That Devious Smirk

In a moment of tired desperation last night (this morning) I remember the word posted by 15minuteficlets on May 4, 2003. The first word they ever posted: Happy. I thought it over as I tried to get to sleep and before I knew it I had a whole story planned out. I had no choice but to turn on my lamp and write the whole thing out so that I wouldn't forget it. And that I did. I wrote an entire story at 2 in the morning on a school night (day, whatever). And apparently I'm a very "in character" writer at the early hours of the morning when I want nothing more than to sleep. Because I'm very proud of this story.

Title: That Devious Smirk
Author: Me
Fandom: Supernatural
Summary: Just the guys, bein' guys.
Author's notes: My story for 15minuteficlets' word #1: happy. It took more than fifteen minutes, but I've never been one for rules.

The rain pounded against the exterior of the car. The wipers 'swished' back and forth, working to keep the windshield clear.

“Where are we?” Sam groggily asked Dean, who briefly shifted his gaze from the road to the passenger seat. Because Sam had been sleeping the music was playing softer than Dean thought his music should ever be played. He itched to turn it up to a more 'reasonable' level, but instead kept his hands on the wheel.

“Just outside of Jackson.”

Sam looked out of his window and watched as signs for Jackson passed. The rain was falling faster now than it had been when he'd fallen asleep, and the wind had picked up. Sam and Dean had been traveling together for over three months and Sam figured he was becoming proficient at figuring out what the older man was thinking.

From the look on Dean's face Sam could ascertain that either they had a hunt, Dean was planning on going to a bar in Jackson, or he was planning something mischievous. Lightning flashed lighting up the inside of the car. Knowing Dean, Sam concluded that it was almost certain his brother would go to a bar, and he was probably planning something mischievous as well. Dean would have told him if they had a hunt.

Sam saw his brother's expression change to one of concentration as the condition of the roads worsened with the weather. Dean gave into the urge to turn up the music and let the familiar notes and lyrics keep him focused.

They passed a sign for a motel and Dean navigated the exits and puddle-riddled streets to the parking lot of the motel.

“I'll get our room.” Dean told Sam as he opened the door, comforted by the familiar squeak. Sam unfolded himself from the passenger seat and retrieved his bag from the trunk as Dean used one of his many identities to get them a room for the night.

*******

“Two beds and a bath.”

“Perfect.” Dean pulled out a Visa card under the name Alden Kinlaw and handed it to the manager.

“Room 6.” The manager had Dean sign the receipt then handed him the room key and his Visa card.

“Thanks.” He strode confidently out of the office, past his car, and Sam, and straight into their room, pausing only for a second to unlock the door.

Sam slammed the trunk and made his way to the door in time to hear the lock click.

“Funny.” He set down his bags and rapped on the door a few times. The only answer he got was the lights in the motel flicking on, the sound of the room's television and a satisfied sigh. “Come on, Dean, open up.”

The rain continued to fall steadily and Sam could feel the drops inching down his neck and back.

“Dean, you jerk!”

“Bitch.” Was the faint reply.

“Yeah, you're so hilarious.” He mumbled, pulling a lock pick set out of his bag.

Dean lie sprawled out comfortably on the bed, his back propped up against the headboard, legs stretched across the bed. He heard the clicking of Sam efficiently working through the lock and glanced at watch. Took him long enough to figure that one out.

Sam heard a final click as the lock gave way. He stowed the lock pick tools and opened the door. Dean was stretched out on the bed nearest the door. Sam tossed his bag to the floor at the end of the other bed.

“Having some trouble with the handle?” Dean asked innocently, grinning ear to ear. “I think it sticks.” Sam was dripping wet and Dean almost felt bad for locking him out...almost.

“Yeah. Whatever.” Sam went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Dean heard the water turn on and hopped off the bed. He slipped into his boots and slid on his leather jacket. He made his way out the door quietly and popped the truck, grabbing his bag from inside, and shutting it after.

He walked back through the rain to the door and heard the lock tumble as he grabbed the handle. He tried to turn it anyways and heard a laugh from inside.

“Are you having trouble with the handle? I think it sticks.” Sam echoed from somewhere in the room.

Dean heard the water in the bathroom start again.

Oh brother.

^*^*^*^*^

I've edited this so many times now that I'm finally ready to call it finished. Thanks to Lisa for helping me spell simple words like 'school', and to Ryan for keeping me in character. If you hadn't said anything about the opening I would have left it and said it was good. And it really wasn't. It was very out of character and brought down the rest of the piece.