Dean shuffled into the living room where Sam was sitting in an armchair, reading a large leather-bound book. He was so engrossed that he didn't notice the appearance of his big brother – Dean had to cough awkwardly to get his attention.

"Hey, Sammy, can I, uh, talk to you for a second?" he asked. He sounded somewhat strained.

"Sure, what's up?" replied Sam, carefully closing his book and placing it on the table beside him. He gave Dean his full attention, which only served to make him more agitated. Sam watched as he perched on the arm of the chair opposite, fiddling with his beer bottle and avoiding his eye.

"A-Actually, never mind. It's nothing. Go back to whatever nerd stuff you were doing," Dean said, standing up again.

"I was- Y'know what? Ah, forget it," said Sam, a small smile pulling at his lips.

"Nerd," said Dean with a mocking snort of laughter.

"What do you want, Dean?" said Sam.

"Nah, don't worry, I changed my mind." said Dean, though he didn't look as though he was going anywhere.

"If you didn't want anything you wouldn't still be here, you'd be off watching your anime porn or something. Spit it out."

Dean hesitated, avoiding Sam's eye, then sat back down with a resigned sigh. He fidgeted a little more before he spoke.

"Fine. Okay. Uh. So you know… You know how I've always loved me some AC/DC, right? Classic rock, all day every day, you following?"

"I think I follow, yeah," said Sam sarcastically, a bemused smile on his face.

"Well, you know how every now and again, like if you've been driving, sometimes you leave the radio tuned to some weird station, okay? And then this, this pop song comes on and I'm driving along and I realise it's pretty catchy, and by the end I'm singing along and I realise I kinda like pop songs, you know?" Dean rambled. He avoided Sam's eye, looking down at his beer that he was distractedly peeling the label off of. "And it's not like I love the classic rock any less, I mean I'll jam to Def Leppard any day of the week, if you know what I mean, but this pop song gets stuck in my head and one day I find myself singing it in the shower, and-"

Sam laughed, interrupting him. Dean looked up, looking utterly lost now that his speech had been derailed.

"Dean, if this is a ridiculously over-laboured metaphor for how you sometimes like dudes, you can stop. Everyone knows. Charlie and I actually had a bet on how long it would take before you said something," Sam grinned.

"You… You what?" said Dean.

"Yeah, she owes me fifty bucks."

"Oh," replied Dean. "Oh right. Well, uh, good talk, Sammy. Good talk."

"You okay?" asked Sam, trying not to laugh again. He could tell that this was an important moment for his brother, but it was pure comedy to see him so out of his depth.

"Yeah. No. I dunno, I guess I just expected more of a reaction," said Dean, risking eye contact for a brief moment. "You're really okay with this?"

"If I wasn't fine with it I wouldn't have been cracking dick jokes at every opportunity for the last few years," said Sam, leaning forward and patting Dean on the knee in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"So, no yelling or, or cissy crap, or having to convince you I'm still me?" said Dean, apparently unable to process the situation having gone so awry from his plan.

"Did you want me to be upset?" asked Sam.

"Well, no. But I figured- I mean, Dad would have freaked!"

Sam's expression changed to one of masked anger and sympathy.

"It doesn't matter what Dad would have thought," he said firmly. "I know he did his best, but he was a bad role model and a piss-poor father. Ever since he died I've watched you get more and more comfortable with who you really are, instead of who he wanted you to be. I'm not gonna stop you being who you are, Dean. Brothers don't care who their brothers love, as long as they're happy."

Dean looked as if he would either burst into tears or laughter at any moment. He took a swig of his beer, as if that would settle his stomach.

"Woah, slow down there Sammy. Nobody said anything about love. I'm not in love," he said, with a brightness that seemed a little frayed around the edges.

"Did I say you were?" said Sam. His anger at his father had dissipated and he went back to trying not to laugh. He masked it with a scratch at his stubbly chin.

"I-I guess not," said Dean.

"Okay," said Sam.

"Not in love," said Dean.

"Not in love," repeated Sam, smirking.

"Okay then. Well, uh, thanks Sammy. I'm just gonna go… Go get dinner," said Dean, standing up again and turning to leave.

"Dean."

Before Dean had even fully turned back, Sam had enveloped his brother in a tight hug. They held it for a long moment, then released each other with the customary pats on the back. Dean smiled, then left without another word.

"Make that a hundred bucks," chuckled Sam, picking up his book once more.