Calm down, Leahelisabeth: In the Jimiverse, Sam's dick works just fine; it's the 'Every woman he has sex with dies' bit that doesn't happen. In the Jimiverse, any woman Sam has sex with lives for many years afterwards, and although they never realize it, the last meal that each of them has includes a large decadent slice of particularly good chocolate cake.

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning, the Winchesters were back on the road, armed with a packet of ginger snaps, which Kelly had sworn by as an effective carsickness remedy for man or beast.

"They're supposed to be for the dogs," said Sam reprovingly as Dean helped himself to another cookie.

"I need the sugar, bro," Dean grinned infuriatingly, "I'm depleted, utterly depleted, in so many ways..."

"Not interested, Dean," Sam shot a futile Bitchface #6™ (I SO Do NOT Want To Hear The Gory Details Of One Of Your Sexual Conquests, Jerk) back at his brother.

"No, seriously," Dean persisted, "Nat was unlike anybody I've ever met. Or bedded. Or tabled."

"Dean..."

"Or sofa-ed."

"Dean..."

"Or spa-bath-ed..."

"Dean!"

"Or car hooded..."

DEAN!"

"Her imagination, Sam! Her imagination! Her flexibility! Her complete and total capacity to stifle her own gag reflex..."

"DEAN!"

"...And hold her breath for longer than a pearl diver..."

"DEAN! SHUT! UP!"

"It's a night I'm sure I'll remember, and treasurer," Dean sighed happily, snagging himself another ginger cookie. "I can only hope it was as memorable for her. Hell, who am I kidding? Of course it was!"

"Yeah, it's your self-effacing modesty that people remember," offered Sam sourly.

"And you know what? Her middle name is Amanda! She really knows how to tie a knot, too..."

"Gaaaaah!" Sam let out an inarticulate yodel of outrage. "Stop it! Stop it! Just stop it right now!"

"So, why do you have such a twist in your panties this morning?" demanded Dean.

"Gee, I have no idea," trilled Sam, "Could it be that I'm trapped in the car with my disgusting excuse for a big brother regaling me with yet another of his endless store of Chicks I Have Done stories? Shucks, could that possibly be it?"

Dean's expression turned sad. "The shapeshifter told me you didn't get it on with Kelly," he related.

"That's none of your damned business!" snapped Sam with a brisk Bitchface #5™ (My Private Life Is SO None Of Your Business, Jerk)

"Of course it's my business!" Dean shot back. "My baby bro keeps company with an entirely suitable woman, I want to know that he's getting some! I thought you were just being your usual shy-boy self, and not wanting to talk about it," he went on miserably, "And it turns out that the reason you didn't want to talk about it was that there was nothing to talk about!"

"Suck it up, buttercup," growled Sam.

"Please tell me the two of you finally got down and got funky last night," pleaded Dean.

"No," barked Sam, "I'm not going to talk about it."

"Please," begged Dean, "I feel like such a failure as a big brother."

"Dean, I said no!"

"For me, Sam?" Dean momentarily turned a wistful, brimming-eyed face to his baby brother.

"Fine," Sam raised his hands in defeat, "Fine, I'll talk about it. For you. Because you're my big brother."

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean gave him a brave, wobbly little smile that immediately morphed into a salacious smirk. "So, who jumped who?"

"Whom," Sam corrected automatically. "Well, since you must know, she jumped me."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, totally," Sam smiled as if in recollection. "She actually asked me to drop by her room to see some etchings, so we went inside, and the next thing I know, whammo!"

Dean's eyebrows did a personal best. "Whammo?"

"Dude, she practically ran at me backwards," Sam recounted animatedly, "It was like having my clothes pulled off by a horny octopus."

"Way to go Sam!" grinned Dean. "So, I hope you made the mattress squeak."

"Not for Round One," Sam corrected, "We didn't make it that far."

"Really?" Dean was fascinated.

"Nope. She just tripped me up, threw me down, and then jumped on me like I was her own personal private adults-only pogo stick. You know those big inflatable Spacer Hopper toys? I felt like one of those, except she wasn't hanging on with her hands..."

Dean's eyes were two saucers of astonishment.

"That's how I got the carpet rash. Well, on my back. The rash on my knees, that was later – neither of us wanted to miss the Attenborough documentary on cable, so we thought, hey, why not multitask?"

Dean blinked. "You... you did a girl doggy-style, watching TV?"

"Worked better than I'd have thought," confided Sam, "Balanced a bowl of popcorn on her back, put the remote beside it, and hey presto, all around entertainment! Turns out, she's got a thing about Sir David's voice – man, when he started talking so passionately about stick insects, I thought she was gonna tear my dick off..."

Dean's mouth fell open in disbelief.

"So, anyway," Sam went on matter-of-factly, "There was popcorn butter everywhere after that, which was kinda fun, but a bit sticky, so we headed for the shower, where she hung from the curtain rail by her toes..."

"You're making this up, aren't you," said Dean in a small voice as his face fell. "That's just cruel, Sam. You raised my hopes, now you dash them."

"Turns out she's also a keen amateur practitioner of kinbaku, Japanese rope art bondage – got her own set of cashmere ropes, nice and soft – and there's this one form she's been working on called 'The Helpless Warrior In The Net Of The Ardent Mermaid', and that's how I got the marks on my ankles..."

"I had such high hope for you this time," Dean sounded sadly disappointed. "You promised me beautiful natural acts, now you break my heart."

"... Then we thought we'd do a bit of Tarzan and Jane sort of thing, and it wasn't exactly a chandelier, but the light fitting proved to be remarkably robust, I'd have never thought that somebody my size could have swung from it..."

"Okay, that's enough," grumped Dean. "I get it. Nothing happened. I'm shattered. Again. I don't know what to say, Sam, except to wonder where I went wrong."

"You'll get over it," Sam smiled at his brother, filing away Kelly's trick of wild exaggeration as a deflection technique as he turned to give each of the pups another ginger cookie each. "The cookies seem to be working."

"Good," griped Dean, "Because after the bitter disappointment of discovering that my baby brother didn't get any last night, I don't think I could cope with even a Level Two Event."

"Well, look at it this way," reasoned Sam, "We'll never have to worry about taking them out on their first Hunt, ever again. Right, guys?" The pups looked up briefly, then went back to gnawing on their cookies. "I think Jimi Junior, and Grandpa Jimi Senior, would be proud."

"Yeah." Dean smiled a small, happier smile, quickly recovering from the devastating blow of his baby brother's apparent failure once again to have sex. "We should celebrate with wings for lunch! In fact, we shouldn't wait for lunch, we should celebrate with wings ASAP! Right guys?"

"Maybe it's not such a good idea," mused Sam, "When their carsickness seems to be just starting to back off."

"Wings are always a good idea," scoffed Dean, "Just ask their dad, and their granddad. And they earned it."

Sam turned to smile at the pups. "Yeah, I guess they did," he agreed. "So, why are we headed to Oregon?"

"For this, Sammy," grinned Dean, taking a creased flyer from his pocket and handing it over, "Miss Polly gave it to me."

Sam stared at the paper. "Are you serious?"

"Totally," confirmed Dean, "Miss Polly says it would be a wonderful opportunity for Lem to use some of what he's learned."

"Oh, God," groaned Sam, "I don't believe this..."

"Believe it," Dean said, "So, don't just sit there, Francis, do that laptop dancing you do, and get us entered!"

"Yeah, yeah," sighed Sam, reaching for the laptop, and starting it up. He peered at the flyer Dean had given him, typed in the address, and waited for the page to come up.

OREGON

STATE DOG SHOW

"All right," he said, as he located the entries page and began to search for a work-around to get into the database, "It was Winchester Iron Fist, wasn't it?"

As to what Sam and Kelly actually got up to, well, there were certainly none of the crassly vulgar activities Sam described for Dean, but he's not going to tell, because he's not That Kind Of Guy…

Randolph sees light at the end of the tunnel! And possibly a visit from the DDD&SSS van, if he gets enough reviews to power him that far - review sender = crew member! (Australian plot bunnies like to average ten reviews per chapter, but they'll eat just about anything, and I'm pathetically desperately happy just to think that someone has read something I wrote.) Tell you what, review this chapter, and I'll put up the next one in an hour or so, 'k?