A/N: Apologies for all grammatical, cultural and geographical mistakes - frankly I don't care if that highway is nowhere near Flint, Michigan.
Please enjoy!
BM on Highway 200
Sam blinked against the last slanting rays of the setting sun and squinted sideways at his brother. "So what do you reckon it is? Our names are so short, it's really difficult. Sean? … Damn?"
"No! Just no! Can't you think about anything else?"
"Dude, how am I supposed to think about anything else when you've been humming that Sam and Dean duet for the last fifty miles?"
"I did no-" Dean shut his mouth, looking mildly horrified. Sam laughed. He was feeling more elated than he had in a long time, and if the extensive humming was anything to go by, so was Dean. Not that he'd admit it. "Shut up!"
Stifling his laughter, Sam turned to his phone instead. The signal was pretty bad, but within a minute he had what he was looking for. "Wincest," he announced triumphantly. "It's called Wincest."
The car swerved dangerously as Dean spun around in his seat to face Sam. "Dude, you did not just google what people call it when they think that we top off a good day of ganking ghosts with some horizontal monster mash!"
Sam gazed back at his brother with the most innocent expression in his broad acting repertoire. "It's more innovative than Destiel, don't you think? And they definitely know we're brothers," he added as an afterthought.
"Wow, that's just great," Dean said sarcastically. After a short pause, he began again with a frown, "I gotta ask, though, man, I mean you were the one who practically wet his pants with excitement when we entered that theater. And you've got a girl's hair. So first you, then Cas - Why am I always the gay one?"
"Maybe it's because of the intense green eyes you make every time we have a BM moment?" Sam teased him. "Really makes me want to hum You Must Love Me deep inside."
Dean's free hand slammed down on the steering wheel. "Don't ever! You have a terrible singing voice!"
"Or maybe it's the single man tear?"
"Shut your face!"
"I'm a bit disappointed that Sam and Cas didn't get a good BM moment too…"
Dean raised his eyebrows, then let them dance, accompanied by a flick of his right hand. "Dude, is this what this is all about? You still jealous? Far as I'm concerned, Cas is all yours and you can have all your geeky girly Sas-whatever-ness together."
"Lots of sass, yes."
"You wish. Bitch."
"Jerk." Sam grinned at his brother until the corners of his mouth started hurting. Possibly those were the muscles he'd used the least in the last two years, but he was determined to do long workout sessions with them now. He owed himself that much, hell he owed both of them.
It seemed almost surreal that they were sitting in this car, driving off into the sunset, bickering the way they'd used to when they were still two kids cooped up in the backseat, and that they'd worked a case together where no one had died, apart from the monster that desperately needed killing of course, where everything they'd done felt right and simple and true, and the only burning question remaining was why people thought Cas would choose to bone Dean rather than Sam.
Dean frowned thoughtfully and chewed on his lip. "Probably it's just because I'm the handsome one and everyone wants a piece of my damn fine ass."
Sam sniggered. "Dude, you heard the girls, right? They think you're an old man."
"So now I'm no longer hot or what?" Dean asked him, doing a very good impression of being affronted despite the fact that his high school theater career had been considerably shorter than Sam's – in fact, it was comprised entirely of watching Sam in Our Town and Oklahoma. Something which Sam remembered with great fondness. The other kids had had parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles who'd all pilgrimaged to their performances, but he'd had Dean at least, and Dean had made sure that both of them were there and not somewhere miles away hunting ghosts and ghouls with Dad, and that had been enough.
Sam tilted his head towards his brother, an indulgent smile plastered over his face. "You're hot enough for me, old man."
"Awww, Sammy, that was sweet. Be careful they don't pick you for a Romeo and Juliet production in the next town we pass – for the part of Juliet."
"That's the better role anyway," Sam returned drily. "And you can be my nurse."
"Whatever you say, Shakespeare." Dean beamed at him, his eyes crinkling with pleasure. Then they widened suddenly, and he whispered, a little warily, "This doesn't count as a BM scene, right?"
"No," Sam said quickly, holding up his hands palms first and rolling his eyes. "No of course not."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence. After a while, Dean started humming again, the fingers of his right hand tapping along in accompaniment on his thigh. Sam turned his attention back to his phone and soon found out that Sastiel was a more common term than Samstiel, and that lots of people also liked to speak of Sassy. Sam liked that too.
"Hey, do you know what people call it when they pair you up with Crowley?" he wondered out loud.
When Dean abruptly stopped humming but didn't say anything, Sam looked up from his phone, only to discover that his brother was staring straight ahead with a pinched expression, a little gray around the edges. It made Sam want to hit himself. They'd done a lot of joking about the time Dean was a demon, because that usually worked best for the both of them; but there'd been one or two moments when it didn't work for Sam because all of it was just too painful, and now it clearly wasn't working for Dean. Sam wasn't entirely sure why. He had a couple of suspicions, naturally, but he'd rather have bitten off his tongue than voice any of them.
"Man, I hope you're not still traumatized by how Crowley turned you into a woman and attacked you with tentacles?"
The words came out a little too fast and brittle and not nearly as funny as Sam had hoped, but Dean relaxed and laughed nonetheless, even if he sounded more grateful than amused. "They fucking castrated me, Sammy," he muttered, glancing back at Sam.
"But it was only for a couple of scenes. And you looked adorable."
"I really hope that sort of thing's not possible in our world."
"I hate to disappoint you, man," Sam grinned at him, feeling relieved, "but all our experiences seem to point into the direction that nothing's impossible."
"Shut up until you have good news for my dick!"
Sam smirked. "And you still wonder why people are so keen to pair you up with other guys?"
"Shotgun. Cakehole. Now," Dean said, touching his lips with two fingers. Sam obeyed.
A couple of miles passed in silence. The sun had sunk further, leaving just a thin, fiery red stripe of light beckoning to them where the road ahead melted away into the still void of the horizon. This time Dean didn't start humming again. Instead, he began to rummage in his pocket, his arm repeatedly bumping against Sam's, warm and sure. Eventually his fingers closed around whatever he'd been grappling for and he took it out – it was the amulet Marie had given him. He attached it to the rear view mirror. He looked at Sam and his eyes were soft and You Must Love Me didn't seem all too strange an association of a sudden.
Sam remembered Dean saying, shortly after he'd dropped the amulet, their amulet, into the trashcan, I don't believe… in you. It was the worst thing Dean ever said to him. Sam remembered desperately trying to keep believing enough for the two of them, to convince Dean that it really was the two of them against the world. And it was. Dean winked at him, called Sam a snot-nosed kid and let Sam beat him up, and it stopped the world from ending.
What the hell had happened then? No tentacles, no space, no gender transformations, but somehow they'd stopped being brothers all the same.
Sam gazed at the amulet, swinging softly in motion with the car, chanting You're my brother and I believe in you in a half-forgotten language, and he gave Dean's knee a quick squeeze. Things between them were good. Again. Finally.
And for once the world wasn't ending, so maybe that meant this time round they'd actually get to keep this.
The realization was quite enough to make him want to burst into song. He didn't, of course. Though he might have hummed, just a little.
"Bring it on, Madonna," Dean murmured, smirking at him.
"Shut up," said Sam and smiled.
And yeah, this was definitely a BM moment and they both knew it. The thought made him curiously happy.