Can This Be Justified?

o0kaymawn0o

Summary:

Dean and Sam are lawyers working for different companies. They meet at a trial, Matt Augustine against Kalu Pharmacy, where they go head to head, battling for the win. Dean wins, through means of his own, but sees potential for Sam as a lawyer and a friend. Things later develop as they hang out more, and Sam eventually joins Dean's law firm, where they exist as partners for tough cases. For one of them, however, things start to burn brighter than it should and feelings develop past the barrier of normal. How will they deal with these new blossoming feelings? Unrelated Wincest. Top!Dean! Bottom!Sam!

Notes:

If you don't like Top!Dean!, this story probably isn't for you... So, yeah, just putting that out there. For those of you who do, great! Just, if you like both, please don't ask me to switch it up. DS is my preference. :)

A Meeting of Two Lawyers:

"You ready for this, Dean?" Bobby singer questioned, stood outside the huge doors of the courtroom with his greatest employee, Dean Winchester. The man in question smirked smugly and straightened his tie with one hand, keeping hold of his briefcase in the other.

"Bobby, I was born ready," he accentuated the point with a confident push to the wooden doors, briskly walking down the aisle, checking out the audience that will witness his victory at the end of this trial, while making a few notes in his head to talk to some good looking vessels afterwards. Dean cast his eyes to the judge and winked. "Looking lovely as ever today, your honour." The judge gave him a stone cold look and pointed towards his chair, telling him that flattery would not help him win this case.

Curious to see who he would be up against, Dean glanced over at the defendants table and noticed a tall man with brown hair going over his notes, a black briefcase similar to his laid out on the table. Dean had to admit that the guy seemed like he meant business. That wasn't going to throw him off. Not now, and not ever.

Sorry, pal, prosecution is going to win this one hands down.

The man must have noticed he was staring at him, as he looked over and frowned, his puppy-dog eyes assessing the enthusiastic looking blond. Without an inkling what the guy was thinking, he drew his eyes back to his papers and got busy. Dean didn't like that he looked him over to easily, and had no look of apprehension afterwards. He must know who Dean Winchester is, right? Surely he does, as he's famous for how he acts in the courtroom. His methods are just a little out of the ordinary, one might say.

"I now call this court to order, for the trial of Matt Augustine against Kalu Pharmacy. Prosecutor, please make your opening statement."

"Thank you, your honour," Dean said as he rose from his seat, turning towards the jury. "As you might have heard, Kalu Pharmacy has been accused of false advertisement of their latest brand of skincare ointment, regularly used by pre-pubescent teens that refuse to just let nature run its course. I, for one, never had this problem. But, I'm here to prove that this gross act of negligence is not due to the pharmacy itself, but rather Mr. Augustine's blatant disregard for the warnings displayed clearly on the box." He winked at a nice lady near the back before retaking his seat and peering over at the defence attorney.

Clearing his throat, the Sasquatch did the same as Dean did and turned to the back. "Mr. Augustine is not in the wrong here. He is a brave man, in fact. How many teenagers, just young adults would actually get up and fight for themselves against a pharmacy that has caused countless problems for men and women their own age? Mr. Augustine isn't fighting for just himself. He's fighting for everyone that has ever picked up this particular brand, used it, and suffered for it. It's promised on the box to relieve the user of spots from up to ten days. After the ten day period was up, Mr. Augustine looked in the mirror and couldn't recognise the person he saw, all because of Kalu Pharmacy's reckless attention to side-effects on their advertising."

Not bad, Sasquatch. Not bad at all.

"Thank you. Prosecution, call your first witness."

"Yes, I'd like to call Jenny Williams to the stand, please," a petit brunette took the stand at the front, and went through the oath that dictates she will not tell a lie. Dean approached the bench and leaned over the top half. "Hi, Jenny. Just to start, have you used Kalu Pharmacy's brand before?"

"Yes."

"Fantastic. Did you suffer any of the side effects that the gentlemen at the front has?" Jenny stared at Matt Augustine and her lips quivered. Matt was not in a great state, as it was. He had inflammation through most of his face, and several areas were swollen.

"No, I didn't."

"Did you read all the warnings before you used it?"

"Yes, of course."

"So, would you say that Mr. Augustine was trying to cover up that he didn't, in fact, read the warnings-"

"Objection, your honour!" the defence raged, obviously displeased with that last remark.

"I withdraw the question." Dean sent a look in the man's direction as he claimed he had nothing further for now and resumed his seat. The judge motioned for defence to do their questioning, and the brunet started his rounds.

"Have you used any of Kalu Pharmacy's other brands, Miss Williams?" he asked politely, offering a small smile of reassurance that it was okay to answer.

Jenny flushed a little. "Yes, I have."

"Really? And how did that work out for you?"

"Objection! Relevance?" Dean bellowed.

The judge frowned in thought. "I'll allow it. Continue, Mr. Campbell."

Campbell? Why does that name sound so familiar?

Jenny bit the inside of her cheek. "Um, well, it was supposed to help with dry skin. I used it and it worked for a while. But then a few days later, I had this horrible pain in my foot. I thought it might have just been something I did in the day. Now, I'm not so sure." Dean didn't miss the minute smirk on the defence's face after that statement.

Don't get too cocky now, Campbell. This is far from over.

Recess was called ten minutes ago. Bobby and Dean were talking with their clients in a room that was provided for them. Dean seemed all over the place at the moment, so Bobby suggested he take a breather. Bobby was also concerned that newbie was psyching the guy out.

Dean took the advice and vacated the building to the smoking area. He needed to relax with a cigarette. That man was sort of getting to him, so to speak. He was clever and charming, much like Dean was himself. There was something about him people were attracted to. It might be his nice guy act. That explained it better than anything else.

"Oh, hey," the man murmured, coming in to view.

Dean shrugged. "What's up?"

The guy shook his head. "Nothing. Why are you out here?" He pressed.

"No reason. You?" The small talk started to piss him off, but Dean would put up with it for now.

"Needed some air. It's stuffy. Your name's Dean, right? Dean Winchester? Son of John and Helen?" Dean's face couldn't stop the look of surprise at the familiar information. How did this man know so much about him?

"Someone did their research. Sorry, I didn't have time in my busy life to stalk the opposing team." To Dean's surprise, the brunet snickered slightly, taking a step forward, a sign he felt more comfortable.

"My name's Sam, by the way. Sam Campbell. It's good to know your stuff when entering a courtroom. But I've known about you for a while. A few of my classmates kind of have it bad for you." Sam grinned cheekily, nestling his hands in his pockets.

Dean peered over his shoulder. "Have it bad for me? Like what? They're attracted to me?" This certainly was an interesting development.

"Oh, yeah. Ever since that time when you stopped a guy from attacking the judge singlehandedly, you've become a regular heartthrob around the university. But don't let it go to your head. The pretty girls are all too stubborn to admit they like you, so it's the average girls that declare their undying love for you to everyone."

"Why are you telling me this?" Dean frowned. He didn't like the thought that ugly chicks were thinking about him every night. To each their own and all that bull crap, but he had standards.

He checked his watch quickly and peered at the floor. "You jealous that even in your university, I'm getting all the attention, Sammy?" Something in Sam's eyes flared and his lips twisted into a weird expression.

"No one calls me Sammy."

Sam stumbled back, one hand on his forehead and the other on his hip. "Sorry, I have to get back inside. It was nice chatting to you, Dean." Just like that, the tall man burrowed in to the courthouse, without even a backwards glance at the dumbstruck blond.

Well, that was weird. Guess the guy can't take a joke. He's all right, though, if a bit misguided.

Dean finished his cigarette and crushed it into the gravel before re-entering the courthouse and locating his room. There was only five minutes left of recess and he had to come up with something fast, if his team hadn't already.

"Dean, thank fuck you're back. We've got nothing," Bobby said truthfully, looking at all the sour faces in the room. They really had nothing to go on. While Dean was having a smoke, they tried brainstorming. They even had someone go talk to the defence and see what their plan was. They were very careful, though, in anything they said.

"Dammit. Okay, we need to get the mother on the stand. See if she knows anything about Matt's activity throughout the day. There has to be something else causing these side effects. Go to the defence and find her number – Sam might know it." After submitting his orders, Dean fell into a chair and scanned through the pages, searching for a sure-fire way to bring this victory home.

Bobby sighed as he left the room, taking one last look at the boy that was like a second son to him, and ambled down the hallway to the defence room. He knocked on the door twice, and was greeted by Sam, who had shifty eyes the second he saw a member of the prosecution team.

"Can I help you?" Sam said politely, albeit bitingly.

"Take it easy, Son, just wanted to get the number of Matt's mother. We have a few questions for her, is all," Bobby relayed easily, eyeing the man in front of him wearily.

Sam glanced over his shoulder and then back. "Matt's mother isn't on the witness list. He didn't want her to get involved. I don't have her number."

Bobby went to speak, but Sam cut him off. "Listen, Mr. Singer, I don't have a lot of time left to speak to my client, so if you wouldn't mind?" He took the hint immediately, apologising for getting in the way as the door was closed in his face. While Bobby didn't appreciate being ignored, he could tell that Sam was one good lawyer, from the looks of things.

Feeling like a failure, Bobby reported back to Dean, who instantly became riled up by Sam's attitude. "That son of a bitch! He's got spunk. I'll give him that. This isn't going to stop me, though."

Dean snatched a piece of paper from the side of the table and surveyed it. "Get me a phone, Bobby. I have to make a quick call to Dad. I may have found something!" he grinned brilliantly, thinking of the defence attorney's face when he sees what he has in store for him.

How did this even happen?

Sam growled in frustration and threw his pen at the wall. It bounced off and bobbled on the carpet. He had been so sure that he could win this case. Then, out of nowhere, that blond asshole caught him off guard. He immediately fumbled, with no idea what to say to that and the case was over in an instant, it seemed.

He's never frozen before during a trial. Somehow, and he had no idea how, that jackass managed to get a video recording of Matt confessing to ignoring the warnings on the box. Apparently, Dean had someone on the inside, as it was submitted by a college student – a student that knew Matt. The poor bastard had confided in whoever the recorder was, and got stabbed in the back, all the same. All Matt wanted was pain and suffering money to afford an operation to fix his face. Sam really wanted to win for him.

The man sighed, dropping his head in his hands. He failed to notice the door opening behind him and a figure stepping in. He also failed to register a hand on his shoulder, until he was shaken out of his stupor.

"What's up with you?" Dean inquired, thoroughly confused.

Sam brushed his hand off his shoulder. "Nothing. I'm fine. Please leave?" His head steadied, and his shoulders loosened slightly, trying to appear confident and not crushed emotionally.

Dean frowned. "Don't let that you lost beat you up, kid. Really, you still did a good job," he murmured, embarrassed to admit he had been really struggling in the beginning to think of a way to get one over on this guy.

"I'm not a kid, Dean. Just drop it, though, okay? I don't want to talk about this. Especially not with you." Sam turned his head away from the nosey blond and sighed. A part of him appreciated the effort this stranger was making, but it wasn't necessary.

"Look, man, just come for a drink or something?" Dean pressed, taking a step towards the guy.

Sam's shoulders tensed once again and Dean backtracked. "One drink won't hurt you, Sam. I'll get the first round if you like? It was a little sneaky what I did – I mean I always have a backup when I'm about to lose…" He trailed off, feeling like he cheated somehow.

"I understand. In your position, if I had the means to do so, I probably would have done the same thing." It was odd how they were still talking, when just a few minutes ago, they were head to head in a battle to win for their client. Sam has never experienced something like this before. He's lost, on occasion, and he mentally beat himself up for it all the time. This, however, was different. Never before has the opposing team offered to buy him a drink.

Sam rolled his shoulders back and felt the tension leaving him. He was calmer all of a sudden. Maybe the fact Dean appeared so casual about all this soothed him in a way. "But, really, I'm not much of a drinker. You should go drink with your team. I have some stuff to sort through here before I head back anyway," he lied. There was nothing left for him to do. He actually wanted to down a few shots of whiskey. It didn't take much for him to get drunk, so he was a cheap night out.

Dean shook his head from side to side. "Nah, I don't believe that. Come on, Sam, just one? If you still feel uncomfortable afterwards, you can leave. No problem, 'kay?" Dean didn't quite understand why he was pushing this so hard. Somewhere, he felt as though Sam would be an interesting guy to hang out with. This could just be his curiosity getting the best of him.

Releasing a final exasperated breath, Sam relented. "Okay. Fine. One drink, Dean."

A grin broke out on his face before he could stop himself. "Fantastic. Let's go!" he ordered, walking briskly to the door.

Sam pressed his lips together in a tight smile. He wasn't even sure why he had accepted so easily. People have asked him out for drinks before, and he's turned them down every time. Usually, they don't resist when he says no, so that is the end of it. This guy, however, persisted and broke through him somehow.

This is weird.

"Ahh!" Dean slammed the glass down, feeling refreshed after that trial. Sam watched him order another drink from the bar. They got here about half an hour ago and Sam still hadn't finished his drink. Dean was on his third now. Usually, he drank a lot faster, however he was trying to slow down a bit, just in case Sam wanted another one after that was finished.

They had spoken some, learnt something about each other. They weren't much for talking to begin with. Neither of them were that willing to let information slip. Opening up wasn't the usual thing for guys anyway. Typically, men spoke about sports and what a pain in the ass their wives could be. As far as Dean knew, Sam didn't have a wife, and he certainly didn't. He enjoyed sports, but Sam appeared as though he wasn't the type.

"How long have you been a lawyer?" Dean asked abruptly.

Sam couldn't help feeling taken aback by the brash inquiry. He almost spilt his drink down his suit. "Um, for about three years now. You?"

"Six years," he answered curtly, handing a few dollars to the lady at the bar for the drink, accompanied by a meaningful wink. Sam witnessed the girl blush and hid a smile behind his glass.

"Seems like you're quite the ladies man," Sam observed, peering at the woman suggestively.

Dean smirked into his beer. "Sure am. The ladies love me. But don't worry, Sam, there's enough of me to go around!" he joked, puffing out his chest and displaying a seductive grin. Sam almost coughed up his drink, as he laughed at the face Dean pulled.

"If that's how you seduce people, I want nothing to do with it!" he was almost crying. It took a lot of concentration to even get those words out.

Dean played the defeated guy that gets turned down at the bar and scratched the back of his head. "Oh, Sam, I'm offended. All I want is for you to want me!" he muttered, his tone gravelly and laced with promise of a good time.

Sam went red in the face and almost doubled over his chair.

"Is he okay?" the lady at the bar questioned, wondering if the poor sap needed to be escorted out.

Dean turned to her with an impish grin. "He's okay. I'm just that hysterical that he's dying of laughter."

"Shut up!" Sam gritted out through a laugh, trying to steady himself.

"Admit it, Sam, I'm just that hot!" Dean winked saucily and stroked Sam's cheek, leading him into another fit of laughter.

Sam couldn't remember the last time he ever laughed this much. It was really nice. There was zero tension in him now. He felt great, poised, and best of all, relaxed, even though his chest was hurting from the amount he was heaving.

"Okay, can you stop now?" Sam almost begged.

He steadied himself on his chair and drank some more of his beer, a loud noise escaping him as he swallowed. "Maybe you're in the wrong profession, Dean. For a moment there, I thought you were serious!" Sam flushed, unable to help himself. It did feel real when Dean rubbed his cheek. Some part of him enjoyed it. Then again, human contact was something people craved, no matter what the sex.

"I take a lot of pride in what I do," Dean admitted, changing the atmosphere. "But it is fun to embarrass people, especially people like you who try to keep their guard up through it!" There was glee in his tone as he explained his reasoning. Dean liked to mess with people – plain and simple. Sam was now one of those people.

"Maybe I should feel privileged?"

"Maybe you should, yeah. I mean, let's face it, I am delightful."

Sam slapped his shoulder and allowed a small smile. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean replied immediately, grinning.

This was going to be a good friendship.

Notes:

So, um, yeah! This just a work in progress. I have no idea how far it will go; how many chapters there will be, and all that jazz. It's fun to write, though. I really enjoyed writing the banter between these two, and I hope it felt natural when you read it! :D