Rating: PG - Gen
Disclaimers: SPN & characters are owned by their various creators.
Summary: The boys wait out an electrical storm in a dark motel.
"Hey Sam, you awake?"
"Do you ever have one of those dreams where you have to take a leak really bad, so you dream you get up to go to the use bathroom?" Dean pondered.
Sam turned his face down into his pillow, wondering and slightly worried where this was going.
"But then! You wake up and you really do have to take a leak. And then you think oh shit, did I just wet myself?"
"Nope." Sam lied for his own sake.
"Hm." Dean said to himself.
Sam rolled onto his back to look at the lumpy and slightly glittery plaster popcorn ceiling their motel had.
"What time is it?"
The motel clock was blinking a steady set of red digital zeros ever since the last time the power had come back on. It'd been flickering on and off all night. The lights and TV had been left off to avoid the poltergeist like affect it was having on appliances. There was another low rumble of the electrical storm that was drifting over the barren dry valley. Silent bursts of spider web lightening surged and spread under the rainless clouds, illuminating their room with brief and strange jagged shadows.
He knew without looking that Dean was checking his watch. He also knew that Dean hadn't even pulled back the motel quilt he was lounging on or even taken off his boots.
Sam wasn't positive but he was almost certain that watch hadn't left his brother's wrist since before the exodus for school. He slept with it on. Showered with it on. If you needed the time, or a point to true north, Dean was your man. If your untrusty small town electrical grid sparked and faded in a lightening storm, there it was. The all weather, all terrain, military tritium quartz navigation timepiece strapped onto Dean's wrist with a hefty black nylon strap and a stainless steel buckle.
Dad had always been real big on having the right tool for the right job and that sentiment had definitely worn off on his older brother.
"Already...?" Sam yawned, tired but not tired enough to slip back into the shallow daze of sleep he had been lingering in. It was like laying with a thin sheet over his face. Just one small insubstantial layer away from awake. "He's late."
"Then maybe it's a she." His brother chuckled to himself.
Dean's attempts at sexism were always pretty lackluster. Sam always wondered at why he even tried to wear words on like he wore his watch. Like a tool or something necessary to get them and himself from point A to B in whatever construction his intention was based on at the moment.
"Hey, what about that dream where um, where you are in some play but you don't know any of the lines?" Dean asked in the dark. "They just shove you out there in front of all those people and then open your mouth and ... you got nothin'."
Sam looked over at him, amused that Dean had brought up playing a role that he wasn't sure how to perform. It was stupid really to think his brother wasn't completely aware of the effort to be contrived. However, it was interesting that Dean would go about admitting it. In his round about way anyway.
"You know, they say your dreams are a direct reflection of your sub conscious mind." Sam told him as he sat up to lean against the pile of pillows on his head board. "Some people even say dream interpretation is a fairly accurate method in the examination and deconstruction of the psyche."
"Yeah well," Dean considered while he recrossed his ankles on the bed and folded his arms over his chest. "People say a lot of stuff."
Sam glanced up at the flash and swing of headlights that shone through the window, arching and dipping across their walls.
That damn pizza was finally here.
"Well, if they're right..." His brother sighed. "I guess I shouldn't tell you about that pirate, thermometer and snow mobile dream then."
Sam sent the heavy down pillow in a perfect overhand toss to land right onto his brother's face.
"Yeah, you can keep that one to yourself."