Sam turned from where he had sat for an hour, with his elbow on the window and chin on his fist. He watched as Dean surfed through radio stations while Ancient Rock went through it's usual ten minutes of ads. At some point Ozzy began blasting out of the Impala's speakers and didn't stop.
Okay, look- Ozzy might be a classic, but when you're riding with someone like Dean, classics become torturous repeats. Something had to be done.
"Dude!" Dean exclaimed, shifting his gaze away from the road. "What the hell?"
"I don't envy you…" some girl sang. "I'm a little bit of everything all rolled into one."
By this point, the elder Winchester was shaking his head. "I dunno how you listen to this crap." He received the usual side glance, where Dean's eyebrows raised slightly and his eyes flicked back and forth from the road to Sam multiple times before he asked a follow-up question. If he had skills in drawing anything besides trees, Sam could imagine himself depicting every one of Dean's moods. The painting for this one would be "Just Checking You're Sane". "You don't listen to this crap, do you?"
"I never get to listen to anything besides your remixes or guitar fantasies…" Sam pointed out. Dean brought his right hand up and slapped the steering wheel in dramatic denial.
"That's not true. Every time I get back in here after you've gone on a quick run I hear weird Spanish pop or… jazz."
"Jazz has a lot of intricate components-"
"So? You're pretty 'intricate' and I'm still the best hunter in this car."
Sam gave him the Face. Yes, that Face. Whoever-it-was increased the intensity while she delivered the chorus, vibrating the Impala with, "I'm a bitch!"
"You're a bitch," Dean grumbled as he drew the volume dial down.
"And you're a jerk."
"You know," Dean began with a smile, "I remember when you started calling me a jerk. It was right after you called me a bitch."
Sam pressed his head into the back of the seat, feeling that weird kind of pain in the back of his head and almost managing to miss Dean's next words. Almost.
"What were we arguing about again? A bowl of macaroni? Hah. Dad would've killed me for letting any kinda word slip while you were around. You were so confused."
"It's really not as funny as you make it out to be, Dean."
His older brother looked over with an excited grin. Sam should have begged him to keep his eyes on the road, but it was no use; there'd be no stopping Dean for the next hour.
"Give it!"
"No, it's mine!"
Both boys watched with exhausted limbs as the precious McGuffin fell to the floor, littering the motel tile with cheesy pieces of pasta. Dean flicked his eyes up, glaring at the most annoying person in the world past his eyelashes. That was his last chance for macaroni this month, and now it was ruined, all because Sam wouldn't take just any type of food. He had to claim the GOOD food.
Sam's head was much slower to come up, sporting the soul-crushing realization that he'd have to eat whatever else was in the fridge until their dad came back. There were no more Lucky Charms, Hot Pockets, macaroni boxes….
"I already made you dinner, Sam!" Dean shouted, pointing at an untouched plate of pre-made beef pot pie. "That was MY dinner!"
The youngest of the two felt his lips trembling the more Dean's voice rose. He didn't understand why he'd been fighting for the bowl in the first place. After all, Dean was the one that always ate the weirder stuff. Why was he being so mean tonight? "I-I… I…"
"You're such a little bitch!" He whirled around on superhero socks, hoping to be able to clean the mess before it stuck to the floor or otherwise did something to be able to draw John's attention, whenever he might return.
But when he came back to the spot of destruction, his little brother was still obviously trying to figure out what the insult meant and how best to retaliate. "YOU'RE a bitch!" he shrieked.
Dean smirked and bent down to start wiping things up. "Hah. You don't even know what the word means, because you're such a little bitch." He'd been calling everyone in his sight a bitch, whether internally or externally, ever since John had once done the same. Over the years the boy had forgotten about the weight it was supposed to carry, but it still felt good to hurl it at Sam for forcing him to find something else to eat.
"Yeah, well… you're a JERK."
Dean's neck snapped up, prompting Sam to stick his tongue out and make a beeline for the bathroom, which in turn urged Dean to give chase, inducing another fight...
Sam shrugged. "I guess it just makes us even."
Dean tilted his head to the side, giving neither a yes nor a no. There was a moment of pause while the chorus kicked up again. "What the hell are these lyrics?"
"I dunno, they're not that bad."
"Dude, she's called herself almost three dozen things."
"Wouldn't you label yourself as all o-"
"Hell no! Not as a child!"
…
"Not as a lover?"
"Nah. As an amazing lover."
