Hunting demons was easy.
That's the conclusion that Sam Wincester was quickly coming to.
Realizing you had some not-so-platonic feelings for the man driving the car you were in, when that man also happened to be your older brother?
Well, that's why Sam was banging his head against the window of the Impala.
"Dude, stop. You're gonna bust the window, and we don't have the money to fix it. Or to pay for the hospital bills so that we can fix your brain damage." Dean snapped his gum, as Sam rested his head against the glass.
The Impala's headlights flickered slightly, as rain started to fall. The windshield was soon covered in water droplets and Dean cursed excessively.
"Great. Bad enough you're gonna bust my window, but now it rains when I have no windshield wipers." Dean looked up at the roof of the car in a 'why me?' eye roll. Sam snorted.
"Could be worse."
"Oh yeah? What horrific thing could you possibly think up to make this situation worse?" Dean snapped his gum again.
"Lots of things." Sam deadpanned. Dean raised an eyebrow. "You're a pussy." Dean protested loudly, and Sam smiled.
"Well, bitch? I'm waiting." Dean's gum snapped again, and Sam smirked evilly.
"There could be clowns." Dean sucked in a breath.
"Fuck, dude, that's low." Sam sighed, smirking.
"I know. You baby." Dean snorted.
"Says the pot." The Impala made a sharp right turn, swerving to avoid a pair of oncoming headlights. A horn blared out what sounded like the Macarena, and Dean yelled out in response. "Fuck you! Learn how to drive you asshole!"
Dean rolled down the window and stuck his head out looking for the car. He pulled his head back in and muttered darkly to himself, speeding up slightly.
"Uh, Dean? Maybe we should pull over or something. I don't really want to die in this car." Dean shot him a sharp look, and sped up.
"You just had to think up clowns, didn't you? Fuck man." Sam gave him a hard look. "Dude, look. Firstly, thankfully, the rain is stopping. Secondly, the roads are pretty much clear. And thirdly, that car we almost hit popped a U-y and is chasing us. And I'll give you three guesses who the driver is." Sam swallowed.
"A clown?"
"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! Way to go Sammy. You've officially won the prize for having the worst fucking luck ever." Sam snorted at Dean's sarcastic tone. He looked out the back window, and gasped.
"Uh, Dean?"
"What now?" Dean growled.
"There's more than just one clown in that car." Dean cried out angrily.
"Why did it have to be clowns?!" He hit the gas, and they sped around a corner. They were rapidly moving through a forest and kept passing warning signs.
"What do you think the signs say?" Sam asked, trying to catch one as it flew past the window.
"That the bridge is out." The Impala was speeding towards what looked like a drawbridge.
"What!" Sam looked at Dean like he had grown an extra-head.
"The bridge is out. But my Baby can make it. Their piece of shit, little clown car doesn't stand a chance." Sam didn't drop the incredulous look, but turned and braced himself against the door and the dashboard. Dean grinned at mischievously. "Ready?"
"No." Sam groaned, shutting his eyes, desperately trying to remember what exactly he had found so attractive about his brother. Dean laughed.
"Too bad." Dean let out a whoop as they hit the tiny drawbridge, flying up into the air and dropped jerkily onto the other side of a large gap. Sam swallowed nervously upon impact, cracking an eye open as he desperately tried to reclaim control over his stomach.
Dean slowed the car, and turned around in the seat, looking for signs of the clowns. He smirked, satisfied, as he watched the car attempt to follow in the wake of the Impala. He laughed heartily, and a touch evilly, as the car careened off the top of the drawbridge, and plunged deep into the churning waters below.
"Yes." He hissed in a slow, satisfied breath. This was a habit of Dean's when they had accomplished something particularly adventurous. Sam couldn't help thinking about a certain compromising situation that he would love to end with that particular exclamation of Dean's.
Dean looked over to Sam, and chuckled softly. Sam looked ridiculous, still braced up against the car, even now that the car was stopped.
"You know, we're not moving anymore. We're completely stopped on the side of the road. And off the bridge." Sam sighed, moving himself into a normal sitting position, sending a weak glare at Dean.
"I know that." The corner of Dean's mouth quirked as he raised an eyebrow.
"Sure you did, Sammy. Sure you did."
"Hey, unfair. You know I can't stand when we drive off shit like that." Dean was full out grinning now.
"Yeah I know." The engine roared to life and they sped off down the dark roadway. "Silly little baby." Sam made an indignant sound, before turning and pouting at Dean.
Sam expected the exasperated sigh, and roll of the eyes. Sam didn't expect the small smile, or the finger that reached out to poke into one of his dimples. His eyes widened, and he smiled unsurely at Dean, who then proceeded to pat him on the head like a puppy.
"Hey!" Dean smiled.
"Yeah, yeah, you're tired. I know. I also happen to know the owner of the best, roach-free, absolutely in our price range, motel on this side of the river. We'll get you a shower too, cause man you smell."
"Good." Dean quirked his eyebrow at Sam, while giving the car more gas. Sam resisted the urge to turn around and search the expanse of black behind them for clowns. Then it hit him. When had the sun set?
"Good what?"
"What? Oh. You forgot part of that sentence. You obviously meant to say that I smell good."
"Oh, you think so?"
"Of course. Because I do smell good. Unlike you."
"I smell just fine thank you very much."
"You don't. And you're not welcome." Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean, who snorted.
"Way to show your maturity, Mr. Adult." Sam rolled his eyes.
"Oh not this again! You know that that guy didn't mean anything by it. He honestly just thought I was older. And considering your penchant for keeping this grudge, I'm not surprised. Seriously, if you want to be more mature then just let this go."
"Paramore."
"What?"
"'Let This Go' is a song by Paramore. You remember them. We saw them a while back."
"Oh yeah. That was fun." Sam smiled at the memory. "You got so drunk. You actually let me drive the Impala home."
"Yeah. I did what?! I let you drive my baby? I let you drive my baby?"
"Mm-hmm. Didn't you wonder where that huge dent came from?" Dean growled. Sam couldn't help the slight flicker of his eyes at the sexiness of that.
"There is no dent. Stop fucking with me dude." They pulled into a motel parking lot and Dean went out to get the key. Sam sat alone in the car, thinking.
By the time Dean came back and rapped on the window, Sam had made a decision. He would tell Dean tonight. He would tell him the truth. He would get rejected, lose Dean, and go back out to Stanford, before wasting his life away with self-destructive habits. Sam was always the planner, after all. He had a plan for everything. He even had a plan for it Dean accepted the truth about Sam graciously, or even reciprocated certain feelings. But it wouldn't do anyone any good to think about that…
Dean rapped on the window again, sighing impatiently. Sam jumped and looked out at him curiously, before opening the door.
"You got the key."
"Duh, dude. Where's your head at? You went all scary and trance-like back there. You're not like possessed are you?" Sam scoffed.
"No. Just spaced a second. Thinking about the clowns." Dean hissed. "Oh right. Sorry."
"S'okay. Come on. I'm tired. And you smell bad." Sam smiled, shutting the car door behind him. He slung his arm casually across Dean's smaller shoulders, smiling lightly. Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed his brother's wrist. Sam's heart started pounding loudly in his chest.
They arrived quickly at the room. Room Eleven. Sam thought that that was somewhat symbolic, but his mind felt fuzzy at the intoxicating closeness of his Dean.
Then all too soon, Dean shrugged off his arm, and shut the motel door. Sam flopped down on the bed, and Dean took that as an invitation to take the first shower. He was in and out in what seemed to Sam like an incredibly short time.
Sam lingered longer in the shower. Nervousness overtook his brain. His hands shook as he dried his hair. And he slowly dragged himself out of the bathroom.
Dean was flopped out on the bed, stretched over the left side. It was then that it hit Sam that there was only one bed. He sat down awkwardly on the right side. Dean looked up at him, his hair ruffled. He raised an eyebrow at Sam's tenseness.
"Do you remember when we were kids?" Sam looked up at him curiously.
"Depends. When, specifically, are you talking about?"
"Do you remember the stories that dad used to tell us?" Sam nodded.
"Which ones?" Dean smiled.
"The ones about the two princes. They had dashing and daring adventures, and always got the girl in the end."
"Yeah. It took me forever to figure out that they were about us." Dean snorted.
"They had our names, doofus." Sam blushed.
"Yeah, I know. I just thought it was some crazy coincidence or something." He cleared his throat as Dean chuckled. "What about them?"
"I think he was lying." Sam knitted his eyebrows in confusion.
"I don't think that we're meant to get the girl end, you know? It's like the story of the lonely king."
"Yeah. I still don't understand what he was trying to tell us there."
"He was trying to say that he found us. That our moms were already pregnant when he married them." Sam looked at him, dumbstruck.
"What! We had different moms? And Dad's not really our dad? Is everything in my life a lie?" Dean looked at him sorrowfully.
"Dad never came straight out and told us that he didn't know who our real dads were. I think he was always holding out on the possibility that we really were his sons, you know? Like, he didn't totally know. And he's our dad in every way that matters really." Sam snorted darkly.
"What else are you going to reveal about my life next? Let me guess, I'm not really your brother."
"Well, probably not, in blood. But you're my family in every other way that matters." Sam sighed.
"We are getting way too damn sappy in our old age." Dean harrumphed.
"I had a point."
"Oh? What is it then?"
"We're not related. You get to sleep on the floor."
"What!" Dean looked at him mischievously.
"Yup. I mean I can't have you polluting my purity or anything like that." Sam gave Dean a blank look. "Mrs. Motel-Manager-Lady is really religious. Wouldn't give me the room until I absolutely swore that we were brothers. Said she wouldn't have any 'hanky-panky shenanigans in her respectable establishment,' which was obviously a load of crap. She just didn't want to have to change the sheets." Sam looked at the bed, apprehensively.
"Ew. The floor's sounding good right about now." Dean laughed at Sam's expression.
"She changed them before we came here, bitch, but she won't be able to get to the Laundromat for a week and she's trying to make shit last. And I was kidding before. I trust you with my purity." Sam snorted.
"If you're 'pure' then I'm a certified clown." Dean hissed.
"Fuck it Sammy. Not again. Can't we talk about something else?" Sam sat cross-legged on the bed next to Dean, who put his head in his hands.
"What do you want tot talk about?"
"Something else. Anything else. Anything but clowns." Sam didn't know all that much about romance, but if that sentence didn't give him a blatant invitation, he didn't know what would.
Sam stretched forward, leaning close to Dean's face. He put his right hand under Dean's chin and lifted so that there faces were just inches apart.
"How about we talk about ways that I can 'pollute your purity'? Is that okay?" Shock showed in Dean's eyes, and Sam took that as another invitation.
He leaned in slowly, cupping Dean's cheek with his hand before, brushing his lips slightly against his ex-brothers.
A light moan escaped from Sam's lips as his Dean eagerly plundered his mouth with his tongue.
They broke apart, and took a few deep breaths of air. Both were gasping, and Dean was straddling Sam on the bed. Dean looked down happily at Sam, with a somewhat evil smile.
"I think that may very well be the best idea you've ever had." Dean said softly and resumed kissing him.
Maybe Sam was wrong. Perhaps loving Dean wasn't going to be so hard after all.