Sidelined
Title: Sidelined
Author: my_sam_dean
Challenge: ladyrhyanne, love, hate, mine, "Not a snowball's chance in hell."
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest, swearing
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW. I make nothing for writing fanfic.
Summary: The Impala breaks down. Bobby comes to the rescue.
Sam shifted around on the plastic cooler he was using as a temporary bench. He kicked up a little dust and the particles floated in the sun that was beating down. He put the bottle back up to his lips and swallowed another chug of the cool beer. It warmed on its way down his throat. The condensation made the glass slippery. He couldn't drink it quick enough to get it all down while it was ice cold and the bottle hadn't started to sweat yet.
Small noises and clangs came from the direction of the Impala. He'd offered to help Dean before, and was lucky to make it out of that conversation with all body parts intact. So, all he could do was listen and try to guess exactly how deep the shit was that they were in.
"That's it! I've had it!" Dean slammed the hood shut. "Move it, Sam. I need a beer."
Sam stood and watched Dean down the contents in one drink.
"How long before we're on the road?" Sam cringed as he asked.
"You seriously did not just ask me that."
"Okay."
"The chance of the Impala moving down the road on her own juice any time today? Not a snowball's chance in hell. Does that answer your question?"
"Yep."
"Already called Bobby." Dean started nursing his second beer. 'He's on his way."
Sam just nodded.
"You might want to pace yourself. The beer needs to last until he gets here. It could be awhile."
Sam sighed and scooted over on the cooler. "This seat's not taken."
Dean sat down and mumbled about how two grown men had no business sitting on a cooler. "Look at us. It's like we're camping! I hate camping, Sam!"
"I know you do," Sam put an arm around him. "But if you sit your ass on a black car in this heat, you'll burn it. I'm not listening to you whine about that."
After the silence stretched on and on, Sam asked, "How long do you think we'll stay at Bobby's?"
"Dunno. Until the car is fixed. Until I get some of Bobby's cars running as smooth as mine does. We can help him with whatever else he needs."
They were so relieved to see the pair of headlights cut through the pure darkness. "Heard you boys need a tow?" the gruff voice made them smile.
On the drive back to the scrap yard, they talked about possible hunts and what hunters they knew were hunting. When the topic changed to cars, Sam sat there in silence. He had nothing to contribute. He'd never bothered to take auto shop because that what Dean loved. Sam had a fondness for Latin. Bobby was the one who handled, well, everything.
The morning light was shining through the clouds when they reached the scrap yard. Three tired men entered the house, pulled off their boots and mumbled their goodnights. Bobby went straight to his bedroom. He didn't consider the boys guests. It was the closest thing they'd had to a home.
Sam and Dean climbed the stairs, slowing down as they neared the top. Pulling off the rest of their clothes seemed to take the rest of their energy out of them. They collapsed on the bed, a tangle of limbs. It was impossible to tell where one body ended and the other began. Oh well, they could figure it out when they awoke.
.