A/N: Yet another goofy addition to this idiotic series, hehe. This little saying Dean says, once again, was said by my step-dad...I honestly have no idea where he got all this from. TV, friends, movies, wherever...There will be one more after this (once I get it all typed up of course, hehe.) These were just silly drabble I wanted to play around with. Hope you enjoy them!!
(by the way, what Sam replies with is from 'Con Air'...it just fit!!)
The woods surrounded them in eery darkness swaying in the evening breeze. An owl hooted off in the distance whilst numerous locusts clicked away in the pines. Dean fixed the harness of his pack rubbing his shoulder where the strap had dug into the flesh and grunted as he nearly tripped over an exposed root. Sam bumped into him and caused them both to tumble to the earthen floor.
"Once again, I hate camping."
Dean wiped at his jeans and shoved Sam away from him who struggled to right himself. His own backpack twisted around till it was in front of him. As he yanked at it, it knocked him in the chin twice making Dean to snicker. Sam glared at him but was able to rearrange himself. Standing he grabbed for his brother's hand. They both stood and glanced around the small clearing.
"Man,"
Dean eyed the clearing unsure of where they had ended up. It seemed to be a sudden pattern with him as of late. Sam gripped the straps of his backpack and watched his brother closely. Anything he had to say lately ended up being way over the top and a bit odd.
"I suddenly feel like that lost tribe."
Sam hmmed. It wasn't what he expected. In fact it was actually...normal. He nodded.
"You mean the people of Roanoke, or the Croatoan maybe"
Dean shook his head. He half smiled and Sam realized this was not going to end as he assumed. Dean crossed his arms and looked up at a large fir tree and sighed.
"Nah. I mean that other lost tribe."
Sam started to roll his eyes but stopped. This time he felt compelled to give his brother the benefit of the doubt. He in fact wanted to know where this was going even if it was going to be a bad punchline that would be a bad groaner in the end.
"Okay Dean, which lost tribe would that be?"
Dean's smile widened and he turned to his brother.
"Well Sam, that would actually be the Wherethefuckarewe Tribe..."
Dean stared at his brother waiting. Sam stood there a moment biting his top lip not moving or saying a word. Then his lip began to twitch slightly. Dean could tell his brother was beginning to slip, to loose his composure. Sam breathed in through his nose trying to hold back the temptation, but it was impossible. His eyes squinted and a laugh burst forth from his lips the like of which Dean had not heard in a long time.
After a moment Sam finally stopped and wiped a stray tear from his eyes. Dean was laughing just as hard now coughing and smacking his chest with an open hand. Suddenly Sam stopped laughing and had an intense look on his face.
"Hey Dean, would they happen to have a member called Webefucked?"
"Dude, how the hell did you know their Chief??"
Sam shoved his brother causing them both to start laughing again. Dean pushed Sam back then walked on ahead, following the trail that had been there all along.