DISCLAIMER:I don't own Supernatural

A/N: Here be some car humour for all yous folks [/bad grammar

"Dude, I don't understand how you can do that without getting carsick."

"Do what?" The question was a distracted mutter. Sam didn't bother to look over at his brother as he spoke, too busy concentrating on documenting their latest hunt in their fathers journal. If he had alarm bells would have rung in his head at the sight of a fidgety, restless Dean who was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove down the deserted highway. A bored Dean was a dangerous Dean.

"Write. Jeez, you even read in the car!" Dean announced, voice filled with exaggerated horror as he tried to wrangle a response from his annoyingly serious little brother.


"You're a freak, Sam. A freak of nature." Dean watched Sam out of the corner of his eye, gauging his reaction. There was none. C'mon Sam, entertain me by having one of your 'I'm – not – a – freak' bitch fits. "How the hell do you do that stuff?"

Sam glanced at him, his mouth stretched in what Dean identified as a leer. "I have many hidden talents." The statement was almost purred, and accompanied by some furious eyebrow-waggling. It was a horrifying sight, and all Dean could do was sit there, gaping, as Sam calmly turned back to the journal and proceeded to write once more, his slight smirk the only evidence that the whole scene had actually taken place.

"Sam!" This time the horror in Dean's voice was not at all faked. "What the hell was that?!"

"You should know," Sam informed him, still writing furiously. "You're the one who does it to me."

"Yeah, but when I do it it's all suave and cool. When you do it it's all dodgy and – and frightening!"

"Aww, afraid I'm going to molest you?" The tone was sing song, mocking, and Dean gritted his teeth to keep from informing Sam that he had got it in one. Then Sam (the little bastard) had the nerve to place a hand on Dean's thigh and rub it in a way that was, frankly,sensual. Dean jolted in his seat with a yelp and slapped him away, plastering himself up against the drivers' door in his haste to get as far away as possible from his little brothers wandering hands.

"Get away from me you - you - you rapist!" Sam's only reply to Dean's shrieked command was to burst out laughing. "I mean it!"

"What are you going to do, Dean?" The purring tone was back, and a shiver of fear crept up Dean's spine. "We're all alone, cooped up in this small space." Sam's mouth stretched into a smile that to all females was probably extremely alluring, and looked at Dean sideways through his lashes. Far from being seduced, Dean was absolutely terrified.

"C-Christo." When Sam didn't flinch, just kept leering and moving that damn hand of his closer and closer to Dean's thigh, Dean searched furiously for some sort of weapon. A gun was in the glove box, but Dean was so not reaching over Sam, or the demon, or whatever, to get it.

Making a split second decision, Dean leaned forward and shoved his hand under his seat. Gripping the leather sheath of the knife in his hand, he lunged over to a startled Sam and knocked his brother out with the metal hilt in one smooth movement.

"Come on, Sammy, wake up."

Sam groaned and rolled over – right out of the car seat he was slumped in and onto the road. He groaned again, this time in pain, and opened his eyes to see Dean hovering over him, a worried frown creasing his forehead. When he saw that Sam was alert, he grinned with relief.

"Good to see you. You look like crap." Sam took a hold of the hand that Dean held out to him and let himself be dragged to his feet. He promptly swayed forward and sagged against Dean, who let out an 'oof' of air and clutched at his shoulders to hold him upright. For a moment they stood like that, Dean struggling to hold his huge brother and Sam blinking lethargically, and then Sam slumped forward again, hand finding its way into one of Dean's back pockets. "Sam, you better not be copping a feel again!"

"Huh?" Dean sighed in exasperation at the puzzled frown Sam gave him, turning his younger brother and shoving him into the passengers' side of the Impala. Thumping down on the seat, Sam reached a hand to his head, feeling the lump underneath his hair with a worried frown. "What the… Dean, you knocked me out?!"

"Well, what could I do! You were possessed or something, man! It was self defence!"

"Self defence?! I wasn't possessed, Dean!"

"Yes you were."

"Were not."


"Were not."


"Were not – Dean, just shut up! This stupid argument is making my head throb." Sam sent his brother a glare, still holding a hand to his head. "More than it already is, anyway."

Dean gave Sam a look of heartbreak, holding a hand to his heart as he wiped a fake tear from his eye. "You wound me Sam. Right here. I save you from a life of getting mindfucked by some demon again and again and this is the thanks I get?"

"I wasn't possessed!" Sam yelled, and then winced as the sound assaulted his ears. Chuckling, Dean slammed Sam's door shut and walked around the front of the Impala, grinning. Poor, naïve little Sammy. He should have realised by now that no-one got the best of Dean Winchester.

He shoved his hand in his back pocket to retrieve the keys, and froze when he grabbed nothing but air. No way. No fucking way. He whirled around just as the Impala's engine came to life with a growl, eyes wide with terror. Sam sat at the wheel, smiling innocently at his big brother.

He was laughing as he reversed away from a death-threat shouting, panting Dean, who was running to keep up. Sure, a bored Dean was a dangerous Dean; but sometimes his brother seemed to forget that a bored Sam was in a whole other league.