Rating: PG - Gen- teen!chesters
Spoilers: General (for all aired episodes)
Disclaimers: SPN & characters are owned by their various creators.
Summary: Sam uses the Impala like he never has before...
"Nice wheels." She said, the straw sticking out of her bottled soda slipping between lightly glossed lips. "Yours?"
Sam glanced down self consciously at his disheveled jean jacket circa a decade ago, and his dusty sneakers circa used from a second hand store. His gaze flickered uncomfortably up over her gold bare shoulder, a group of teens her and his age congregated around the Lexus she had arrived in. He noticed the guy that had been driving it. Sam's years on the road told him exactly when and how hostility looked. One look into the other boy's eyes told him more than he needed to know.
To his surprise, he realized that the teen trying not to watch them was not only just annoyed. The other boy was threatened. It took a moment for Sam to figure out why.
Without thinking, Sam nodded to the pretty girl. A smile coming uneasily to his face.
"Mine? Sure is."
Sam looked down behind him onto the Impala's hood, his hands almost burning on the heated metal surface from cranking it over the speed limit all day long. The sight of the loud muscle car had always done nothing but embarrass him. He felt a pang of betrayal towards what had been more or less his home since his first one burnt down.
Dean was behind them both, ducked down by the trunk to mess around with the jammed up plate so he could get the gas nozzle in.
"It's a really cool car," She continued, smiling back up at him while he did his best to lean back onto it confidently. "How fast does it go?"
Sam looked around with a feigned deep sigh of professional consideration, trying to think of how guys did this in the movies but coming up short. He found himself clearing his throat uncontrollably before he could go on.
"F-Flat out on the highway? She picks up easy over 120... for-for an old girl."
He couldn't quite believe what was coming out of his mouth. He had driven the car in any kind of seriousness approximately a dozen times in his life. That was when everyone else was either unconscious or it had been snowing/hailing/raining and his family sent him out for supplies with their oh so hilarious rigged coin tosses.
She stepped closer and he felt himself freeze as her scent hit him. Shampoo, grape gum, and something just clean and pretty... He swallowed.
"Where'd you get it?"
"Won it in a poker game!" Someone said.
Sam started, his face going pale and cold despite the late noon warm breeze. His 19 year old brother was leaning in his best bored stance against the gas pump watching the numbers and dollars scroll past as the car filled.
Oh God. Dean had been listening to the entire thing.
The girl looked at Dean in pleased shock. "A poker game?"
"Oh yeah," Dean nodded seriously, wiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans. "Sammy here, he's a real shark. Wanted even."
Sam felt his face go red. Wanted. Well, that wasn't exactly a lie.
She bit at her lip, her brown eyes settling back on Sam when he thought they'd stay for sure on the real owner of the car. The older and more capable of them both. The person the girls always looked at and wanted.
"Are you staying in town?" She asked.
Sam felt his mouth move in a stammer.
"Motel 6, by the highway." Dean affirmed causally.
Sam straightened himself, trying not to shove his hands in his jean pockets.
"Here ya go Sam," Dean said, tossing him the keys in one easy motion.
Sam caught them automatically, uncertain and confused at the lack of Dean's scorn.
"Topped her off for ya."
"Thanks." Sam said numbly, trying to not watch the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen write a phone number out on the back of his own hand with a pen.
The passenger door swung shut and Dean put his sunglasses on and settled into his seat.
"No problem." Dean answered.