"We're all booked up. The only room left is a king."
The receptionist raked his gaze calculatingly over the two handsome men. "I'm guessing that won't be a problem."
:
What was it with these people, Dean seethed, his anger rising. Why on earth would they assume he and Sam were a couple without knowing shit about them?
He was about to tell the guy where to stuff his king when Sam jostled him.
"It's fine. We'll take it."
Dean flashed his brother a sullen look but remained silent.
:
"What the friggin' hell, Sam! I'm running out of fingers to keep count of all the times they think we're together!"
Sam merely chuckled. "You're getting heated over nothing, Dean. Why should we care how other people view us? We know who and what we are and that's all that matters."
"I suppose, " Dean replied morosely, tossing his duffel onto the bed. "Still there's only one bed and two of us."
:
"You can have the bed, Dean. You need it more after having driven for fifteen hours straight. I got plenty of shut-eye in the Impala. I'll be fine on that chair. I've got stuff to research anyway."
"What, no, dude! It's not as if we've never slept in the same bed before. We just need to stipulate boundaries. I don't want to wake up with one of your octopus limbs digging into my back.
Grabbing two of the pillows, Dean placed them lengthwise along the middle of the bed, stepping back to admire his handiwork.
"Two queens," he grinned, "just a little closer than usual."
Sam rolled his eyes. Sometimes his fierce, machete-wielding, big brother was worse than a child!