"Come on Sammy, don't look so constipated. It'll be good for me to meet your friends." Dean said, flicking a straw wrapper at my face before stabbing the straw through the lid. "You know, at least so they know not all Winchesters are first class nerds."
We were in my gray mustang headed to Graves' house. Dean had blown into the apartment complex's parking lot, rock music blaring, the black Impala glittering in the spring sunshine earlier that afternoon. At first, he'd been resistant to the idea of going to a 'lame college party', but as my new group of friends came up in conversation during lunch, Dean had seemed more and more interested in meeting them. Apparently anyone who could con me into going to a party was interesting in my brothers book.
"Dean, stop." I batted the straw wrapper off my seat. "And really? Only first class nerds would be as excited as you are about going to a bonfire. Just calm down and read me the directions." I tossed a piece of scratch paper into his lap.
"Directions? What, you can't put it into that fancy talking lady navigator thing? I told you there were crap, Sammy, gimmicky and unreliable."
Dean was always suspicious of cars with the onboard navigation systems. "Shhhhh don't talk about her like that, she'll get angry." I soothingly stroked the stirring wheel, biting back a smile. Dean shifted uncomfortably and unfolded the paper Graves had given me with the directions. "But yeah, Graves said there wouldn't be cell signal and if I did manage to have any, the address it'd take us to would be wrong."
Dean's sighed. "Ok man, looks like it's a ways on this road before you turn onto.." he squinted hard at the page, trying to decipher the scrawl that I recognized as Graves handwriting. "I think it says Martin St but it could also be Mary's St."
"Let me see." I tried snatching it from my brothers hands but he shoulder blocked me.
"No, that's not safe, just lemme. In a few mins look for a street that starts with 'M'."
I gritted my teeth against another grin, my brother and his car safety logic was not always... logical. "Alright man." I reached for the radio dials and started up a playlist from my phone. Bastille's hit Pompeii flowed through the speakers and I heard Dean grown and slump deeper into his seat.
"Dude, this is week ass rock music, no, it's not even rock, it's like, D-bag boy band pop." I felt his accusatory stare. Without turning towards him I held up a finger to silence his complaints.
"Um, I quote 'driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole'." Dean hunched his shoulders and turned towards the window.
"Thought I taught you better, man."
I laughed out loud and turned the music up.