Fic: Hotel Blues
Title: Hotel Blues
Author: brightly_lit
Rating: G
Word Count: 500
Characters: Sam, Dean, hotel clerks
Genre: gen, slice of life, humor, brief outside POV
Summary: The hotel room was nice ... too nice.
Author's Note:
This story was inspired by a recent roadtrip I took with septembers_coda. Driving past a really cruddy-looking hotel, we nonetheless imagined it would look a-ok to Sam and Dean, and the plot of this little fic emerged ...
(If only the hotel we ended up staying in that night had been as nice as all this!)
Sam stopped short as he stepped inside the door, and Dean right behind him fell into him, cursing. “This is a nice hotel room,” Sam noted, proceeding on into the place, with its not-that-offensive artwork on the walls, suddenly unconsciously mincing his steps to avoid dirtying up the relatively clean carpet with his old, filthy boots.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed as he tossed his bag onto his bed--his eye, too, caught. “Check it out; this whole section of the bed is practically level.” He ran his hands over the spot experimentally.
Sam eyed his own bed, baffled. “Yeah ...,” he agreed awkwardly. “Check it out; my bed doesn’t even sag in the middle.”
They both stood there staring at this unprecedented phenomenon for a long moment, before trying to shake it off and go about their business. Sam took out his laptop and set it up on the distractingly unmarred, not-dusty surface of the table, and sat down in the chair, which didn’t squeak. Dean went into the bathroom and let out a quiet shout. Sam was on his feet instantly. “What is it?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” Dean mumbled, emerging looking sheepish. “Nothing, just ... the towels match! Kinda threw me off.”
Sam frowned and went in to see. Dean was right. They weren’t frayed, they weren’t discolored; they were even ... fluffy. Sam felt them suspiciously. “How much did you pay for this place?” he asked dangerously.
“The usual,” Dean insisted. “Just the same as always.”
After feeling the towels intently a few more seconds (truth be told, they were so luxuriously soft, it was kind of hard to take his fingers off them), Sam let it go and turned around--only to catch sight of the roll of toilet paper. “They folded the toilet paper!” he burst out. “Into a little triangle!”
Dean dashed into the bathroom beside him, where they both stared at the dainty little point that made something so prosaic look almost ... elegant.
Sam turned an accusing eye on Dean, who looked away nervously. “Demons!” Sam exclaimed furiously at last. “Demons run the place. That’s what this is, isn’t it??”
“I dunno; I was just so ready to lay my head down, I didn’t really care where. I didn’t smell any sulphur or anything ....”
Sam sighed audibly, slapping closed his laptop and putting it away. Accordingly, Dean grabbed his own bag and they headed out, with one last, lingering look at the beautiful hotel room that actually smelled ... kind of good. They got in the Impala and peeled away as the management stared after them wonderingly.
“Didn’t those boys just pay for their room with cash?” the mom of the mom-and-pop place asked her husband.
“Sure did,” he replied, equally baffled.
“Was there something wrong with the room?” she fretted. “Maybe I forgot to fold over the toilet paper ....”
Author: brightly_lit
Rating: G
Word Count: 500
Characters: Sam, Dean, hotel clerks
Genre: gen, slice of life, humor, brief outside POV
Summary: The hotel room was nice ... too nice.
Author's Note:
This story was inspired by a recent roadtrip I took with septembers_coda. Driving past a really cruddy-looking hotel, we nonetheless imagined it would look a-ok to Sam and Dean, and the plot of this little fic emerged ...
(If only the hotel we ended up staying in that night had been as nice as all this!)
Sam stopped short as he stepped inside the door, and Dean right behind him fell into him, cursing. “This is a nice hotel room,” Sam noted, proceeding on into the place, with its not-that-offensive artwork on the walls, suddenly unconsciously mincing his steps to avoid dirtying up the relatively clean carpet with his old, filthy boots.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed as he tossed his bag onto his bed--his eye, too, caught. “Check it out; this whole section of the bed is practically level.” He ran his hands over the spot experimentally.
Sam eyed his own bed, baffled. “Yeah ...,” he agreed awkwardly. “Check it out; my bed doesn’t even sag in the middle.”
They both stood there staring at this unprecedented phenomenon for a long moment, before trying to shake it off and go about their business. Sam took out his laptop and set it up on the distractingly unmarred, not-dusty surface of the table, and sat down in the chair, which didn’t squeak. Dean went into the bathroom and let out a quiet shout. Sam was on his feet instantly. “What is it?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” Dean mumbled, emerging looking sheepish. “Nothing, just ... the towels match! Kinda threw me off.”
Sam frowned and went in to see. Dean was right. They weren’t frayed, they weren’t discolored; they were even ... fluffy. Sam felt them suspiciously. “How much did you pay for this place?” he asked dangerously.
“The usual,” Dean insisted. “Just the same as always.”
After feeling the towels intently a few more seconds (truth be told, they were so luxuriously soft, it was kind of hard to take his fingers off them), Sam let it go and turned around--only to catch sight of the roll of toilet paper. “They folded the toilet paper!” he burst out. “Into a little triangle!”
Dean dashed into the bathroom beside him, where they both stared at the dainty little point that made something so prosaic look almost ... elegant.
Sam turned an accusing eye on Dean, who looked away nervously. “Demons!” Sam exclaimed furiously at last. “Demons run the place. That’s what this is, isn’t it??”
“I dunno; I was just so ready to lay my head down, I didn’t really care where. I didn’t smell any sulphur or anything ....”
Sam sighed audibly, slapping closed his laptop and putting it away. Accordingly, Dean grabbed his own bag and they headed out, with one last, lingering look at the beautiful hotel room that actually smelled ... kind of good. They got in the Impala and peeled away as the management stared after them wonderingly.
“Didn’t those boys just pay for their room with cash?” the mom of the mom-and-pop place asked her husband.
“Sure did,” he replied, equally baffled.
“Was there something wrong with the room?” she fretted. “Maybe I forgot to fold over the toilet paper ....”