Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their respective owners, Eric Kripke, the CW.
A/N: Ok, I couldn't help this! It just came out of me! I'm crazy! I hope you'll all read it anyway!
There's another more serious note at the bottom. Read that if you feel I'm offending anyone!
Returning from yet another hunt, Sam and Dean were riding in the Impala toward another not-worth-mentioning town. Dean was getting more frustrated at their lack of hunts. It had been a run of salt and burns... and one could only take so much enthusiasm for an 'easy one'. Dean wanted... no needed... something more exciting. He'd take a pack of vampires any day now! Sam's arms were getting sore from all the digging and running, because for the fourth time in a row he had been bait. Plus, he was getting extremely sick of his brother's whining. Since Sam was driving this time around, he made sure to enforce Dean's own rule of 'driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole' on him. With that, Sam had the music volume down! This frustrated Dean even more. He was really starting to think Sam was out to get him; seeming to always pick the hunts with the ghosts, not letting him listen to his music, and using up all the hot shower water! It was freakin' insane! Dean needed some space!
Dean's frustration mounted as he glared at the laptop's screen sitting in his lap. "I think these damn ghosts are trying to drive me insane. It's a friggin' jamboree!"
"Yea, that it, Dean. They are all out to get you... just to make you mad."
"Damn right they are," Dean growled.
"Well, we have to ch-"
"Shut up, Sam! We'll talk about this tomorrow. I am not, repeat NOT, talking about ghosts until I get a good night sleep! Find us a motel!"
Sam chuckles, flexes his hands on the steering wheel, then flinches as a previous wound pulls. Sam lets out a groan. Dean looks at his brother, then glances down at Sam's hand where, on the last hunt, and spirit had found it necessary to shove a rusty nail right through his palm. Dean had wrapped it as best as he could at the time, but still needed to get some clean bandages on it.
Dean would get his chance soon as the boys drove by a small poorly lit sign essentially saying welcome to lame-o town! Sam pulled into the first motel he could find: Pride Motel.
Sam stood by, while Dean did the talking, staring very bluntly at probably the creepiest, nerdiest young clerk Sam had ever seen, and that was in a long stoic career of creepy, nerdy clerks. The young boy was tall, lankier than Sam, had jet-black, greasy hair, large glasses, and two pencils and a pen in his front shirt pocket. In his left hand was a huge, probably 900-page, book.
The guy looked up, and Sam literally saw his eyes sparkle as his gaze lingered on Dean. It didn't take Dean long to figure out that the man was checking out his figure. Sam smiled. This would make great blackmail material later!
Dean attempts to remain calm. "Uh, we need a room for the night."
"King?" The man, who's name tag said William... Willy!... asked.
Dean frowns and unconsiously takes a step back. Sam takes over, replying, "He's taken. Two queens, please."
Dean mouth drops open at the words that had come out of his brother's mouth. Did he hear correctly? Did he really just hear his brother say he was taken in front of an obviously gay guy and a young, handsome, if he did say so himself, man beside him? Was he nuts?
Willy nods longingly in Dean's direction. Dean's eyes, if possible, go wider. Sam, using Dean's credit card, checks them in under the name Harry Chester. Harry! William hands them the key to room 12. Dean grabs it out of Sam's hand and runs from the office. Sam took one look at the young clerk and could tell he took that as a sign that Dean was really excited to get in the room. Sam chuckled. William didn't even look at him, but gave a huff of annoyance.
Sam caught up with his brother at the door to their room and couldn't suppress the laugh.
Dean coughs uncomfortably. "That's so not funny."
Sam takes a breath through stifled laughs. "Hey, it wasn't my rock hard abs and dreamy eyes he was staring at. Face it, bro. You just have the effect on... people."
"That's only 'cause you don't have either!"
Sam hits Dean's shoulder on the way through the door.
Willy was staring at them through the small office window. He looked longingly at Dean's, Harry's, backside, wishing Sam would leave the picture, and Dean would pick him. He sighed as he watched their relationship.
Neither boys was up for research, so after a short shower each, Dean attempted to clean Sam's hand wound.
"Give me the whiskey!" Sam growled.
"I already cleansed it, Sam," Dean assured.
"It's- Ugh! Not for my hand!"
Dean smirks and hands Sam the bottle by his feet. Sam takes large swig and lets his eyes roll back in his head as the fire hits his throat.
After a little more prodding, Dean was done and both boys hit the hay at 3:00 in the morning.
Dean woke up the next morning to Sam walking in the door and a familiar smell following him. "Coffee?"
"You know me so well, baby brother!"
Dean ate with gusto, even though the eggs were overcooked and the toast was burnt. Then he suddenly asks, "Are we leaving soon?"
"What's the rush?"
"Firstly, I just want to get this stupid hunt over with. Secondly, that guy? Willy? He's freaking me out. It felt like he was watching me all night."
Which isn't far from the truth, Sam thinks. He had caught William walking away from him at a rapid pace when Sam left the room that morning. "He looks like he wants to kill me," Sam muttered.
"No, you can keep him, thanks."
"I don't know," Dean smirked, clearly in a better mood. "You two are so much alike. Two peas on a p-"
"He's clearly not interested in me," Sam interrupts, nodding his head toward the window.
Getting up, Dean notices Willy across the parking lot, trying to be as nonchalant as possible while glancing in their direction.
Trying to keep the mood light, Dean says, "Don't worry, Sammy. I'll protect you if he comes at you with a pencil."
"That won't be a problem. One look at you and he's mesmerized."
That's it. Dean's good mood was over. "Dude, so not cool." Good way to ruin a perfectly beautiful morning.
Later, Dean leaves the room to get a drink for Sam who was currently doing research. Not more than a minute after, Dean bursts through the door, stumbles into the room, slams the door shut, locks it, and finally slams his body up against it as a barrier.
Sam jumps up, clearly on guard, knocking over his chair in the process. He looks at Dean, worried.
"We're leaving. Now!"
Sam begins reaching for the weapon bag. "Why?"
Dean glances out the window. Sam follows his gaze and relaxes. Willy was staring at them.
Sam explodes with laughter. "What happened?"
Dean wrinkles his nose, and trys to calm his breathing. "He was hitting on me at the vending machine! He actually said I should break up with you and hook up with him." Sam laughs harder. "He said 'It'd be fun.'! What the hell does that mean?"
Sam could barely breathe. The situation was just so funny! "So," Sam stutters after a few minutes of deep-breathing. "You're afraid of a nerd who could probably only out-spell you?"
"You hunt ghosts and demons!"
Dean growls. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Yes!" Sam mocks.
Dean shakes his head and walks away, throwing something at Sam. "Here's your damn drink!"
Sam catches it flawlessly and hops after his brother. "So, how was it Dean? Could we consider you an expert in the field now?"
"Sam..." Dean warns, raising his fist.
"So, you agree? We can leave?"
"I don't know, Dean." Sam looks at the ceiling, as if he is seriously considering Dean's request. Dean's eyes were so odd. They actually looked a little frightened. Sam relented. "Sounds good."
"Yes!" Dean pats Sam on the shoulder. "I have never been so glad to be your brother, Sammy!" He then begins packing.
After a few moments, Sam says, "You know, we still have to check out."
Dean stops in mid-stride. "How 'bout we leave a note?" Dean whimpers, hopefully.
Sam only shakes his head.
"Dude, that so doesn't work anymore."
"You're just grumpy you didn't say it first!" Dean grins.
Sam turns away before muttering, "Well, one of us has to do it."
Dean says nothing, keeping his face and worried expression away from Sam.
Sam, though, could feel Dean's anxiety from across the room. "Fine, I'll do it, wimp."
"I'm not a wimp!"
Sam smiles. "You want to do it?"
Thinking for only a second, pursing his lips, he conceded, "I'm a wimp."
Sam chuckles. "You finally admit it."
The boys were ready to check-out within 10 minutes, even though checkout wasn't really for another two hours. Dean went to pack the car while Sam went to the office.
Walking in, Sam tries some cheery small talk. "Do you ever go home?"
William doesn't seem to even hear him as he watched Dean leaning into the truck on the car, butt in the air.
Sam rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers in front of the boy's eyes. "Remember? Taken?" Sam reminds him, indicating toward Dean.
Willy sighs, and, without a sound, checks them out of the motel. Sam walks out of the office as Dean shuts the trunk. "So, how'd it go?"
"I think he's in love."
Dean gasps. "Let's go!" William had his small face pressed up against the glass just staring at them. Dean grabs the keys from Sam's hands, jumps in the car, and guns it before Sam has a chance to shut his passenger door. The tires spin, then the car begins to accelerate, hitting the open road.
"So, how was your Pride Motel experience?" Sam inquires after a few minutes.
"We are never talking about this again! You're never choosing motels ever again! And if you say that I'm taken when I'm right beside you ever again, I'll kill you!"
"Noted," Sam giggles. Yup. This was going to be perfect blackmail material
A/N: I want it noted that I have nothing against gays or lesbians. But I had to give Dean a hard time about it. I don't even think Dean has a problem with gays and lesbians, but just prefers they don't hit on him. Please review!