If there's one good thing about having Sam around it's the research. Dean is perfectly capable of doing research. It just takes him longer, and he's more likely to get distracted by porn.
Though tonight Sam's not exactly with the program. He hasn't said anything since they hauled the books and the laptop over to the table. He hasn't even complained about Dean taking his boots off, and he always complains about that, they could both be full of bullet holes and Sam would still take the time to bitch about that.
Something's going on here.
Dean rocks back on his chair, just a little, tips sideways to see if he can catch the edge of Sam's screen.
"So, did you find out anything about the possible lizard monster yet?"
"No!" Sam says, a little too quickly and a little too loudly, and, Jesus, he slams his laptop shut so fast it's a wonder it doesn't crack in half and explode.
Dean raises an eyebrow at him.
"Were you looking at porn?"
Sam visibly winces.
"I wasn't looking at porn," he protests, and yeah, that's his guilty face alright, only this one's a little bit more disturbed than it usually is.
"Sure," Dean's voice doesn't even sound half convinced. But he restrains himself from pushing, he just rolls his eyes and finds another book to flip through. He acts casual while he searches for claw prints among all the useless third-hand knowledge.
He can wait.
He waits exactly seven minutes.
"I'm going to get a drink," Sam decides, and Dean absolutely doesn't react in any way. "You want one."
"Yeah, sure," he says, while attempting to stare through a page describing what Vetch's do to their victims intestines. "I could go for a drink."
Sam disappears out of the door and Dean waits exactly ten seconds listening to his gigantic boots tromp their way across the gravel before he tips his chair sideways, balancing on two legs, and swivels Sam's laptop round.
Sam never clears the browser history, because Dean's sat on the keys too many times, sending hours of research into oblivion.
Dean picks at random from the selection of pages in the menu. It takes him four sentences to realise exactly what he's reading, four graphic and descriptive sentences. He's reading angel porn, and he's most definitely full frontal here.
He tips his chair back a little farther and scrolls down, and down, and down some more. Two pages later he's deflowering an angel, in great detail, and, holy crap, fake Castiel is flexible-
The chair he's on abruptly decides it's had enough of this shit, thank you very much, and dumps him quickly and painfully on the floor in one loud crash. He lays there for a minute and thinks about how he could possibly have time to kill any monsters with all the fucking he's supposed to be doing. And why is it always dudes?
Also, fuck, now his back hurts.
He awkwardly, painfully, pulls himself to his feet and drags his chair back round, buries his face in the book again-
"Shit." He reaches back over the table and closes the window on Sam's computer, before slumping back down and looking like he hasn't been doing anything while Sam's been gone.
He's pretty impressed with his stealth skills because he thinks he manages to look thoroughly bored when Sam comes back in carrying two cokes, and an air of tired irritation. Though now Dean knows he's been reading porn about him he's, quite frankly, amazed he can look that sensible.
"So," Dean says casually, then waits an extra beat, just long enough for Sam to get a decent mouthful of his coke. "You wanna tell me why you've been reading fake porn about me and Cas?"
The coke ends up on the wall and, judging by the gasping-choking noise Sam makes, completely the wrong way down his throat.
There's a long period of hacking, some raspy breathing and then silence.
Dean thinks Sam may have actually died.
But no, there's a great hacking cough and Sam rejoins the land of the living.
Dean looks up.
"Because, seriously, weird as it is for me to find it on your computer, I think it's just a little bit weirder for you to have it on there in the first place."
"I didn't go looking for it-" Sam croaks in protest. "I didn’t- look I've been talking to Chuck and he kind of gets sent a lot of it, and he's not going to mention it to you because he thinks you'll-" Sam stops to cough, shoots him a vicious look, then coughs again. "-he thinks you'll flip out or get all weird about it."
Sam still looks pissed, a weird sort of pissed, like someone stole his-
"Dude? Are you pissed because the internet's not obsessed with us having fake sex any more?"
Sam gives him his patented 'fuck you' face, but Dean's far too amused to drop it that easily.
"I am not, I just-" Sam's expression turns almost miserable. "I barely turn up at all in the fanfic any more and when I do I'm either evil, or I get killed."
There's absolutely no way Dean isn't going to laugh at that.
"Dean, I'm serious! I've just been-" Sam sighs, loud and helpless. "I've been trying to work out why they don't like me. Or at least why they suddenly like Castiel more when Chuck's been writing about us for-"
Dean throws a book at him.
"Seriously, don't make me do that again," Dean complains. "You sound like a twelve year old girl. This isn't a popularity contest."
Which is pretty much exactly when Cas shows up, proving that he has epic timing and providing Dean with the amusement of watching Sam tense up like a deer who expects to get shot within the next five seconds.
"Hey Cas," Dean's says, in a way Sam clearly thinks is too cheerful and relaxed. Dean grins at him, because he's not the one who was stealthily reading porn about an angel of the lord. He has nothing to be ashamed of.
Nothing more than usual anyways.
Sam's trying to pretend he isn't finding it almost impossible to look at Castiel. Which clearly serves him right, that's what you get when you read angel porn for an entire morning. Shame on you Samuel Winchester.
Castiel is clearly in one of his observant moods, either that or he's just naturally suspicious of Sam acting suspiciously.
"Don't mind Sam, he's just pissed because of all the fake sex me and you are having now," Dean explains.
"Dean!" Sam does that scandalised voice so well, and it's almost too easy.
Castiel stares at him sideways, in that completely bewildered sort of way he has, and absolutely in no way tries to take his clothes off or molest anyone. Which is probably a good thing.
"Dean, Jesus, you can't say things like that," Sam scolds, like the angel might spontaneously combust if they so much as mention sex around him. Dean should probably remind Sam, at some point, that Castiel can probably read his mind and has therefore been exposed to pretty much every perverted thought that's ever gone through Dean's brain. If he was going to combust he would have done it already.
Sam continues to look conflicted for about five seconds, then he slaps his laptop shut and takes it into the other room, slamming the door behind him.
Castiel just looks bewildered.
"At least with you I get to be on top," Dean decides, before resuming his search for lizard monsters.