Dean Winchester would like the universe to please stop assuming things about his sex life (and the orientation thereof).

Sam Winchester is his brother, not his lover.

Sam Winchester is not his lover as well as his brother.

The times they sleep in the same bed are only because a) it's cold, and the motel's heating is fucked and b) Sam is having nightmares.

(Dean does not have nightmares.)

Sam likes women. So does Dean. It is not Dean's problem if Sam likes men as well. It is doubly not Dean's problem if Sam likes Dean in a decidedly non-brotherly way.

(It is triply not Dean's problem if he likes Sam back.)

The Winchesters are also not disgustingly codependent. They are perfectly stable human beings who don't need no man.


Castiel appears at random to pass on vitally important information pertaining to various life-or-death situations the Winchesters may or may not find themselves in. He does not make booty calls, no matter what Gabriel says.

Gabriel is a lying whore and everything he says should be taken with an extremely large pile of salt. Preferably rock salt.

(That one time with the witches doesn't count. Dean was cursed. Curses don't count. Ever.)


The back seat of the Impala is not cleaned almost daily. It does not need cleaning almost daily. There is nothing happening in the back seat that would warrant cleaning almost daily.

(The feathers are from the birds that Sam keeps finding.)

Pnuemonia is a dangerous condition and steps should be taken to prevent it. Even if those steps involve sharing a bed. Naked.

Sam and Castiel are not getting pissed at Dean, because Dean is not the king of denial. Dean is not denying anything.

(Dean would be grateful to Chuck for leaving all of that out of the books, but there is nothing to leave out and if Chuck doesn't shut the hell up about it, Dean knows several people/things/wavelengths of celestial intent that would be delighted to have a prophet gift-wrapped and delivered unto their doorstep.)


Hmm. I don't like this one as much as the other one.