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fandomweekly2017-01-07 12:08 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote in fandomweekly2017-01-07 12:08 pm
Entry tags:
[#027] Out There on the Road (Supernatural)
Theme Prompt: #027 - Flophouse
Title: Out There on the Road
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 753 words
Summary: When you spend most of your life traveling on the road, and really don’t want to spend it sleeping in your car, you make due with some of the crazy places on the side of the road that you eventually have to learn to stay.
When you spend most of your life traveling on the road, and really don’t want to spend it sleeping in your car, you make due with some of the crazy places on the side of the road that you eventually have to learn to stay. Dean’s seen it all, really. There’s the themed places and the little mom and pop joints that smell like peppermint and cookies – those, personally, are Dean’s favorite, not that he’d ever admit that to Sam.
And then there’s places like this shithole. Places that are not really fit for human consumption – and they know it – but they also know it’s the price people are willing to pay for cheap lodging that won’t ask questions. Right now, however? Dean isn’t entirely sure he’s willing to pay it.
“Are you sure we can’t just drive straight through to get back to the bunker?”
“Dude, you’ve been driving for almost twenty four hours. You need to get off the road.”
“Fine. You drive, and I’ll sleep while we go.”
Sam turns to face him at that, almost skeptical of the offer as though it’s going to jump off and bite him if he happens to decide to take it, but at the same time, curious as to the “why” under it all. “You’d be willing to let me drive. That’s how much you don’t want to stay here.”
“It’s a waste of time and a waste of money.” Sam’s eyebrows raise even higher, the silent stare he knows will crawl under Dean’s skin sooner rather than later, and eventually Dean caves and scowls in return. “This place is giving me the creeps.”
“Dude, this is not the first shithole motel you’ve slept in.”
“Yeah, and that’s why I know this is a bad idea.” Dean trudges after his brother because Sam and his long-ass gargantuan legs do not slow down, but when they reach the door of the room they were given, he hikes his bag up on his shoulder a bit. “Trust me, Sammy. You open that door, you’re going to want to get the hell out of here too.”
Sam’s face is more judgmental than anything he actually says, but at the same time, this is Sam. He’s professionally judgmental. He sticks the key in the door almost in defiance of his brother’s years of motel experience while he was off building an apple pie life with Jessica at Stanford, before twisting the key and pushing the door open.
He doesn’t, however, make it past the threshold.
The smell that wafts out is some kind of bad mix of old cologne and rotting food, giving the indication that the room probably hadn’t been cleaned in a while. While Dean couldn’t actually see past Sam’s yeti-sized shoulders and into the room at hand, he could see his brother’s face, and if he were the type to rub it in, he definitely would have. But for right now, he just w
ants to focus on the matter at hand, and that’s getting the hell out of here and back home to their beds that he knows only they have slept in recently.
(It’s funny, the little things that spoil you. A few years ago, Dean wouldn’t have cared who had slept in his bed last. Now, it’s a luxury he can afford to worry about. Funny how times have changed.)
Sam takes a step back before slowly closing the door in front of him and making a face. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to cave to his brother’s demands, but at the same time, his delicate sensibilities are not going to let him set foot in that room until it’s sanitized by God himself. And as far as Dean can tell, Chuck doesn’t do house calls like this one.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll drive.”
Dean smirks, holding back his keys just out of spite. “Are you sure you’re good? I don’t want to wake up and find my baby smashed to pieces.”
Sam glares at him, before holding out his hand. “Just give me the keys, Dean.”
Dean grins again, before handing over the keys and turning to head back to the car. “Hey, if we hit that bed and breakfast on the way, we can stop there. The one with the mint chocolate chip cookies?”
Sam glances over at him skeptically. “How about we just get home?”
“Whatever, man,” Dean sighs as he slides into the passenger’s side of the Impala and closing his eyes. “Those cookies are awesome.”
Title: Out There on the Road
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 753 words
Summary: When you spend most of your life traveling on the road, and really don’t want to spend it sleeping in your car, you make due with some of the crazy places on the side of the road that you eventually have to learn to stay.
When you spend most of your life traveling on the road, and really don’t want to spend it sleeping in your car, you make due with some of the crazy places on the side of the road that you eventually have to learn to stay. Dean’s seen it all, really. There’s the themed places and the little mom and pop joints that smell like peppermint and cookies – those, personally, are Dean’s favorite, not that he’d ever admit that to Sam.
And then there’s places like this shithole. Places that are not really fit for human consumption – and they know it – but they also know it’s the price people are willing to pay for cheap lodging that won’t ask questions. Right now, however? Dean isn’t entirely sure he’s willing to pay it.
“Are you sure we can’t just drive straight through to get back to the bunker?”
“Dude, you’ve been driving for almost twenty four hours. You need to get off the road.”
“Fine. You drive, and I’ll sleep while we go.”
Sam turns to face him at that, almost skeptical of the offer as though it’s going to jump off and bite him if he happens to decide to take it, but at the same time, curious as to the “why” under it all. “You’d be willing to let me drive. That’s how much you don’t want to stay here.”
“It’s a waste of time and a waste of money.” Sam’s eyebrows raise even higher, the silent stare he knows will crawl under Dean’s skin sooner rather than later, and eventually Dean caves and scowls in return. “This place is giving me the creeps.”
“Dude, this is not the first shithole motel you’ve slept in.”
“Yeah, and that’s why I know this is a bad idea.” Dean trudges after his brother because Sam and his long-ass gargantuan legs do not slow down, but when they reach the door of the room they were given, he hikes his bag up on his shoulder a bit. “Trust me, Sammy. You open that door, you’re going to want to get the hell out of here too.”
Sam’s face is more judgmental than anything he actually says, but at the same time, this is Sam. He’s professionally judgmental. He sticks the key in the door almost in defiance of his brother’s years of motel experience while he was off building an apple pie life with Jessica at Stanford, before twisting the key and pushing the door open.
He doesn’t, however, make it past the threshold.
The smell that wafts out is some kind of bad mix of old cologne and rotting food, giving the indication that the room probably hadn’t been cleaned in a while. While Dean couldn’t actually see past Sam’s yeti-sized shoulders and into the room at hand, he could see his brother’s face, and if he were the type to rub it in, he definitely would have. But for right now, he just w
ants to focus on the matter at hand, and that’s getting the hell out of here and back home to their beds that he knows only they have slept in recently.
(It’s funny, the little things that spoil you. A few years ago, Dean wouldn’t have cared who had slept in his bed last. Now, it’s a luxury he can afford to worry about. Funny how times have changed.)
Sam takes a step back before slowly closing the door in front of him and making a face. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to cave to his brother’s demands, but at the same time, his delicate sensibilities are not going to let him set foot in that room until it’s sanitized by God himself. And as far as Dean can tell, Chuck doesn’t do house calls like this one.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll drive.”
Dean smirks, holding back his keys just out of spite. “Are you sure you’re good? I don’t want to wake up and find my baby smashed to pieces.”
Sam glares at him, before holding out his hand. “Just give me the keys, Dean.”
Dean grins again, before handing over the keys and turning to head back to the car. “Hey, if we hit that bed and breakfast on the way, we can stop there. The one with the mint chocolate chip cookies?”
Sam glances over at him skeptically. “How about we just get home?”
“Whatever, man,” Dean sighs as he slides into the passenger’s side of the Impala and closing his eyes. “Those cookies are awesome.”
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