Dean climbed into the Impala after a long day of hunting yet another shifter. He sunk into the driver's seat, careful not to get blood on the upholstery. As he drove back to their cheap motel, he regretted forcing Sam to stay home and rest from their last hunt. Every bone in his body ached and he felt like he might collapse any minute. Dean pulled into the motel parking lot and rifled around for his key. He found it and exited the car, trying to be gentle with his baby. It seemed like an impossible task to unlock the motel door, but Dean finally managed. He stepped into the room and Sam immediately flipped off the TV, face turning beet red.
"Hold on Sammy- was that porn?" Dean asked, trying not to look too proud.
"Ugh. No Dean." replied Sam, perfectly executing bitchface #34. Although he still looked embarrassed.
For some reason, Dean didn't quite believe him. And he may have been bone-tired, but he always found time to wrestle with his little brother. Dean lunged for the TV remote, landing right on top of Sam. They struggled, each cramming their knees and elbows anywhere they could find. At last Dean delivered a blow directly to Sam's groin. Sam groaned and doubled over, a sign of his big brother swiped the remote from next to him.
Dean chuckled and clicked the power button, expecting to see an artificial-looking blonde woman with her legs spread. Instead, he was greeted with Tyra Banks.
"Remember girls- smile with your eyes!" she critiqued.
Dean flipped off the little screen as quickly as possible. He sat down on the bed, shocked and confused. Sam searched his face for any sign of reassurance; but found none. But then, ever so slowly, Dean picked up the TV remote. He pressed the power button, grinning like an idiot, and playfully shoved his brother, settling in for what would soon become a five hour marathon of America's Next Top Model.