Balls

AN: This is likely a two-parter. Those of you awaiting a sequel to "Things We Have to Do", don't worry...it'll happen. ;)

.~*~.

Sam and Dean were sprawled out their separate beds in their only slightly less-tacky-than-normal motel room, only halfheartedly watching a movie about two step brothers on the crumby little television set that hadn't been updated since well before Sam was even born.

They'd just stopped a couple of hours ago after driving almost an entire twelve from their latest successful, albeit frustrating hunt. Dean had been pissed. Rightfully so. He'd let a girl get the best of him and ended up burned in the end for it. She'd turned out to be the very witch they'd strolled into town after. Her last mistake was getting the jump on Sam and nearly killing him in order to lure Dean in.

Lucky for her, she hadn't gotten far enough to cause more than a concussion initially knocking him out to capture him. For that, he let her death be quick, instead of the slow and painful he knew he was capable of dishing out.

Dean was pissed the whole drive away from that place. Killing the bitch hadn't changed that. It was the guilt that projected as anger. Sam knew that. He'd tried over and over to tell him it wasn't his fault. But Dean wasn't having any of that. Of course, Sam knew Dean would have to dwell in it for a while before he'd let it go. Arguing with him would just give him more reason to come up with reasons why it was his fault.

Even as he was too tired to keep on driving, the moment he'd set foot in the room, he was still too wired to sleep. He'd pulled out a new bottle of whiskey from his duffel and plopped down into the bed closest to the door, and started drinking.

"We could've stopped for beer," Sam said, breaking a silence they hadn't realized had been going on for hours now.

"Don't want beer," Dean replied without any bite. Sam nodded, lips smiling cautiously as he turned back to the screen. Dean recognized it as Sam's attempt not to get him started up again, and that just made Dean feel like a dick. It wasn't Sam's fault he was angry. And he certainly wasn't angry at Sam. "You can go get some if you want," Dean followed up with, just to make it known he wasn't still as pissed as Sam seemed to think he was.

"I'm good," Sam replied, and Dean could see his brother's shoulders relax enough to know he'd gotten the point across.

"The hell are we watchin'?" he asked before taking another swig from the bottle.

"It's called Step Brothers," Sam replied with a half-smile. "It's actually kinda funny, in a way that it's so stupid you have to laugh."

"Will Ferrell movies usually go in that direction," Dean nodded.

Sam looked over at at him, amused and surprised that Dean knew anything about Will Ferrell movies. "Since when did you watch anything that didn't involve big-chested women or Dr. Sexy?"

Dean didn't look over at him, but replied anyway right as the nice warmed fuzzy feeling from the whiskey started pouring through his brain and into his limbs. "Only so much porn a guy can watch at a time. And Dr. Sexy ended last year," he looked over at him, then. "Don't you remember? I was depressed for like a week!"

"Yeah, I remember now," Sam raised a brow. "I found the first supernatural thing I came across just to drag you out of the motel and get your mind off of it."

"And it turned out to be not supernatural at all," Dean put a finger in the air.

"Honestly, I hadn't looked that hard into it," Sam admitted. "I just couldn't handle your weird brokenhearted face over a guy on TV," he smirked and expected some kind of retort, but suddenly Dean's face took on this look of incredulity at the screen.

"What the hell... Is that his balls?"

Sam looked at the screen and had just missed what Dean had been looking at, but he'd seen the movie before and knew what he'd seen. He laughed. "Yeah. Yeah that was his balls."

"I don't even understand how this is on television."

"It's two in the morning."

"Still. And the dude has some fugly balls."

"I doubt they were actually his real balls," Sam retorted. "And uh...I think balls are generally pretty fugly things," he raised his brows, glancing over at Dean.

"Not mine," Dean replied. "My balls are awesome."

Sam snorts and chokes out a laugh at the unexpected proclamation. If he'd been drinking something, it'd be all over the place from shooting out his mouth and nose simultaneously. "You're an idiot."

"I'm not an idiot," Dean slurs, completely serious. "And intelligence level has nothing to do with the beauty of one's sac."

"Dude. You think your balls are beautiful?" his brow is raised, now, amused.

"What, you don't believe me?"

Before Sam has a chance to process the insulting response he wants so badly to give right then and there, the whiskey bottle is being slammed down onto the side table and Dean is standing in between the beds, crotch leveled with where Sam's head is resting on the headboard, and Dean's jeans are suddenly shoved to his knees and he's holding his dick up and out of the way to display his testicles to his brother.

"Oh my God, Dean!" Sam is turning away and shielding his eyes in disbelief of the event that just happened. "What the hell are you-" he stops mid-sentence, because really he'd turned away a moment too late. He'd seen them. And he had to look back again just out of pure fascination. "Uh wow...dude...you wax?" he asked, tearing his eyes away to look up at Dean's cocky smile.

"Damn straight I wax," he replied. "Nice, right?"

Sam scoffs, not wanting to inflate Dean's ego any more than it clearly already was. "Mine are way better looking than that, and I don't have to wax."

"Bullcrap!" Dean's brows furrowed. "Prove it."

Sam hesitates. He wants to say no. Tell Dean to go back to his bed and put his junk away and leave him alone. But instead, his nose crinkles for a moment, as if he can taste how bad of a decision this is before he even made it, and reaches over to the whiskey bottle on the side table, takes a long swig, and gets up on his knees on his bed. Dean's eyes widen a bit, surprised Sam is actually gonna do it. And before he could completely process that, the fly of Sam's jeans is on the cheap green comforter under his knees. And Sam's cupping his dick and holding it out of the way so Dean can see.

For a moment, he's too stunned to respond. Then his heads swims again from the whiskey and brings him back into focus, ironically enough.

"Alright, well first of all, I can't even tell because you are way overdue for some manscaping."

"Overdue for mansc- Dean, what the hell?" he cocks his head. "Who has time for that? And I mean 'who' as in us, because we seriously don't have a lot of down time."

"'s why I wax and not shave," he winked. "Don't have to do it as often. But seriously, I can't make a fair call because I can't see through this forest," he motioned to Sam's crotch.

Sam frowned and looked down at himself. He wasn't baby-smooth or anything, but it certainly wasn't as bad as Dean was making it out to be. He guessed it was kinda hairy though...in comparison to Dean's situation. Sam looked back up at Dean. "So, what, you want me to go shave so you can make a better comparison?"

"I just got a ten-pack of Mach-5's. They're in my duffel."

"Dude!"

"Don't be a bitch, Sammy."

"You're the one that waxes his balls, and you're calling me the bitch?"

"I just try and make it fair for the ladies. They shave for me, I might as well make it pube-free for when they go bobbing-for-apples," he grinned goofily, and Sam made a face.

"Dude...that's disgusting."

"What? No one's ever sucked your balls?" Dean gets an incredulous look on his face.

"I don't feel like it's really necessary!" a blush floods Sam's face.

"Jesus christ are you kidding me? Go shave your goddamn balls, Sammy. We've got some shit to take care of, right now."

"Why is this balls-beauty-contest so important to you?"

"That...is no longer the point, baby brother!" he smiled, plopping to sit back down on the edge of his bed as his picked up his whiskey bottle. "Trust me, you'll thank me later."

Sam huffed and pushed off of the bed to find the razors in Dean's bag. "This is so stupid," he mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, you need help with...ya know?"

"Shaving my balls?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Just don't wanna have to take you to the emergency room to get your nuts reattached, is all," Dean defended.

"I've done this before, Dean, I think I can handle it."

"Awesome," Dean grinned. Sam rolled his eyes and disappeared into the bathroom. "I can't believe you're doing this," he said under his breath, a smile plastered on his face.

Sam set the razor down on the sink and quickly tried to decide if the sink or the bathtub was the better choice for getting the job done. He sighed. "I can't believe I'm doing this..."

Tbc...