Sam was sick of Dean's lifestyle. Well, specifically, Dean's sex lifestyle.
The being sent to sleep in the Impala just because his older brother wished to get laid, the coming back from research to the sound of moaning leading, again, to sleeping in the car. It's not like Sam didn't ask –read: beg– Dean for his own room, he did. But Dean's answer was always the same; "We can't waste money like that, Sammy, I worked hard to earn it. So when you bring in money, you can decide how to spend it." Sam had to roll his eyes at this; he wouldn't call gambling hard work and he certainly wouldn't use the word 'earn.'
Once again, Sam had come back to his and Dean's room to discover the door locked and his brother with a girl inside. Though instead of facing another night in the backseat of the Impala, Sam was going to take Dean up on his offer and earn some money for himself. Checking for any money in his wallet and, finding $20, he smileed and headed to the bar with the intent of tripling that amount. It couldn't be that hard, right?
Sam, the genius of the two, could not have been more wrong. After just one round, Sam had lost the $20, and was on his way to getting extremely drunk from the non-stop flow of beer that the current owner of Sam's $20 was supplying. After the 8th glass of beer, a mysterious man said "Hey kid, I think you've had enough. You should really head home." Sam took a sip. "Can't. I gots kick'd outta *hic* the room." The man slipped Sam a hundred. "Here, this should cover it." Sam slid off the bar stool a muttered a bye before heading out. The man just shook his head and laughed. Thank God that he was the one who meet the kid tonight, or else his ass would be sore tomorrow.
Sam woke up to a pounding in his head, trying hard to piece together last night. Once he had he realised how grateful he was to the mystery guy. Sam hear voices and looked up to see The Wizard of Oz playing on the motel's TV, Sam couldn't help but relate it to Dean. Dean's mind was like the yellow brick road. But instead of bricks; skin magazines, and at the end of the road was, instead of the Wizard of Oz, whoever he chose to sleep with that night.
There was one thing that made the nights of sleeping in the car -or the huge headache- worth it, and that was imaging Dean Winchester in Dorothy's dress.
AN: I know it's really short, but I am just started to get back into writing after a few mind-blank months. I would like to thank KuRoHiTsUzEn for looking over this, and not laughing at my stupid mistakes.