When they hit the pothole, Dean knew what was coming. The pop of tires blowing, the shaking of the Impala driving on a flat. Pulling off to the side of the road, Dean hit the wheel in frustration. "Son of a bitch!"

Sam had an amused look on his face. The traitor.

Getting out of the car, Dean just barely stopped himself from slamming the door. Sam followed, a big grin on his face.

"Wow, Dean. You managed to take out two tires."

Leveling a glare at Sam, Dean said, "Shut it."

Potholes are evil. Dean has just decided this. What the hell is he supposed to do? They're in the middle of fucking Wyomming, with the nearest city forty miles away.

A thought entered his mind, wiggling its way to the forefront. No. No, it'd never work.

Rubbing a hand across his face and looking as far away from Sam as he could, Dean quitely sang, "Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there."

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

"Did you just...?" Sam began but had to stop himself because he started laughing.

A scowl on his face, Dean threw his phone at Sam saying "Whatever. Just call Cas."

Practically giggling now, "Maybe you should sing for Cas to come."

Dean got in the Impala and slammed the door shut. Fucking potholes.


Disclaims

Notes: You know the State Farm commercials? I couldn't resist. XD