Disconcerting

Sam Winchester sat at the end of the table in some skeevy little bar on the outskirts of nowhere with a beer in front of him and smile plastered on his face. It had been a normal hunt, a regular run-of-the-mill salt and burn but that wasn't what had him grinning, it was watching the exchange between the short shit of a hunter, a woman all of about five-foot-nothing but badass all around that he loved with every fiber of his being and Dean, his best friend and brother, the overprotective son of a bitch who had gotten a black eye for the stupid ghost tossing him across the room.

It was always interesting to get the together after a hunt, more interesting when they got a few shots into them because, like that moment, the banter between them was, to him, amazing, while to some the topic of conversation would be a bit disconcerting in public, Sam knew that it was just the way the two of them communicated, without filter.

Tonight's topic was nothing different.

Ali sat with her arms crossed in front of her on the dark, marred wood, her head tilted just a bit as she listened to Dean's recent exploits, which just made Sam nauseous because… eww, that was his brother, but Ali took it all in, and tossed it back. Again, tonight was no different as Dean sat back, one arm over the backrest of the bar chair and the other wrapped around the amber long neck in front of him.

"I don't get how you always seem to manage to get them off." Ali had remarked, which is what had Sam sitting back in his chair, because she knew she was right. "Sure, everyone has one but not every man can find it every. Single. Time."

"Guess it just takes talent," Dean had shrugged as he picked up the beer, smiling and pulled from the bottle. Sam watched Ali's eyes go straight to his lips as she licked hers. Yep, it was going to be a long night.

"I call bullshit."

"You can't call bullshit on my stories, Al."

"Can so!"

"Cannot!" Dean looked at Sam but the younger of the two simply raised his hands and shook his head. Dean frowned at him. "Pussy!" he name called before turning to the woman with the fiery blue eyes. "I can find it everytime."

"Dean, not everyone's g-spot is in the same place."

"Prove it."

"Prove it? How would you like me to prove it."

"Scientific fact that it's approximately 2 to 3 inches up the front which is why you curve your fingers like this." Dean took two of his fingers, curled them up and wiggled them like he was beaconing her closer.

"EEEHH!" she buzzed and Sam laughed, which made Dean sit back. "Wrong!"

"What do you mean wrong, seriously, you can't tell me that every woman I have been with is wrong."

"You can't tell me that they weren't all faking!"

"Never! I have never been with a woman who was faking."

"Dean, seriously, can you even tell when a woman is yanking your chain?" she laughed. "Oh, Dean… oh, my God, Dean!"

"Okay, Sally, just calm your hormones, no need to cream your jeans right now."

"Listen, I'm telling you, you're wrong."

"And like I said, prove it."

Sam rolled his eyes, oh this could be so interesting."

"Fine!" Ali took a deep breath. "What if she has a tilted cervix?"

"A what?"

"Cervix, you know that thing in the back of the vagina that ALL the woman swear that you touch when you go all the way in, another BULLSHIT story by the way!"

"I know what a cervix is, what the hell are you saying when it's tilted."

"Some women have it so that it literally means it's tilted towards the back so instead of this," she curved her fingers and gave him a come-hither gesture like he had done, "they need this," and she flipped her fingers around to make it look like she was scooping sand. Sam nearly died right there in his seat to see her mimicking the motions he usually did. "Because their SPOT is down low and to the back."

"No!" Dean snapped, "nope, nope, nope."

"Child! Are you calling me a liar?"

"I'm calling bullshit on YOUR story. How do you know that?"

"Ask Sam."

Dean paused, thought for a moment and turned to look at Sam again, who raised his hands and shook his his. Nope, not tonight, he was on a streak of not getting pulled into their conversations and tonight wasn't going to break it.

"Okay, so yours is, what, tilted and Sammy can only reach it by turning his fingers backwards, Big whoopty-whoop, doesn't mean everyone is the same way."

"Proves that it isn't always in the same spot."

"Doesn't prove anything."

"How so?"

"I haven't seen it for myself, so it proves nothing."

AND this is where Sam's heart always starts to race, because this is how bad they always got. It was a dare that the two of them had going, the sexual tension between them was always there, in the way they fought side-by-side and at each other, but neither crossed it because SHE was Sam's.

"No, ut-uh, we are not taking that there."

"Then I'm just going to call bullshit." Dean took another pull from the bottle and set it down slowly, his eyes locked on hers.

FUCK! Sam sighed, tonight would have to be the night that it happened. Of all the times that this ever happened, tonight, he wasn't prepared.

"Sam," Ali smiled, eyes still locked on Dean's and Sam sat straighter, "take me home."

But, oh that wasn't the least bit angry, not even a little bit worried, that was said with one thing and one thing only in mind.

She was about to prove to Dean just how much her story wasn't at all bullshit and as much as Sam's heart felt like it was about to give out, he knew one thing for sure, he couldn't wait.

And that may have been a little disconcerting.