"Dear Supernatural fans," Sam dictated.
Chuck transcribed the words on his laptop, looking supremely uncomfortable. Being in such close quarters with the Winchesters always made him a little nervous, and it didn't help that they kept threatening him with physical violence if he didn't do as they asked. Granted, he probably wouldn't do it otherwise, but still. He didn't think it was exactly fair. Wasn't the pen supposed to be mightier than the sword?
"While I appreciate your enthusiasm and dedication," Sam continued, "I have an important message for all of the writers of Supernatural fan fiction."
"Just tell 'em to stop being so damn creepy!" Dean interrupted. "This ain't exactly rocket science, Sammy!"
"Can I just say that strongly oppose that?" Chuck asked meekly.
Sam sighed. "Look, Dean, it's got to sound like it's coming from Chuck. And we don't want to offend anybody."
"Why the hell not?" Dean demanded. "They're writing stories about us doing each other. I say we get as offensive as possible. Anything to get them to just – stop. "
"Let's just try diplomacy for once, instead of your patented technique of 'shoot first, regret later,'" Sam retorted. "Now, where were we?"
"An important message for the fan fiction writers," Chuck supplied.
"Right. Okay. Here goes." Sam leaned forward in his chair, watching Chuck's screen to make sure he typed verbatim. "I ask you to kindly refrain from writing 'slash fiction.' I write my characters to be as realistic as possible, and I think that you'll agree, in real life Sam and Dean would be in no way attracted to each other."
Dean decided to put in his own two cents. "Yeah, and there are two big reasons why. Number one, Dean and Sam are two straight guys." He smirked at Sam. "Well, at least Dean is."
Sam rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. Typical Dean; he couldn't resist making a crack at him.
"And this has been demonstrated time and time again," Dean continued, this time with a private smile of nostalgia. Oh yes, time and time again. "But even if they were playing for the other team, there's reason number two: they're BROTHERS!"
Sam took over the dictation again. "Consider your own brother, if you have one," he suggested. "If you have a sister, that works too. Think of every disgusting thing you've ever witnessed them do, and every time they've teased or mocked or belittled you. Now ask yourself, if they weren't related to you, would you be interested in them?"
"Hell no, you wouldn't," Dean rejoined. "Now, imagine that someone offered you a hundred dollars to make out with your sibling of the same sex. You wouldn't do it. You probably wouldn't do it even if they offered you a million bucks."
"Exactly," Sam agreed. "Even if Dean and I – I mean, even if Dean and Sam were told that their lives depended on it, they would never, ever do anything like that."
"Just so you know," Dean said to Sam in a low, serious voice, "if it ever comes down to your life or me kissing you, I can't guarantee I won't let you die."
"Same to you," Sam muttered.
"No, seriously though," Dean emphasized, "like, if some demon comes to town and possesses you and it can only be exorcised by mouth to mouth, you're toast."
"Dude!" Sam exclaimed. "I get it!"
"Are we almost done here?" Chuck asked timidly.
Sam sighed. "Just end it by saying something like, if you truly respect the original source and it author –"
"And us," Dean grumbled.
" – then you'll honor this request. Sincerely, Carver Edlund."
Chuck finished typing up the last few words, mentally breathing a sigh of relief.
"You really think this'll work?" Dean asked Sam skeptically.
No, Chuck silently answered. In fact, they'll probably write more now, just to spite me. And of course, the Winchesters will find some way to blame me for it.
"All we can do is wait and see," Sam replied.
Dean chuckled. "I'll bet you fifty dollars, Sammy, that in the majority of those stories you're the catcher."
"That's disgusting!" Sam protested. "And no I'm not!"
"Oh come on," Dean needled him. "You're always talking about your feelings, and growing out your hair, and God knows you listen to the girliest music on the face of the earth –"
"Oh yeah?" Sam countered. "That's exactly why I'd be pitcher. Because all those slash writers think you're just a little too butch to be true." He took out his wallet. "We talking simple majority here?"
And they left Chuck, arguing about the size of the sample needed to be representative of all the slash fiction. Chuck just moaned and laid his head on his keyboard. He hoped the letter wouldn't tick off any of his supporters; he couldn't afford to lose any of the small fanbase he had. The Winchesters would be the death of him, he was certain.
Once they were in the Impala, though, Sam got a little more serious. "Dean. Honestly though. Are you saying you wouldn't even give me CPR?"
Dean started up the car. "Why, Sammy, you planning something? Cuz if you kill yourself and expect me to come along and resuscitate your ass, think again."
"It's just…" Sam fidgeted with his seat belt. "I gave you CPR once."
Dean turned to him, wide-eyed with disbelief. "Uh, come again?"
"That time you got electrocuted really badly, and later we found that fake faith healer to cure you," Sam explained. "Well, when you were electrocuted, your heart stopped. I had to perform CPR and… I gave you mouth to mouth," he mumbled.
Dean simply stared out the windshield, dumbstruck. "Huh."
"But it saved your life," Sam hastily added.
Dean seemed to regain his senses and looked back at Sam, who was hunched in his seat uncertain and embarrassed, and he understood what he was really asking. "Look Sam," he said, "this never leaves this car."
Sam silently nodded, realizing that Dean was about to have a very un-Dean moment.
"If it ever comes down to it, life or death scenario, there is nothing I wouldn't do to save your life." His voice was quiet, but hard, and his green eyes bored straight into Sam's. "Hell, I already died for you once. And yeah, I'd give you CPR. I wouldn't like it, but I'd do it. I'm not stupid enough to let squeamishness get in the way of what needs to be done. And I'm glad you aren't, either. I get a little defensive because this fan-fiction stuff creeps me the hell out. But you don't need to worry." He smiled then, a small smile of reassurance. "I got your back, little brother."
"Thanks." Sam smiled, and a moment of understanding passed between them.
"Alright, now if our after-school special is over…" Dean revved up the Impala and put it into drive. "Let's get a move on."