Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Here." Sam tossed the small paper bag at his brother as he shrugged out of his jacket.

"What's this?" Dean turned the present over in his hands and then looked up at Sam, wide-eyed, from where he was sitting at a small round table in yet another faceless motel room.

Their new computer was open; Sam was relieved to see that his brother was sipping a soda and researching their latest case instead of drinking from a flask and web surfing busty Asian beauties. Sam was still angry with Dean for killing Amy - even if she had been a bloodthirsty kitsune - but his feelings were tempered by his brother's recent struggles. Knowing that Dean had been consumed with guilt over lying to him, Sam had felt a twinge of guilt himself. He'd left Dean - again - knowing full well how his brother reacted to abandonment.

"A peace offering," Sam replied, the worry lines on his forehead softening as he relaxed into a smile. "I found it in a discount bin at the Imporium."

With an eager grin, Dean ripped the paper open to reveal a cassette tape that proudly proclaimed "Greatest Hits." But his smile faded as he caught sight of the band's name stamped on the cassette.

"Dude? What the hell?" The older hunter bolted upright and threw the tape back at Sam as if it had burned him. "Why would you buy me something like that?"

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "Dean."

He tried to catch his brother's frantic line of sight, but Dean wouldn't look at him. "Take it back, Sammy. I don't want that crappy music poisoning my baby."

Sam fought not to roll his eyes a second time. "Dean, we can't even drive the Impala right now. She's too recognizable."

His brother wouldn't look at him, so Sam folded his arms with a huff. "Fine. I'll take it back. I just thought ..." He shook his head. In a smaller voice, he added, "I thought you'd like it."

Dean crinkled his brows and gave his younger brother an incredulous glare to rival Sam's own bitch face. "Well, I don't."

Sam met his brother's eyes, intense hazel locking onto vulnerable green. "And I thought we were going to be honest with each other." He held his breath and kept his gaze steady.

Dean looked away first. He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

Finally, he shrugged. "Okay."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Okay what?"

Dean planted his feet and folded his arms. "Okay, if it means that much to you, we can listen to it sometimes." He wagged a finger in Sam's face and lowered his tone. "But not on a hunt and not around Bobby. We can't afford to be relaxed when we're working."

Sam fought to keep the smirk off of his face. "I appreciate that, Dean."

His brother nodded stiffly. "You're welcome." He took the cassette tape back from Sam. "I'll go put this in the car now. You know. For you, you giant girl."

As Dean slammed out, Sam smiled and made another note in his mental file about his brother: When Dean is stressed, play him some Air Supply.