Categories > TV > Supernatural > Driving
"I'm on the hiii~ghway to HELL, the hiii~ghway to HELL, the hiii~? What the hell, Sammy?" Dean glanced at his brother out the corner of his eye and then shifted the look to the hand on the volume knob of the Impala's radio. "What've I told you about touching the radio? You're shotgun, dude."
"Yeah, yeah." Resisting the urge to both roll his eyes and smirk (Dean could not carry a tune even if given a bucket.), Sam lifted his hand and sat back in his seat. After a moment of squirming against his seatbelt, he finally unlatched it so he could turn and better watch the other man. "I've got a question for you."
Turning his head slightly, Dean raised an eyebrow. "That's a shocker," he drawled.
"Shut up." Sam motioned generally in the direction of Dean's left hand, gripping high on the steering wheel. "Why do you drive like that? It's kind of jacked, you know. What kind of control do you have with that kind of hold?"
Dean blinked and looked down at his hand as if the question had never occured to him before and a furrow appeared between his eyebrows. "Drive like..." He trailed off, giving the answer serious consideration. "What's wrong with how I drive?"
"You hold the steering wheel funny."
"Well, thank you kindly, Sammy." Dean rolled his eyes and reached for the radio. "This is how big boys drive the big cars and..." Suddenly, he stood on the brakes, cutting off his own words as he fought to bring the racing car to a dead stop.
The brothers watched the scruffy tabby cat trot peacefully across the street, completely unaware of how nearly it had come to losing one of its nine lives. Then Sam looked down at the arm flung across his chest - straight and locked and immobile, considered it, and looked back up at Dean. He smirked as Dean carefully removed his arm and deliberately avoided meeting his eyes. "Oh, I get it. It's how big brothers drive cars."
"Well, if you wore your damn seatbelt..." Dean reached out and turned the volume knob hard to the right. Music obediently began pouring out of the speakers. Aggressively, Dean stomped down on the gas and the engine rumbled, the car jerking forward violently. "Put on your damn seatbelt... Bitch."
"Yeah, yeah." Resisting the urge to both roll his eyes and smirk (Dean could not carry a tune even if given a bucket.), Sam lifted his hand and sat back in his seat. After a moment of squirming against his seatbelt, he finally unlatched it so he could turn and better watch the other man. "I've got a question for you."
Turning his head slightly, Dean raised an eyebrow. "That's a shocker," he drawled.
"Shut up." Sam motioned generally in the direction of Dean's left hand, gripping high on the steering wheel. "Why do you drive like that? It's kind of jacked, you know. What kind of control do you have with that kind of hold?"
Dean blinked and looked down at his hand as if the question had never occured to him before and a furrow appeared between his eyebrows. "Drive like..." He trailed off, giving the answer serious consideration. "What's wrong with how I drive?"
"You hold the steering wheel funny."
"Well, thank you kindly, Sammy." Dean rolled his eyes and reached for the radio. "This is how big boys drive the big cars and..." Suddenly, he stood on the brakes, cutting off his own words as he fought to bring the racing car to a dead stop.
The brothers watched the scruffy tabby cat trot peacefully across the street, completely unaware of how nearly it had come to losing one of its nine lives. Then Sam looked down at the arm flung across his chest - straight and locked and immobile, considered it, and looked back up at Dean. He smirked as Dean carefully removed his arm and deliberately avoided meeting his eyes. "Oh, I get it. It's how big brothers drive cars."
"Well, if you wore your damn seatbelt..." Dean reached out and turned the volume knob hard to the right. Music obediently began pouring out of the speakers. Aggressively, Dean stomped down on the gas and the engine rumbled, the car jerking forward violently. "Put on your damn seatbelt... Bitch."
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