Sam and Dean sat sullenly at a careful distance from the crowd of ridiculously-dressed fans, their "Yellow-Eyed Coolers" (fuck Carver Edlund) sitting more or less untouched on their table.

Sam scanned the throng for Chuck or Becky, wondering what the hell they could possibly be getting up to; he felt distinctly uncomfortable attending this gathering of crazies without them there, though the two of them did make him want to strangle something. Or someone. Because, seriously—Sam did a double-take as a girl dressed as Ruby marched past, arms linked with someone in a Meg costume—fuck Carver Edlund.

Next to him, Dean groaned loudly and played with the straw in his drink, plucking it out of the glass and poking Sam's face with it. "What, Dean?" Sam swiped irritably at the straw and at the drops of liquid that had beaded on his face.

"This's a fuckin' freak show. Why are we even still here? I say we get the hell out of Dodge, maybe leave Chuck a couple of dead fish in his mailbox first." His frown shifted into a smirk at the idea, and he stuck the straw in his mouth, sucking on it as if in deep thought. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. "Listen, I'm all for taking off without another word to anyone here, but don't you think we oughta hold Chuck to some sort of promise, first?" He thought back to Chuck's panel an hour or two ago, to a roomful of strange—really strange—people methodically discussing his "dwindling morality" and how Ruby was "obviously" playing him for a fool, and rubbed at his temples wearily.

"I don't know about you, Dean, but I'm sick to death of having the dirty details of my life laid out for all to judge." Dean gave him a measured look, and Sam cringed under the scrutiny, wishing it wasn't so immediately clear that they both knew which events Sam was referring to. "No, yeah, I get that. Wish I could just kill the guy and be done with it." Dean's voice was cool and restrained, as it always was when the subject of Sam's…demon problem came up. Sam dug his fingernails into his fists, pushing away from the table and standing up. "I'm gonna…I'm gonna go find Chuck, alright? All this waiting around's giving me a headache." Dean opened his mouth to reply, brow furrowed, when they were interrupted by two loud, high-pitched voices.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're gonna quote the 'profound bond' line to me again? God, your ship is weak and you know it! And if I hear you say one more thing about how end-verse is endgame, I'm never talking to you again!"

"Oh really, Tammy? You know what, good! Your shitty little incest ship is making me nauseous, anyway! 'More than just brothers', my ass!"

"Okay, that's it! Let's go, bitch!"

Sam and Dean stared, mouths agape, as the two girls within spitting distance of their table started clawing and slapping at one another, emitting tiny, cut-off screams. Sam was dimly aware, through his amazement, that Dean had gotten up and was pushing past him to reach the girls, but he seemed to be rooted to the spot. Dean got in between the girls, dodging slaps and poorly-timed kicks, and held them back from one another with a firm hand on each's shoulder. "Hey, hey, break it up, ladies." The girls reluctantly stopped windmilling their arms and Dean released them, watching them carefully as they glared at each other, panting with exertion.

One of them turned to Dean and looked him over. "Who the hell are you? Nobody asked you to intervene. I'm just trying to get it through Tammy's thick skull that brother-fucking is not, nor will it ever be, canon." Sam's eyebrows flew up at the phrase, as did Dean's. The other girl, Tammy, started jostling at Dean's shoulder again, trying to shove him out of the way. "Jesus Christ, Andrea! Because destiel is sooo canon, right? I've told you fifteen fucking times: leave the word 'canon' out of our discussions!"

Andrea prodded sharply at Dean's back, her lips forming a tight line. "Move it, you lummox! My friend and I are trying to have a civil conversation, here!" Dean stayed put, calmly enduring their pokes and prods. "Nah. I think I'll stay right here until you decide you aren't going to murder each other. Hey, maybe my brother and I can help work this out, whatever it is." Dean looked back at Sam and with a small jerk of his head, Sam walked over to them, feeling kind of self-conscious as the girls craned their necks up to stare at him.

Dean relaxed his stance, now that the girls seemed too distracted to take up arms, and said, "So. What's this about ships and cannons?" Tammy gave a long-suffering sigh and crossed her arms. "It's nothing. You wouldn't understand." Andrea nodded emphatically at this, chiming in, "It's a delicate matter, involving delicate sensibilities." Dean bit back a laugh and said, "In that case, you've got the perfect man for the job right here!" He clapped Sam on the back to illustrate his point. "Sammy here, he's got real delicate sensibilities." Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean, to which his brother smiled encouragingly.

Sam was just about to break the ice, maybe rattle off some lame quote about the beauty of forgiveness, when Andrea blurted out, "Wait. 'Sammy'? And you said you were brothers…woah, you guys are the best LARPers I've seen here". Tammy's eyes flitted from Dean's amulet to Sam's hair, and she added, voice colored with unmistakeable admiration, "Oh, you're right! They're the spitting image of Sam and Dean!"

Sam grimaced, and saw with consternation that Dean had mirrored his reaction. "You girls fans of the Supernatural books?" Tammy nodded, saying, "Yeah, long-time fans, just like you! Except for, um. You guys probably aren't into shipping, huh?" Reminded of what had had them fighting earlier, both Tammy and Andrea stiffened visibly.

"What's that?" Sam spoke up, genuinely curious now as to what fictional construct could have these girls at each other's throats like this. Andrea cleared her throat, cheeks going a little red, and hazarded, "Well, it's. It's, like, Tammy ships Sam and Dean, which means she likes to view them as being…sexually involved," Andrea glanced from Sam to Dean, taking in their incredulous expressions, before continuing, "And, uh, I ship Dean and Cas, which—" "Okay, yes, we get the picture," Sam interrupted her with a shake of his head. Andrea hunched her shoulders, and Sam felt absurdly guilty. He didn't have time to dwell on it, though, because Dean suddenly asked, "In your Sam-n'-Dean incest fantasies, who tops?"

Sam swiveled to glare at him, face burning. "Dean!"

"What? I'm asking for research purposes, little brother."

Sam looked away from Dean's shit-eating grin and noticed that the girls had silently observed this exchange with something akin to awe on their faces. "You two are so good at this. It's like you're walking, talking fic muses," Tammy said. At this, Andrea scoffed. "Don't get too excited, Tammy. They're non-shippers, remember? They're not interested in your weecest headcanons. Go talk someone else's ear off about how much Sam likes to take it up the ass."

Dean started laughing; full-bodied, brazen laughter, as Sam choked and blushed and tried to come up with some sort of a coherent denial. Tammy and Andrea ignored them, plunging back into a heated dispute that had them both raising their voices and flailing their hands all over the place. After a minute of Dean guffawing like a loon and Sam staring blankly into the middle distance, Dean gathered his composure and broke the girls up for the second time that day. They kept their arms clenched at their sides and their faces pointed at the ground, waiting. Dean took a deep breath and said, "Here's the thing, ladies. It is ideas, and not battles, that mark the forward progress of mankind." Dean paused dramatically, head tilted to the ceiling. Sam started, "Did you just paraphrase—"

"Shhh! I'm tryin' to make a speech here. Anyway. What's important for you two to remember is that your friendship trumps the sexual preferences of some character cooked up by a lonely hack. I know how hard it is to let go of pride, believe me, I know, but you gotta do it anyway. You need to shove aside your differences, no matter how huge they seem to you right now, and accept that you want different things, and that's okay."

With that, he gave them each an anticlimactic pat on the shoulder, and stepped out from between them. "Off you go. Toward wider horizons, and merrier, friendlier times!"

Sam's lips twitched. "That was very moving, Dean."

"I know. You're aching to cry into my bosom right now, I can sense it."

"Jackass."

Sam followed Dean away from the girls and back through the milling crowd, on the lookout for Chuck. Even as they ribbed at each other, all casual touches and tasteless jokes, more at ease together than they'd been in way too long, Sam couldn't help but think that Dean's cheesy little speech had been deliberately worded. He suppressed a smile, allowing himself to hope, if only for a while.

Back where the brothers had left them, Andrea and Tammy watched "Sam" and "Dean" walk away, feeling a bit chastised and a lot confused. The girls blinked owlishly at each other, until Andrea broke the silence by asking, "Think those guys were on-again, off-again boyfriends?" Tammy pursed her lips, considering. "They definitely gave off some strong vibes."

"More importantly, we just got lectured about respectful shipping by Sam and Dean Winchester. This's totally going on my blog."

Tammy laughed and slung an arm around her friend's shoulders. "Know what? Maybe I'll go home and write you that destiel gift fic I've never gotten around to."

"Awesome!"

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