After splitting with Garth, they ditch town. They drive somewhat aimlessly for two hours northwest until they hit the outskirts of civilization again, strip malls and dive bars. Sam has been hungover all day and gets downright surly when Dean thoughtfully buys him some beef jerky from the seven-eleven. He forces Dean to take them to a real grocery store, bitching about needing actual sustenance. Dean peruses the alcohol aisle.
They drive around the motel parking lot until they creak into a parking space in front of their room. Sam was grumpy about that, too. He'd demanded a certain room with a kitchenette from the old guy at the desk. Dean had mouthed an apology but that had just earned him a squint.
Sam tumbles out of the tiny passenger side and Dean grabs their bag from the back seat where it's piled on the katana and the slinky and a load of other items they've accumulated.
“Lucky thirteen,” he says, tapping the key card against the door frame and damn he's still in a good mood. Something about last night that he can't really get a handle on, and hanging out with his brother who is all put back together, and the satisfaction of a job well done.
Sam on the other hand, shoves past him with his bulging backpack.
“You pissed? Is it the case? Cuz I mean, forced drinking on a case? A-okay with me.”
Sam just says, “Go take a shower, Dean. You smell.”
Dean tries for charm. “Well, that's awfully—“
“Go.”
“All right.”
Dean takes a shower but really just stands under the hot water for a long time before he realizes he left the shampoo on the counter. So he slides the curtains open and steps out, sinking wet footprints into the rug. Before he jumps back in, shampoo in hand, he listens at the door because sometimes he just likes hearing Sam. He hears him clunking around, and then a muttered, “Fucking kidding me?”
All normal. Dean steps back into the shower. He almost immediately gets shampoo in his eyes and has to pull out his contacts and maybe cries a little because that rinses them out or something. The point is, he loses some time, can't tell when exactly he stepped in, but the water is hot and relaxing, just what he needed.
His fingers are pruned by the time he gets out. He towels off to the low crooning of...was that “Traveling Riverside Blues”...mixed with “Ramble On”?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Ma Vie En Peche(3/5)
Date: 2012-04-02 03:01 am (UTC)After splitting with Garth, they ditch town. They drive somewhat aimlessly for two hours northwest until they hit the outskirts of civilization again, strip malls and dive bars. Sam has been hungover all day and gets downright surly when Dean thoughtfully buys him some beef jerky from the seven-eleven. He forces Dean to take them to a real grocery store, bitching about needing actual sustenance. Dean peruses the alcohol aisle.
They drive around the motel parking lot until they creak into a parking space in front of their room. Sam was grumpy about that, too. He'd demanded a certain room with a kitchenette from the old guy at the desk. Dean had mouthed an apology but that had just earned him a squint.
Sam tumbles out of the tiny passenger side and Dean grabs their bag from the back seat where it's piled on the katana and the slinky and a load of other items they've accumulated.
“Lucky thirteen,” he says, tapping the key card against the door frame and damn he's still in a good mood. Something about last night that he can't really get a handle on, and hanging out with his brother who is all put back together, and the satisfaction of a job well done.
Sam on the other hand, shoves past him with his bulging backpack.
“You pissed? Is it the case? Cuz I mean, forced drinking on a case? A-okay with me.”
Sam just says, “Go take a shower, Dean. You smell.”
Dean tries for charm. “Well, that's awfully—“
“Go.”
“All right.”
Dean takes a shower but really just stands under the hot water for a long time before he realizes he left the shampoo on the counter. So he slides the curtains open and steps out, sinking wet footprints into the rug. Before he jumps back in, shampoo in hand, he listens at the door because sometimes he just likes hearing Sam. He hears him clunking around, and then a muttered, “Fucking kidding me?”
All normal. Dean steps back into the shower. He almost immediately gets shampoo in his eyes and has to pull out his contacts and maybe cries a little because that rinses them out or something. The point is, he loses some time, can't tell when exactly he stepped in, but the water is hot and relaxing, just what he needed.
His fingers are pruned by the time he gets out. He towels off to the low crooning of...was that “Traveling Riverside Blues”...mixed with “Ramble On”?