I don't know where this came from, but I had to write it, haha. I think the inspiration mainly came from the scene in "Yellow Fever" when Dean is talking about how Sam gets toxic after eating burritos :) Regardless, review and tell me what you think? It would be greatly appreciated!
Disclaimer: Ah, if only. If Supernatural was mine... well, let's just say that Jensen's chest would be cold and exposed most of the time.
Sam stiffened slightly as his stomach began to rumble loudly, hoping the loud roar of the Impala would cover up the massive grumbling noises.
"What's up, dude? Sit on a carrot or somethin'?" Dean raised his eyebrows slightly, his eyes flickering from the road, to Sam, and then back again.
"No, it's fine," Sam replied, gasping a little as his stomach let another groan escape.
"If you say so," Dean said, eying Sam warily out of the corner of his eye.
Sam couldn't believe his stomach had fooled him so. The grumbling slowly died down until they had almost completely gone. Sam relaxed his posture and let out a sigh of relief.
Squelch. Uh-oh. Sam's eyes flickered to Dean's face to see if he had heard the tiny noise. Obviously not, seeing as Dean was still gazing forward, bouncing a little to his music. Sam let another sigh of relief slip through his lips. He was safe.
But, then again, maybe not.
"Dude," Dean said, his nose scrunching up a little as he sniffed the air. "Do you smell that?"
"Smell what?" Sam responded, a little too quickly.
"Smells like... burrito?"
Sam's gaze diverted to his gargantuan feet.
"Dude... did you—did you do...? Holy shit." Dean's expression morphed into one of disgust, and he abruptly swerved to the right, until the Impala was sitting on a large patch of muddy grass.
"Get out," Dean said, his voice sounding nasal—figures. He had his nose plugged.
"What?" Sam protested. Sure, he probably shouldn't have eaten that burrito before, but he was hungry, dammit. That didn't mean he deserved to walk to their next hunt location!
"Open the fucking window!" Dean said loudly, scrambling out of his precious car, his nose still firmly plugged. Sam rolled the window down warily as Dean power-walked around the car, rolling all of the windows totally down.
"Oh—you have to be kidding me," Sam said, as Dean pulled the trunk open and rifled through his bag. He pulled out a can of deodorant.
"'Fraid not, Sammy," Dean said, pulling the door open. "I'd rather my baby smell like armpit than Sammy's lunch special."
"Aw, come on. It wasn't that bad," Sam said, rolling his eyes as he went to slip back in the car.
"Oh, no you don't," Dean said, pushing Sam's back. "Get rid of that damn smell first." He handed Sam the remnants of the deodorant can.
"You're kidding, right?" Sam said, eying the near-empty can.
"Again, no," Dean said grimly. "Those burritos were good, yeah... the aftertaste? Not so much."
Sam rolled his eyes, again trying to slip back into the car. He was once again stopped by Dean's hand. "I said no, dude," Dean said, his eyebrows raised, and his fist clutching the can. "Not until you get rid of that goddamn smell!"
Sam huffed, grabbing the can. It was kind of ridiculous that Dean didn't let Sam back into the car until he'd thoroughly sprayed his ass with the remains of the deodorant.
"No burritos, ever," Dean stated as the car roared back to life.