Tentitive story?
Dean was tired. He'd slept most of the way to... where ever they were now, and he was still tired. He felt Sam stop the car but he was damned if he wanted to raise his head to see what they were up to. "Dean?" Sam's hand was on his shoulder, which ment that they were either stopping for food or for the night. "Hey, wakeup, will you? We're gonna crash here tonight, okay."
Dean opened his achy eyes and looked up. "Oh my God... Sammy, what the hell is this? Where did you take us?" He shook his head, hoping he was seeing things. "These are... tee-pees?"
Sam grinned. "Hey, I knew we'd be passing through Arizona, and I've always wanted to stay in these things, so I made a reservation a couple weeks ago. And they aren't called tee-pees, they're wigwams. You coming or what?"
Dean sighed and opened the door slowly, swinging his legs over the side of the car. "This is the most messed up place you've taken us so far, you know that?"
"Why is it so messed up, Dean? It's not like I spent any more than we would have at a not as cool motel or anything."
"But a tourist trap?" He stood up and cracked his back loudly, then yawned.
Sam winced. "You shouldn't do that, Dean. You're gonna get arthritis by the time you're forty."
"Can't help it, my back's sore and needed to be popped."
Sam shook his head and climbed out of the car. "I'm gonna go check us in. You stay here, okay."
Dean shrugged. Sam hadn't been allowing him to do anything that might expose him to the world. It had been almost three weeks since the Milwauki Bank "robbery" but Sam wasn't taking any chances. He put his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. Damn, he was just... tired.
Sam came back and tapped on the window with a key. "You ready?"
Dean sighed softly and pushed the door open. "I just gotta ask you one thing, Man? Where the hell did you find this leftover of America's politically incorrect past?"
Sam snorted and unlocked the door. "Since when you you care about being PC? I found it on the internet, by the way."
"I never said I cared about being PC, but I sure as hell thought you did."
"I never said I didn't. But this is just fun." He looked around the room, smiling. "I mean, how fun is this, really?"
"You tell me, you're the one who's gonna have to stoop every time you need to take a piss." He motioned to the bathroom. The walls did indeed slope noticably in there.
"As if you won't."
"Not as badly as you will, Jolly Green Giant. Only not so green and hardly jolly." Dean sat down on the foot of one of the beds and closed his eyes. "The beds are comfortable, for once. At least it's got that going for it."
"And you say I don't get the idea of fun. This is fun."
"This... Sam, this is tiny. You don't let me get out to fuel up. I'm gonna die in this room."
Sam sighed softly. "You know... we're far enough south that maybe, if you promise to be good, I'll let you out sometimes."
"You're so fucking generous, Sammy. You floor me with your huge heart." Dean pulled off his boots and outer flannel shirt. "I'm gonna hit the sack, 'kay."
"You do that. I'm gonna look around. I've always wanted to actually take the time to see Route 66. Dad never let us take this route. Said it was too far out of the way."
"You do that. One road's pretty much the same as the other, in my mind."
MadSever
Dean stretched and breathed awake, a sharp deep involuntary inhale. He grimaced and rubbed his eyes.
Shit, his head hurt. And his back. And his legs. OK, everything hurt. Shit, shit, shit. All that time cooped up in motel rooms and the Impala while they'd been laying low must have added up.
He pulled the blankets up over his head and groaned.
'Dean.'
He concentrated on breathing oxygen into his muscles, willing Sam to take a hint for once and leave him alone. No such luck.
'Dude,' said Sam, 'you're never going to believewhat I saw in town.'
Dean reviewed a mental list of things Sam might find exciting, decided it was probably the world's biggest cowboy hat or some shit like that. Maybe the world's biggest telescope, which would be cooler but still not worth getting up for.
'Can't this wait?' Dean croaked from under the blankets, dismayed to find that even talking hurt, his throat inexplicably raw.
'You're gonna shit when you hear this. Come on,man. I brought coffee.'
Coffee? Dean peeked out from under the blanket. Coffee sighting confirmed . He pushed the covers away and sat up. Grabbed the coffee from Sam, who looked entirely too fresh and perky, and scooted back up against the headboard.
Sam sat down on the end of Dean's bed, clasped his hands, and stared at Dean, looking so damn pleased with himself that it hurt Dean's head even more just looking at him.
'What?' said Dean, blowing irritably on his coffee and taking a tentative sip.
'You remember that salt and burn we did in Nevada, back in '99? Haunted car, dead couples?'
This was straight out of left field, and it took Dean's sore, foggy head a couple seconds to catch up.
'...Wait, yeah. Yeah, for sure. '54 Pontiac, white exterior, lots of chrome.'
Sam nodded. 'That's the one.'
'What about it?'
Dean waited, but Sam didn't say anything else, just stared right back at him with that aggravating sparkle in his eyes.
'What, it's here?'
Sam raises his eyebrows in confirmation.
'You've got to be shitting me.'
'Nope.'
'How do you know it's ours?'
'Because ours was the only one with an aqua interior, remember? There can't be too many of that model kicking around with the same customizations, and we're in the same general area, so it's a pretty safe bet. I was thinking maybe later we could go take a look at it. For old times' sake. Get you out of the room.'
Thank god,' said Dean, looking forward to stretching his muscles and getting some fresh air. 'The man has seen the light.'
Moonlight
Dean stood up and stretched his aching body. "I gonna grab a shower."
Sam snorted. "Good luck, I had the lean foreward when I took one."
"For the record, I don't want you to complain about the hight of anything in this Wigwam." Dean gave him a smirk and headed into the bathroom. The shower angle had done nothing for Dean's aching muscles, but he felt clean, at least. And the hot water did help his throbbing head somewhat.
"Okay Sammy, let's get the hell out of here." He pulled the book that Sam was reading out of his hand and tossed it on the bed. "I'm going stir crazy here."
"I think we should maybe, you know, wait until it gets dark or something, Dean." Dean didn't see the evil, teasing glint behind Sam's eyes as he pushed Dean as far as he could without pissing him off.
"Dude, I can't do this anymore." Dean didn't exactly whine, but didn't exactly sound thrilled, either.
Sam sighed, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Fine, let's go." He smothered a grin and followed Dean out to the Impala. "But I'm still driving." He held up the keys.
"Did you hear me say anything different?" He squinted against the bright desert sunlight and fumbled in the glovebox for his sunglasses. His best firend on days like these. His head was throbbing enough without being pummled by the unforgiving sun. He thought the fact that he'd closed his eyes behind them would throw Sam off the fact that he was still exhausted, but he should have known Sam better than that.
Sam looked over at him and frowned slightly. "Dude, I let you sleep in this morning." He sounded mildly concerned, but not overly worried. Not yet, anyway. "You feeling okay?"
"I feel fine. I swear, do I just need to get into this Dean rut you seem to have me in before you stop asking me if I'm okay every other day?"
Sam sighed softly but didn't say anything else about Dean's health. Instead he focused on their goal. The car. "You think the new owners know the car's history?"
"Doubt it. It's not exactly a selling point, ya know. I mean, what sales guy in his right mind would say 'oh, by the way, Mr. Smith, did you know this car was the car that that boxer went crazy and stabbed his girlfriend to death before he turned the knife on himself? Pretty awesome, huh?' Yeah, people would line up for miles to buy that car."
Sam smiled. "You begged dad for that car, remember. It was only when he said that you had to give me the Impala before you shut up about it."
"I didn't beg. I only said it would be a kickass car to have. But no way in hell would I trade it for my baby here. You wouldn't have the same apriciation that I have for her. You happen to see where the Pontiac was parked, by the way?"
"I spotted it at a grocery store. It had a 'For Sale' sign on it. Thought you might like to check it out."
Dean's eyes were open at that. Would he? It wasn't as if they could buy it or anything, but it would be the perfect time to have a close look at the beauty. "Sounds awesome. You have the number?"
"Yeah, I do. Better than that, I have an adress. I already called. I thought you might like to see it."
"I take back all the things I ever said about you while you kept me locked up all these weeks. You're the best little brother in the world, bar none." His headache was shoved to the back of his mind as he thought about the car that he'd fallen in love with all those years ago.
"Thanks. You're not such a bad brother yourself."
Dean opened his achy eyes and looked up. "Oh my God... Sammy, what the hell is this? Where did you take us?" He shook his head, hoping he was seeing things. "These are... tee-pees?"
Sam grinned. "Hey, I knew we'd be passing through Arizona, and I've always wanted to stay in these things, so I made a reservation a couple weeks ago. And they aren't called tee-pees, they're wigwams. You coming or what?"
Dean sighed and opened the door slowly, swinging his legs over the side of the car. "This is the most messed up place you've taken us so far, you know that?"
"Why is it so messed up, Dean? It's not like I spent any more than we would have at a not as cool motel or anything."
"But a tourist trap?" He stood up and cracked his back loudly, then yawned.
Sam winced. "You shouldn't do that, Dean. You're gonna get arthritis by the time you're forty."
"Can't help it, my back's sore and needed to be popped."
Sam shook his head and climbed out of the car. "I'm gonna go check us in. You stay here, okay."
Dean shrugged. Sam hadn't been allowing him to do anything that might expose him to the world. It had been almost three weeks since the Milwauki Bank "robbery" but Sam wasn't taking any chances. He put his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. Damn, he was just... tired.
Sam came back and tapped on the window with a key. "You ready?"
Dean sighed softly and pushed the door open. "I just gotta ask you one thing, Man? Where the hell did you find this leftover of America's politically incorrect past?"
Sam snorted and unlocked the door. "Since when you you care about being PC? I found it on the internet, by the way."
"I never said I cared about being PC, but I sure as hell thought you did."
"I never said I didn't. But this is just fun." He looked around the room, smiling. "I mean, how fun is this, really?"
"You tell me, you're the one who's gonna have to stoop every time you need to take a piss." He motioned to the bathroom. The walls did indeed slope noticably in there.
"As if you won't."
"Not as badly as you will, Jolly Green Giant. Only not so green and hardly jolly." Dean sat down on the foot of one of the beds and closed his eyes. "The beds are comfortable, for once. At least it's got that going for it."
"And you say I don't get the idea of fun. This is fun."
"This... Sam, this is tiny. You don't let me get out to fuel up. I'm gonna die in this room."
Sam sighed softly. "You know... we're far enough south that maybe, if you promise to be good, I'll let you out sometimes."
"You're so fucking generous, Sammy. You floor me with your huge heart." Dean pulled off his boots and outer flannel shirt. "I'm gonna hit the sack, 'kay."
"You do that. I'm gonna look around. I've always wanted to actually take the time to see Route 66. Dad never let us take this route. Said it was too far out of the way."
"You do that. One road's pretty much the same as the other, in my mind."
MadSever
Dean stretched and breathed awake, a sharp deep involuntary inhale. He grimaced and rubbed his eyes.
Shit, his head hurt. And his back. And his legs. OK, everything hurt. Shit, shit, shit. All that time cooped up in motel rooms and the Impala while they'd been laying low must have added up.
He pulled the blankets up over his head and groaned.
'Dean.'
He concentrated on breathing oxygen into his muscles, willing Sam to take a hint for once and leave him alone. No such luck.
'Dude,' said Sam, 'you're never going to believewhat I saw in town.'
Dean reviewed a mental list of things Sam might find exciting, decided it was probably the world's biggest cowboy hat or some shit like that. Maybe the world's biggest telescope, which would be cooler but still not worth getting up for.
'Can't this wait?' Dean croaked from under the blankets, dismayed to find that even talking hurt, his throat inexplicably raw.
'You're gonna shit when you hear this. Come on,man. I brought coffee.'
Coffee? Dean peeked out from under the blanket. Coffee sighting confirmed . He pushed the covers away and sat up. Grabbed the coffee from Sam, who looked entirely too fresh and perky, and scooted back up against the headboard.
Sam sat down on the end of Dean's bed, clasped his hands, and stared at Dean, looking so damn pleased with himself that it hurt Dean's head even more just looking at him.
'What?' said Dean, blowing irritably on his coffee and taking a tentative sip.
'You remember that salt and burn we did in Nevada, back in '99? Haunted car, dead couples?'
This was straight out of left field, and it took Dean's sore, foggy head a couple seconds to catch up.
'...Wait, yeah. Yeah, for sure. '54 Pontiac, white exterior, lots of chrome.'
Sam nodded. 'That's the one.'
'What about it?'
Dean waited, but Sam didn't say anything else, just stared right back at him with that aggravating sparkle in his eyes.
'What, it's here?'
Sam raises his eyebrows in confirmation.
'You've got to be shitting me.'
'Nope.'
'How do you know it's ours?'
'Because ours was the only one with an aqua interior, remember? There can't be too many of that model kicking around with the same customizations, and we're in the same general area, so it's a pretty safe bet. I was thinking maybe later we could go take a look at it. For old times' sake. Get you out of the room.'
Thank god,' said Dean, looking forward to stretching his muscles and getting some fresh air. 'The man has seen the light.'
Moonlight
Dean stood up and stretched his aching body. "I gonna grab a shower."
Sam snorted. "Good luck, I had the lean foreward when I took one."
"For the record, I don't want you to complain about the hight of anything in this Wigwam." Dean gave him a smirk and headed into the bathroom. The shower angle had done nothing for Dean's aching muscles, but he felt clean, at least. And the hot water did help his throbbing head somewhat.
"Okay Sammy, let's get the hell out of here." He pulled the book that Sam was reading out of his hand and tossed it on the bed. "I'm going stir crazy here."
"I think we should maybe, you know, wait until it gets dark or something, Dean." Dean didn't see the evil, teasing glint behind Sam's eyes as he pushed Dean as far as he could without pissing him off.
"Dude, I can't do this anymore." Dean didn't exactly whine, but didn't exactly sound thrilled, either.
Sam sighed, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Fine, let's go." He smothered a grin and followed Dean out to the Impala. "But I'm still driving." He held up the keys.
"Did you hear me say anything different?" He squinted against the bright desert sunlight and fumbled in the glovebox for his sunglasses. His best firend on days like these. His head was throbbing enough without being pummled by the unforgiving sun. He thought the fact that he'd closed his eyes behind them would throw Sam off the fact that he was still exhausted, but he should have known Sam better than that.
Sam looked over at him and frowned slightly. "Dude, I let you sleep in this morning." He sounded mildly concerned, but not overly worried. Not yet, anyway. "You feeling okay?"
"I feel fine. I swear, do I just need to get into this Dean rut you seem to have me in before you stop asking me if I'm okay every other day?"
Sam sighed softly but didn't say anything else about Dean's health. Instead he focused on their goal. The car. "You think the new owners know the car's history?"
"Doubt it. It's not exactly a selling point, ya know. I mean, what sales guy in his right mind would say 'oh, by the way, Mr. Smith, did you know this car was the car that that boxer went crazy and stabbed his girlfriend to death before he turned the knife on himself? Pretty awesome, huh?' Yeah, people would line up for miles to buy that car."
Sam smiled. "You begged dad for that car, remember. It was only when he said that you had to give me the Impala before you shut up about it."
"I didn't beg. I only said it would be a kickass car to have. But no way in hell would I trade it for my baby here. You wouldn't have the same apriciation that I have for her. You happen to see where the Pontiac was parked, by the way?"
"I spotted it at a grocery store. It had a 'For Sale' sign on it. Thought you might like to check it out."
Dean's eyes were open at that. Would he? It wasn't as if they could buy it or anything, but it would be the perfect time to have a close look at the beauty. "Sounds awesome. You have the number?"
"Yeah, I do. Better than that, I have an adress. I already called. I thought you might like to see it."
"I take back all the things I ever said about you while you kept me locked up all these weeks. You're the best little brother in the world, bar none." His headache was shoved to the back of his mind as he thought about the car that he'd fallen in love with all those years ago.
"Thanks. You're not such a bad brother yourself."