Dean threw his duffle in the back and slid into the impala, sunglasses pulled over his eyes. He leaned against the passenger side window.
Sam ducked in the driver's side. "Hey man. You ready to roll? Just checked out."
Dean grumbled and closed his eyes, though it was obscured by the shades.
Sam nodded knowingly and slid in behind the wheel. He held out his palm. "Keys."
Dean handed them to him.
Sam stuck them in the ignition and looked at his disheveled brother. "Late night last night? You never made it back to the motel."
"Yeah."
Sam started the car and pulled out, leaving the motel behind in a cloud of dust. He smiled indulgently, his dimples showing. "Was she pretty?"
"Yeah." Dean answered in a gruff monosyllable.
"Well that sounds enthusiastic." Sam ventured a look.
"I've lost my mojo, Sammy."
"Your mojo?"
Dean's expression looked defeated. He looked away out the window, face shadowed with his sunglasses. "Got her all riled up and Little Dean didn't get the invite to the main event. "
Sam's brows raised. "You couldn't get it up?"
"Shh! God, don't say that!" Came the horrified response.
"Um. Why not?" Sam changed lanes.
"He'll hear you." Dean hissed. "It might become a pattern."
"Dean," Sam's huff was derisive. "You're so friggin ridiculous sometimes."
"The spark is gone. From here on out it's Viagra and prostate problems."
Sam blinked, slowed the car at a stop light. "Dude, I can tell you were hitting the alcohol. You smell like a brewery."
Dean turned his head toward him. "Well, duh. Can't hook up sober."
"Well how much did you drink?"
"Dunno... A drink... or 10."
Sam snorted and shook his head. "Dean, are you complaining to me about whiskey dick?"
Dean looked startled. His mouth opened silently and then he shut it again. "Yeah...I guess I am."
The light turned green. Sam shook his head, put his foot on the gas and drove away.