THREE

Paradise City

.

Dean walked to the end of the street, unlocking the Impala and sliding into the driver's seat. He gave the pavement a quick cautious look around before he took the dream catcher on a stick from inside his jacket. He opened the glove box and pushed it in carefully before sniffing to himself. He looked at his watch, found it barely three o'clock, and closed the glove compartment with a slight huff.

He pulled out his keys and started the engine before turning on the radio. All he heard was white noise and he paused, checking the dial. He looked up and across to his right and realised he couldn't see the aerial.

He tutted and killed the engine, climbing out of the classic and walking round the car. He was just grasping the bobble at the end of the sunken aerial when a car passed. They honked the horn and he happened to look up.

The car had already gone, but he saw across the street to the box office of a dilapidated looking cinema. He looked down again but then paused, thinking for a second before looking up once more.

I've seen that guy before, he thought slowly, eyeing the short little man. He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his white shirt and black trousers stark against the colour of the goings on of the street. His shoulders hunched over and his back to him, there was nevertheless something very familiar about the man's shock of very neat black hair.

He turned it over in his mind, looking down at the aerial, trying to think where he'd seen him before. When he looked up again the man was gone. Dean did a double-take and realised there was a girl standing in front of the antique posters, arms folded, criticism evident in her stance.

He smiled then left the aerial to it. He locked the car up before pocketing the keys and checking the traffic. He jogged across the road and sneaked up behind her.

"This one," he said loudly, reaching round her shoulder to point at a poster. She jumped about six inches in the air before turning round.

"Dean! Bastard," Moon breathed, putting a hand to her collarbone in relief. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking at movie posters," he said innocently.

"Really? I've been cut loose in favour of a date," she sighed, bored. Dean raised his eyebrows. She flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder, shrugging lightly. "Sunny has to do this now before time moves on."

"Sounds kinda weird," Dean fished knowingly, a big grin on his face.

Moon nodded. "She gets like this sometimes. But then, I know she's got like a hundred SMSs from your brother all last night and this morning."

"She did?" he asked, surprised. So our love-struck puppy's been sending her messages all night, has he?

"Yeah - she called him too, you know."

"Yeah, I heard," he smiled, looking at his feet.

"They're out around town somewhere, so I thought I'd waste some time at the movies."

"Good idea. Seriously - let's do this one," Dean said, stepping round her and leaning back on the poster, tapping his knuckles against it. She turned round and looked at it.

"Us?" she asked.

He nodded. "Well I'm bored, you're ditched - why not?" he shrugged. "And I'm gone tomorrow - who knows when I'll come across another place showing this?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Have you seen that film?" she asked with a sly smile.

"Only about fifteen times," he grinned.

She gestured to the box office. "Next showing's in twenty minutes. Tickets are on you, Dean Like-The-Rifle."

"Yes ma'am," he nodded smartly, pushing himself off the poster and heading for the girl at the ticket counter.

Moon grinned, pulling out her phone quickly.

'At movies with the Shupshe. Have fun with your Wakshi,' she typed quickly, sending it off to her sister.

Dean re-appeared in front of her, waving two tickets happily. "Well? 'The Evil Dead' awaits."

"And we can't have that, can we?" she smiled, pocketing the phone.

"Hot dogs or popcorn?" he asked.

"Why choose one when you can have both?" she grinned, grabbing his arm and turning him round. She led them into the theatre, feeling much more relaxed about her day.

.

.

Dean closed the motel room door with his foot, yawning and scrubbing a hand through his hair.

"Sam?" he called, looking around. The place was empty save him and the large near-empty coffee cup in his hand. Dean grinned. "Good boy," he chuckled wickedly, going to the table and depositing the take-out cup on it. He pulled off his black jacket, hanging it on the chair and looking around.

He crossed to the bed and threw himself on it, bouncing up and down and putting his hands behind his head. He crossed his ankles and let out a long sigh of happiness.

"So, Sam, what did you do all day?" he asked the room cheerfully.

He cleared his throat and affected a high Mickey Mouse-type voice. "Bummed around the library with Sunny, Dean. She's awesome, Dean, I really like her, Dean."

"Cool," he continued in his own voice. "I spent all day watching 'The Evil Dead' - part one and then part two back-to-back - at the this little flea-pit in town, with Moon. It was a pretty cool way to waste an afternoon," he shrugged.

"Let me guess, Dean," he said quickly, changing his voice over to Mickey Mouse again, "you're just waiting for the right time to get into her pants, Dean."

He tutted theatrically, looking very much affronted. "Please Sam, grow up. She's like you except for being a girl. Oh no wait - you are a girl," he added maliciously.

"That's not funny, Dean," he whined.

"It is from over here," Dean grinned.

The door opened suddenly and he jumped.

"Hey," Sam said cheerfully, closing the door behind him. Dean cleared his throat, eyeing him guiltily as he sat up. "Who were you talking to?"

"You lost your way to her place or something?" Dean asked quickly, not looking at him.

"Don't," Sam sighed. "We spent all day bumming round the library," he admitted.

"Uh-huh," Dean grinned knowingly, shifting his leg up to let his left foot rest on his other knee. "And then?"

"And then we got some food in town," he shrugged defensively.

"And then?" Dean pressed, waving his hand round in a circle. Sam just looked at him.

"And then I explained that we're leaving tomorrow anyway, and came back here. And here I am," he said clearly.

Dean slapped both hands to his eyes and fell over backwards on the bed.

"Sam! This was your last chance! What does it take to--"

"Dean, leave me alone," he said quickly. "What were you doing all day, anyway?"

Dean sighed, sliding his hands off his eyes to look at the ceiling. "I went to the movies."

"By yourself? Wow, that must be a first," he said maliciously. "Do they sell Lonely Asshole size popcorn buckets?"

Dean actually chuckled, and Sam let his annoyance flounder. "Actually, I saw Moon in there," he said, sitting up again. "We sat through two classic horror films. It was kinda cool."

Sam blinked large, owlish eyes at him. "Don't tell me you're thinking about--"

"Sam, relax," Dean said quickly. "She's a biscuit older than high school. Forget about it." He paused, and Sam watched his face go through a few long-forgotten expressions - like innocence. "She's good fun though. And she worships Bruce Campbell, so she can't be all that bad."

"Whatever," Sam shrugged. "Look, it's only eleven o'clock but I'm beat. Let me sleep," he muttered.

"Of course," Dean said politely. Sam glanced at him but found him reaching for his duffle and pulling out a magazine. He watched him get comfortable with his copy of The Fortean Times and shook his head, going into the bathroom.

Dean looked up at the bathroom door, waited until it was closed, and then dived stealthily for Sam's jacket on his bed. He pulled out the Blackberry and attempted to find the SMS menu. He heard water and gave up, out-foxed by the menu on the PDA, and slid it back into the inside pocket. He slid over onto his own bed and ripped open the pages of his magazine just as the door opened again.

"'Night then," Sam offered.

"Yup," Dean nodded, his eyes ostensibly tearing into an article about black dogs in his magazine.

"Turn the light out when you're done," Sam said, pleased he wasn't getting a Third Degree from his brother as to the reason he was back in his own bed.

"Yup," Dean nodded innocently. Sam thought about it, then shrugged and began stripping off, getting ready for sleep.

.

.

Dean, still in trousers that passed for pyjama bottoms - and nothing else - leaned back from the bathroom counter. He looked through the open door at Sam as his younger brother packed his duffle.

"Look, man, all I'm saying is, she's the first girl you've looked at twice in how long?" he pressed, waving his toothbrush at him, his mouth still full of bubbles and toothpaste. "Just call her and get a banging in before we leave town."

"Dean, stop talking before I make you eat that toothbrush," Sam snapped over his shoulder.

Dean huffed and grabbed the tooth mug, filling it and managing to get it all into his mouth in one go. Sam sighed, glad his brother couldn't speak while his mouth was full of toothpaste and water. But Dean spat it all out and straightened again.

"I just think you should--"

"Stop working without the right tools, Dean. Get dressed. We're leaving," he said firmly. I don't want to go, ok? But come on, how am I supposed to get her into bed and then just leave straight after? You might specialise in stuff like that, but… She's too much to leave behind if I do.

"Whatever," Dean heaved regretfully, shaking his head. He picked up the mouthwash and spent the next ten minutes enraging Sam by gargling as if he were auditioning for the national Olympic team.

"Anytime you're ready," Sam called, sitting back on the bed and putting his elbows on his knees. He let his chin sink into his hands forlornly.

"Minute," Dean called, packing all this things back into his toiletries bag. He zipped it up and walked out, looking round for his duffle. He noticed Sam's expression and tiny cogs started to whir and spin in his brain.

Suddenly his phone rang and he caught his brother's huff before he fished it out of his jeans pocket, still on the bed. He looked at the display before he pressed to answer the call. Sam opened his mouth but Dean lifted a finger at him to stay quiet.

"Hey Bobby," he said cheerfully, eyeing Sam. "Yeah, I got the dream catcher thing," he said, and his voice did indeed sound happily successful. "Yeah… Well, we would be on our way back right now, but… er… Well, it's the damnedest thing, man…" He thought quickly. "It's ma car. Yeah, small problem." He listened to Bobby's unamused reply, but Sam opened his mouth quickly.

"Dean!" he hissed. Dean waved his hand in his face, turning away from him. Sam folded his arms resolutely. "Dean, don't do thi--"

"Naw, gonna have to get to a shop to use their tools," his older brother continued loudly, ignoring Sam. "I know, man… can't be helped, huh?"

Sam fumed and moved round to face him, shaking his head at him. But Dean simply flashed him a look that would have silenced a hundred hyperactive school children on a field trip and turned away again.

"Yeah, so… Hope to be on the road again tomorrow," he bluffed. "Yeah, what can I say, man? You know I'd never joke about ma car, right?" He met Sam's gaze, raising his chin confidently. "Ok, done. See you soon." He closed the phone and looked at it. "The things I do for family," he breathed, wiping his forehead.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" Sam protested. "We can leave--"

"Dude, I told him my car had a fault - ma car! Do you realise how hard that was? Now don't waste my sacrifice and get in there," he cried, exasperated.

Sam took a step back. "You're an--"

"An asshole, yeah I know! It's all anyone's said to me since we arrived to get Bobby's shit in the first place," he shot back. "Just do me one favour and call her, ok?"

"Why? Why is this so important to you?"

"Cos you're a cranky bastard and you take the whole world on your shoulders, Sam! Just for once waste one afternoon with some girl who knows how to work your kinks out! Come on, man! If anyone deserves a day off it's you, alright?" he raged.

Sam was stunned into silence.

Dean stared at him, apparently still angry. Then he blinked and looked away, clearing his throat. He sniffed, putting a hand up and rubbing the back of his neck briskly, and Sam realised he was slightly embarrassed.

"I'll call her," Sam mumbled. "You take a day off, too. If I'm such an emo freak you must be exhausted."

Dean smiled suddenly. "Woah woah woah, nobody said the F word," he replied easily. "Now just relax for once. Go meet that girl."

"Yeah," he breathed, picking up his jacket and finding his PDA. He pulled it out and searched through the numbers. "What are you going to do?" he asked, forming a small smile to cover his unease.

"Movies," Dean said cheerfully. "Who knows, might get to see the last instalment of Ash versus the Deadites."

"Good luck with that," Sam smiled, a genuine one this time, shaking his head at him. He typed away quickly at his PDA, sending the message lightning fast. "Only you would class that as a good afternoon."

"Hey - me and Moon, too," he pointed out. "And while I'm keeping her happy and occupied, you can go get a little yum-yum," he winked.

"Stop."

"You say that now," Dean grinned, "but wait till she's screamin' and squeezin' at your--"

"Stop! Now! Or I'll call Bobby and tell him you lied!"

"Alright! Jesus Sam, calm down!" he laughed. "See what I mean about being a cranky bastard?"

"Whatever," he allowed. He paused, then looked around. "You leaving now?" he asked suddenly.

"Might just laze around like this," he said cheerfully, pulling at the strings on the pyjama bottoms.

"Don't forget to have your shower," he said maliciously, "Wouldn't want Moon to find out you smell."

"Get going, Sasquatch," he said, gesturing to the front door with his chin. "I've got ma bed to enjoy."

"I don't want to know," Sam sighed, but pushed past him to the bathroom door. Dean threw himself at the bed again, rolling onto his front and pushing the pillow up under his cheek comfortably.

Sam finished up in the bathroom, coming out and stretching his arms out. He eyed his brother, then stepped back slightly. He put his arm out behind him, back in through the door of the bathroom. He bundled something under his arm, making sure Dean couldn't see him.

"Right then," he said loudly as he walked across the room. He stopped to look up at the light hanging over his head. He grinned and reached up.

"Go," Dean mumbled, already drowsy.

"I'm gone," Sam said cheerfully, "don't forget your shower." He walked to the door and let himself out quickly. He closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath and grinning from ear to ear. He pulled out his PDA and found Sunny's number. As he walked away from the motel, he pressed the number and waited for it to pick up.

"Sam! I got your SMS - am I glad you're not leaving so soon," Sunny said without even skipping a beat. He smiled self-consciously.

"Yeah, lucky, huh. Ah… would you have Moon's number? I just want to let her know Dean's itching for more movies," he said, trying to keep his voice free of excitement.

"Sure, here," Sunny said. Sam let his mouth fall open, grinning in delight as she reeled off the number.

"Thanks, Sunny, I'll call you right back," he gushed. He cut the line and dialled Moon's number. "And… here… we… go," he chuckled maliciously, stopping to look back at the motel room door. "Oh Dean, you really shouldn't have forced me into this," he laughed. The line clicked as Moon picked up. "Oh, Moon, hi," he said suavely.

"Sam?"

"Yeah… Just calling to let you know that we're staying one more day, and…"

.

.

Dean heard his phone ringing and opened an eye. He grunted something about failed lie-ins and hitched himself onto his elbows, crawling across the bed to grab at it from the side table. He flipped it open.

"Yeah'ello," he sniffed.

"Dean? Have I called at a bad time?" Moon asked. He pushed himself to sit up, wiping his face.

"Naw, just… Naw. You ok?" he asked, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, fine. Listen, Sam say's you're not leaving today after all, and there's 'Army of Darkness' at the Bijou in a few hours. Think you can make it?" she asked. "Wouldn't be right to watch Ash getting some sugar without you there to laugh too," she teased.

"Yeah - I can make it," he smiled.

"Cool - I'll come on down then," she said brightly. "You ready to go?"

Dean paused, looking down at his state of half-dress and biting the side of his lip briefly.

"Yeah. Just gotta get ma keys," he lied.

"Great. See you soon."

"Yup."

He closed the phone and tossed it behind him, springing off the bed and hurrying to the bathroom. He raced back and snatched up his duffle, emptying it carelessly to find his toiletries. He unzipped the bag and emptied that on the bed, too, sorting through to find various soaps and shampoos. He bundled them in his hands and hurried back to the bathroom.

Shucking what few clothes he had on, he wrenched the shower wheel on and felt at the water to make sure it was piping hot. It was and he leapt under, pulling the frosted glass door shut and grabbing up the shampoo first.

A very quick, but nevertheless decidedly circumspect, shower later and he was twisting the wheel to stop the water. He blew at the drips over his face to stop them getting in his mouth and slid the glass door open quickly.

He put his hand out for the towel, groping around blindly. He paused, realising that, in his haste, he hadn't checked it was still there. He grasped the door carefully to stop himself slipping - something Sam always warned him about as if he were raging scared of Dean slipping and cracking his head open on the wet floor. Seeing as he never had and had no plans to, the thought of Sam being so ansy about it made him uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough to take extra care with wet tiles.

He stepped out, dripping and annoyed, to find there was no towel in the bathroom at all. He wiped water from his face and looked around properly, sure there should have been one on the shelves by the door, just for this purpose.

He found the rack empty and huffed, opening the bathroom door cautiously. He remembered no-one else was about and walked out, blissfully free of any clothing whatsoever. He looked around the motel room, still dripping admirably, trying to find something with which to dry himself off.

"Is a goddamn towel too much to ask?" he cried, his annoyance building. He huffed and shook at his hands to dry them slightly. "Wait - it's like the movies. No-one ever looks--"

His eyes darted up and caught sight of a fluffy blue towel, neatly folded still, sitting on the shade around the light in the ceiling. He stared at it, his lips sticking out in angry disapproval, as he realised he knew exactly how it had got there.

He looked around, judged it to be the only towel available, and walked to stand underneath the hanging light. He stretched up to grab at it but missed slightly. He leaned up on his toes, shuffling round to come at it from the edge where the towel was closest. He stretched up again. His fingers brushed the edge and he grunted in frustration.

"This ain't funny, Sam."

He decided that, as it was Sam's fault he was standing butt-naked in the middle of the room trying to reach a towel, it would only be fitting to think of a way to organise some kind of pay-back on his younger sibling.

He was just muttering to himself, his mind flicking through vengeful possibilities, when he realised he could hear a faint clicking at the door to the motel. He sniffed, his fingers still pawing at the edge of the towel, as he looked over at it.

The door flew open.

Dean froze.

He stared.

It was not Sam.

Stood in the doorway, her eyes gradually sweeping up from the carpet to find his face, was Moon. Dean's mouth understood that something was trying to connect it to his brain, but it suddenly lost the capacity to make any sense at all of the words it was being told to say. His mouth opened but there was literally nothing there to come out.

Moon opened her mouth then let go of the door, letting it swing shut behind her. She stared at his face fixedly.

"Well there's something you don't see every day," she managed weakly.

Dean found himself unable to move. "No - er - towel," he blurted, rooted to the spot by some kind of abject embarrassment he had never before felt in the presence of a girl.

"Ye-ah," she allowed slowly, "I can see that." She paused, and they kept their eyes locked on each other's. "I'll er…" She cleared her throat. "I'll just back out quietly and we'll pretend this never happened," she said, forcing cheer where there was desperation.

"Yep," Dean squeaked. He cleared his throat to get his voice back. "Yep."

"Yep," she confirmed. But she didn't move.

"Yep. So… go then," he said politely, wanting nothing more than to let his hand drop from reaching for the towel. But he couldn't move.

Her cheerful smile was turning more desperate as the seconds ticked away. "Trying. Eyes are watering," she admitted, bravely keeping eye contact with him.

"Oh."

"I'll go."

"That'd be great."

"Ok then." She put her hand behind her and fumbled for the doorknob. She smiled in anguish as she scrabbled for it, starting to panic. It hit her fingers and she wrenched it open swiftly. She backed out and slammed the door behind her.

Dean found he could move again. He let his arm drop and sagged abruptly. He bent over, watching the door and putting his hands on his knees, wondering why his head was as hot as the exhaust manifold of the Impala after a five hundred mile drive. He fought with the embarrassment and managed to twist it into anger, sorting through many smaller and less important emotions to calm himself.

He straightened up again, looked up at the towel on the lamp shade, and jumped. He dragged it off and looked at it, so many evil thoughts coalescing into one solid realisation.

"I so owe you an ass-kicking, Sam," he growled, opening the towel and rubbing at his hair with it.

My apologies for the full-frontal male nudity. Could not be helped.