Title: Cheap Thrills

Author: HalfshellVenus

Characters: Sam and Dean (Gen, Humor)

Rating: K+

Summary: There's a reason why they still make those Magic Fingers beds…

Author's Notes: I have no excuses for this one, but it's a post- "Houses of the Holy" snippet that was begging to be told.

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"So," Dean began, after the awkward discussion had dissipated. "Do you—"

"Stop asking me for quarters, Dean." Like there weren't more important issues to be dealt with right now. "I already told you, your obsession with that bed is unhealthy."

"Yeah, yeah. Says the man who hasn't tried one of these things in years. But it's incredible, Sammy, I promise. You should see for yourself-- might help lighten your mood a little. Only twenty-five cents…"

Dean could be so damned persistent at times. "Fine. Here's your quarter. Live it up."

His brother flashed a grin at him and slammed the coin into the slot. "C'mon Sam, really—try it out." Dean scooted over to make room.

Maybe I should just take Dean to an amusement park, let him get the whole thrill-ride thing out of his system. Sam dragged himself over to lie down next to Dean, nearly stumbling as the other bed moved under him in the process.

"On your back," Dean added.

Sam rolled over and settled in and… My God. His eyeballs rattled in his head. His cheekbones were singing. His arms were oozing into the bed… "O-o-o-o-o-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah," he vocalized experimentally.

"Dude!" Dean thwapped him. "You're harshing my mellow-- shut up."

So he did. Sam relaxed and let the sensations take over him. Soon his ankles didn't belong to him anymore, and his spine was so wonderfully loose. His entire body had moved into a different dimension, he was sure of it. He felt detached from himself, completely and gloriously stupid. Mmmmmm. Awesome… Until—

"Nnnnhh." Was that him? "Why'd it stop?" he mumbled slowly.

"Time's up," Dean answered. His voice sounded like it was coming from far, far away.

"Mmrrrr… I think the top of my head floated off," Sam slurred. He opened his eyes to find that the ceiling was moving. Twitch. Repeat. Twitch. Repeat. Twitch—He closed his eyes again.

"So?"

"Mmh. As soon as I can get off this bed, I'm getting more quarters."

"Now you're talking!"

Great. Sam so hated it when Dean was right.

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