"And so," Dean coughed into his fist, "that is how you show your little brother how to shut his cake hole whilst you drive." There was laughter as the camera shook in his brother's hands, Dean licking his lips as a smile tugged at his lips, "But in all seriousness, thanks for watching, and we hope to see you next time." Dean watched as Sam turned the camera on himself.
"We hope you guys enjoyed that," Sam said, "Winchester bros out!" Dean sighed with relief once Sam hit the record button once more, ending the video. The windshield wipers squeaked as they ran across the glass, light bouncing off the hood of the car.
"Do you really have to film while I'm driving, Sammy?" Dean chuckled, "I mean, it's a little distracting-"
"What?" Sam shrugged his shoulders, placing the video camera on the dashboard. It was an one, with dents in the lens and a silver surface that was once shiny, but was now a ell gray color. "It's what everyone does on YouTube nowadays."
Dean rolled his eyes, "You mean they try to get themselves possibly killed for a few views now and again? Yeah, no." Pursing his lips, Dean returned his focus to the road ahead of them, green eyes squinting at the houses on either side of them.
"Whatever," Sam said, looking out the passenger window, "but you know that the fans will eat it up." Dean grinned- Sam was right. Every single comment on their videos were about how pretty Dean was. Some even had suggestive remarks that were just too weird or utterly wonderful to say aloud. At least, it was to Dean. Sam always found it disgusting, how people focused on one trait instead of the creation as a whole- and he wasn't talking about people. The engine purred as they drove along, a Led Zeppelin song coming on the radio.
"So where did Bobby say to meet him?" Dean asked. Sam scoffed at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Uh, his house?" Sam said almost skeptically. Dean nodded, scanning the cracked sidewalks and cookie-cutter houses that stood side by side. A man was walking his dog, a small bulldog that was barking like mad as a little girl with her mother ran by. Dean watched as the mother and chid turned the corner until focusing once more on actually driving.
"Right, so what's the address again?" Dean said, receiving a groan from Sam, who leaned his head back into the head of the carseat.
"Sometimes I really question why you got the car instead of me," he said.
"Because I'm the oldest?" Dean tried. Sam laughed, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, pushing his shaggy brown hair out of his face.
"Well, you suck with directions," Sam pointed out, and Dean could only nod in agreement. There really wasn't a point in protesting anyway, since Dean always made sure Sam had set up the GPS or was guiding him by one of the many maps they had stashed in the trunk of the Impala.
After a few minutes of driving, Sam's finger flashed in a blur across his peripheral vision, Sam almost yelling, "There! The yellow house, right there!" Carefully, Dean spun the steering wheel to turn into the driveway of a quaint little yellow house, the windows decorated with dark green shutters. Stalling the engine, he and Sam unbuckled themselves, getting out of the car to take in their surroundings. In front of the house was a nicely mowed green grass lawn. Orange and pink tulips lined the front porch, bees buzzing around to pollinate them. A small white sign was stuck in the ground, stating the number- 221, to be exact.
"You sure this is the place?" Dean asked, looking around in confusion.
"Yeah, why?" Sam replied, his laptop tucked under his arm. Dean noticed the camera in his pocket- of course he would try to edit and post the video as soon as possible. It was sort of expected, with Sam being good with technology and stuff.
"I dunno, man," Dean sniffed, "this seems to Little Bo Peep for Bobby to be living in." Sam shrugged, jogging to get up the porch steps and press the doorbell button. Dean stayed on the bottom step, nodding his head to the chimes coming from inside. As they waited, he et himself gaze around, his eyes falling on the wooden ramp off to the left that looked to be currently in progress. He jutted his chin at it, "Whaddya think that's for, huh?" Sam took a quick look.
"Dunno," he said, "ask Bobby, I guess." Dean was about to open his mouth when the front door creaked open, revealing the one and only Bobby Singer, wearing the usual trucker hat and camoflauge colored vest.
"Thought you got lost for a second," he joked, griping each brother in a bear hug as they walked in. The brothers were immediately hit by the smell of fresh apple pie, cinnamon tickling their noses. Dean grinned, Sam giving him a knowing look.
"Dean." he said pointedly as his brother pretty much pirouetted towards the kitchen, singing with joy as he came across the dessert. Sam clapped Bobby on the shoulder with his free hand, hefting his lepton in the other.
"Did you really have to get pie?" Sam asked. Bobby shrugged.
"Idjits." was all Bobby said, and endearing smile on his face. Noticing the laptop, he asked, "What's your fancy computer for, eh?"
"We're gonna post another video today, so I figured I'd edit it while we're here," Sam explained. Dean was holding a knife when they entered the kitchen, carefully trying to decide how to cut the pie into three pieces just right. The crust looked ready to cave under the teensiest amount of pressure, steam rising from it and evaporating once it hit the light bulbs on the ceiling.
"If you're trying to figure out how to get the biggest piece for yourself, don't bother," Bobby smacked Dean upside the head, making him drop the knife. It clattered against the wooden table, Sam smirking as he set up shop across from him, watching as Dean rubbed his head.
"OW!" he complained, sending Bobby a pained look as the old man sat himself down next to Sam.
"That's what you get for being impatient," Bobby joked, "next time it'll be more than a smacking." Grumbling, Dean puled out a third chair, the legs squeaking under his weight.
"Whatever," he pouted, then to his brother, "You got the video done yet?" Sam bit his lip, clicking away furiously on the keyboard as he shoved the SD card into its respective slot in the computer. Immediately, video clips popped up, along with some images from who knows where. Sometimes he was really unorganized when it came to the editing process of their videos, but as long as they got one up before the fans came after them, it was mostly okay.
"Almost," Sam said under his breath, acutely aware that Bobby was practically down his throat as he leaned over to watch.
"Why you two do this YouTube crap, I have no idea," he shook his head, withdrawing himself from Sam's personal space, "like really, what's so appealing about it?" The brother s exchanged glances; Sam's of annoyance, Dean's of boredom. Often, that question came up, and they hated it.
"It's fun," Dean finally said after a long pause, "you get to share stuff with the world too." Sam was surprised- Dean was never so considerate of the views of others. Of course, that surprise melted away quickly once Dean added, "It's also a way to get famous and meet hot chicks." Sam snickered.
"What?" Dean shot at him. Sam shook his head.
"In your case, guys," Sam said, a pink flush dancing across Dean's face. Bobby nodded in agreement, crossing his beefy arms as he leaned back in his chair.
It was true- Dean had come out a month ago. It wasn't a problem to anyone, but Dean hated when Sam or Bobby tried to find him someone to go steady with. Often, it would end with a broken heart. In some cases a bottle of whiskey.
"Whatever man," Dean chuckled, "just upload the damn thing- oh! And use a good song this time for the background!" Sam threw his hands up in disbelief.
"What was wrong with the last one?"
"Dude, are you kidding me?" Dean retorted, "we got messages for three weeks that consisted of Britney Spears lyrics and really bad pick-up lines!" Sam had to admit that Dean was right. Cracking his knuckles, he began typing once more, the whirr of the laptop soft as it rested against the tabletop.
"You guys are so weird," Bobby chuckled, pushing himself away from the table to get up, "Tell me when you're done and we can go to the diner or something." Dean watched as he disappeared into the living room. A few seconds later he could hear the football game playing on television.
"How does KISS sound to you?" Sam asked.
"Are we talking I Wanna Rock N' Roll All Night or "I Was Made For Lovin' You?" Dean asked, now ignoring the pie completely. He figured it was getting cld by now anyway, just sitting on the table untouched.
"Uh, the second one," Sam said. Dean grinned, pretending to play drums with his fingers against the edge of the table, echoed by a slew of curses from Bobby in the other room, which meant that his favorite team was most likely losing. Of course, that would mean the old man would drink at least two bottles of beer in one sitting to make himself feel better, and that was not a pretty situation.
A few more taps on the keyboard and Sam whistled, pressing the "Enter" key with a flourish.
"And we are up!" he announced, "Dean pumping his fist in the air.
"Shall we go take Papa Bear to the diner now?" Dean nodded his head in the direction of the living room as Bobby let out a new string of curses, each one worse than the last. Sam slammed his laptop shut, sliding the camera into his pocket. He didn't bother taking out the SD card as he got out of his chair, ambling into the living room with Dean close behind.
"Bobby!" Sam said, "Let's go, 'kay?" Bobby waved them away, eyes glued to the screen.
"Yeah, okay," the man answered as he lounged on the couch. Dean rolled his eyes, grunting as he bent over and grabbed the remote. Bobby was oblivious as he pointed it to the television.
In a blink, the screen went black, Dean slamming the remote down on the coffee table with finality.
"What the hell'd you do that for!?" Bobby cried, "they were in the last quarter!" Snapping at him, Dean pointed to the front door. Sam was already heading out, the door's slam echoing through the house.
"Diner. Now." Dean said, his words curt as he watched Bobby begrudgingly peel himself off the couch, following Dean to the door until he suddenly stopped short.
"What?" Dean asked, then it hit him, "Oh, right!"
Bobby's legs were getting weak. Sometimes he'd find himself struggling to walk. Other times he just couldn't walk at all. HIs reason? It was painful. Dean couldn't imagine it, but every step must be agonizing.
Of course, it never stopped him from planting the blasted orange and pink tulips for his wife every summer. Floorboards creaking, Dean ran to get the foldable wheelchair, realizing as he ran back what the makeshift ramp in the front yard was for.
"Thanks," Bobby said as he sat himself down, Dean opening the door so Bobby could wheel himself out to the car. Once they were all strapped in, they were on their way, hearing Bobby complaint about how the Giants lost by one point for the whole ride.
