Fic: Life on the Road
Title: Life on the Road
Author: brate7
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1400
Summary: Vignettes of the brothers through the years.
Life on the Road
by Brate
Skills:
"Ouch." Sam rubbed the back of his head. "What was that for?"
"What was that back there?"
"What back where?"
"That thing you were doing...that wavy hand thing."
"It's called sign language, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes. "Many, many people do it-all over the world, in fact."
"Yeah, smartass, I know that. What I want to know is where the hell you learned how to do it." Dean suddenly smiled lasciviously. "Was it a deaf porno?"
"Don't be crass. Jess' favorite cousin was deaf. I was interested, so she taught me enough to get by."
"Huh."
"It's not a big deal, Dean."
"No, no, I know. I was just wondering, maybe you could teach me some signs?"
"Why would you want to learn sign language?"
"Dude, deaf chicks can be hot, too."
Hunger:
"Check the glove box."
"I already checked."
"Check again."
Rustling sounds came as Sam searched. "There's nothing in here."
"Dammit. This is your fault."
"How do you figure?"
"You ate the last candy bar."
"Yeah-like, a week ago."
"Still." Dean sighed. Checked his mirrors and saw a vast bunch of nothing. "How much further 'til we reach the next town?"
"You won’t like the answer."
"Tell me anyway."
"Probably about three hours. Give or take."
Dean snarled, "My stomach's gonna eat itself before then."
"I told you to grab something when we stopped for gas."
"I thought we had stuff."
"You were wrong."
"Don't make me kill you, Sammy. Although," Dean said thoughtfully, "then I could pull a Donner Party. Or those soccer players in the Andes."
"I think you'll be fine, Dean. You had two stacks of pancakes, hash browns, a half-pound of bacon, and five cups of coffee for breakfast."
"Dude, that was five hours ago! I'm starving."
Sam held up a hand. "I found this mint in between the seats," he offered.
"Gimme."
"It could be older than you," Sam warned, pulling his hand away.
"Aged to perfection," Dean countered.
Sam's lips curled in disgust. "After you're done poisoning yourself, I'm just going to push your body out the door and keep going. You don't deserve a burial."
"Deal." Dean snatched the candy and popped it in his mouth. Loud sucking noises almost drowned out his voice as he mumbled, "And feel free to munch on my dead flesh if you need to."
"You're all heart," Sam said.
Mistakes:
"Goddammit," Dean snapped.
Before Sam could ask what the problem was, flashing lights filled the car.
"What now?" Dean mumbled as he pulled over to the side of the road. They were between jobs and in no hurry, so Dean knew he wasn't being busted for speeding. Probably just a bored hick cop with nothing better to do than give people a hard time. Still, he wasn't about to invite trouble. He rolled his window down and greeted, "Is there a problem, Officer?"
"Well, you could say that," the cop said. "Did you know one of your taillights is out?"
"What? Are you serious?" Dean swiveled his head around, as if he could see the damage from inside.
"Son, I don't make it a habit of pulling people over just to play pranks. Looks like you backed into something."
"Hell, no, I would've-" Dean cut himself off and shot a glare at Sam who was doing his best to disappear into the seat. "I'm sorry, Officer," Dean said, "it seems my little brother here forgot to tell me he dinged my car." He practically growled the last part.
Surprisingly, there was a chuckle from the cop. "Well, now, these things happen more often than you might think. Why don't you get it fixed in the next town, and we'll call it even."
Dean blinked. It couldn't be that easy.
The officer patted the top of the car. "I got a little brother, too," he said, before walking back to his patrol car and driving off.
"I'm sorry," Sam stammered. "I meant to say something, but then I forgot."
Dean turned toward him, incredulous. "You forgot to mention the fact that you broke one of the Impala's taillights?"
"Um, yes?"
"Dude, you are so on laundry duty for the next six months." Dean started the car and swung onto the road. "And you are never driving the car again."
Apologies:
"Don't talk to me. Don't even look at me."
"Come on, dude. It's not that bad."
"This is all your fault," Sam said, "and I don't want to talk to you."
"Okay, okay. I said I was sorry, didn't I?"
"No. In fact, the only thing I heard out of your mouth was laughter. You didn't even manage to ask if I was all right."
"Actually, I could see you were fine...underneath."
"Just drive back to the motel so I can clean up, and I won't have to kill you in your sleep tonight."
"All right, sorry, Sammy. Sorry. I just never knew you'd be such a bitch about getting to mud-wrestle a trio of bikini-clad beauties."
"Dean, they were harpies..."
Gratitude:
"Ow, watch it."
"Oh, stop your whining." Sam ripped the tablecloth into more strips and wound them around Dean's arm. "If you would've listened to me, this wouldn't've happened."
"That's the thanks I get for saving your life?"
"No, that's the thanks you get for being a dumbass." Sam tied the end of the strip in a knot and patted it gently. "There you go; good as new."
"Yeah, right." Dean sighed. "No way I'm gonna be able to use this wing to get some cash tonight."
"I'll take care of it."
"Well, I'm going with you, just in case."
Sam nodded. He would expect nothing less.
***
Dean settled at the end of the bar with a turkey sandwich and a beer.
Sam headed for the back, well in sight of his brother. It didn't take long for a challenger to appear. Shortly after that, Sam was up by nearly $200, but his opponent was starting to get angry.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean chug the last of his beer and wander closer. Ten minutes later, the brothers were back at the motel.
Dean used the leftover tablecloth to bind Sam's ribs. "Nice going, dumbass."
Sam grinned. "That's the thanks I get for saving your life?"
Love:
Dean picked up another tape and barely refrained from cackling. In a tiny, rundown music shop, he'd found a gold mine of cassettes. Some to replace those he'd worn out, some new...well, old but new.
He gleefully added to the pile on the counter and stepped back to let the clerk add up his purchase.
He barely heard the total of $43, just handed over his latest credit card. Dean's body vibrated with suppressed excitement. He tapped his fingers impatiently, wanting nothing more than to rip through the plastic of Zeppelin III and shove it in his tape deck.
"It's been denied."
With a defeated slump, Dean sighed.
"Do you have another card?" the clerk continued. "Or cash, we take cash."
Dean already knew the answer without looking. That had been their last card until they got to the post office box the next state over to pick up a fresh one, and he was down to his last seven bucks.
"Yeah, okay." Dean cleared his throat and shook his head. "I'm sorry, man, I uh...I don't have it." He turned to leave and saw Sam standing in the doorway.
Without a word, Sam walked to the counter and pulled out his wallet. "How much?" The clerk told him. Sam dug into the inside pocket and brought out a $50 bill.
Dean tried to protest-that was their emergency motel money-but one of his brother's massive hands waved in his face and cut him off.
Sam accepted his change, stuck it in his pocket, and headed for the door. He threw a "You coming?" over his shoulder.
Dean allowed a dorky grin to curve his lips as he snatched the bag from the clerk and hurried outside. "You won't regret this," he said.
Sam threw his head back and laughed. "Sure I will. Not only are we gonna end up sleeping in the car, but you'll force me to listen to all of that." He gestured at the loaded shopping bag.
Hand on the Impala, Dean paused. "Thanks, Sammy," he said sincerely.
Sam shrugged, ducking to hide a light blush. "What are brothers for."
end
Author: brate7
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1400
Summary: Vignettes of the brothers through the years.
Life on the Road
by Brate
Skills:
"Ouch." Sam rubbed the back of his head. "What was that for?"
"What was that back there?"
"What back where?"
"That thing you were doing...that wavy hand thing."
"It's called sign language, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes. "Many, many people do it-all over the world, in fact."
"Yeah, smartass, I know that. What I want to know is where the hell you learned how to do it." Dean suddenly smiled lasciviously. "Was it a deaf porno?"
"Don't be crass. Jess' favorite cousin was deaf. I was interested, so she taught me enough to get by."
"Huh."
"It's not a big deal, Dean."
"No, no, I know. I was just wondering, maybe you could teach me some signs?"
"Why would you want to learn sign language?"
"Dude, deaf chicks can be hot, too."
Hunger:
"Check the glove box."
"I already checked."
"Check again."
Rustling sounds came as Sam searched. "There's nothing in here."
"Dammit. This is your fault."
"How do you figure?"
"You ate the last candy bar."
"Yeah-like, a week ago."
"Still." Dean sighed. Checked his mirrors and saw a vast bunch of nothing. "How much further 'til we reach the next town?"
"You won’t like the answer."
"Tell me anyway."
"Probably about three hours. Give or take."
Dean snarled, "My stomach's gonna eat itself before then."
"I told you to grab something when we stopped for gas."
"I thought we had stuff."
"You were wrong."
"Don't make me kill you, Sammy. Although," Dean said thoughtfully, "then I could pull a Donner Party. Or those soccer players in the Andes."
"I think you'll be fine, Dean. You had two stacks of pancakes, hash browns, a half-pound of bacon, and five cups of coffee for breakfast."
"Dude, that was five hours ago! I'm starving."
Sam held up a hand. "I found this mint in between the seats," he offered.
"Gimme."
"It could be older than you," Sam warned, pulling his hand away.
"Aged to perfection," Dean countered.
Sam's lips curled in disgust. "After you're done poisoning yourself, I'm just going to push your body out the door and keep going. You don't deserve a burial."
"Deal." Dean snatched the candy and popped it in his mouth. Loud sucking noises almost drowned out his voice as he mumbled, "And feel free to munch on my dead flesh if you need to."
"You're all heart," Sam said.
Mistakes:
"Goddammit," Dean snapped.
Before Sam could ask what the problem was, flashing lights filled the car.
"What now?" Dean mumbled as he pulled over to the side of the road. They were between jobs and in no hurry, so Dean knew he wasn't being busted for speeding. Probably just a bored hick cop with nothing better to do than give people a hard time. Still, he wasn't about to invite trouble. He rolled his window down and greeted, "Is there a problem, Officer?"
"Well, you could say that," the cop said. "Did you know one of your taillights is out?"
"What? Are you serious?" Dean swiveled his head around, as if he could see the damage from inside.
"Son, I don't make it a habit of pulling people over just to play pranks. Looks like you backed into something."
"Hell, no, I would've-" Dean cut himself off and shot a glare at Sam who was doing his best to disappear into the seat. "I'm sorry, Officer," Dean said, "it seems my little brother here forgot to tell me he dinged my car." He practically growled the last part.
Surprisingly, there was a chuckle from the cop. "Well, now, these things happen more often than you might think. Why don't you get it fixed in the next town, and we'll call it even."
Dean blinked. It couldn't be that easy.
The officer patted the top of the car. "I got a little brother, too," he said, before walking back to his patrol car and driving off.
"I'm sorry," Sam stammered. "I meant to say something, but then I forgot."
Dean turned toward him, incredulous. "You forgot to mention the fact that you broke one of the Impala's taillights?"
"Um, yes?"
"Dude, you are so on laundry duty for the next six months." Dean started the car and swung onto the road. "And you are never driving the car again."
Apologies:
"Don't talk to me. Don't even look at me."
"Come on, dude. It's not that bad."
"This is all your fault," Sam said, "and I don't want to talk to you."
"Okay, okay. I said I was sorry, didn't I?"
"No. In fact, the only thing I heard out of your mouth was laughter. You didn't even manage to ask if I was all right."
"Actually, I could see you were fine...underneath."
"Just drive back to the motel so I can clean up, and I won't have to kill you in your sleep tonight."
"All right, sorry, Sammy. Sorry. I just never knew you'd be such a bitch about getting to mud-wrestle a trio of bikini-clad beauties."
"Dean, they were harpies..."
Gratitude:
"Ow, watch it."
"Oh, stop your whining." Sam ripped the tablecloth into more strips and wound them around Dean's arm. "If you would've listened to me, this wouldn't've happened."
"That's the thanks I get for saving your life?"
"No, that's the thanks you get for being a dumbass." Sam tied the end of the strip in a knot and patted it gently. "There you go; good as new."
"Yeah, right." Dean sighed. "No way I'm gonna be able to use this wing to get some cash tonight."
"I'll take care of it."
"Well, I'm going with you, just in case."
Sam nodded. He would expect nothing less.
***
Dean settled at the end of the bar with a turkey sandwich and a beer.
Sam headed for the back, well in sight of his brother. It didn't take long for a challenger to appear. Shortly after that, Sam was up by nearly $200, but his opponent was starting to get angry.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean chug the last of his beer and wander closer. Ten minutes later, the brothers were back at the motel.
Dean used the leftover tablecloth to bind Sam's ribs. "Nice going, dumbass."
Sam grinned. "That's the thanks I get for saving your life?"
Love:
Dean picked up another tape and barely refrained from cackling. In a tiny, rundown music shop, he'd found a gold mine of cassettes. Some to replace those he'd worn out, some new...well, old but new.
He gleefully added to the pile on the counter and stepped back to let the clerk add up his purchase.
He barely heard the total of $43, just handed over his latest credit card. Dean's body vibrated with suppressed excitement. He tapped his fingers impatiently, wanting nothing more than to rip through the plastic of Zeppelin III and shove it in his tape deck.
"It's been denied."
With a defeated slump, Dean sighed.
"Do you have another card?" the clerk continued. "Or cash, we take cash."
Dean already knew the answer without looking. That had been their last card until they got to the post office box the next state over to pick up a fresh one, and he was down to his last seven bucks.
"Yeah, okay." Dean cleared his throat and shook his head. "I'm sorry, man, I uh...I don't have it." He turned to leave and saw Sam standing in the doorway.
Without a word, Sam walked to the counter and pulled out his wallet. "How much?" The clerk told him. Sam dug into the inside pocket and brought out a $50 bill.
Dean tried to protest-that was their emergency motel money-but one of his brother's massive hands waved in his face and cut him off.
Sam accepted his change, stuck it in his pocket, and headed for the door. He threw a "You coming?" over his shoulder.
Dean allowed a dorky grin to curve his lips as he snatched the bag from the clerk and hurried outside. "You won't regret this," he said.
Sam threw his head back and laughed. "Sure I will. Not only are we gonna end up sleeping in the car, but you'll force me to listen to all of that." He gestured at the loaded shopping bag.
Hand on the Impala, Dean paused. "Thanks, Sammy," he said sincerely.
Sam shrugged, ducking to hide a light blush. "What are brothers for."
end