Author's Notes:

This is actually the first part of a longer scene but I wanted to post it now in honour of Jared's birthday. The second part will follow soon.

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Sam walked all the way up and down N. Broadway without finding anyone who recognized the pictures, or who had noticed anything weird going on in town recently (not their kind of weird, anyway). He was ticked with Dean for taking longer than he'd expected him to on his end of the street and, in retrospect, he was sorry about that. Maybe in a different life, in a better world, Sam would have considered some explanation for Dean's lateness other than that he'd been ambushed by demons at E. 14th. He should have noticed odd details like Dean keeping his jacket fastened in the car, and some vaguely furtive behavior when he hung back to get a coke from the machine while Sam let himself into their room. It must have registered on some level, but Sam had more important things on his mind at the time.

And if Dean seemed more than usually restless and antsy that evening Sam put it down to frustration at the lack of new intel. After they'd finished scouring the local newspapers and turned up nothing of note even Dean was almost ready to concede that staying in the town was, at best, a waste of time. When Sam started actively seeking a new hunt, Dean didn't argue, even grudgingly agreed they should move on if Sam found a case that needed working, at least once Sam had assured him he'd continue to search for anything that connected Colt and the towns where Gemma had left her breadcrumb trail.

Sam only grew suspicious the next morning when he came back from the coffee run and Dean had already showered and dressed. It struck him that Dean seemed . . . keen . . . for Sam to drink the coffee and have his own shower. A careful inspection of the shampoo bottle, deodorant and toothpaste revealed nothing untoward but Sam remained alert while he took his shower, and positively wary when he came out of the bathroom drying his hair and discovered the room was dark. As he let the towel drop to his shoulders he realized that all the blinds were closed and the lights were off. The only illumination in the room was coming from the table where a small ring of candles was arranged around . . . a cupcake. And since he wasn't aware of any summoning rituals involving cupcakes he finally started to suspect this had something to do with his birthday.

"Surprise!" Dean's sing-song voice called from beside the table.

"Dean . . . what is this?" Sam asked, not really knowing what to say.

"Yeah, sorry," Dean said. "The cake was a bit of an afterthought and it was too late to get proper birthday candles. But it's the thought that counts, right?" He grinned brightly, a little uncertainly, and then he pulled out his cell phone. "Anyway, make a wish and blow them out and I'll give you your present."

"Present?" Sam felt stunned, and a little confused. Was Dean serious?

"Well, go ahead!" Dean prompted, holding up his cell.

Sam took a hesitant step toward the table. There was an inordinate pause while he tried to think what on earth he was supposed to wish for, but eventually he leaned toward the candles and took a deep breath.

"Hold it!" said Dean, and Sam was held in suspension for a moment until the phone camera flashed, and then he let out his breath and extinguished the candles. Dean cheered, stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled, and then he clutched the towel, drew Sam forward and planted a quick, soft kiss on his mouth. "Happy birthday," he murmured. Sam felt the warm breath of the utterance caress his lips, and then something being pushed into his hand. He took it in his slightly numb fingers, tightening his grip to make sure he didn't drop it. It was an envelope.

"Oh, wait!" Dean said, turning to open the blinds.

Sam winced slightly at the sudden intrusion of the light. He was feeling a little exposed and strange. He focused on the front of the envelope, which was inscribed with the message "Happy Birthday, Sam!"

"Well, are you gonna open it?"

Sam's fingers actually trembled a little as he lifted the flap out of the pocket and drew a large yellow card from the envelope. On the front there was a picture of a smiling kitten. (Well, it looked like it was smiling.) Beneath the picture was an announcement: "Mr. Snugglewhiskers wants to sing a birthday song for you!" Sam frowned, perplexed, and opened the card warily. Not warily enough, as it turned out, since he was completely unprepared when it rattled and shrieked at him. After he'd quelled his immediate impulse to reach for his gun and shoot something he absorbed the fact that the kitten was now standing next to a huge amp and speakers, and holding a pop-out cardboard guitar. This was the source of the noise and vibration, and Sam realized it was playing the "happy birthday" tune accompanied by the sound of a cat wailing. Over the kitten's head another message explained: "Did I forget to mention that Mr. Snugglewhiskers is a huge metal-head?"*

Sam laughed; immensely relieved to have something in this bizarre situation he knew how to respond to. He rolled his eyes. "Mr. Snugglewhiskers, Dean? Really?"

"Hey, Mr Snugglewhiskers is a cool cat," Dean insisted.

"What's this?" Sam asked, pointing to a small hand drawn picture at the bottom of the card. It looked like a radio mast with an X on top. "The RKO tower?" he suggested, thinking that was a reasonable guess, knowing Dean, but he couldn't see the relevance.

"It's the Eiffel Tower, doofus!" Dean explained and waited, obviously expecting the information to illuminate the inscription. When Sam remained baffled he added "it's a French kiss." Now Dean rolled his eyes, and huffed. He was clearly disappointed that his ingenuity hadn't been recognized and appreciated.

"Oh, I see!" Sam assured him elaborately. Grinning, he took a step toward Dean but he was halted by a restraining hand on his chest.

"Hold it, we're not done yet," Dean told him. He reached under the table and from one of the seats he produced the laptop and handed it to Sam. Now it was visible that there was a sheet of the motel stationery taped to the top, and hand-printed on the paper there was a statement:

"CERTIFICATE OF ENTITLEMENT"

By authority of the party of the first part, heretofore ipso facto ad infinitum gloria in excelsis and vice versa, the property of the party of the first part, hereinafter referred to as "the laptop", shall be deemed to be the property of the party of the second part, hereinafter referred to as "Research Nerd". "Research Nerd" shall be deemed to have full custody, care and control of "the laptop" at all times and without reference to or permission from the party of the first part, hereinafter referred to as "Oh great, wise and most ineffably cool and sexy one, how may I best arrange myself for your pleasure?" Said custody is given fully, completely and unconditionally with the proviso that "the laptop" shall be available to "Oh great and wise one et al.," at all times and for any and all purposes unspecified, without bitching from "Research Nerd", or, being understood that all such bitching from "Research Nerd" will be completely ignored.

Signed:

Dean Winchester

(Oh great and wise one et al.)

On this day, May 2nd, in the year of Our Lord (or somebody's Lord, possibly, referenced without prejudice) and witnessed by the spider in the web on the ceiling in the corner nearest the desk (and that had better be gone before we go to bed tonight).

Sam went over the statement three times with his frown deepening on each successive read. Eventually he looked up. "So . . . you're saying I don't need to ask permission to use the laptop any more?"

Dean winked and clicked his teeth by way of confirmation.

"Good to know your law studies weren't completely wasted," Sam observed wryly, taking another step toward Dean, but he met the hand again.

"And, of course, you get to hang on to the laptop when we're not using it, and lug it around in your bag."

"And is that a good thing?" Sam queried.

"It is for me," Dean insisted, smirking, and Sam wasn't sure if Dean had just given a gift or off-loaded a responsibility.

"Are we done now?" Sam asked.

"Not quite." Dean reached under the table again and produced a large paper bag. He seemed, suddenly, uncharacteristically shy and unsure of himself. "Um . . . I got you this," he said, grinning awkwardly as he handed the bag to Sam. "Sorry, I'm not much for wrapping things but only girls do that, right?" He raised his gaze from the bag and studied Sam's face through the ends of his eyelashes, gauging his response.

Sam turned his attention to the parcel. He unpeeled the sticky tape that was holding the corners down, slid his hand inside the bag and slipped out the contents, which turned out to be a sketch pad – a proper artist's sketch pad – and a couple of boxes of watercolor pencils, one specializing in landscape colors, the other for portraits. He stared at the gift with a mixture of confusion and wonder. In his life he couldn't recall ever having been given anything so completely . . . un-functional. He glanced at Dean and could tell from the slightly anxious expression on the other man's face and a tinge of pink in his cheeks that this wasn't a joke. He knew he ought to say something but he had no idea what. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but before he found out what was going to come out of it a strange, aching bubble of emotion welled up from his chest and lodged in his throat and he shut his mouth again quickly, unable to trust himself to say anything at all.

Dean cleared his throat and rubbed his neck. "I thought maybe later we could call a time-out from all our usual shit, pick up a drive-thru and head into those hills just out of town and –" Dean stumbled to an abrupt halt as if he was suddenly alarmed by what he could hear himself saying. He straightened up and pinned the defensive cocky grin on his face. "Or whatever," he continued. "And then maybe I'll let you unwrap your other present," he added with a wink.

"Other present?" Sam croaked, a little slow on the uptake, and Dean added an explanatory quirk of the eyebrow, holding out his hands in an expansive gesture. "Oh, right." Sam grinned, relieved to be back in familiar territory. "Must you cheapen the moment?" he joked, shakily.

"Yeah!" Dean insisted, also grinning.

Sam gazed down at the pad and pencils in his hand. He guessed he was going to have to take up drawing as a hobby now. It would look ungrateful if he didn't. And he couldn't help reflecting that Dean's birthday had gone by without either one of them acknowledging it. Not that he imagined Dean would have been in the mood for celebrating back then, so soon after his mother's death, but it hadn't even occurred to Sam to make anything of it. "Dean . . . why are you doing all this?" he asked, at the risk of making things even more awkward.

Dean's eyes widened for a moment then he responded with one of his dismissive raspberries. "It's your birthday, genius. You've never had a birthday present before?"

Sam shook his head slightly. "We didn't go in for celebrating that sort of occasion much in my family, especially not mine – " Crap. The last part was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and Dean jumped on it immediately.

"What do you mean 'especially' not yours?" he demanded in a tone that sounded almost offended. "Why not?"

Sam hesitated. "It's . . . It was all kind of wrapped up with my mother's death. I was exactly six months old that night."

Dean stared at him. "Well, that's . . ." he searched for the words to express his indignation. "That sucks ass, Sam! It wasn't your fault! Why did you have to suffer?"

Sam laughed gently. "I didn't suffer, Dean. I told you: birthdays weren't that big of a deal to us."

Dean remained stock still, sporting a poker faced expression, for a couple of seconds then he paced up and down once or twice before stopping again and holding up a finger. Next he picked up his duffel and started hunting through it. When he pulled out the leads for his guitar Sam started to get a little nervous.

"What are you doing, Dean? It isn't going to be noisy is it?"

Dean gave him 'I'm shocked! Would I?' face and Sam responded with pointed 'you'd better not!' face.

Dean grinned reassuringly. Picking up his guitar he plugged in the lead and moved over to the table. "Mind if I borrow the laptop, Sam?" he asked, as he prepared to connect the other end of the lead.

"W- what?" Sam stammered. "Are you kidding, Dean? You do not need my permission to – "

"Good," Dean interrupted, grinning, and Sam watched, half curious, half anxious, as he opened and booted up the computer. "Take a seat, Sam," Dean insisted as he opened applications. Sam sank down on the edge of the bed and presently a vaguely familiar rhythm issued from the laptop speakers. It began to take to take on form when Dean recorded chords to accompany the rhythm then set them on a repeating loop, and when he started playing a rock guitar version of the backing music over his own recording Sam recognized the song. He found himself smiling and ducking his head shyly as Dean appropriated the lyrics that had been written for another man, and started singing them just for Sam:

"You know it doesn't make much sense.
There ought to be a law against
Anyone who takes offense
At a day in your celebration,
'Cause we all know in our minds
That there ought to be a time
That we can set aside
To show just how much - ah .. huhrrm..b..bloo.

And I'm sure you would agree
It couldn't fit more perfectly
Than to have a big party on the day you came to be.

"Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday

"Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday."

The rhythm continued as Dean put down the guitar and moved over to Sam still crooning "happy birthday . . . Happy birthday. Happy birthday to you . . ."

"I'm not sure Stevie Wonder would approve," Sam observed, earning himself an expression of pleased surprise from Dean. "Considering that song's supposed to be a tribute to – "

"Art's like that, Sam," Dean interrupted, and he took Sam's hand and lifted him to his feet. "It belongs to the world. Once it's out there, no one has any control over what's made of it. C'mere, Sam."

"What? No wait, Dean, I can't dance!" Sam objected as Dean slid the towel from his shoulders, threaded arms around his neck and started swaying in time to the music.

"Man up, Sam," Dean chuckled. "It's just rhythmic shuffling." His hand dropped to Sam's hip where he hooked a finger into a belt loop and tugged. Sam stumbled forward and found himself pressed flat against Dean's body. He discovered there were certain advantages to 'rhythmic shuffling' when he felt the warmth of Dean's groin seeping through the denim of his own jeans as Dean rocked and swayed against him. It was ridiculous how fast his body reacted to that friction. A hot flush washed over his body, and as his own erection blossomed he could feel Dean's rising to meet it.

Dean snuggled against Sam's neck and crooned "happy birthday to you" along to the music. Sam swallowed. He turned his head and murmured next to his friend's ear "Dean . . ."

"Mmmmmmmm?" Dean responded, and Sam caught his breath as Dean rocked his hips into Sam's pleasantly aching and throbbing flesh.

Sam's head swam and he took a moment to recover his senses, then he whispered "thank you."

There was another pause, a long one, before Dean cleared his throat and mumbled "'s what friends are for, Buddy." After another beat he turned his head and his lips found Sam's, and then there was nothing in Sam's world but the rhythm, the sway, the warmth in his arms, and tasting Dean in his mouth. Presently his head rocked back and he found himself staring into dark liquid eyes.

"So, do you want to unwrap your present now?" Dean asked quietly.

"I thought you said later," Sam reminded him, but Dean just smiled gently.

"I'm the gift that keeps giving, Sam," he explained. "You can unwrap me as often as you like."

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*A/N: This card actually exists (at least, in my neck of the woods :) Full details will be given in the closing credits after the final scene of this story has been posted, but if you google "mr snugglewhiskers" you'll find there are wonderful people who have recorded movies of the card and posted it on youtube! :)