Dean had been pleasantly anticipating the visit from Castiel's brother, one of the few Novak family members he'd yet to meet. Of course, it was always a crapshoot as to what Cas's brothers would be like; his introduction to Michael had been weirdly formal at first but had turned slowly cordial over the expensive brandy Michael poured generously. (If he had tried to get a little handsy with Dean later in the evening, well, who hadn't had a bit too much to drink on occasion? Dean was forgiving, even if Cas had been irate.) Meeting Lucifer had been an exercise in Dean's ability to control his temper; he'd made such snide remarks all evening, always just subtle enough that nobody could call him out without looking like the bad guy. And when he met Gabriel...well, Dean had never quite experienced that combination of shock, mortification, and hilarity at once. Gabe was all right, Dean decided, in very, very small doses.

But Jimmy was going to be different. He was Cas's twin. The idea of mirror-image blue eyes, scruffy jawlines, and serious expressions hiding devilish wits and wonderfully wicked ideas...Dean had devoted a lot of energy firmly stomping inappropriate, unrealistic thoughts that grew from there. He was thrilled beyond belief to have Cas in his life, as his boyfriend, and he was not about to screw that up by accidentally letting the fantasy spiral out of control.

Anyway, it looked like their pleasant meeting was going to go in an entirely different direction.

"Cas, babe, you okay?" Dean ran a soothing hand over his bicep, wondering exactly what was going on. Cas's face was contorting strangely, as though he was straining to contain rage. Some weird family history trigger he'd accidentally tripped? He looked across the living room at Jimmy, helplessly searching for assistance. Jimmy shrugged from his spot on the couch.

"It's fine, brother," Jimmy said. "I mean, I didn't know, maybe you've gone health nut or something. If you don't have any pop, I can take something else."

"It's...not..." Cas was breathing slowly, but his eye was actually twitching. Dean wondered whether backing away slowly was a good or a terrible idea. He wondered whether it would make things worse or better if he himself grabbed Jimmy the requested Coke Dean knew was in the fridge.

"You had a pop when you came to visit me last month, though."

Cas reacted as though his last thread of control snapped. He stalked across the room to Jimmy, putting his hands on the back of the couch bracketing his head and crowding into his space. "Stop saying that," he hissed.

Jimmy was a picture of wide-eyed confusion. "What, 'pop'?" he said. Cas actually growled in response, and Jimmy looked even more alarmed.

"When you moved away, it was bad enough missing you," Cas said, nearly nose-to-nose with his twin and glaring at him unblinking. "You were in a different time zone, spending time with different people, even wearing different clothes..." He lifted one hand to (menacingly?) trace the collar of Jimmy's vintage teeshirt. (Not seductive at all, Dean firmly told himself.) "But this...this is something I can't tolerate. Not in my house, not in my brother."

"Cas?"

"It's 'soda.' Not 'pop'!"

Dean almost barked a laugh at that. Really? That was the issue? Jimmy wiggled uncomfortably a bit, trying fruitlessly to escape Cas's glare. He twisted his head, looking for assistance.

"Dean, dude. A little help?" Dean shrugged, uncertain about what he could do. Jimmy's voice turned desperate. "Back me up, here? It doesn't matter what it's called! Not that big a deal, right?"

When Cas turned his head ever-so-slightly to the side and fixed his stare on Dean, waiting, Dean knew two things. First, he was definitely going to permanently excise the word "pop" from his own vocabulary, immediately. Second, if he ever wanted to lay a hand on Cas's cock again, there was only one right answer to Jimmy's question.

"Nah, man, it's definitely soda."

Jimmy's look of betrayal lasted only a second before Cas had his hand gripping his twin's jaw and firmly pulling his face to meet his own again. "If you won't stop saying that word," he said slowly, "I will have to find more creative ways of making you shut up." He tilted his head, and while Dean couldn't see Cas's face from where he stood, he could definitely hear the slight change in tone when Cas added, "Do you understand?"

And he definitely saw a flash of something...else...in Jimmy's eyes, just before he slowly replied, "Yes, sir."

What.

And when Cas turned to Dean, the wicked ideas were definitely no longer in hiding. "Dean, my brother needs to be punished. Would you like to...help?"

Oh. Yes. Yes, he would.

But of course, long weeks of shoving down all those daydreams meant that he hadn't really allowed himself to get to the details and logistics of it all, so it followed naturally that Cas needed to provide guidance, and instruction, and...Dean couldn't really object to any of that, not when it meant that Jimmy was finally silent on all matters of beverage terminology, moaning instead around Dean's cock while Cas used his hand to methodically turn Jimmy's ass the same shade as a glass of cherry soda.

(Not pop.)

BONUS SCENE:

Cas was in the kitchen, getting some bottles of water for the three of them, when Jimmy nestled contentedly into Dean's shoulder and whispered, "You know, of course, that I only call it 'pop' for him. That shit is definitely soda. Only you weird Midwestern people call it 'pop.'"

Dean stared. "Then...why...?"

"Because he's so damn hot when he's pissed. Am I right?" Dean couldn't disagree. Jimmy nodded and closed his eyes, grinning.

"Gonna be even more fun tomorrow, when I ask to borrow a pair of his 'gymshoes.'"