Author's Notes: New chapter time, yayay! And I'm feeling productive, too, because I'm starting chapter thirteen sometime after I finish my papers for class on Tuesday. Things are starting to get more serious (although I realize that sounds weird, since they've been serious all along...oops), but you'll see what I mean when you read. This chapter is sort of an interlude--just a moment for Dean and Chris to enjoy, and for Wyatt and Sam to talk. So, there are some POV changes, as designated like always by the little asterisks and all that fun stuff. :D

Destatikai: HAHA! Yes! I love that I got that reaction. :P It was just some twisted thought my friend and I got when we were RPing. We thought, how can we completely embarrass Dean and Chris? And it just so happened that we found it! As for Wyatt and Sam, that does start to change, I promise. For Wyatt, it isn't so much a matter of Chris being gay as it is him being with Dean. Dean and Wyatt don't get along so well. *cough* And yes, Sam is! But he'll figure that out. ;)

Elfwarrior87: Yeah, props to my RP partner Zane for coming up with that little gem about the shotgun. He plays Dean and Wyatt, and it was just...a hilarious line. I nearly started crying while I laughed, thinking about it.

Blueeyesbetter: I'd die of embarrassment, too, if it happened to me! That was the fun, though. ;)

TyBass31: Thanks so much! The similarities were sort of what prompted the RP, along with the idea of wanting to play in the SPN world while it was on hiatus during the writer's strike. =/

Politics and Prose: Thanks so much! Here's the next chapter. :D

Enjoy everyone! Thanks for all the thoughtful reviews! Don't forget to leave another if you'd be so kind!!

The expression of discomfort on Wyatt's face was so prominent that Chris almost felt it. He furrowed his eyebrows, gladly taking no offense when his brother's gaze avoided his eyes. It made things easier. This kind of embarrassment was legendary, and mixed with the frustration he felt? It wasn't a good combination.

"Look, Chris," Wyatt began. "I know this is hard for you, but can you just…tell me, you know, before you go running off with him again? I don't want to have to go chasing you down every time you…get an itch, or whatever."

Chris sat down on his bed and kicked off his shoes, beginning to tug down his pants. "I'll tell you next time, Wyatt. But honestly, I wasn't expecting to see him. He—" But he paused. He didn't want to make it seem like Dean was completely to blame. Chris, too, was pretty guilty. Possibly more so for having instigated things to escalate to the level they did. "It wasn't planned, okay?"

Wyatt just nodded and rubbed a hand over his face, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his jeans, as well. He dropped them all at the foot of his bed. "Yeah, well…cat's out of the bag, now, and I'd rather you tell me you're going to see him than just letting me wonder. At least then I know where the heck you are."

"Okay," Chris offered, in an effort to placate Wyatt. He wasn't like some fugitive, and it wasn't as if his brother couldn't just find him when he needed to. But he would much prefer it didn't get to that level, so maybe telling him wouldn't be such a bad idea….

As he crawled into bed, he asked, "Do you really think it's…just the hex for him?"

That thought had been bothering him ever since Wyatt had said it, and although he knew that his brother's answer was going to be yes, he wanted to know why. Wyatt was good at explaining himself, generally, and Chris hoped he could do so without their conversation escalating. Chris reminded himself to keep calm. These were uncharted waters for them, making things difficult to gauge.

"I honestly don't know, Chris," Wyatt sighed, voice softening. He turned off the lamp beside his bed, the only light now coming from the pale moon outside. He crawled into bed. "I can't imagine it would be anything else." He paused, as if to once again gauge Chris's reaction. "I just don't want you getting hurt, man. He doesn't seem like the type that goes around having flings with dudes, does he?"

That was true, but Chris immediately came up with something to counteract it. To his surprise he managed to keep it in. He was glad he did, too, because after Wyatt nuzzled into his pillow, the two shared a look, and his brother continued talking.

"Maybe there is something…more. The only way we can know is by breaking the hex. I promise we'll get started on that as soon as we figure out how to break that damn contract." The blond huffed then, and laughed quietly. "Damn it, Chris. You couldn't have fallen for a like, nice…professor, or something, huh? It had to be some crazy ass hunter with a contract out on his soul?"

Despite himself, Chris laughed, too. He couldn't help it. As crazy as it sounded, it was true. Maybe that supposed curse for Halliwells being unable to fall for anyone normal wasn't a lie, after all. "I think it's in our genes, Wy. We can't just make it easy."

Wyatt snorted. He remained quiet for a little bit, a thoughtful look on his face. He then spoke with slight hesitation. "You know…we don't…have to break the hex, Chris…"

Chris couldn't really believe what had just come out of the other's mouth. In confusion and disbelief he asked, "…What?" He chuckled. "God, Wyatt, no. I don't…"

But something in the back of his mind picked at him and told him yes, go with it. Don't break the hex and just let things remain as they are. You're not hurting anyone, and you're happy. Don't ruin your happiness again.

Reason won out over heart in this battle, however. Brow knitted, the younger one murmured, "No. If there's really something there, I kind of want to see for myself, without the hex. I think I deserve at least that."

"Well, you deserve a lot of things, little bro," Wyatt murmured back, shrugging himself deeper under his covers. He yawned and rubbed at his eye. "Just…think about it. You know. We can take our time with it, whatever."

"Yeah. Good night, Wy."

"'Night, Chris."

As Chris rolled over and turned his back to his brother, he, too, yawned. He knew Wyatt didn't mean it when he had suggested not fixing the hex. Still, it was an amusing thought, especially considering how against it he had been not too long ago. He was just trying to make Chris feel better, and for that, the young witch was thankful. Even if something inside of him wanted the hex to stay around forever, it wouldn't do them any good. What was the point?

He didn't know how they were going to go about this next, but that was tomorrow's problem.

. . .

It had been an agonizing couple of days since Chris and Dean had parted ways. No contact had been made on either one's end, although Chris figured that was probably for the best. He and Wyatt had hit the books quite hard to try and find out all that they could about the contract, but there was surprisingly little in Magic School regarding demons who held contracts to mortal's souls. Or at least, there was little that they could find.

That was only the tip of the iceberg. Chris, who had for ages exercised considerable control over his sexual urges, now had a much harder time keeping himself in line. His body constantly reminded him of the fact that it wanted contact—wanted Dean, more specifically—and the ways in which it reminded him were downright distracting. There were one or two times he had come close to pleasing himself, but in a house as full as the Halliwell manor, it was nigh impossible to get a long enough moment alone to do it.

Perhaps most annoying was the fact that Wyatt had been watching him like a hawk ever since their discussion involving Dean, the contract and the hex. Wherever Chris went, Wyatt was usually right there alongside him. When he wasn't, he was sending text messages every so often or calling under the guise of something else. It was almost as if his brother expected him to up and leave at any given moment. Sure, he knew that he sometimes grew distant and was generally restless, but he wasn't stupid. Though he wanted to see Dean, and badly, he knew that doing so would only cause more problems. After all, it had the last time….

So, he stayed at the house, leaving only when he needed to. It wasn't exactly the best life to live, but for the time being, it was what he had. He made do with it.

He was in his room one late afternoon putting away his clothes when he saw Wyatt wander inside. The older one wiped at his eye before moving toward Chris's bed. Chris opened his mouth to prepare a verbal berating for him being there yet again, but Wyatt spoke first.

"So. Everyone is going out tonight. Mom and Dad are gonna go over to Aunt Phoebe's and Uncle Coop's, and Mel's got a date. I'm guessing you don't have any plans." He continued on before Chris could speak. "If you wanted…you could invite Dean over?" He looked at Chris, scrunching up his nose a little. "But only if you guys stay out of the open. None of that sneaking off, or whatever."

Chris's immediate reaction was joy. He didn't care that he had just spent the last two or three hours finally truly adjusting to the fact that he wasn't going to see Dean any time soon; all that mattered at that moment was that he would again. Unfortunately, that joy unraveled as curiosity and suspicion took over.

"Wait. Are you serious? What?"

Wyatt smirked a little. He shrugged, nonchalant, but something about his demeanor told Chris that he was nervous. About what, though, was lost on him. His brother had been waffling back and forth on Dean the last few days, going anywhere from thinking he was okay to loathing him. Like Chris, Wyatt didn't enjoy it when things were beyond his grasp of control. This was probably some kind of attempt to regain that power—by having Dean come over on his time and his terms.

"I just thought maybe you'd wanna see him, since you've been dragging your ass all over the house like you're heartbroken these past couple of days." He snorted, turning his gaze down to the hamper of clothes. "Just as long as you guys don't try locking yourselves in the pantry, or something. You've gotta stay in the room with me and Sam, who'll be coming along. I'll be damned if I give you the chance to even get his belt off."

Oh, yes, Chris thought. This is all about regaining control.

As usual, he got defensive in response. "Look. I appreciate it, and I'll probably take you up on the offer. But I'm an adult, Wyatt, and I can do whatever I want, when I want." He folded his arms over his chest. "And I have not been moping around like I'm heartbroken." But something gave him pause, and he asked almost tentatively, "Have I?"

God, was he that obvious?

"You have. And sure, you're an adult, but I'm still older. You can go out and do whatever you want, Chris, and whoever you want, for that matter. Just remember one thing: I know what and who you're doing, and if I want, I can tell Mom and Dad."

Wyatt moved toward his own bed, where a pile of fresh, folded clothes lay, all ready to be put up. He began sorting through it.

Chris stared long and hard at his brother. It was a viable threat, telling their Mom and Dad, and he should have figured Wyatt would use it. If they knew he was getting busy with a mortal hunter who had a contract on his head, there wouldn't be enough of Chris left after the discussion for Dean to even floss his teeth with. Still, he didn't think Wyatt would have gone to such obscene measures. Wasn't he supposed to be the older, more mature one?

But Chris knew he wasn't lying. Wyatt was more about control than Chris was, and when he lost it, he tended to do whatever it took to get it back. It was the perks of growing up with a neurotic mother with control issues.

Wyatt's voice broke the silence. "So, do you wanna call 'em? Nine works for me—Mom, Dad and Mel will all be gone by then. We can watch a movie, or something. Order a pizza."

It was hard for Chris to be stuck in the position in which he currently found himself. Nonetheless, he agreed to what Wyatt said, and almost immediately thereafter, he rounded up his cell phone and called Dean to set up them coming over. He wasn't too excited about Sam tagging along, but Wyatt had invited him, too. Plus, Chris had a strong feeling the younger hunter wouldn't let his brother out of his sight, either.

Chris kept himself busy with menial housework (Like mother, like son, he thought) for the following few hours, choosing only to snack on some cereal to keep himself ready for the dinner pizza they would have sometime after Dean and Sam's arrival. Though he had already showered that day, the young witch took another quick one, just to get rid of all the dirt and grime from cleaning. Afterward he dressed himself in a nice linen button-up decorated in light blue stripes, along with a pair of good-looking jeans. It was far from formal, but it wasn't quite casual, either. He looked presentable. But, what mattered most was that Chris found it very comfortable still.

While Wyatt pointlessly straightened up the already clean living room, Chris ordered three pizzas for them in the kitchen. He had just hung up the phone when the sound of the old-fashioned doorbell rang throughout the manor.

Chris was out and into the foyer before Wyatt even had time to blink.

The younger witch pulled back the left door to reveal the two hunters standing on the other side. With a smile toward Dean, he said, "Evening."

A full-blown grin brightened Dean's features. He tilted his head, flashing the grin shamelessly. "Evening." He moved closer then, slipping a hand up and laying it against Chris's side. He leaned forward and ghosted his lips across his cheek. His words were quiet, intentionally low. "Missed you."

"Missed you, too."

Chris was too wrapped up in the moment to really notice Sam's briefly displeased expression, or the arrival of his brother just behind him. He only pulled back—tugging Dean along, of course—when Wyatt said,

"Come on in, guys. We ordered pizza, so it should be here soon!"

Sam had stepped past Dean and Chris and had gone with Wyatt into the living room. By the time the dark haired witch brought the older hunter there, both Sam and Wyatt were already settled comfortably in the two spacious armchairs. Chris eyed the couch, then his brother, wondering if it had been an intentional move. He surmised it was. After all, had they sat in a chair together, either Dean or Chris would have invariably sat on the other's lap.

That would have caused mass hysteria—of that he was sure.

Chris led Dean toward the couch and sat down. Dean sprawled out on the cushion beside him, nuzzling into the nook made by the arm and the back.

"So, pizza, huh?" Sam asked Wyatt. "Haven't had any pizza here yet. Is it any good?"

Wyatt turned to Sam and shrugged. "Just normal take-out stuff...nothing spectacular. But, they throw in some really awesome breadsticks and garlic sauce."

"Awesome," Dean said with a grin.

He sought out Chris's hand, at which point Chris realized that they had yet to actually turn on the movie. Knowing Wyatt, it was already prepared to go, and so the younger witch looked for the remote. To his surprise, it lay on the end table just on the other side of Dean. He had to reach over the hunter to get it, which made his skin tingle and his stomach do a minor flip. Since his brother wasn't freaking out he could only assume that Wyatt hadn't thought it to be monkey business.

He hated that he had to be so censored around Wyatt. Dean probably felt the same way with Sam….

With remote in hand, Chris sat back down again and started up the movie. He turned up the volume loud enough so that it would deter conversation. Afterward, he scooted closer to Dean, enjoying the warmth that emanated from his body. The manor was always drafty at night, and surely, Dean would be more effective than a blanket. He was sure of that once the other's arm draped loosely around his shoulders, which also brought an odd sense of comfort.

Sam shot the two a look, but neither his brother nor Chris caught it. Even if Chris had, he wouldn't have cared. Sam couldn't bring his mood down at that moment. He was relaxed, but most importantly, he was happy. His hand made its way to Dean's kneecap, against which he tapped his fingers with a light touch.

The disc started up and ran through some previews before the menu appeared to select whether to begin with the movie or some of the special features. After Chris pressed the button to start the movie he set the remote beside him and shifted just a little against Dean's body.

For the first few minutes of the movie, all four paid close attention to it. But soon Chris felt Dean's fingers drawing lazy, shapeless designs on his upper arm, catching his attention here and there. Eventually he had a hard time focusing, knowing that it had everything to do with the one beside him. Dean seemed just as distracted. He shifted slightly, his mouth coming in close contact with the side of Chris's head.

He nuzzled the hair just above the outer rim of his ear. "Think we can slip out later?" he whispered, his warm breath tickling the young witch.

Chris wanted to say yes, yes they could, but he doubted it. Their wardens wouldn't let them go without some kind of fight, he was sure. They were just going to have to deal with what they were given. That irritated him, but seeing Dean under these circumstances was better than not seeing him at all.

"No," came his unfortunate reply. Chris tried not to shift too much so as to not draw attention to them. Sam and Wyatt kept their eyes on the television. He leaned into Dean's touch and squeezed his knee sympathetically, wanting to show that he was sorry.

"All right." Dean sounded much less dejected than Chris would have thought; perhaps he had expected such an answer. He turned his head and rested his cheek against the side of Chris's head.

Almost as if he had been listening to their little conversation, Wyatt turned his head back toward Chris and Dean. The dark haired witch could tell by the way he pulled his gaze away that he hadn't liked what he had seen. To his mild surprise Wyatt pushed himself out of the chair, clearing his throat.

"Drinks. Anyone want something to drink? I'm gonna get a soda or something."

"I do."

Not surprisingly, Sam stood up. He masked his eagerness with a long stretch. It was over-exaggerated and pointless, seeing as he hadn't been sitting for more than maybe fifteen minutes.

In an effort to get both of them out and keep them out for at least a minute or two, Chris said, "I'll take some soda in a glass, Wy. Thanks." He looked at Dean, wondering if he would catch on.

And of course, he did.

"Beer, if you got it. Thanks."

Wyatt nodded to the both of them and gestured for Sam to follow him into the kitchen. They were barely into the dining room when Chris went right for Dean's mouth.

*

Sam watched in silence as Wyatt grabbed a pair of glasses from the cabinet and set them on the counter, going toward the refrigerator to pull out two cans of sodas and two beers. His moves were all so casual, so lacking in any kind of tenseness or irritation. In a way, it was admirable. But for the most part, it was just frustrating. How Wyatt couldn't feel as strung up about this as Sam did, he just didn't understand.

When the pressure of his feelings finally were just too much, Sam shifted and bumped into the counter, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

"This is—," he began. But he stopped himself.

Wyatt just chuckled. "Sick and wrong?" he asked over his shoulder, pouring one of the cans of Pepsi into the glass. "Or maybe too weird to think about without screaming?" He turned around, giving Sam a strange sort of grin—almost as if he didn't know how to respond, himself. "I hate to say it, Sam, but this isn't the weirdest thing that's happened in my family. Feels like it, though."

"It's all of that and more," Sam said. He looked at Wyatt imploringly, even though he was well aware that the older witch didn't have all of the answers. Sam just needed somebody to talk to, because who else was there besides Dean? How could you talk to someone when they were part of the problem?

"Dean's never…he's never acted like this before. And it may not be weird for your family, but it's sure as hell weird in mine. I didn't think a hex could get to him this badly, which worries me, because…what if, you know? What if?"

"What if what, Sam?" Wyatt furrowed his brow. He had a lost look on his face. "Chris has never even been with anybody before. You think I'm not freaking out about this, too? First, I find out that he's into guys, which, don't get me wrong, I don't really care about, but then there's also the fact that he thinks this thing with Dean isn't so much the hex as it is genuine feelings."

The older witch read tense all over now. Sam watched as he struggled to not spill the soda while pouring the second can into the other glass. "Do you know how fucked up that is?" He shook his head and sent Sam's beer sliding across the kitchen island after he popped it open. "And all this happening in the span of what, two or three months? It's ridiculous."

Sam felt guilty for being so self-centered in thinking only about Dean. Wyatt had done nothing but try to help him, and the fact that he hadn't tried to help out the blond witch rubbed him the wrong way. Wyatt was in the same boat he was, only with different circumstances.

He drank nearly half the beer in one chug, surprising himself. He put it down and eyed Wyatt with a mixed look of concern and frustration. "We should have tried to stop that damn Trickster. That would have saved us so much time. Because I swear, Dean just…this isn't him. He doesn't do this with guys. He's the straightest man out there, and I've seen some real winners…"

"Well, maybe he wasn't," Wyatt quipped. "I mean, I dunno, Sam. I thought Chris was straight until a few nights ago. He's always been weird, but…I've never seen him like this. He's seriously into your brother—beyond the hex's 'into', and at first I didn't believe him, but I can see it." He gave a sigh, his features growing heavy. "It's gonna kill him when we figure this out and make Dean better."

Sam didn't respond to that. That he may have been wrong about Dean's heterosexuality worried him. If he couldn't be sure about that, something that was as basic as the sun rising in the east, then how the hell could he be sure of anything else about his brother? Dean made it no secret that he liked girls, as well as everything about them. So for him to be so into Chris was just weird.

He, too, sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Look, Sam," Wyatt began soothingly. "Even if it isn't the hex, it'll be okay. Dean's under a lot of stress right now, you know? Maybe he's just latching on to Chris to fulfill some need he can't go to you for."

Although that sounded like complete bullshit to Sam, it was nonetheless a viable option that he hadn't considered. Dean had said it himself: he had less than a year left, and he didn't plan on throwing himself a pity party. He just wanted to enjoy what little time he had left. For Dean, that usually meant something sexual. But if that was the case, then why not go for a girl? Sam wondered if the hex had something to do with it. That, or maybe he was growing more reckless with himself as the deadline approached.

How frustrating, Sam thought tiredly.

"You could be right. Ugh."

Wyatt shrugged. "I could be! Or who knows? I could be full of shit, and it could just be the hex. I haven't gotten the chance to do much research on the hex itself; been focusing more on the contract." He went quiet then, picking up his and Chris's glasses of soda. "We should get back in there. God only knows what they've been doing since we've been gone."

God only knew was right. When that thought entered Sam's head, he turned suddenly and moved into the small pathway between the kitchen and the dining room. In his deep, resounding voice he barked, "Dean!"

If anything was happening, then he sure as hell had just stopped it.

Wyatt smirked. "It was a little too quiet in there…"

"Yeeeah, Sam?" came Dean's inconspicuous reply from the living room, a few seconds later.

"Too quiet." With a faint smirk, Sam then said in the same loud voice, "Never mind! Got a glass."

He figured he would give them a moment, knowing they were undoubtedly up to something. When he was sure that they could safely return to the living room, Sam headed back in, along with Wyatt. He didn't fail to notice that Dean and Chris were sitting further apart than they had been originally, and that the witch's cheeks were pink.

Sam's lips thinned as he handed Dean his beer. "Here."

Dean looked up at him for a moment. There was no hint of guilt in his gaze, which bothered Sam for reasons he wasn't entirely sure of. "Thanks, Sammy."

As Sam moved to sit down and Wyatt gave Chris his drink, from nearby came a knock. Wyatt, still the only one standing, said, "I'll get it" and crossed through the archway, into the foyer. It was the pizza man, who handed over their dinner in exchange for some cash. Wyatt came sauntering into the living room a few moments later with three boxes in hand, which he set side by side on the coffee table.

"Dinner's ready."

The pizza's arrival broke up some of the situation's awkwardness. Chris was the first to go for one of the boxes, popping open the lid and pulling out a slice of the meat lovers'. Sam followed suit, going for the Canadian bacon and pineapple. He didn't think much of it when he took a bite, not realizing that what he considered to be a bite differed greatly from that of the witches. A good quarter of his slice was gone by the time that the others had all gotten theirs, and a few moments after, it disappeared completely.

Nobody spoke, simply enjoying the pizza. The vocal silence sat just fine with Sam in particular—his eyes darted occasionally from the movie toward his brother and Chris, who kept their distance and watched the movie. Dean ate with reckless abandon, just as he always did. The sight and sound of his brother sucking on his thumb to get off the cheese and sauce made Sam chuckle quietly.

"Dude…" Wyatt eyed Dean. "You need a napkin?"

Dean just looked at him, raising his eyebrows. "Nah, m'cool."

Sam chuckled at Wyatt's polite gesture. "I should have told you. Dean's got no manners; he eats like a pig. But it's okay," he said, noticing the way Dean looked at him, "we don't judge him for it. It's just the way he is."

And for the first time in quite a while, Sam smiled at Dean. But he only did so because what he had said was true: Dean was just being himself.

Dean responded in such a way that gave light to their argument being age old. "Dude. What's wrong with the way I eat?" Even as he asked, he folded the sauce-covered crust of his pizza in half like a taco, cramming a good portion of it into his mouth, as if to prove a point. He swallowed about half of it, then continued on, words partially garbled. "Trust me, when you grow up with the Human Food Vacuum over there"—he gestured to Sam—"then you learn to eat fast…manners be damned." He grinned a little, taking up his bottle to point it at Sam good-naturedly.

"I'm not a human vacuum, thanks," Sam said in a dry, but still somewhat amused tone. "I'm just…big. I got a lot of room to fill."

Chris chuckled, nudging Dean in the side with a grin. "It's okay, Dean, don't worry about it. Wyatt's a monstrous eater, too, so I'm used to people being like that."

"Oh, whatever," Wyatt laughed. "You're like, an inch shorter than me. Whiner."

Dean laughed as well. "Yeah…him eating all my food is the reason why he's so freakishly tall. Stole all my food…stunted my growth." He sniffed and took a long drink of his beer.

"Oh, please." Sam snorted. "You're only an inch or two shorter than I am, loser. You didn't miss shit." But, an amused look appeared on his face, staying put for a minute. It only began to disappear the moment he saw Dean and Chris getting close again.

He was going to have to think about this. Not only that, he would need to stop feeling so selfish about Dean. Sam was slowly realizing all of the reasons he was so against the whole thing as they sat there, and it made him feel guilty. What was worse, he felt ashamed of himself. Sam was swallowing a lot of things at that moment, namely his pride. Maybe he didn't have a right to be as angry as he did. Dean was an adult; he didn't need to tell Sam where he was going, what he was doing, or who he was doing. The fact that Sam assumed that he needed to was his own problem…something that he needed to get over.

He grabbed another slice of Canadian bacon and pineapple, saying nothing more as he mentally chewed on that.