Maybe it doesn't have to be intentional. I mean, since when are ghosts rational?"
Dean nodded. "Touché. Alright, so did you figure out how this ties into our ghost ship yet?"
Sam sighed. "No. I don't know yet. But I know where to look."
Sam threw the door open and all but stomped inside with Dean right at his heels, the both of them exhausted, soaked to the bone from the rain, and covered in cemetery dirt. He shook his head, wet hair sending water droplets flying onto Dean, who then wiped the excess water off of his face and scowled. "Dude! Is that really necessary?"
"You know what? It is. I'm tired, I'm wet, and I'm just a little pissed off!"
Dean gave him an angry, open-mouthed stare and Sam turned away from him, threw off his muddy boots, and let them each hit the wall by the door. He couldn't stand to look at Dean at the moment, not with the images of him with Bela that were dancing around inside his head. By now, his imagination had added the sounds of sex right along with all the action, those deep grunts and pleading moans that always fell from Dean's lips whenever they were together, but coupled with Bela's soft whispers of pleasure. He shook his head again, trying to erase the scene rather than dry his hair. He really didn't want to bring any of this up to Dean at the moment, didn't want to hear about what happened, why he did it, or even that he was sorry, but he was afraid that soon he'd be left with no choice. He could feel his caged hurt and rage building inside of him like a horrible, gnashing beast that was continually growing until his chest could no longer contain it. He clenched his jaw and balled his fists, trying to keep it in.
"Oh I'm sorry. You're pissed off? Are you the one that got played and then robbed? Are you the one that fought the ghost AND protected that stuck up little bitch? I didn't think so!" Dean began to yell, puffing up his chest and inching closer to Sam.
"No! I was too busy reading the fucking spell to save everyone's ass! Oh and I got groped all night by Grandma Moses while you were upstairs FUCKING BELA!" The dam broke and he instantly felt a release as all the words came tumbling out so fast that his tongue nearly tripped over them, but the feeling didn't last when he saw Dean's face, which was pale as he looked at him like he'd just been slapped.
Dean stumbled a step backward. "What? What the hell are you talking about?" Dean's voice was soft, as if he didn't trust himself to speak and his mouth was open in astonishment as he stared into Sam's eyes, demanding an answer.
Sam rolled his eyes; he wasn't buying the innocent act. "Whatever. I'm not gonna do this thing with you. You miss women so much, go find yourself some sluts to bang, okay?"
He turned away from Dean and slowly wandered up the stairs, suddenly feeling very tired. Dean was standing still at the foot of the stairs with his mouth still open in shock but Sam didn't feel like he had the strength at the moment to deal with him. He didn't look back as he got to the top of the stairs and entered their bedroom, firmly closing the door behind him.
Thank you for reading and good, bad, or indifferent, please, Please, PLEASE review! Also, I'm not in love with the title of this fic, so I'd love to take some suggestions.