DRIVING INSTRUCTOR
WOW: bridge, week, settle. Sam is an experienced and highly accomplished driver... but not everyone thinks so.
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
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Dean burrowed down into the Impala's passenger seat, snuffling softly as he settled in for a few hours shut eye while Sam drove through the night to their latest hunt.
It had been a ridiculously brutal week with four hunts back-to-back and the usual resulting collection of bumps and bruises. Over the course of the week, Dean had driven over two thousand miles and he was completely and utterly bushed, hence Sam's rare opportunity to drive.
However, Sam had his orders; lots of them. Don't be too heavy on the gas or the brakes, don't oversteer, don't understeer, look out for pot-holes because Dean had just replaced Baby's wheel bearings, take care on the narrow bridge up ahead because Baby's paintwork was sacrosanct, don't fiddle with the a/c – it's fine where it is, keep watch for elk on the forest highway because they make a big dent, oh, and kindly refrain from farting because Dean didn't want to die of suffocation in his sleep.
Sam smirked wickedly, gripping the steering wheel, white-knuckled, as the Impala sailed smoothly through the darkness.
He was going to stop off at the next Gas-and-sip and buy himself a three-bean burrito just out of pure spite.
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end