"Come on, Sammy."
Dean rattled the bag.
"I'm going to put on my disappointed face."
"You hate my disappointed face."
Sam sighed. "I'll look stupid."
Dean stood in front of Sam, slumped on the couch, and put one knee on Sam's right side, then his left on the other side. Then slowly, he settled down on Sam's lap.
"Number one, you're too hot to look stupid. You could wear ears and a bunny tail and not look stupid. Hey. Actually…"
"Never gonna happen."
Dean brushed his mouth against the special spot behind Sam's left ear, and Sam shivered.
"You'd look hot. But not as hot as when you put on what's in this bag, Sammy."
Sam tried to push Dean off, but Dean held on tight.
"Number two, cotton candy."
"See, I do the kinky stuff you ask for. All the time. Anything. You know that. Have I ever said no?"
Sam squinched his face. "No."
Dean ticked them off on his fingers. "Let's see. Chocolate frosting. Pop Rocks. And that motel room with the stripper pole? Did I not—"
Sam grinned. "Yeah you did."
"And you. You've done way crazier shit than this. Just last week, man. Didn't I have you on your back, peeling those pink panties off you?"
The blush on Sam's face deepened, but Dean could feel Sam's interest rise. "Yes. Yes you did."
"So what's the hangup?"
Sam grabbed the cowboy shirt out of the bag and held it up. "I'm going to look stupid, Dean, and I don't know how to…act Western."
Until that moment, Sam hadn't realized that he wasn't the only Winchester capable of melting the most intractable resolve with puppy-dog eyes. And Dean's striking green eyes gone puppyish and pleading were impossible to resist.
"Fine." Sam picked up the bag and gently pushed Dean off his lap. "But if you laugh at me, I'm done playing."
Sam changed in the other room, cursing quietly to himself. He put on the embroidered shirt, the fringed chaps (as requested, JUST the chaps, with no jeans or underwear underneath), the boots and even the wide-brimmed hat.
When he came out, Dean was stark naked on the bed, taking matters into his own hands while he waited.
Sam was speechless.
"Goddamn." Dean sat up, biting his lower lip, staring at Sam.
"What." Sam's nostrils flared like he did when he was uncomfortable.
"Smokin' hot, Sammy. Better than I imagined, even."
At that, Sam's mouth twitched, and his body loosened.
"You like it?"
Dean got up on his knees. "Yeah. Just like that. Kick up the drawl."
"Gonna want me to talk dirty too? Not surprised. Y'always did like that." Sam emphasized the slow Texas drawl he'd learned from his favorite actors on TV.
"Fuck, Sammy. We're gonna have to go at least three times." Dean ran his hands over his chest. "At least." He maneuvered around and positioned himself on all fours, ass in the air. He looked back over his shoulder at Sam, already looking so debauched Sam bit his lip to hold back a groan.
"You know what they say, Sammy."
Sam knelt on the bed behind Dean, and stroked the length of his back.
"What do they say, Dean?"
Dean flashed a blinding grin, and raised his ass, presenting himself to Sam. "Ride 'em, cowboy."