Dean Winchester flopped face-down onto the brightly colored, but musky scented bedspread in small and cheap motel room. This was going to be a long night; Sam had snuck out and Cas had been gone for far too long on 'business', and Dean was left alone with the Magic Fingers and a thoroughly used copy of Busty Asian Beauties. The vibration of the bed felt more like an earthquake than a soothing buzz, and the worn pages of half and fully naked wives, daughters, and mothers were beginning to make him feel uneasy. He rolled on to the floor, not wanting to be on the bed until his quarter ran out and it stopped trembling.
He let out a loud groan, "I'm fucking bored!" he yelled to nobody, regretting the decision to let Sammy borrow his baby before he spotted his brother's lonely laptop on the slightly dusty desk. With some effort and a small amount of upper-body strength, he lifted himself from the stained floor and lifted the lid of the computer. He hummed along with the fan, which was overworked due to the fact that Sam had forgotten to turn it off when he left, and he clicked into the web browser. He typed a 'b', a 'u' and an 's', returning to his earlier realization about wives and daughters and sisters before backspacing. He tapped his rough fingers against the dusty wooden tabletop for a moment before typing the address ' ' into the search bar.
He pressed enter. He stared at the blue screen for a second, unaware that Sam had a page and was logged into it. He looked through a couple pages of his blog. It was boring, informative, and geeky. He used fingertips to cautiously type out 'Supernatural' into the small search bar, unsure if he was ready to see the insane book fandom. He waited for a minute, images upon images of graphic and grotesque brother-on-brother action poured out onto the screen before him and he couldn't contain his fit of uncomfortable laughter until he spotted the most perfect image he had ever seen of himself.
He was with Castiel, although he silently cursed Chuck for letting more of his story slip out into the public eye, he was too entranced by the way the artist had depicted the two of them together that he didn't mind all that much. He sighed, clicking onto the image, enamoured by the detail and time the artist had put into it and the way Cas looked so blissful in his arms. He smiled to himself before sending a quick text out to his angel, a small and rare reminder, before shutting the laptop and returning to his no longer shaking bed. He closed his eyes, strangely unbothered by the fact that the Internet knew he harbored slightly repressed and extremely gay feelings for his angel, and he was taken back into sleep where he hoped his angel could find him again.
