AN: I just want to say a huge thanks to everyone who has read this, left comments, and shown any form of support. Letting other people read my work is both exciting and nerve-wracking, sharing something so intimate. So for everyone that's taken the time to show you appreciate it, I appreciate YOU. You all are awesome.

And thanks to Raine, my beta and BFF. I think I'm starting to bug her about this, I obsess over the story so much. But I couldn't do it with out her. Love ya!

And last but not least... Sam and Dean are mine. At least, in my head they are. But in RL? I have abbsolutely no ties to them what-so-ever. :'(

I kept my eyes on my plate as I finished my last few bites. I stood, took my empty plate and cup to the sink and rinsed them out. I walked to my room sat on my bed, and opened a book. I never once even looked at Sam.

Mostly, I didn't know what to say. Dean suggesting there was sexual tension between the two of us made me even more anxious around him. I was certainly tense. But I didn't think that was what Sam's issue was.

I read the same page three times before I finally gave up and tossed the book in the corner, a loud "thump" sounding against the wall I shared with Dean.

"Everything okay in here?"

I looked up from where my book had landed to see Dean, jeans and a white tee, right arm raised and leaning against my door frame.

"Peachy." I tried my best to smile without it looking too forced.

"So what's going on?" I couldn't bring myself to tell Dean I was moping because Sam was acting weird around me now. Instead, I just heaved a sigh and started picking at a loose thread on my duvet.

Dean watched me for a minute, his expression blank. I tried to avoid looking at him, feeling scrutinized and not knowing what conclusion he might be coming up with. After a while, though, I couldn't help but look up at him.

"What?"

Dean cracked a smile. After a beat, the smile turned in to a full blown laugh.

"What?" I had raised my voice the second time, loosing patience.

"You and Sam. Both of you are going bat shit crazy and neither are willing to do anything about it. You need to work that tension out."

"And you're saying you're well adjusted or something?" I couldn't hold back the scoff. I didn't know Dean well, I doubt anyone did, but I knew him well enough to know "well adjusted" did not describe him.

Dean smirked at me and looked to be considering the best answer. He cocked his head to the side and replied, "No. I'm just well fed. Now scoot here." I carefully looked Dean over, wondering what was up his sleeve. "Relax. I'm just going to rub your shoulders. I'm gonna make you ask me before I work out your tension elsewhere." I just rolled my eyes and crawled to the foot of my bed, my back to Dean. He worked on my neck and shoulders for a while in silence. I could feel myself melting, pudding in his hands.

"Besides. No matter how much I made you scream in the bedroom, it'd probably be Sammy's name on your lips. He's more for spooning after, anyways."

I went ridgid. I could feel heat rise to my cheeks and ears. Dean never took his hands off my shoulders, though, and felt when my posture had changed. He pushed my head back down and wiggled my shoulders, forcing me to relax a little.

"And trust me, I'd make you scream." My heart jumped a little at Dean's suggestion and when I felt him laughing behind me it made me self conscious. I looked over my shoulder to see what was so funny and saw Sam. He was standing to the left of Dean, well into my bedroom. There was no telling how long he'd been standing there; I hadn't heard him come in. It was probably safe to assume that he'd heard what Dean had just said, though.

Sam was clearly pissed about something, the way he was glaring at Dean made it hard to miss. Dean was unphased, however, continuing to knead at my back and shoulders while smirking at Sam. Watching Sam was making me uncomfortable so I turned my eyes down to my lap. I could feel Sam's eyes on me but I wouldn't allow myself to look up.

Dean clapped me on the shoulder, sighing, before dropping his hands. "I guess I'll give you two some privacy, then."

I waited until Dean was out of the room before I turned to Sam. Sam looked at me, then down at his feet.

"So. We have a little time before we have to leave if you still want some shooting lessons."

I didn't answer until he looked back up at me, and even then, all I would do was nod. I didn't want any of his foul mood directed at me.

Sam nodded and walked out without saying anything. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to follow him or not, so I waited a minute before trailing behind. When I caught up to him, he had the green duffel and was headed to the back door. He held it open for me then continued to the middle of the yard, still without speaking. I stopped a few feet from him, waiting for Sam to make the first move.

Sam back tracked a couple long strides, closing the space between us.

"We're just going to work on holding the gun, getting the feel of it. I don't want your neighbors calling the cops when they hear gun shots." Sam smiled a little, looking down, almost bashful. "So. Here's the shot gun..." He handed it to me, showing me how to hold it, where to look to aim, how to line it up. Sam told me just to hold it for a minute, get a feel for it, the weight of it. He tried explaining how it would kick if I shot it, that it would hurt. He told me to aim it and came up behind me. Sam put his hands lightly on my hips as he looked down the rifle to make sure I had it lined up properly. Then, he slowly ran his hands down my arms. I froze; I think I stopped breathing. Sam's voice was nearly a whisper when he placed his hands just in front of mine on the shotgun and told me to hold tight. He jerked the gun into my shoulder, simulating the kick from a gun shot. It hurt like hell. Had he not been standing behind me, I would have fallen on my ass and dropped the gun. Instead, I fell into him, Sam wrapping his arms around me to steady me in a knee-jerk reaction. As soon as I relaxed into his hold, though, Sam let go and took a step back.

"Sorry. I probably should have warned you." Sam was looking anywhere but at me. "Is your shoulder sore?"

Sam came a little closer and raised his hand to look at my shoulder, but dropped it at the last second. He looked at me finally, an unknown expression contorting his features. It was only there for a split second before his expression cleared and he was ready to hit me with the damn gun again.

"You did good, but let's try it again. You're going to need to be able to hold it with out it knocking you backwards." Sam stood by as I lifted the shot gun to my shoulder again, bracing myself.

Sam stood to the side of the gun this time, leaving plenty of room between us. When he saw that I had the gun up and leveled, he charged it into my shoulder again. Even when I was tensed and expecting it, the force knocked me back a foot or two. And I was positive a bruise was beginning to form. But at least I didn't fall.

"Is it really going to hurt that bad when I shoot this thing for real?"

Sam smiled apologetically. "Yeah. But you'll get used to it."

I looked at my shoulder and then at Sam. I sighed and raised the gun again. I tried to look him in the eyes but he kept looking at various places behind me. My shoulder hurt like a bitch, Sam was getting all stand-offish again, and I was feeling pissy.

So when Sam came up to me to check the alignment of the gun and made sure not to touch me again, I flipped. Rejection can do funny things to a person.

"Ready? Just one more time, and then I want you to handle the hand guns. Those aren't as bad." Sam was keeping a safe distance from me, standing only as close as he needed to to help me with the gun. When his arm accidentally brushed mine and he flinched, I'd had enough.

I tossed the gun at Sam, catching him off guard and nearly causing him to drop it.

"No. I'm done." And I turned around and stalked back toward the house. I was nearly at the back door before Sam bothered to say anything.

"Haley. Wait."

I didn't stop. I was in the house and already in the hallway, heading to my bedroom, when I heard Sam slam the back door. I stopped in my tracks and took a deep breath. Dean bumped my shoulder slightly as he tore past me down the hall, into the kitchen. I gritted my teeth and continue to my room, irritated at Sam's audacity. Slamming my door?

"Dude. What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean wasn't bothering to keep his voice down, clearly annoyed also. Sam must have been controlling his voice because I couldn't make out what he said. "Look. You need to get a handle on this hot and cold shit. And remember. I'm not afraid to touch her." I could hear Sam growl out a response but couldn't make it out.

I heaved a sigh and rolled my eyes as I took the last step into my bedroom and closed the door a little. I picked up the book I'd thrown in the corner and set it on my night stand, then sat in the edge of my bed and placed my head in my hands.

I heard a brief knock on my door before it was gently opened. I sighed and turned to see who it was.

"It's nearly dark. We'll need to leave soon, if you still want to come..." Sam's eyes were turned to the floor, but instead of avoidance, he looked uncomfortable.

"Um. Sure. I'll get ready."

Ok. There you have it. Are yo uready to be locked in a car with Sam now? I am! *sigh* Somewhere down there is a review button. Push it, please? Thanks!