A/N: Got this from a prompt off of the tumblr writing-reading-bitch-queen. The prompt is: "This song sounds like someone randomly picked a bunch of poetry magnets, and set the words to music without rearranging them."

"This song sounds like someone randomly picked a bunch of poetry magnets, and set the words to music without rearranging them."

Sam huffed in frustration. "The song hasn't even been going for a minute, Dean."

"Fine. I guess this is what I get for letting you drive." He faced the window looking out the passenger side of the Impala.

Sam made a face at him, but Dean wasn't looking. The sun was setting and there was a slight drizzle. They were driving across the desert in Nevada off to their next job. Dean hadn't gotten much rest the past couple days. Sam had told him to be careful with these witches, but Dean didn't listen, and he had been throwing up everything he ate for the last two days. Sam thought Dean had fallen asleep, before he started talking again.

"Watch these curves, Sam. You keep edging towards the right side of the lane," Dean critiqued.

"Go to sleep."

"I can't with you driving like this." Dean crossed his arms but continued to stare out his window. Sam purposefully drove over the rumble strip.

"Dammit!" Dean spun around. "What did I just—" He saw Sam's expression. "You son of a bitch!"

"Shut up. I'm the one driving. Isn't that one of your rules?"

"You're putting my baby in danger!"

"I am not, Dean! You've never had a problem with my driving before, why now?"

Dean muttered something under his breath. Sam felt anger shoot through his chest. Dean said it just quiet enough for him not to be able to make it out, but just loud enough for Sam to know he'd said something. "What did you say?" Sam asked.

"I said, 'if you weren't a dick, I wouldn't be mad at you'."

"Really, Dean? A dick? I remember I saved your ass on this hunt. Multiple times."

"And? You're still a dick."

Sam clenched the steering wheel. He couldn't stand to be next to Dean for another minute. If Dean even breathed another word—

"Would you slow down? She doesn't like going this fast in the heat."

Sam eased his foot on the brake, his jaw was clenched, and his knuckles were white. He didn't stop pushing the brake until they were driving a steady 35 miles per hour.

"Are you fucking serious?" Dean glared, but Sam refused to look him in the eye. Dean's phone suddenly rang.

"Who is it?" Sam asked. Dean didn't say anything but answered the phone.

"Hey, Cas." Dean's tone was a hundred times friendlier than it just was with Sam.

"Oh, your boyfriend," Sam said.

Dean gave him the finger. "Yeah, we're driving in Nevada. Do you need to come to us now?" A pause. Then Dean rattled off their approximate location. A whoosh sounded from the backseat as Castiel appeared.

"Hi, Cas," Sam said warmly.

Cas frowned. "We seem to be going quite slow. Is everything all right?"

"This is the speed Dean was comfortable with," Sam answered.

"Oh, bullshit!" Dean exclaimed. "You were going almost one hundred. Slow down meant go back to eighty."

"Really? Because you didn't seem to like how centered I was in the lane when I was driving eighty."

"You were totally on the right side of the lane!"

"Was not!"

"Uh, yeah! You were!"

Sam slammed on the breaks. "Fine then. I'm not driving."

"Oh, no, no," Dean said. "I see what this is."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What?"

"You're just doing this so you can criticize my driving now."

"Oh, my god, you're impossible."

"Am I wrong?"

"I'm not answering that."

"So I was right?"

"You know what? Why don't we let Cas drive?" Sam suggested.

Silence. The two Winchesters turned to Cas. He stared back.

"If that's what you're both comfortable with," the angel said.

"Yes," the brothers said in unison. Cas and Sam wordlessly switched places. Once they were both buckled, Cas started driving.

"He's better than you are," Dean jibed.

"Shut up," Sam replied tiredly.

Dean smirked. He had won this battle. But it soon became clear that Cas was not a better driver than Sam. He was fine when they were driving on that flat road with no one else in sight, but Dean thought he was going to die once they entered the city.

"This is our exit," Dean said once they got close.

Cas drove onto the exit ramp but hardly slowed down.

"It's 40 here, Cas," Dean reminded.

"Driving 55 is more efficient," Cas said while swerving into the right lane, barely avoiding the car in front of them.

Sam jolted awake from where he had fallen asleep in the back. "What was that?"

"I don't know!" Dean answered. "Cas?"

"What?" Cas asked.

"You just—"

Castiel veered around the car in front of them and barely made it through the intersection before it became red.

"Red means stop!" Dean shouted.

"It was yellow," Castiel responded.

"No, I'm pretty sure it was red," Sam said, agreeing with his brother.

Cas started going faster.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked. He glared at his best friend.

"There are hardly any cars here," Cas stated.

"So? You're going 60 in a 45."

"I'm aware."

"The speed limit is 45."

"Everyone knows the speed limit isn't upheld rigidly."

"At this speed it is," Dean argued.

"Cas!" Sam said as the angel barely avoided hitting a car that pulled out in front of them.

"Did you even see that?" Dean hissed.

"Of course I did," Cas said confidently.

Dean looked back at Sam. Sam shook his head and mouthed, "What the hell?"

"Where did you learn to drive?" Dean asked, trying to keep his tone light. It just came out as strained.

"Nowhere. I've observed you and Sam." Cas turned left on a red light.

"Shit! Well, you didn't observe very well!" Dean replied.

"No one was coming." Cas turned into the motel parking lot with screeching tires. He barely parked in the lines.

"I'm gonna be sick," Sam said, immediately getting out of the car as soon as it stopped.

Cas turned the car off, and Dean snatched the keys from him. "You're never driving her again," Dean vowed and left the car. That was one of the most terrifying drives of his life.