When John mentioned he was going to the bar across the street from the hotel, Dean saw it as an opportunity to get off.
He had a small, one ounce bottle of lubrication that he had bought in some C-store a number of weeks ago, and he usually kept it hidden inside of his jacket. He waited for fifteen minutes after Sam went to sleep before searching his coat pockets until he found the bottle. He kept his underwear and old t-shirt on, sitting on the sofa against the wall opposite the beds to do his business, a box of tissues on the cushion next to him.
He finished in a few minutes and threw the tissues in the trash, pushing them under the soda cans and candy wrappers. Dean tossed the container onto the bed and went into the bathroom to wash his hands. Once his hands were clean, it hit him how tired he really was. Dean crawled into bed, his back to his little brother, and he fell asleep rather quickly.
Morning came and their father surprisingly lacked a hangover. Dean claimed the first shower. He locked the door, adjusted the shower taps, stripped, and hopped under the warm stream of water. He scrubbed his hair with hotel soap and dragged his soapy hands across his face, then turned to face the water. He rinsed his head and face before picking up the bar of soap to start washing his body.
"Where is my damn wallet?" John said out loud to no one in particular, frustrated as he ripped his bedding apart and shuffled through a bag. Sam was awake and sitting on the floor in front of the TV, watching Gremlins on HBO.
"I don't know, dad. I haven't seen it," he answered anyway. The bathroom door and Dean came out in nothing but a towel.
"Forgot my clothes," he explained, stepping across the room to the duffle bag and pulling out a clean set of clothes without any hassle.
John grunted before moving to the bed Sam and Dean had shared, throwing the blanket back. "I don't know how I could lose it, I jus-"
A not-so-big, clear bottle with clear liquid tumbled out from the comforter.
Dean turned around, clothes hung over his forearm, about to return to the bathroom so he could dress himself. As soon as he saw what made his father grow quiet, his face burned and he really had no idea what to say or do. John looked at Dean briefly, but it was remarkably clear that he was equally mortified. Dean swallowed the lump forming in his throat and speed-walked back into the bathroom, closing the door.
so this was just my way of dealing with the embarrassment of going through a similar situation