Series: One-Shot, Gen
Pairing/Characters: Sam and Dean
Notes: Anytime during Season One and Two
Word Count: 300-ish
Summary: The sudden silence was deafening. Dean always could sulk with the best of them. Sam pinched his features into a knot and stared out the passenger side window at the gathering twilight. “I hate this game.”
Notes: No copyright infringement meant, no money being made. I just like to pull them out and play with them sometimes, like Ken and well, Ken.
For ghausia who asked for me to fix the boys after their previous angst-fest. We can't have her not posting her porn, now can we?
Feedback is LOVE.
“Aw, come on Sam. I’m bored.”
“Put in one of your stupid tapes, then.”
“Dude! What the hell? I don’t make fun of your Deathcab for Cutie emo music obsession…”
Sam laughed. “Yes you do. Every chance you get.”
The sudden silence was deafening. Dean always could sulk with the best of them. Sam pinched his features into a knot and stared out the passenger side window at the gathering twilight. “I hate this game.”
“No you don’t. You’re just mad because your questions suck.”
“What? All of yours are gross; I mean, come on, ‘would I rather survive a nuclear war only to become the podiatrist to a race of mutants or suck all the snot out of a dog's nose until its head caves in?’ How am I supposed to choose from that?”
"What? They're inventive and original. At least give me that, dude."
Sam sighed at the look on Dean’s face and then said, “All right, would you rather be able to fly or have the ability to read people’s mind?”
Dean looked over at his brother and smiled. “That’s a pussy question. Read minds. How cool would that be? Imagine all the tail I could get?”
“You already get enough tail,” Sam said, the memory of the fawning waitress at dinner last night still fresh in his mind. “Fine, your turn.”
“All right. “Would you rather have seventeen testicles or just one the size of a coconut?”
Sam burst out laughing. “What?”
Headlights shone through the windshield, illuminating both boys for a moment. “Answer the question, Sam.”
“Well,” Sam fingered his chin thoughtfully. “I figure it’s a win-win situation, right? Either way I get a career in porn.”
Dean slapped the steering wheel and laughed out loud. “That’s my boy, it's about time you started thinking with your downstairs brain.”