A/N: Okay, so one of my friends got the idea for 5.07 wincest almost immediately after watching the episode. She, however, was too squicked to write it, and the dubious honor fell to me. This is what came of her demented idea. I'm sorry that this is the story that I'm posting after my long absence, but it took this much cracked-outedness to break my writer's block. For those of you awaiting the long-postponed update to Nine for One, I promise I have not given up on that story. Updates shall come. Until then...

Read. Review. Enjoy. Repeat if you desire.

No matter how much time passed, Sam simply could not get used to the smell of Bengay coming from his brother. Now, he had always hoped his brother would somehow find a way to live into old age despite their… alternative lifestyle, but this was just ridiculous. Most of it Sam could handle. The slower movement? Fine. The changes in appearance? Okay, sure. The constant bitching? Well, that really wasn't much of a change. But something about the random-ass old person smell just bugged the hell out of Sam. Well that and…

"Dude, what the hell?"

"What?" Dean asked, continuing his assault on Sam's neck.

"Cut it out, Dean," Sam said, even as he let his head fall to the side to give Dean better access. "You're going to give yourself a heart attack."

"Bull. I'm fine."

"Yeah, you're fine. Man, you're seventy!"

Dean just grinned and turned Sam around to face him. "And?"

"And… do you realize how fucking creepy this is right now?"

"Sammy, are you telling me that after years of practicing incest, you're going to freak out about age?" Dean smirked. "Dude, this isn't even a real age gap. Random witch-bitch magic, remember?"

Sam couldn't help but smile. Figures that no amount of "growing-up" would mature his brother's inane sense of humor. He leaned his forehead against his (much) older brother's.

After several minutes, Sam pulled away slightly and crinkled his nose. That smell was still getting to him.

"I don't get it."

Raising an eyebrow, Dean just looked at Sam.

"Is everyone just destined to smell funky after they hit a certain age?"

"Naw man," Dean replied, eyes twinkling, "that's just you. You've always had a distinctive… odor. I thought about mentioning it, but I didn't want you thinking you were even more of a freak."

Sam smacked his arm. "You totally smell like an old person, you jerk."

"Bullshit, bitch."

"You smell like some cross between Preparation-H and Vicks'."

Dean pushed Sam backwards onto the bed. "You're going to pay for that one, Sammy."

"Whatcha going to do about it?"

"This old man's still got it, Sammy boy."

"Yeah? Do we need to run by a drug store for some Viagra?"

Dean just smirked. Sam found it wasn't as difficult as he'd imagined to ignore the smell and the unfamiliar wrinkles.

"Sam?"

Sam looked up from the laptop as his thankfully rejuvenated brother came out of the bathroom, "Yeah?"

"Dude, we passed a clinic on our way into town, right?" Dean asked, keeping his tone neutral as he dug in his duffle bag for clean clothes.

"Yeah…" Frowning, Sam carefully studied his brother. "Dean? You okay?"

Dean just looked meaningfully at his little brother and clapped his hands together sharply.

Sam's laughter continued even as Dean beat him with a pillow.