#lee!dean

“No way. Absolutely not.”

Dean huffed as he turned away from the angel, throwing a hand up to emphasize how not acceptable the idea was. “You know I don’t do that kiddie crap.”

“But the humans in the film seem so happy!”

Castiel pouted as he carried his phone towards Dean, pointing at the screen. He’d recently learned how effective that expression was when he wanted to get his way; on most days, Dean couldn’t seem to resist it. “Why are you so against the idea, anyway?”

Dean did his best to ignore that rather cute expression, steeling his resolve. He had a point to prove, damn it. “Because it’s dumb! I haven’t made a damn pillow fort since I was seven, and that was only ‘cuz Sammy wouldn’t stop crying.”

“Exactly,” the angel insisted, still following behind Dean. He was nothing if not determined. “Things have been calm, Dean. Why can’t we enjoy a moment together while Sam is away?”

While he would’ve loved to keep walking away during their “argument,” Dean had reached the end of the hallway. He still wasn’t fully used to the maze-like hallways within their relatively new home. Damn bunker and its stupidly confusing layout…

“Dean…” Cas murmured, coming up behind the hunter. As stubborn as Dean was being, there was always a way to win him over. He simply required the proper motivation.

Two gentle hands rested themselves upon Dean’s hips, pulling him back against the angel. The warmth of the holy man’s chest against Dean’s back immediately set off a flurry of joyful little butterflies in Dean’s stomach—ones that he refused to acknowledge.

“You son of a…” he grumbled, trailing off as those hands rubbed little circles into his hip divots. Why did Cas have to know him so well? “Fine, okay? Fine! Damn bird.”

With a triumphant little grin, Castiel pecked Dean on the cheek. The man could only sigh as Cas trotted off toward his bedroom, undoubtably going to sift through a massive pile of blankets that were awaiting them there. The angel knew he’d get Dean to cave, as he always did on matters like that.

Despite his protests, the idea did seem pretty nice to Dean. Sitting in a little blanket fort with Cas, snuggling up close to one another, all warm and private…

Okay, yeah. I can work with this.

—

“This fluffy blanket should be added to the interior,” Castiel mused, tying the corner of his current blanket onto the back of a chair. “It would make a nice addition to the main space. Right, Dean?”

Dean sighed and did as he was told, questioning when the “happy” aspect he was promised of the evening would arrive. They’d been building Cas’s ideal blanket fort for the past twenty minutes, and Dean’s back was starting to hurt.

“I think it looks good as-is, Cas. Nice supports, good walls, cushy floor… Do we really need anything else?”

Castiel frowned, looking down at the knot he’d finished tying. The fort did look rather nice, and he was proud of the point he’d managed to get in the center using the broom. Sure, he could make it even better with an extra twenty minutes or so, but he could feel Dean’s patience beginning to thin. The man never could wait when he was expecting something. “I suppose not. Did you make the popcorn?”

“Who do you think I am? Sammy? Of course I made the popcorn,” he scoffed, slipping in the usual jab at his nutritionally-minded brother. Sam wasn’t in the room to hear it, but it was the thought that counted. “What movie are we watching, anyway?”

“The Outsiders. Jody mentioned it when I called her last, and the misguided teenagers seem interesting.”

That was a surprising one. Dean’s brows raised as he watched Cas pop the CD into the player. The light from the TV lit up the fort they’d built around it, displaying a 60’s-esque title screen. “Huh. Never took you for a Macchio guy.”

And there was Cas’s confused little head-tilt, letting Dean know the name-drop had gone over his head. It was adorable, how the angel always had his thoughts on display. “A what?”

“He’s a guy in the movie, Ralph Macchio. Ya know, from— Ah, forget it. You’ll see.”

Once Castiel had settled down and Dean’s head was resting comfortably on his partner’s chest, they started the movie. It was pretty good, all things considered. Cas had a good number of questions about the slang used in the film, but it was kinda cute to Dean. He liked Cas’s curiosity surrounding the human world.

Then they got to the scene.

“Why would they do that?”

“Hmm?” Dean hummed, tilting his head up to meet the angel’s gaze. They were getting into the emotional section of the movie, so he hadn’t been expecting another question. “Do what? Smoke? Thought I told you—”

“No, the tickling. I thought you said it was annoying, stupid, and reserved for girly pillow fights,” Castiel quoted, doing his best Dean impression to further deliver his point. “Why would they wake him up with it?”

“Because it works,” he shrugged, popping a fluffy kernel into his mouth. That wasn’t the question he’d expected, but it was easy enough to answer. “Used to use it on Sam when he was little. Dad wanted us outside by a certain time, and I got tired of shaking ‘im every five minutes.”

Cas hummed at that, moving to give Dean’s scalp some gentle scratches. It was an unspoken rule between them: every answer warranted some payment. Dean’s favorite currency was often affection. “Okay.”

That was the ticket. Happy, contented noises left Dean’s mouth as he relaxed into the touch, allowing himself to feel a little mushy. Hunting his whole life, always on edge, never knowing when he’d bite the ultimate bullet—he’d earned some sappy affection, damn it.

As the minutes ticked on, Dean’s head began to loll against his partner’s chest. The head scratches were putting him to sleep, and he was too comfortable to fight it. The movie was about done, so he wasn’t too worried about more questions. He was so close to dozing off…

…until five strong fingers started gently prodding his side.

“Pfffh— hey! C-Cas?” Dean yelped, clumsily jolting away from the angel. He was groggy, so all he really accomplished was a flail.

Castiel simply smiled down at him, shrugging. “You were falling asleep. The film hasn’t ended yet.”

“That doesn’t mean you—” Dean stopped short, his voice catching in his throat. By his own logic, Cas was fully within reason to poke him. Damn it… “Whatever.”

The moment Dean allowed himself to relax again, however, Castiel’s evil fingers returned to his side, this time purposely squeezing. And it wasn’t just one, either; Cas gripped the poor man’s side, wiggling his fingers into the skin the same way he’d observed Sam doing it a few weeks prior.

“GYAHAhahad dahahmn ihit, Cahas!”

Dean couldn’t hold back the giggles that time. They spilled past his lips, much more high-pitched than he would’ve liked. His cheeks immediately began to burn with flustered embarrassment. “Quihihihit!”

“But it’s rather effective. You can’t sleep if you’re laughing, and I can feel your heart racing. You’re having fun.”

“Nohoho I’m nohohot, youhuhu bihihitch!”

Lie. Dean was, unfortunately, having fun. Castiel had been getting better at showing affection and having casual fun, but he rarely ever gave himself over to mischief like he had in that moment. It left Dean giddy and excited and, when paired with the tickling, completely at a loss. His brain reverted to factory settings: curse and avoid admitting to anything.

Castiel sighed, very aware of his human’s lies. He could always go digging around in Dean’s brain pan for the real truth, but that was unnecessary; he could easily tell that Dean was enjoying himself. Also, using his angelic abilities to force the truth out of his boyfriend might not have been the best move for keeping the man’s trust.

“You know I won’t judge you for your preferences, Dean. I was once naked and covered in bees, yet you still accepted me as your partner. It’s only fair that I extend that same courtesy.”

The memory of that specific mental image made Dean laugh a bit harder through his giggles, if only for a second. Even when he was being a prick, Cas found a way to be adorable.

“S-stihihill wihish I cohohould’a seheheen thahat ohohone,” Dean grinned, hoping the trip down memory lane would distract Cas enough for him to twist away. It was not, unfortunately, leaving Dean just as trapped as he was before.

“I wasn’t myself during that time. I don’t remember everything, but I do remember how displeased Meg was when she found me with the bees. She refused to come near me until they’d left. I had so much honey, but she wouldn’t try any.”

That thought got a snort out of the man. It was quick and punchy, though Castiel’s head whipped up when he heard it. Oh, god, no…

“That was a new sound. I’d like to hear it again, Dean.”

“Wh-whahat? Nohoho, youhu— SHHHIHIHIT! Y-YOUHUHU AHAHASSHOHOHOLE!”

Dean lost it as Castiel dug into the pudge beneath his navel, back arching against him. He writhed and kicked against that stupid trench coat, but he simply couldn’t escape from the angel’s strong hold. It made him feel both embarrassingly weak and comfortingly vulnerable. He…wasn’t quite sure how to process the two of those emotional cocktails blending together.

And, because of course he did, Cas got his wish.

“*snort* DAHAHAMN IHIHIT!” Dean cackled, his socked foot kicking at the floor. He felt so childish in that moment, cheeks burning hotter than they ever had before. It was awful, but also strangely freeing. “GEHEHET OHOHOFF!”

“But you always tell me to touch you when we’re alone,” Cas frowned, feigning confusion as he continued to torment that poor bit of pudge. Yes, he did get confused sometimes, but both of them knew exactly what he was doing in that moment.

“THAHAT’S DIHIHIFFEREHENT!”

There was still a way to up the fun for both of them. Wedging his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, Cas began nuzzling his stubble against the sensitive skin. He’d long since discovered the sensitivity of Dean’s neck; he was choosing that moment to exploit it.

Dean’s mind simply short-circuited, overwhelmed by all the sensations and emotions the playful moment had sparked within him. He flopped back against his angelic boyfriend, squirming fruitlessly as he succumbed to his fate.

“IHIHIHI— *snort* THIHIHIS SUHUHUCKS!”

How could one human man melt his heart so thoroughly? Cas felt his cheeks warm after that adorable statement, a buzzing sensation shooting through his chest. He was…giddy. It was a bit odd to feel such a uniquely human emotion after regaining his grace so long ago, but there it was. He was in love, and that love—as the humans said—had little butterflies swarming in his chest. It was nice.

His human had a limit, however, and Castiel could tell the man was reaching it. He begrudgingly stopped his tickling, switching to gentle massaging of Dean’s sides. That gesture was appreciated, though the poor hunter couldn’t stop giggling.

His partner could use some comfort, he decided. Leaning down, Castiel pressed loving little kisses to Dean’s forehead. Dean man tried to shove his head away, but that was quickly stopped by two strong hands around his wrists. All four hands were brought to rest over Dean’s heart, feeling it pound against them.

“Youhuhu… ahare the ahahabsoluhute worst bohoyfriend ehehever!” Dean huffed, wriggling around to bury his face in Cas’s chest. The angel was insufferably warm, and he wanted to hide his face. “Ihi hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” the angel grinned, pressing one last handful of kisses to the top of his head before pulling the man down to lie with him. The blanket fort was somehow still standing after their mischief, making for a perfect nap-spot.

Castiel pulled the man closer, cradling him against his chest. His heartrate was beginning to slow, and he could tell Dean was close to dozing off. It was slightly astonishing to Cas that his mere presence could put Dean so at ease. “I love you, Dean.”

“Whatever,” Dean huffed. He was rather worn-out after all the tickling, and a nap sounded heavenly. Setting aside his pride for a moment, he slumped, nuzzling his face against Cas’s chest. Warm, familiar, and comfy…

Damn it, the angel was gonna drive him soft before too long. His whole “badass playboy” reputation didn’t stand a chance around a being of such pure loyalty and unapologetic adoration. His heart belonged to Castiel, wholly and truly. “Love you too, birdie. Now shut up and let me sleep.”

From the passenger seat, Dean doesn't even look up from the weapon cleaning cloth he's been idling with, but his voice is laced with dry, older brother judgment. "That's three, Sammy."

"I'm fine," Sam croaks, his voice thick with sleep. He clears his throat, hopping his bottom up in the seat, straightening his back. "Just a pothole."

"A pothole that stretched for twenty feet and rattled the hell out of my ass? Yeah, right. Pull over."

"Dean, seriously, I'm alright. We're only an hour out from the motel." Sam grips the wheel tighter, staring fiercely at the rain-slicked asphalt, trying to force his brain into alertness.

"Yeah, and an hour is plenty of time for you to put my car into a ditch. Pull over, Sam."

"I said I've got i—"

"Sam. Pull. O–ver." Dean's voice shifted from casual teasing to that low and unyielding command that leaves no room for argument.

With a frustrated sigh, Sam gives in. He blinks through the rain, guiding the Impala onto the gravel shoulder. The tires crunch loudly before coming to a stop. Before Sam can even shift into park, Dean is already unbuckling, throwing his door open into the cold, rainy night and jogging around the hood. Sam groans, unpinning his long legs from the pedals, and slides across the bench seat into the passenger side.

Dean slips into the cabin, slamming the door shut behind himself. He shook his head like a dog to scatter the raindrops from his short hair, and grips the steering wheel with an obnoxious, theatrical sigh of relief. He shifts the car back into drive, pulling them smoothly onto the empty highway.

"Unbelievable," Dean scoffs, immediately settling into a smug rhythm. He taps his fingers against the leather wheel, glancing over at Sam with a grin. "Ninth grade, all over again. Can't even keep your eyes open for a three-hour stretch. You're a weakling, Sammy. A giant, delicate snowflake."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam mumbles. He reaches down, yanking the lever to lower his seat back, reclining it until he's basically lying down. He rolls onto his side, facing away from Dean and closing his eyes to block out the road light. "Just let me sleep."

"Oh no, you don't get to sleep through your shame," Dean chirps, entirely unbothered by Sam's dismissive attitude. He leaned back, with one elbow resting casually on the window frame. The very picture of his effortless mastery. "I mean, look at this. Rain pouring down, visibility next to nothing, road greasy as hell. Am I complaining? No. Cause a real driver can handle any circumstance."

Sam lets out a soft, mocking huff into his jacket collar, keeping his eyes shut. "Right. You're a hero, Dean. Put it on a resume."

"I'm serious! Remember that hunt in Missouri? When that crazy ass black pickup truck was tryna ram me off the ridge? I was driving through a mountain pass, in a blizzard, and I still didn’t lose traction."

Sam rolls his eyes, finally opening them just a crack. He turns his head back toward the driver's seat, a sleepy, skeptical smirk playing on his lips as he shook his head.

"Or what about the time in Pontiac? We had three cruiser tails, roadblocks on the interstate, and I navigated us through an alleyway that was literally three inches wider than this car. Did I sweat? No. Did I scratch the chrome? Not a scratch. I can drive under any condition, Sam. I could- I could drive with my eyes closed. I could drive while being strangled from behind by a demon and still parallel park perfectly. It's a gift."

Sam lets out a low chuckle, shifting his weight. He's starting to wake up now, purely fueled by the sheer absurdity of Dean's unraveling ego. "Oh, really? Any circumstance? What about that time the car got infested with cursed cicadas, hm?" He cocked his head to the side expectantly.

That does it. The last comment broke the last thread of Sam’s patience.

Dean’s posture stiffened. His face reddening slightly. "That was different! Those things were crawling inside my shirt! Besides, I kept the car upright. You, on the other hand, get a little sleepy because it's past your bedtime."

"Alright, that's it," Sam mutters. With a sudden, explosive burst of energy that completely belies his earlier exhaustion, Sam straightens up in his seat. Before Dean can even register the movement, Sam lunges across the center console. His long arms shoot out, his massive hand landed squarely on Dean's flanks as his long fingers instantly dug furiously into the soft flesh right above Dean's hips.

"Kh- gh-h-hEY!!" Dean jolted violently. His shoulders snapping up to his ears as a sharp, high pitched gasp ripping from his throat.

"Any circumstance, huh?" Sam teased, a wicked, wide grin splitting his face. He didn't let up, his second hand joined the first. Fingers kneading relentlessly into Dean's ribs and sides, finding the exact spots through his layers of flannel and leather.

"D-dahamn it, SaHAM—!" Dean squeaks, his composure completely shattering into an absolute mess of breathless laughter. His knees knocked together frantically under the steering wheel, and his foot twitched on the gas pedal, causing the impala to roar and lurch forward.

The car veered sharply to the left, crossing the yellow lines. Dean tried to grasp the wheel steady with his left hand, but Sam takes notice and immediately shifts his right hand, driving his fingers directly under Dean's armpit.

"Whoa! Look at that focus, Dean! You're drifting!" Sam laughed, his voice full of mischievous delight as he ruthlessly tickled his brother's sides.

"Sahammy! No, seriously! AhaHAh— grr..sstop it! I'm driv—aghh! I'm driving, Sam!" Dean exclaimed harshly, trying to shrink away from the onslaught. His back desperately arching off the seat as he squirmed against the leather. He uses his right elbow to desperately try and shield his ribs, but Sam's reach was too long. Dean's face was bright shade of red by now. His teeth bared in a wild, helpless grin as he gasped for air. The Impala swerves back to the right, the tires clipping the wet gravel of the shoulder with a loud crunching sound.

"Get oho— Get off me!!" Dean manages to bellow, bringing his forearm down hard, finally slamming his elbow into Sam's chest and shoving him forcefully back across the console into the passenger seat.

Sam fell back against his door, breathless from laughing. His chest heaving as he watched Dean panickly steer the car back into the center of the lane.

Dean panted heavily, his heart hammered against his ribs. He glares at the road, his knuckles absolutely white as he stabilizes the car. "Are you insane!?" Dean barked, though his voice still had a breathless and shaky tremor to it. "That wasn't funny at all, Sam!"

Sam just leans his head back against the headrest, letting out a loud, blooming laugh. "Oh, yeah? What happened to 'any circumstance'? I thought you could handle a demon strangling you from behind?"

"That is totally different and you know it!" Dean snapped, adjusting his grip on the wheel, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror.

Suddenly, Sam's laughter cut off. His amused grin vanished from his face as he felt the heavy sensation of the brakes being applied hard. The Impala's nose dipped and the car skidded slightly on the slick asphalt before Dean ruthlessly guided it onto a wide area nestled deep within the black silhouette of the forest. The tires kick up a spray of mud as the car comes to a sudden, violent stop.

The engine idles with a low, menacing rumble. The rain drummed furiously on the roof. Meanwhile Sam shifted uncomfortably against his seat at the abrupt stop. "Dean? Why'd you stop?"

Dean didn't answer immediately. Instead, he slowly turned his head to face Sam with a dark, terrifyingly joyful smirk plastered across his face. "You think you're pretty clever, don't you?"

"Dean, look, we're-...on a dark highway and we need to get to the motel—" Sam blabbered, his voice dropping an octave as he instinctively tries to unbuckle his seatbelt in case he'll need to run away from his brother, right into the heavy downpour. His back pressed flat against the passenger door, realizing too late that he had nowhere to run.

"Nah, the motel can wait," Dean says, unbuckling his seatbelt with a sharp click. "You wanna test the theory? Let's test the theory." With a feral grin, Dean threw himself across the console. Because of Sam's reclined seat, he is completely trappe. His long legs tangled up under the dashboard. Dean landed heavily on top of him, pinning Sam's thighs with his knees, and immediately diving his hands straight into his stomach.

"AhAH! DEAN!—" Sam shrieked as a deep, bubbly laughter suddenly exploded from his chest. He instantly curled inward like a folding chair. His hands shooting down to grab his brother's hands to protect his midsection, but, oh, Dean was relentless.

"Oh, what's the matter, Sammy?" Dean taunted at him. His fingers flying in a blur as he targeted the sensitive skin right along Sam's stomach and hips. "Can't handle a little distraction?"

"StahaHAahap it! Hahah—Dean, plehease!" Sam gasped as his body thrashed wildly against the car cabin, occasionally kicking and hitting the walls and windows yet to no avail. His huge and tall frame shaking the entire Impala, making it creak rhythmically. His hand darted forward, subconsciously launching to hit Dean purely out of reflex, but Dean slyly dodged his attack and shifted his ministrations way lower. His fingers dug into Sam's thighs, squeezing the muscles as he nearly got kicked by it.

Sam's eyes went wide, and a loud, breathless cry escaped him. He threw his head back against the headrest, his back arching off the ground, completely defenseless as his arms lose all the strength. "OH MY— NOHOT THEhere! D-DeHEan, please!—"

"Oh, so the thighs are the secret weapon tonight, huh?" Dean laughed, completely victorious. His own residual adrenaline turning into pure, vengeful glee. He kept the merciless rhythm up, teasing and digging into Sam's softest spots until the giant younger brother is reduced into a gasping, squirming mess.

"ALRIGHT!! DEHEean, alright! I give, I give!" Sam gasped out as his tears from laughter welled in the corners of his eyes. He desperately tried to curl away from Dean's crawling fingers. Realizing he's completely overpowered and needs to deploy his ultimate defense mechanism. "You're— ghah.. you're the best driver in the world, Dean! Seriously!" He suddenly wheezed out.

Dean paused. His fingers hovered just millimeters above Sam's twitching knees. A triumphant, wicked grin broke across his face as he squinted down at his brother insistently. "And?"

Sam swallowed hard, his chest heaving as he took in a desperate gulp, keeping his eyes glued to Dean's hovering hands. "And... and nobody else could've kept the impala on the road just now. Your reflexes are insane."

Dean's ego thoroughly inflated, but he didn't pull back just yet. He wiggles his fingers teasingly, making Sam tense in anticipation. "And?..."

"And you have absolute flawless focus under any circumstance!" Sam practically yells, throwing his hands up in total surrender. "Satisfied, jerk!?"

Dean chuckles, thoroughly pleased with himself. He gave Sam's ribs one final, playful poke just to make him squeak, then delivered two condescending pats to Sam's flushed cheek. "That's what I thought, bitch." Dean muttered, sliding back over the console into the driver's seat. He shifted the car back into drive, and flipped the headlights back on, cutting through the heavy rain. "Now go to sleep, snowflake. Big brother's got the wheel."

Sam let out a long, shuddering sigh and slumped heavily back into the leather seat, completely spent from Dean's ruthless onslaught. His muscles went totally slack, and he didn't even bother to fix his crumpled jacket or adjust his awkward, reclined posture. Lulled by the steady rhythm of the wipers and the engine's low hum, he closed his eyes and drowned in a deep, sweet slumber, dead to the world before Dean could even shift back into drive.

–––

(BONUS)

The steady drum of rain from the night before had finally trickled out. Only leaving behind a crisp, heavy mist that hung low over a desolate gas station parking lot. It was ridiculously early. The kind of dawn where the sky is just a bleak and washed out grey and the sun hasn't even bothered to show up yet.

Inside the cramped station shop, the fluorescent lights buzzed with an annoying, high pitched hum that made Dean's head throb. He tossed a couple of bills onto the counter, scooping up two plastic bags that clinked with cold beer cans and smelled heavily of cellophane wrapped breakfast burgers and stale coffee.

"Have a nice day," the pimply kid behind the register mumbled, not even looking up from his phone.

"Yeah, spectacular," Dean muttered under his breath, turning on his heel. He pushed the glass door open with his shoulder, a little bell chiming above him. He stepped out into the damp morning air, muttering to himself. "Has this kid never seen a gym or a shower in his life?..." Dean grumbled, rolling his shoulders under his leather jacket to shake off the stiffness of a six hour drive.

He walked out onto the cracked asphalt, his boots crunching on the wet gravel, but stopped short when his eyes locked on the car.

Sam was already out of the impala. He was perched casually against the hood of the car. His unnaturally long legs crossed at the ankles and his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He was staring blankly into the tree line. His broad shoulders hunched slightly against the morning chill. As Dean approached, Sam turned his head, his eyes instantly narrowing to tiny slits against the sudden, pale brightness of the overcast sky.

"Look who’s alive," Dean called out, a smirk instantly finding its way onto his face. "Morning, sunshine."

Sam completely skipped the greeting, his voice still rough and gravelly from sleep. "Did we pass the motel?"

"Duh," Dean said easily, popping the trunk of the Impala and tossing one of the bags inside before walking over to the passenger side. "You were sleeping like a giant, drooling baby, Sammy. Didn't have the heart to wake you up just to drag your oversized body into another crappy bed."

Sam just shook his head, a faint, exhausted sigh escaping him. He didn't bother arguing. Instead, he leaned forward, ignoring Dean's explanation entirely as his eyes locked onto the plastic bag still in Dean's hand. "What’d you get?"

Dean didn't answer. Instead, his smirk widened into a full blown, wicked grin. "You know," Dean chuckled. "Maybe I should start tickling you before bed more often? Cause, you've slept like a rock. No tossing, no turning, no nightmares. It's actually pretty convenient."

Sam’s eyes snapped from the bag straight to Dean’s face, his expression deadpan and completely unamused. "Go to hell, Dean." Sam muttered. His voice pure of long suffering resignation of a younger brother who knew he was never, ever going to live last night down. He snatched the breakfast bag out of Dean's hand and rounded the front of the Impala. They opened their doors in sync, before climbing inside the cabin.

Sam settled into the driver’s seat, instantly adjusting the rearview mirror to fit his height, while Dean buried himself into the passenger side with a blissful sigh. The key turned in the ignition, and the car answered with its familiar, deep engine growl, immediately pumping welcoming heat into the car.

Dean eagerly unwrapped a cellophane covered burger, but as he shifted around on the leather seat, a smug grin crawled right back onto his face. He glanced over at his brother, who was already shifting the car into drive.

"Ooh," Dean purred around a mouthful of breakfast, shifting his weight. "Nice and warm over here. You must've just crawled out of bed, Sammy. Which is great, cause I think I've earned a little shut-eye after my legendary, rock-solid driving through that treacherous night, don't ya think? Care to give your big brother a little ride?"

Sam just rolled his eyes, gripped the steering wheel firmly with both hands, and smoothly pressed down on the gas, pulling them back out onto the empty highway. This time, he was going to make damn sure he didn't give Dean any excuses to test his focus.

Sam’s eyes were already threatening to close as they tried to stay focused on the words.

It had only been a few hours into their research session and the younger Winchester already felt like beating himself over the head just to get a few seconds of rest. If they could just figure out WHAT they were hunting, they could track it down, kill it, and be on their merry way. He just had to stay awake…

Despite his weariness, the youngest Winchester forced himself to stay conscious, flipping page after page like he had no other choice. Then, he saw it. Or rather he read it…

His eyes lit up with relief. He slammed his hands on the table and propped himself up, all sleepiness leaving his body as the words sunk in. He was eager to tell his older brother, who had been researching in an armchair on the other side of the room.

“Hey, get this! So, the campers heard their friends call-” He paused when he heard a snore on the other side of the room.

“Dean?” He called, but he didn’t receive an answer.

His gaze wandered from the table to the small living area. Sure enough, Dean was comfortably reclined, his head tipped back against the chair as he snored.

The younger Winchester’s expression instantly morphed into a scowl.

Typical… of course Dean was sleeping instead of ACTUALLY helping for once.

“Dean.” Sam grumbled, only to receive no response.

Dean was out cold, his jaw slack and mouth wide open. The sight boiled Sam’s blood a bit. His brother was over there napping while he broke his back searching for answers to their mystery.

His eye twitched and he tried again. “Dean!”

But Dean just continued to snore, unbothered by his brother’s calls.

That was the final straw.

Sam got out of his chair, the legs screeching against the wooden floors, though that didn’t seem to disturb Dean’s rest either.

If his brother wanted to be a lazy pain, then Sam would just have to teach him a lesson. He casually pattered over, not bothering to tiptoe since the hunter didn’t seem to be waking any time soon.

When he reached the elder’s destination, he took one last look at the sleepy expression before making his move…

“WAKE UP!!” He shouted as he dug his fingers into the older man’s ribcage, wiggling between the bones and showing no mercy.

If nothing else woke him, the tickling sure did. The shorter hunter shot up and flailed like a fish out of water, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as his sleep was rudely interrupted.

“SAMMY?! W-WHAT THE HEHEHELL?!”

Dean barked, arching his back and shoving at his brother’s hands. The reaction was more than satisfying to Sam.

“Seriously? Thought you could just sleep through the research and leave it all to me?” Sam huffed.

The tickling was relentless and sudden, giving the older Winchester no time to adjust to the sensations. He was barely awake and he was already screeching like a banshee… Sam could’ve at least had the decency to start with a less ticklish spot. His little brother could be such an ass… unlike him, who napped and let the younger do all the boring work.

“DAMMIT, SAMMY! STOHOHOP!!”

The younger brother let out a snort, enjoying having the upper hand. He should sneak attack his brother more often…

scribbling up to Dean’s armpits and scratching at the hollows. The change in spots tore a frantic shriek from the older man’s throat.

“Are you kidding?! I have so much revenge I need to catch up on!” Sam grinned, scribbling up to Dean’s armpits and drilling his thumbs into the sensitive hollows. The change in spots tore a frantic shriek from the older man’s throat.

It took almost as much effort to look annoyed as it did to stay awake.

How was he supposed to stay irritated when his big brother’s wailing laughter was echoing off the walls like that?

“You deserve every second of this, jerk!” He exclaimed, no longer able to keep the grin off his face. Sure, he was still pretty ticked, but he definitely felt some relief flowing through him as his fingers scurried up and down Dean’s sides, over his stomach, and up to his armpits again.

But then Sam decided he wanted to hear his brother REALLY scream… he deserved it after all.

The elder could feel the taller’s nimble fingers scampering down his flanks and hovering threateningly in one spot… just above his hips.

Dean’s eyes widened and his flushed cheeks went pale.

“S-Sammy, you wouldn’t…” He muttered, a shiver shooting down his spine as his eyes latched onto his hips as if watching them would keep them safe.

There was almost a pleading look in his gaze…

Sam gave a cheeky grin. He would almost look sweet and innocent if he weren’t threatening Dean’s most ticklish spot.

“Oh…” He smirked, raising his hands and raising them so they floated right above the bones.

“I would.”

With that, he latched onto his brother’s hips, drilling into the divots and shooting electric sparks through his body. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t flinch at the frantic yell, followed by loud, boisterous cackles.

“SAMMY, YOU SONOVA BIHIHITCH!!!” Dean bucked his hips and kicked his legs, shoving at his brother’s hands and doing whatever he could to save his horribly ticklish hips from the torment.

Sam snorted, continuing the playful torture. “You shouldn’t really be name-calling in this position…”

“SUCK A- OH MY GOD, STOHOHOP!!!”

As the vengeful attack went on, Sam felt a sense of justice… he also felt far less annoyed.

Eventually, Dean was wheezing and gasping for breath, so Sam decided to have mercy. He pulled his hands away and gave a smug smirk, crossing his arms and sitting on the couch.

“I don’t wanna hear you bitching about my little naptime after that whole debacle…” The elder grumbled, wiping a hand over his face.

The younger hunter simply rolled his eyes and leaned into the couch.

“Whatever… can you just try to help out a little more? It kinda feels like I do all the work sometimes…”

Sam’s admission made Dean feel defensive, but he could tell his brother was serious… was he really that bad? He couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty.

He gave a reassuring smile. “Yeah… sure, Sammy.”

“Wait- really?” Sam asked, shocked. He expected Dean to fight back more…

Dean nodded, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder.

“Yeah… I guess I was being a bit of a jerk. But that doesn’t mean you’re not a little bitch for tickling the crap outta me.” He smirked.

The younger hunter blinked before accepting the situation. His brother was ACTUALLY taking responsibility for once.

“Well, anyway… I found out what we’re up against.” He said with a proud expression, sitting up straighter as he prepared to share his findings.

Dean raised a brow before leaning back, giving Sam the floor. “Alright… shoot away, Sammy.”

With a confident grin, Sam leaned forward…

Lee:

This man is a cackler and giggler anytime he is tickled

Growing up with Dean, he’s gotten pretty good at defending himself against being tickled, but as soon as you get one spot he’s done

Will definitely give you puppy dog eyes to convince you not to do it

He’s a fighter, he’ll squirm and try to pry your arms away as he curls in on himself

Thats where his long limbs come in handy for him

Sam’s ribs and armpits would be his most sensitive spots

Ler:

Sam can be pretty ruthless as a Ler when needed

He’s figured out the signs of when you want him to tickle you, like when you provoke him with sass, stubbornness or trying to tickle him first

Type of person to use more rougher tickles like poking and squeezing

He loves making you laugh so he always admires your laughter when he tickles you

Definitely more comfortable being the Ler but still allows you to be the Ler at times

He’s a teaser, saying things like; “You brought this upon yourself.” Or “What was that? I can’t quite hear you past your giggling.”

Dean:

Lee:

He will never admit that he’s ticklish no matter how much you prove it

His laugh can differ, it could be a hearty laugh or a squeaky laugh or if he’s holding back, only a chuckle

Will give you a certain look of warning when you try to tickle him

Like Sam, he’s a fighter and will do everything to get away

Although he secretly likes it but he will never admit that

His most ticklish spots would be his hips and waist

Ler:

Much more likely to be the Ler as he is an older brother after all, meaning he’s a very skilled tickler

Dean has the serious surface when in reality he would be getting butterflies at the sound of your laughter and can’t help but crack a smile

He would definitely tease you if you’re ‘air ticklish’

“I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Oooo what’s this?”

He can work with both soft and rough tickles, depending on the situation

Big fan of soft soothing tickles during cuddling

Castiel:

Lee:

He would be confused at the sensation at first but after a bit he will actually start to enjoy it

His laughs are usually more quiet, like little chuckles or giggles

After the first time you tickled him he would ask you to do it again because he ‘Likes The Human Experience’

Castiel twitches and squirms a little bit but tries to remain as still as he can

His most ticklish spots are his waist and neck

Ler:

Castiel likes tickling just as much as being tickled because he likes to understand human reactions like that

He’ll be soft with the tickles, smiling at you whilst stopping to make sure you’re okay

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“Is it okay with you if I continue?”

Uses tickles as a way to cheer you up if you’re sad or upset

He wouldn’t tease you out of risk of embarrassing you, but also because he doesn’t know how

Crowley:

Lee:

Don’t tickle him…just don’t even try

He wouldn’t actually be ticklish but he would threaten to murder you if you tried

Would give you a death stare

“Do that again and I’ll pluck your eyes out and use them in my cocktail.”

Ler:

I feel like he wouldn’t try to tickle you often, but with the soft spot he has for you he can’t help but find it endearing

Uses it as a form of punishment

“Learn your lesson?”

Only uses rough tickles to make his point

Secretly Crowley can be affectionate with you and may give soft tickles during a cuddle

Gabriel:

Lee:

He’s a playful guy so I feel like he’d enjoy being tickled but wouldn’t admit it

Wheezes or laughs whenever he’s tickled

He’ll threaten to tickle you if you try to tickle him

He would probably provoke you with his smartass comments to tickle him

I feel like he’d probably need to be pinned down, which I think he’d like anyway

Gabriel has very ticklish ribs and knees

Ler:

Gabriel is known for loving jokes and pranks so expect to be tickled a lot

Will use mockery and baby talk to tease you

“Aw what’s this? Is that another spot?”

“Someone’s sensitive.”

He would be a smiling/smirking idiot when he hears your laughter

Likes to use both soft and rough tickles as well as tickle hugs, surprise tickle attacks and wake up tickles