(Untitled)

[hopeitsworthit]

There's something to be said for the quiet of a motel room early in the morning.

That's providing, of course, that the room is actually quiet.

"Sasquatch," Dean mumbles, rubbing a hand over his tired, dry eyes. "What's with all the stomping?"

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[gavemea_45]

For some reason, the nickname causes Sam to look sour, but only for a moment.

"Nothing," he says, swinging his bag from his shoulder to set it down at the end of the bed. He's fiddling with something in his other hand.

"Sorry, man. Didn't mean to wake you."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Nah," Dean says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he swings himself into a seated position. "I was up."

For a given value of 'up'.

Then his attention sharpens.

"What've you got there, Sammy?"

[gavemea_45]

"Computer. Sort of. Maybe."

Sam gives him a quick once-over, trying to hide his concern, then comes around the foot of his bed and sits down on it, across from his brother.

"Or what one looks like when someone comes up with it at the end of the universe."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean eyes the computer-whatsit askance.

"Who'd you say designed this thing?"

If it was Ray Stantz, Dean's be kinda okay with it. If it's not --

Well.

We'll see.