A/N: Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed to the end. I hope you've enjoyed this story. Finally, the last chapter. Inspired by the final scene of 'The Spy Who Loved Me'.

The Pompatus Box (Chapter 35: Epilogue) by frostygossamer

Aboard Baby, a small red light winks on and a floating hologram of Jo Harvelle's face appears. There's a flash and a blink as she switches her projector control lever to search mode. One holo-projector after another flickers into life through the ship, as the algorithm seeks out a recipient for her transmission from Convoy Control. It finally settles on the occupied Auto-Decontaminator sauna.

Inside the steam room two people are enjoying a very private moment of togetherness. Dean's encounter with tantric yoga instructress Miss Braeden has turned out to be particularly useful, as he and his new partner wind down with a little erotic manipulation.

Sam sits on the sauna bench, bathed in an oily sheen of sweat, head thrown back against the wall, legs spread wide. Dean lies between his long legs, head pillowed on Sam's chest, back comfortable on the big guy's belly, freckled skin glistening, while Sam reaches between his inner thighs and rhythmically massages an intimate area that... Hmm...

There's a little too much male flesh of an private nature on display to a suddenly overheated Jo, who quickly switches off her input visuals. Not that she doesn't appreciate the opportunity to study the anatomy of two extremely fit young men, but she's not the only one on duty in the Control office and what she glimpsed was definitely not worksafe.

She clears her throat to get their attention. They stop what they are doing immediately.

"Sorry to interrupt, boys. but I've got a MAJORLY important caller on the line for you. The President of Terra wants to thank you for your work retrieving that vital, uh, Pompatus MacGuffin doohickey and preventing, basically, well, chaos."

Dean and Sam disentangle themselves from one another. There's a moment's delay while they scrabble into an upright position. Dean's aura had just been getting into a good place and he deeply resents the untimely interruption. And he's a little discomfited to have been caught in the act, so to speak, by a girl who is pretty much his little sister figure. He covers his confusion with a gruff manner.

"That right, huh? And the 'Do Not Disturb' status on our intercommunicator? Guess you simply 'overlooked' that?"

"Countermanded," corrects Jo. "This is a VERY high priority call, Dean. You're gonna wanna hear this."

Sam eases his butt up from the bench and makes like he's trying to slip silently away, leaving Dean to it, but Dean grabs him by the arm and pulls him back.

"Hey, hey! Where d'you think you're sneaking off to?"

"You're the captain, Dean. I kinda thought you'd wanna take this call alone."

"Dude, YOU wanted to be my crew. You're on my team, you do your bit. OK?"

Sam sits back down, reaches for a stack of clean towels and starts to wipe Dean down, paying careful attention to his flushed, sweaty face and dewy pecs before moving lower.

"Aye aye, Cap'n. But lemme grab us a couple robes. Don't wanna give the guy a free eyeful."

Decency aside, Sam's damn sure he's not going to let some septuagenarian ogle HIS partner's naked flesh. He feels he has earned the right to be a little possessive. Right now he's feeling particularly possessive about certain personal parts of Dean which he is gently patting dry.

Ever uncooperative, Dean grabs his towel and growls, "I can do that myself!"

Moments later, they are perched side by side, respectably covered in capacious terrycloth, when the hologram flickers again and John Q. Publik's familiar visage appears before them. The white-haired old man smiles benignly.

"Captain Dean, I would like to take this opportunity to convey to you the heartfelt gratitude of the Governments of Terra, Luna, Eno and Emo for your exceptional service to the people of all four worlds. Although our citizens will never know exactly how much they owe to you their continued freedom and happiness, we congratulate and salute you and your, um, crew."

He finishes and initiates a round of applause from an unseen audience.

Dean glances at Sam. Sam, being used to this sort of thing after many years of dozing through boring speeches in the Campobello parliament, has zoned out. He's simply sitting there wearing a neutral, if polite, facial expression. Dean elbows him in the side, hard.

"Wha-? Oh yeah."

Sam begins to applaud too. Dean gives a heartfelt sigh.

"Uh, thank you, President. We, uh, value your appreciation."

Actually Dean couldn't give a gnat's ass about Publik's thanks. All that really matters to him is his bank account's new healthy balance. Oh, and Sam. Thank-yous won't buy YED or fuel for Baby, or pay for Sam's keep. And Sam has a big mouth to feed, even if he does eat like a rabbit.

Publik smiles beatifically. "And, as a token of Terra's gratitude, we have agreed to your wishes as stated in THIS document."

He picks up a legal-looking scroll from off-camera and waves it at his apparatus.

"Your records will be amended immediately to reflect your new status and privilege."

Dean looks a little puzzled. "Privilege?"

Publik nods. "Your associate, Prince Samuel of Campobello-"

"MISTER Sam Campbell," interrupts Sam.

Publik nods again. "Mr. Sam Campbell made some formal inquiries while he was Earthside recently. He submitted an official request via his grandfather, Grand Duke Samuel, to have your status regularized and legitimated, and to have your legal records expunged. In other words, effectively to remove your birth name from our 'Most Wanted' files."

"That was very sweet of him," mutters Dean, sarcastically.

"He also inquired about the possibility of you being granted a special licence to legally purchase and possess the banned substance, um, xanthophthalmodaimonide for your personal medical use. In the light of the recent valuable service you have provided to the Government of Terra, and indeed the whole system, we have agreed BOTH requests."

Sam has a Cheshire cat grin on his face. He leans in to Dean's ear and whispers, "I did that."

Dean is almost speechless. "I, uh,..."

He can't help a niggling resentment that Sam would use his influence as a prince this way and interfere with HIS personal status behind his back. But, Jeez. If he had known all he needed to do to get his ass out from under the crap-pile he was struggling to manage was to go down on some random royal...

"We thank you," finishes Sam.

His etiquette training is showing a little.

"Yeah," murmurs Dean, feeling a little dazed.

With a slight bob of the head, Publik disappears from before their eyes and Jo's face pops into view again.

"So I guess you boys'll be ready for a new assignment, huh Dean, Sam?"

Dean's mind is still taking in the recent changes.

"Uh, no, Jo. Think we may be taking a couple weeks out. We could use a vacation in Serenity Spa."

"Yeah, dude," Sam eagerly agrees. "You kinda owe me a honeymoon."

Jo snickers. "OK then. I guess I'll call again later. Have fun. Over."

The hologram disappears as Sam begins peeling the fluffy robe off of his lover. Dean is a little grouchy, not sure how to take Sam's meddling in his affairs.

"I guess you think this means I'm gonna live like a regular stiff from now on?"

Sam isn't dumb enough to believe that.

"Hell no, Dean, I know this is 'what you do', and I'm more than ready to keep on doing it with you. I'm along for the whole wild ride."

"Speaking of ride..."

Dean wriggles his eyebrows suggestively and pulls Sam down into a clinch, his fingers tracing the smooth round of Sam's ass-cheek. Sam goes with it, kissing him deep and long, enjoying the bite of Dean's fingernails into his firm butt. Finally they separate enough for Sam to speak.

"You realize this means you can use your real name again? Your dad's name. No more Captain Mononym."

Dean likes the sound of that. His surname and what it stands for means a lot. He brushes a hand through Sam's long, silky hair. Sam leans into it, humming happily.

"You know what, Sammy? You may look like a hairbrain but, every once in a while, you come up with something pretty damn smart."

"Like to think I got smart genes. The Campobellans are a proud people."

Dean isn't the only one proud of his ancestry. He slaps Sam on the butt.

"Dunno about jeans but your ass sure looked smokin' hot in that kilt."

Sam almost responds with, "We get hitched, I'll wear one for you," but he swallows his words. He's gotten Dean this far into relationship territory, and he doesn't want to spook him. Maybe he should start with mutually beneficial insurance and go from there.

Sam's grandfather taught him how to use procrastination to his political advantage. He can wait. He'll wear Dean down slowly with his masculine charms and the very impressive endowment between his legs. And maybe, someday, he'll let Sam make him HIS prince... charming, consort, whatever.

"You do know now that it's not a fairytale, right?" Sam asks.

Dean looks baffled. "What? Selenite civilization? Dude, I'd figure the jury's still out on that one."

Sam flicks Dean's nipple mischievously. "I mean LOVE, you muttonhead."

"Oof!" Dean's brow creases into a small frown.

It's a hard one to answer, and the slow movement of Sam's fingers over his body aren't helping him to focus. Dean hates to admit he's wrong, but this thing he has with Sam seems to have turned out real after all. No drugged-out fantasy or chick-flick make-believe could feel so good or so satisfying on a ridiculous number of levels.

He groans. "Oogh... Ask me again, Sammy, when we've gotten closer to Serenity."

Sam snickers wickedly. Dean's sex-husky voice makes that sound kind of naughty.

"You better brace yourself, lover, I'm gonna get us there. And fast."

The End

A/N: The idea for this story, without the naughty bits, has been knocking around in my head so long it originally 'starred' Michael Praed as the 'Sam' character. I hope it entertained you now I've finally got it written down. Nice reviews always appreciated. :)