Akhgh, I know I said I won't post anything anymore (for some time at least) BUT I will update "Is It Hot In Here?" soon… but I just found this on my computer and… yeah.

I own nothing and this is just… plotless kinda, but hell, maybe it's not, ya know?

Sorry for all the grammar/spelling mistakes!

Enjoy.


At 6am the day looked promising enough to get out of bed, but then again some days can be tricky little bastards and screw you over right after you brush your teeth.

But the morning sun meant that the roads will be dry and that there will be no rain messing up Dean's aim, because that would suck ass and he really wants this son of a bitch dead before lunch, because after two days of not eating, he really needs food. He needs something solid to fill up his stomach with and soak up all that liquid in the form of beer and Whiskey.

"Wake up, man. I have coffee to go, come on."

Sam groaned from somewhere underneath the blanket that looked more like a thin, moth-eaten curtain, raised himself up and wiped some dried saliva from the corner of his mouth: "mhm…"

At 7am Dean nearly ran over a deer: "Holy..." and nearly gave Sam a heart attack: "...crap."

Well apparently today is just gonna be one of those days.

At 8am the day got its second dent in it when: "Hey sweetheart, I didn't order this."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I must've mixed up the orders. It's my first day today."

"Oh..."

"I'll get you your tofu sandwich asap."

"I didn't order that either!" He yelled after her, but she was already disappearing through the kitchen door.

Dean turned back to his brother: "'m glad you're enjoying this."

Sam laughed louder.

At noon, with the sun turning the interior of Dean's baby into a freakin' sauna, Sam opened the passenger door and slid inside: "They're out. Said to look in the next town."

Great. Another hour of sitting in this furnace.

At 3pm, the black dog just refused to freakin' die already and Dean was doing everything he could... giving it his best shot while Sam was struggling to breathe somewhere behind a bush and being of no use at all.

It died a few minutes past 3pm.

"'s it dead?"

"If it ain't... I quit."

"Got the lighter?"

"Here."

Dean tossed the lighter his brother's way and Sam barely caught it… he was still a bit shaky on his legs.

At 4pm it started to rain.

At 6pm, the dinner was awesome; a bit too greasy, but who cares, 's not like they'll live to see fifty anyway.

At 7pm, Dean was standing by the counter with a six pack of cold, cold beer pressed to his chest, a bag of potato chips on top of it and two bags of M&M's barely keeping balance on the huge bag of chips. Sam was standing behind him with two bottles of Whiskey.

"Two bottles, Sammy?"

"Shut up. One's for medicine, the other's for drinking."

"Sure."

By the time the clock hit 1am the six pack was gone and there was only one bottle of Whiskey left.

The TV was on, a movie they've both seen a million times already playing on it.

At 3am, Sam found them a hunt. Drunk as he was, he was slurring the words but Dean, drunk as he was, caught the gist of it just fine.

At 7am the day was seen through bleary eyes and a hangover brain. The sky was gray and Dean could just smell it… this was just the kinda day that will screw them over as soon as they'll step one foot out of the motel room, hell, when they'll step one foot out of bed they'll be screwed.

But there are people to save, things to kill.


The End.