Sam/Dean. PG-13. ~300 words. 4.05 coda.
Sam has absolutely no idea why this is tying his stomach up in tight little knots.

Sam’s not really sure how to broach the subject. He spends a few hours staring out the window creating then discarding scenarios as he grows steadily more annoyed with Dean’s music choices. Nothing really out of the ordinary there.

In the end, after Dean’s checked them in at the 401 Motor Inn and Sam’s salted the entrances, he brushes his hands off and says, casually, “Guess that takes care of one kind, huh.”

“One kinda what?” Dean asks, voice muffled. He’s got his head stuck in the closet, looking for who knows what.

“One kinda, y’know.” Sam gestures awkwardly. He has absolutely no idea why this is tying his stomach up in tight little knots. “Jamie.”

Dean pops back into full view, brow crinkled. “Jamie? What- Oh.”

Sam barely resists the urge to scuff his toe on the carpet. Probably a good thing, too, since one hard sneeze would bare the floorboards. He stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Sammy,” Dean says, breaking out into a wide, sunny, knowing grin. “M’boy Sammy. How’d I know you were gonna fixate on me comin’ back a virgin.”

“Yeah.” Sam swallows tightly. His palms aren’t actually sweating, it’s just stuffy with the heat cranked and the windows closed. “Looks like you called that one.”

“Well, well, well.” Dean saunters near, gaze cockily appraising. “You gonna be gentle with me?” He lightly tugs the open flaps of Sam’s jacket. “Make my first time all soft and sweet?”

Sam goes to put his hands over Dean’s, changes his mind halfway there and cups the sharp cut of Dean’s jaw instead. He traces the softness of Dean’s mouth with his thumb, brings Dean in close before he says, all promise, “No.”

Dean’s breath stutters over Sam’s lips. “Atta boy.”


Leave a Reply