Okay... that totally wasn't wrestling. Sam swallowed hard, eyes fixed on Dean like a deer in headlights. It would've been easy to laugh and brush it off if Dean hadn't gone and said his name like that. Damn it, Dean. It went straight to Sam's groin.
They were messed up. Seriously messed up. He should get up, go to bed, bury his head under the pillows and sleep. But when has a Winchester ever done what they were supposed to do?
Instead, he shifted enough to pin Dean down, one knee near his groin, one hand pinning an arm, dropping the keys onto his chest. "I win." No, his voice wasn't husky, Dean was imagining it...