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Wednesday evening - fourth floor common room

"Okay," Dean said, dumping the bags of ingredients on the kitchen counter. "I think we've got everything." He grinned at his brother who was following him reluctantly. "Time to start baking."

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Sam was doing his best not to give Dean the satisfaction of seeing him grumble as he started sorting through everything they'd bought. "Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time. "I really don't know how much of a help I can be."

"You made those pies for the dinner we had at Dad's a couple of months ago," Dean pointed out.

"Yeah, and do you remember the look he gave you when you said that I'd made them? We could very well get a whole room of that face tomorrow."

"He had seconds."

"...he did?" Sam asked. "I didn't know that."

"He did. So you can stop with the 'Oh my god, I'm going to poison people' thing," Dean said, getting down a bowl to mix ingredients in. "Unless it's a threat and you're planning on doing it deliberately in which case we need to have a serious talk."

"Hey, I have no intention of poisoning anyone," Sam said, perking up a little. "Especially since I'm not even completely sure who we're cooking for, besides ourselves."

"Pretty much everybody who isn't going somewhere else for Thanksgiving," Dean said. "You want to start peeling and cutting the apples when I make the crust?"

Still more than happy to take the simpler task, Sam nodded and grabbed the apples. "Sure."

They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes then Dean said, "So, Dawn's gone home?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. "It's good that she's with her family and her friends at home though. And we're wondering how many rolls of tape Buffy's going to send back with her."

"It's not the rolls of tape so much as what she might want to do with them," Dean teased.

"What Buffy might want to do, or what Dawn might want to do?" Sam asked, as his mind wandered to a slightly bad place involving Dawn and tape.

"Depends if we're talking good uses of tape or bad uses of tape."

Sam would normally roll his eyes at a comment like that, but it seemed kind of wrong considering the direction his thoughts had gone. "I'm only thinking about good uses," he said. Good, wholesome uses, really.

Dean chuckled. "So should I get you a pair of handcuffs for Christmas then? To only have good uses."

The way Sam got flushed and flustered was the only response he gave to that question. "I have apples here whenever you're ready for them," he said.

Dean was now mixing the ingredients together to make the dough for the crust. "Y'know, you are allowed to have the occasional naughty thought."

"There's a difference between naughty thoughts and bad thoughts," Sam replied, working on getting the rest of the apples cut.

"True," Dean admitted. "I just think you're mislabelling naughty as bad."

Sam shrugged. "The way I see it, if it's something that would make Dawn blush and giggle and get all flustered? It's naughty. If it's something that would make her hit me, it's bad."

"Oh, I see. It's how naughty Dawn's thoughts are that you're underestimating," Dean teased.

"Why do you assume that everyone has thoughts that are as dirty as yours?" Sam asked, laughing. "Some people are capable of having innocent thoughts, you know."

Dean seemed to take a moment to consider that statement then shook his head. "Nah."

Sam took a moment as well, before nodding. "Yeah."

"Not anybody our age," Dean said.

"Maybe not any of the boys," Sam admitted. "But some of the girls? I don't know."

"They're human -- well most of them here anyway -- they're teenagers, they have hormones... I'd say it's a safe bet they have naughty thoughts just as much as guys do."

"So...you think Dawn has those kinds of thoughts about me?" Sam asked.

"I'd lay money on it," Dean said.

Sam's eyes widened a little as he thought about that and started to picture it. "Okay, maybe it's a good thing Dawn is out of town, because this gives me time to forget that mental image so I can look her in the eye again," he said.

Dean rolled his eyes as he dumped the dough out on the counter from the bowl. "Because of course the fact that she's having the same naughty thoughts you are is something to be embarrassed about."

Sam almost replied, "Of course it is," before realizing that Dean was being sarcastic. "It's just weird to think about, that's all. I mean, you don't get weirded out knowing that girls have dirty thoughts about you?" Glancing at Dean, Sam snickered. "Forget I asked that."

Dean grinned. "I consider it a public service, giving girls something to have dirty thoughts about."

"You know, sometimes, I'm really almost embarrassed to be related to you."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, you really need to loosen up some. There's nothing wrong with being lusted after."

"There is when you don't know who's doing it," Sam protested. "I'm terribly sorry I'm not as sexually crazed as you are."

"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean said, clapping a flour covered hand to Sam's shoulder. "Some people are just late bloomers. Must be all that extra distance the hormones have to travel -- see, there's drawbacks in not knowing when to stop growing."

Sam shrugged Dean's hand away, and brushed at the flour, rolling his eyes. "I'm not a late bloomer - you're an early bloomer. That's what happens when you have too many hormones in a short body."

Dean smirked. "I haven't had any complaints about hormones or body."

"Well, I haven't had any complaints about lack of hormones," Sam replied.

"Well, that's a start at least."

"And Dawn hasn't had any complaints, which is the most important thing, I think." He wasn't letting the thought of any other girls having dirty thoughts about him cross his mind.

"Won't get any argument from me on that," Dean said with an easy smile. "Just keep it that way."

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Wednesday evening - fourth floor common room

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