Hi Everyone! Just a lighthearted story here. Been a jolly amount of angst on the show of late (and yes, I do have a fic coming up that will reflect upon these past episodes), but I thought we might all need something a little more humorous right now.
This story is set in Season 12, just prior to the episode "The Raid" (12.14).
It's divided into two chapters simply to make it a little easier to read because it got pretty long. :D
"I hate you."
Sam laughed.
"I do," Dean insisted. "I really hate you right now."
"I know. I know you do." Sam tried his best to hide the fact he couldn't stop smiling. Forced himself not to laugh.
Dean's expression changed from fury to utter devastation as he stared past Sam at the offending object. Following his brother's gaze, Sam shifted from one foot to the other. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all. He'd thought it would be hilarious. Thought maybe Dean would even see the humor in it after awhile. And maybe he would.
Eventually.
Right now, though, it looked like Dean might cry.
"Dean, it's temporary." Sam tried to be encouraging even though that smile was trying to sneak out again. "Look. It's just for a few days-"
"A few days?" Dean's eyes about popped out of his head as he looked up. "The guy said a couple days! Not a few days!"
Clearly Sam had been underestimating the seriousness of the situation. He was going to have to watch what he said for the next few - couple - days. "You're right. You're right. A couple days. Let's...let's just go, ok? Get your mind off it."
Dean shook his head and looked at the car behind Sam. His expression turned even more morose. "How am I gonna get my mind off it, Sam? How?"
This time he couldn't hide it. Sam smiled and said, "Come on. Time to go."
It took another minute before Dean pushed himself up from the curb where he'd been sitting for the last five minutes staring at the rental car. Sam felt like it was some sort of victory. He'd known this wasn't going to be easy. He'd just never expected it to be quite this difficult.
"You want me to-"
"Give me the damned keys."
Sam lost the battle. He laughed.
"Shut up or I'm leaving you here," Dean practically shouted. He wrenched the door open and stood there staring into the car. Lowering his head, Dean pressed his fingers to his eyes. "Sam?"
"Yeah?" Sam leaned on the edge of the passenger side door and looked at Dean over the top of the car. He had the laughter mostly under control, but the whole smiling thing was a battle he'd given up trying to win.
Dean lifted his head and honest to goodness whined, "I miss my Baby."
"I know, man. I know." Sam's amusement began to fade.
He'd known how difficult this would be for his brother, but seeing exactly how brokenhearted Dean was over the situation, Sam decided it was time to stop teasing him. Even if it had only been twenty minutes that he'd been without his Baby.
"Dean, let's go get some pie."
"Yeah." Dean nodded, looking back over his shoulder at the auto shop.
Sam could have sworn Dean was brushing tears out of his eyes. He kept his mouth shut, though, and simply got into the passenger side of the car. It took Dean another minute before he got behind the wheel.
Dean took a deep breath and started the car. It sounded so wrong that even Sam cringed. He felt his brother spearing him with the most scathing stare he'd ever received. This might have been his worst idea ever.
Trying futilely to save his own skin, Sam said, "It's got a-"
"I know what it's got, Sam," Dean whined, staring at the dashboard with hatred. "It's got a damned V6."
"Dean-"
"What the hell is that noise?"
Sam frowned, looking around too for the answer to the offending beep. "Uh, I think it's the seat belt alarm."
"The what?" If Dean had tried he couldn't have sounded any more furious.
"The seatbelt," Sam said, buckling up and then staring over at his brother. He tried so hard not to laugh.
Dean glared at him. "I hate you so much right now, damnit. No car should be bitching at me."
"You sure you don't want me to drive?"
"Sam-"
"Fine, ok." Sam held up his hands, finding himself hoping with everything he had in him that the repairs on their Impala weren't going to take long.
Dean put the rental car, a shiny black 2017 Impala, into drive and pulled out of the driveway, griping the entire time. Sam prayed for patience. If they could just get to the restaurant. If he could get Dean some pie...maybe then he would-
"What is that?"
"What is what?" Sam looked at the five million display icons on the dashboard. The six million buttons and knobs. He was sort of glad he wasn't driving because this...this wasn't a car. It was a freakin' spaceship.
"That. Right there." Dean jabbed at a display.
"Huh."
"Huh? What's that supposed to-"
"Dean, watch where you're driving, ok? Let me look at the-" he motioned at the mess, "-this. And buckle up."
"Yeah." Dean snorted. "That's not gonna-"
"It's gonna keep beeping the entire time unless you-"
They pulled up to a red light and Dean griped and cursed and complained and acted like a two year old having a tantrum. But he put his seat belt on. He was white knuckling the steering wheel as he asked, "So, what was it?"
"Oh, it's wi-fi." Sam grinned. "The car has wi-fi."
Dean rolled his eyes and stepped on the gas pedal harder than was strictly necessary. "Of course you'd be excited about that."
"I might as well be. You don't like a single-"
"What is there to like? This thing has the same name, but it isn't-" his voice trailed off.
Sam took pity on him. "I know, man. I get it. Hey, I'm ready to get our car back, too. This is only temporary, ok? Not the first time we've had to use another car-"
"It's the first time I couldn't fix 'er, Sam."
And that right there was the main issue.
Sam felt even worse about thinking this would be funny. Dean had rebuilt the Impala from the frame up. Twice. But they'd had Bobby's garage, his engine lift, and all his tools before. Now they didn't have any of that.
The Impala was part of the family and the only thing of value - besides each other - that they had.
Sam couldn't fix the Impala, but he could do his best to distract his brother. "Let's get something to eat, ok?"
Dean shot him a glare. "You're buying."
"I'm buying." Sam smiled. It was the least he could do.
Earlier…
"Dean-"
"Shut up, Sam."
"Dean-"
"Shut up, Sam." This time the statement was accompanied with the sound of something heavy hitting the far wall.
Sam decided he should be grateful whatever it was had hit the wall and not his face. He sighed and sat down on the garage floor with his back against the left rear tire of the Impala. Wiping a hand over his face, he waited. The garage fell silent. He stared at the far wall. And waited. It took five minutes.
"Sam."
"Yeah?"
"I don't think it's the carburetor."
He hadn't thought so either, but since Dean hadn't appreciated his opinion when he'd said it the first time - or any of the subsequent times - Sam had given up.
Sam leaned his head against the side of the car and wondered where they went from here.
"I need an engine lift."
"Ok." That sounded like an easy solution. "You wanna go buy one?"
Dean snorted, then something else hit the wall. "Buy one? You got any idea how expensive they are?"
"Uh...no."
"Expensive."
"Ok." Sam frowned, trying to come up with another solution.
If Bobby were still alive, they wouldn't even need to discuss this. Bobby'd had an engine lift. He'd had everything they'd ever needed. But there hadn't been much left the last time they'd gone by the salvage yard and being back there had been extremely difficult on both of them. So he definitely wasn't bringing Bobby up right now.
"I'm gonna have to take her to a shop," Dean said, in a horrified whisper.
Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. But he valued his life too much to make a joke about it. If Dean was seriously suggesting they take his precious car to an actual shop, things were dire, indeed. So he kept his mouth shut and waited.
After a long moment, he heard his brother getting to his feet. Sam glanced up when Dean walked around the front of the car. He looked so miserable that Sam didn't even want to tease him.
"Dean?"
"Sammy, I don't know what to do," Dean said, holding his hands up helplessly. "I can't fix this."
Sam pushed himself to his feet. "Ok, man. We can deal with it."
His words didn't seem to be consoling his brother. Dean shook his head, looking at the engine. Meeting Sam's eyes again, Dean said, "This isn't a ghost. We can't gank this! It's not a werewolf or a-"
Amused by the fact his brother seemed to think the only things they could fix or deal with were monsters, Sam soothed, "It's a car repair. You've kept the car running all these years. Maybe this is one thing you're gonna need a little help with, but that's ok."
Dean didn't look any happier, but Sam knew until the Impala was roadworthy, he probably wasn't going to look anything but morose. Sam gently closed the hood and wiped his hands on his pants, staring at the car as his brother came to stand next to him.
"Let's go get cleaned up and then I'll look for a repair shop." Sam caught a brief nod of Dean's head. Satisfied, Sam led the way out of the garage and back into the bunker.
It was a simple situation as far as he was concerned, but he knew his brother didn't see it that way.
Sam thought it was all so simple.
Just a car repair. Just look for a garage.
Dean threw his shirt against the wall, then turned on the shower. He knew he was being ridiculous. There had been a few repairs over the years that had required more "professional" help. Sure, his dad and Bobby had taught him everything there was to know about cars, but sometimes he just didn't have the tools he needed.
Knowing how to keep a car in running condition was a necessity in their line of work. He might never have become an expert at it, but Dean knew even Sam could take care of almost anything that went wrong with the car, too. For the most part, the repairs hadn't been Sam's job, but he knew more about the car than anyone other than Dean did. And he could deal with, and had dealt with, almost any issue or repair necessary.
But this time, it was beyond both of them.
Stepping under the warm spray of water, Dean tried to calm down. If they had all the tools and equipment they'd had at Bobby's place, Dean probably could fix it. But they didn't and Dean couldn't help it if he felt like a failure somehow.
By the time he finished with his unusually extended shower, gotten dressed, and wandered into the kitchen, he was a little calmer. Sam was on the phone and gave him a thumbs up. Dean stared at him for a moment, but his brother was busy on the phone and not talking to him. Taking the thumbs up and Sam's smile as a good sign, Dean grabbed a couple beers out of the fridge and sat down across from his brother.
After a minute, Sam ended the call and said, "It's all set up."
Dean thought about complaining that Sam didn't know what the car needed or how to make a car repair appointment, but dismissed the notion immediately. No one was better at research than Sam was. If he'd found a repair shop, then Dean knew it was the best one in the vicinity.
Passing him a beer, Dean nodded. "Ok. When do we go?"
"We can drop it off today and they'll give us an estimate, but they're not going to be able to start the repairs until tomorrow most likely."
"So we gotta...we gotta get a rental?" Dean spit the word out distastefully.
Sam smiled. "Unless you wanna walk back home, yeah, we gotta get a rental."
"I'm not walking, Lance Armstrong."
"For the last time, Lance Armstrong is not a runner, nor a walker," Sam said as if he were reciting a school lesson to a small child, "he is a cyclist."
"Well whatever. You and your healthy fetishes can do what you want. I need a car."
"Being healthy isn't a-" Sam broke off, shaking his head. Obviously he realized how useless it would be to try to continue that line of thought. "When do you want to go?"
"Now." Dean pushed the chair back. "Sooner the better."
"Ok. While you talk to the shop, I'll get us a rental."
Dean glared at him. "It better be badass."
"I'll do my best."
Now
Sam smiled. Dean looked happier now that he was on his second piece of pie. The first piece had taken the edge off, but the second piece was working its magic. Sam still felt bad about choosing the brand new Impala. It had seemed funny when he'd thought about renting it, but seeing Dean's reactions made him feel bad. He had to admit, the modern Impala was definitely not anywhere near as wonderful as their Impala was.
"I'm still mad at you," Dean said, through a mouthful of pie.
Sam nodded. "I know you are. What can I do to make it up to you?"
"Pie was a good start." Dean motioned with his fork. "But I think I can milk this for a long time."
"Oh, I'm sure you can. And I'm sure you will. I have no doubts."
Dean grinned and ate the last bite of his pie.
Knowing he was doomed, Sam finished his coffee and asked, "So what's the plan for the rest of the day?"
Eyebrows tilted down, Dean considered his question for a moment before answering, "We kinda need toilet paper."
"Yeah, and you're out of shampoo."
"Were you using my shampoo again?" Dean glared at him.
Sam shrugged. "I ran out."
"So you ran out and used mine and now I'm out."
"Yeah." Sam shrugged again.
Dean shook his head, rolling his eyes. He jabbed a finger at the check. "Pay that. And then you're buying me more shampoo. And it's your turn to buy the toilet paper."
He shoved himself out of the booth, muttering and griping about modern cars, and pain in the ass little brothers, and the fact that they had to buy toilet paper.
Sam left the cash on the table and smiled as he followed his brother out the door. It was crazy, he had to admit, that after all these years, they were arguing about whose turn it was to buy the toilet paper. It was crazy. But it was also kind of awesome. Because it was normal.
And because they were kind of normal.
Dean felt his phone vibrate, but ignored it. He had five DVDs in his hand and the stack to his right was tilting perilously. Using his elbow, he propped up the stack and reached down for the DVD he'd been fishing for in the five dollar bin. Grasping it with his fingertips, he pulled it out victoriously as the stack and the five DVDs in his other hand all collapsed like a house of cards.
Tossing the DVD into the cart, Dean pulled out his phone.
Socks?
Dean texted back yes and pushed the cart toward the houseware section. Consulting his list, he was glad his brother was off searching for jeans and socks. It gave him more time to browse the appliances. There wasn't anything they needed, but he didn't want to miss it if the Keurig was on sale. He thought the thing was pretty pointless, but it would make a nice birthday present for someone who thought individual servings of pointlessly ridiculous specialty coffees were the best thing since sliced bread.
It wasn't on sale, but Dean wasn't worried. He had plenty of time before Sam's birthday. Glancing at the rest of the kitchen appliances, Dean whistled tunelessly to himself.
Waffle maker. Check. Already had one. He'd meant for it to be a Christmas present but it turned out to be more of a February present.
Blender. Check. Had one of those too. Sam had been wanting one for his fruity smoothies for ages, but it had actually appeared in the Bunker when Dean had wound up with strep throat and Sam had been trying to make something soft and cold for his throat.
Dean turned the corner and looked at the silverware organizers and dish racks. He was making do without a dish rack, but the silverware drawer situation was out of control. If he speared his fingers on another fork, he was going to lose it. So he grabbed a simple organizer and tossed it into the cart as his phone buzzed again.
Did you need t-shirts?
Pausing for a moment, Dean tried to remember, then texted back, Yes. Since someone added bleach and burned holes in my last good one.
The bleach episode hadn't really been Sam's fault. They'd both been drunk. And he'd been the one bossing his brother into doing the laundry despite the fact Sam had done more tequila shots than either of them could count. So if Sam had mistakenly thrown in a cup of bleach instead of softener, Dean couldn't really be angry about it.
We need bleach too, Sam texted back.
Dean snorted and decided he might as well head to that department. He picked up the bleach and a new mop and ran into his brother in front of the toilet paper. Sam barely looked at him, just unloaded the clothing items from his arms into the cart, then went back to studying the toilet paper. Dean fished through the clothes to make sure Sam had picked out the right t-shirts and socks, then waited patiently for his brother to make up his mind about the toilet paper.
He clipped the coupons, but Sam was the one who handled the budget these days, so Dean let him figure out which was the best deal.
"Did you get the printer ink?" Sam asked, frowning and crouching down to reach for a package located at the back of the shelf.
"Yeah. And the labels you wanted for the files."
"Great. Thanks." Sam backed up, then shoved the pack of toilet paper on the bottom rack of the cart. He straightened and immediately began analyzing the contents of the cart.
Dean tapped a finger on the handle of the cart and waited. Other than the silverware organizer and the DVD, he hadn't picked up anything that hadn't been on the list. After a moment, Sam seemed satisfied there were no extraneous purchases and glanced at him.
"Ok," Sam said, checking things off his list, "we should probably get some food while we're here."
Pulling out his own list, Dean nodded. "Eggs. Milk. Cheese. Bacon."
Sam asked, "Creamer?"
"Up to you, your highness." Dean nudged his brother in the hip with the cart.
The only response he received was an eye roll before Sam took off toward the refrigerated food department. Smiling smugly, Dean turned left for the chips. He selected a bag of regular chips to have with the hamburgers he was planning for Wednesday night and a bag of tortilla chips for Thursday's nacho night. Which reminded him they needed pickles for the burgers and ground beef for the nachos.
Picking up the beer on the way, Dean remembered they were out of syrup and headed for the breakfast aisle. He paused to allow a mother with three kids in her cart to pass him. The youngest kid was shouting for pop tarts and Dean didn't want to get in the middle of that. As soon as they moved, he went for the syrup and realized how weird their life had become.
They were grocery shopping, for crying out loud!
At an actual store, not a gas station mini-mart.
He was buying a mop. And an organizer for their silverware drawer. Their silverware drawer. Dean smiled and put the syrup into the cart. Making a living hunting monsters didn't seem as weird as having a silverware drawer which just went to show how screwed up his definition of weird was.
Sam met him halfway up the pasta aisle. Dean was engrossed in comparing labels of spaghetti sauce while his brother unloaded the dairy products into the cart.
"We should just get two carts," Sam said, mostly to himself. He usually complained about that at least once a shopping trip but Dean had yet to see his brother go for a second cart.
Hearing him begin to walk away, Dean looked up from the sauce and asked, "Meatballs and mostaccioli or you want lasagna?"
He'd only made lasagna once but it had turned out pretty good.
Sam shrugged and waved a hand. "Whatever you want to do is fine. I don't even know what mostaccioli is."
Dean exchanged a longsuffering look with the two-hundred year old woman who was selecting fettuccine noodles. She shook her head, handed him the penne noodles and hobbled away. Grinning, he set the noodles and sauce into the cart and went for the deli.
He was in charge of the meat situation although he was gratified to know his brother could actually pick out a decent steak if he had to. But ever since the ground turkey fiasco of last year, Sam was banned from buying anything other than prime rib. Dean had informed him that if he wanted to eat that healthy, then he was making his own turkey burgers.
Sam hadn't bought any ground turkey since.
Selecting the ground beef for the nachos and hunting for meatballs because his culinary talents weren't quite that advanced yet, he remembered they were out of cheese slices. And Sam had already done the dairy section. Great. Dean paused with his phone in his hand.
Sam had a thing about not returning to the same aisle twice. It was annoying and weird and a clear sign of his OCD, but Dean had long ago stopped letting it bother him. And he'd stopped purposefully messing with his brother after one very stressful shopping experience. He'd sent his brother back and forth at least half a dozen times pretending he kept forgetting items. It had been hilarious until it hadn't been and it had resulted in him being responsible for doing all the grocery shopping on his own for almost a month.
Dean stared at the phone and weighed his options. He could run back there himself or he could see if there was any chance Sam would go back for them. And then a couple loaves of bread, a package of bagels, and a container of coffee were placed into the cart. Dean put his phone away. If Sam was done with the bread aisle, there was no way he would be willing to go all the way back to the dairy aisle.
"Get pickles," Dean instructed, parking the cart near a display for cupcakes.
"I'm grabbing mustard, too," Sam called out as he disappeared around a corner.
Crossing items off his list, Dean went back for the cheese slices and decided cinnamon rolls sounded good so he grabbed a package.
He picked up the last few items on the list, then stood by the donuts and waited. Sam was in charge of the fruit and vegetable situation. Dean grabbed a couple jelly filled donuts for the trip home, checked everything off on his list, then pulled his phone out.
No calls from the auto shop. Which, really, was to be expected. It had only been a couple hours and it was going to take a couple days. Sighing, he distracted himself with a few levels of Angry Birds.
"Ok, I think that's everything."
Sam's voice drew his attention from the game. Dean didn't look up as fruits and veggies were set into the cart. He asked, "Did you get shampoo?"
"No."
Dean settled more comfortably against the side of the donut case, eyes on his game. "I'll wait."
Sam huffed, but walked away.
Since it was his fault they were both out of shampoo, Dean just smiled.
Sam wandered the aisle twice before he found the shampoo Dean preferred. He grabbed two bottles. And then he grabbed two of his own shampoo. Better to stock up than to run out again. About to return to his brother, Sam sighed and grabbed a package of bar soap. And then figured he might as well pick up deodorant while he was at it. Ibuprofen was two aisles back, but they were getting low on that, so he went and grabbed some.
Arms full, he made his way back to his brother. Dean hadn't moved and it was irritating to have to weave his way through the brussel sprouts and bananas again, but Sam kept his mouth shut. Dean was without his car and it might as well have been his right arm he was missing.
Dumping the items into the cart, Sam asked, "Anything else?"
"Don't think so." Dean nudged the cart with his hip, hands still on his phone.
When he didn't look up from the game and didn't move, Sam took it as his cue. He pushed the cart toward the registers and knew his brother would follow eventually. And he did. After Sam had finished unloading everything and then loading everything back into the cart. Week after week, Dean had a sneaky habit of being elsewhere during that time of the shopping trip.
Sam paid for the groceries then followed his brother outside. Dean pushed the cart through the parking lot, and stopped at the rear of the Impala. Sam waited while his brother fiddled with the key. And then he jumped when Dean set off the panic alarm.
"Damn it!" Dean muttered, stabbing at the key fob. "Which one…"
His voice trailed off as he stabbed at the buttons. Sam opened his mouth, then thought better of it and waited. The alarm went mercifully quiet after a few seconds. Sam could hear Dean grumbling under his breath about stupid modern crap and it's not even a real key. He had to admit he was on his brother's side. When the key fob had been handed to him at the rental office, Sam had been more than a little confused. He wasn't going to tell his brother, ever, but he'd set the panic alarm off three times before he'd figured out how to unlock the doors.
Speaking of panic alarm…
The alarm went off again and Sam was beginning to feel as frustrated as his brother. Dean was cursing and stabbing at buttons and Sam wanted to take the fob away from him, but he valued his life and his fingers so he didn't. Well aware people were staring at them, Sam tried to ignore them. It was just a good thing they hadn't bought any ice cream, he decided, because it would be melted by the time Dean figured out how to get the doors unlocked.
The alarm stopped. Both of them took a deep breath of relief and then Dean pushed another button. Sam heard the click of the door locks and smiled at the satisfied expression on Dean's face. It took three rounds of Dean locking and unlocking the doors before he finally hit the button to open the trunk.
They stared into the trunk for a moment.
"Not enough room in there for a body," Dean observed, tilting his head to the left.
Sam raised his eyebrows, thankful no one was standing close. "Don't say stuff like that out loud! Are you crazy? Besides, when have we ever needed to put a body in the-"
"Crowley." Dean grinned, reaching for the first of the grocery bags. "I put Crowley in the trunk."
He had a point. But Sam still didn't think discussing bodies and whether or not they would fit in the trunk was a topic for polite conversation in a grocery store parking lot. So he hushed his brother, then finished loading the groceries.
Climbing back into the car, Sam had to admit the ability to adjust his seat to suit his own needs was a good feature. The car still seemed too cramped, but it did help to be able to push the seat back enough to have some leg room. He buckled up and waited for Dean to start the car. His brother didn't have as much trouble starting the car as he'd had unlocking it, which was good.
Dean grimaced as the less than impressive V6 started up. He grumbled but put his own seat belt on. Sam expected him to put the car into drive, but Dean was fiddling with buttons and dials.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked after he'd watched his brother mess with the controls for a moment.
"Air conditioning. Which one of these works the air?"
"Uh…" Sam joined his brother in assessing the controls. "These have blue and red trim on the dials. Probably air and heat?"
"Probably." Dean started turning the control nearest him. Nothing happened.
Sam turned the other control. Nothing. After a few tries, Dean hit the right button and they felt cool air. After that, they spent a minute playing with the controls. The ability to be able to adjust their own temperature was neat, Sam had to admit. Dean didn't admit anything, but he seemed to like that feature.
Dean started fiddling with the control buttons on the steering wheel and discovered he could change the radio station with one touch of his finger and the volume with another without ever needing to move his hand from the wheel. Another cool feature. The touch screen was user friendly and Sam explored the options. The ability to use the bluetooth to make a phone call through the car's speakers could come in handy.
By the time Dean put the car into reverse and they took in the magic that was a backup camera, Sam realized they'd been sitting there playing with the controls for almost ten minutes.
"You ever stop to think that we're getting old?"
Dean's eyebrows rose and he shook his head. "Where did that come from?"
Smiling, Sam waved a hand at the controls. "We just sat here for ten minutes figuring out how to work the controls."
"Yeah, well it's cuz this car sucks and is a spaceship not a car. Why's it gotta be this complicated? I want a key, a real key, not a remote. I don't want a television in my car, Sam. Back up cam is great and all that but when did people stop using their own eyes? And I don't need five hundred buttons. Give me a radio dial and control over the temperature."
Sam smiled, not disagreeing.
They drove for a few minutes in silence. Sam tried to roll down his window and Dean discovered the joys of parental controls and locked the window on him. Sam retaliated by turning the heated seat on without his brother realizing it. Watching Dean continuously up the AC on his side while squirming uncomfortably was a twisted, yet satisfying, way to pass the time.
"You think we're getting old?" Dean asked once they'd hit the main road back to the bunker.
Surprised his brother was back to that topic, Sam shrugged. "I mean, we are, I guess. Right? It is kind of inevitable."
Dean snorted, then tapped a finger on the steering wheel, considering. After a moment, he said, "Sometimes I feel old."
Sam felt the same way, but decided to lighten the mood. He patted Dean on the shoulder and said, "It's ok, man. You got a few years left till I have to put you in the nursing home."
Dean broke out laughing and it sounded good.
He doesn't do that enough these days, Sam thought with a pang of sorrow. But he was laughing right now, so Sam decided to enjoy the moment.