Cemetery Drive

By fiorae

Summary: Dean hates those touchy-feely moments and Sam's just full of them. Implied Wincest.

Author's Notes: This is the first ever 'Supernatural' fanfic I've ever written. And it's long over due. I thought of this during class today and decided to put it into words. I think it turned out okay, what about you guys? Yes this is 'implied' Wincest as I do support that pairing. But it can easily be thought of as brotherly love for those who don't like the pairing. Reviews everyone!

Dean gripped the stirring wheel as the Impala lurched down the dark and dreary road. He hunched forward and growled lowly, staring straight ahead at how completely slow the road was moving under them. It was the absolute last time he ever trusted Sam to take his baby anywhere.

Ever.

He stole a quick glance at the sulking form in the seat next to him. Sam was peering out the window distantly. He had been ever since Dean had discovered the Impala's new condition and yelled at him like a rabid dog. Thinking back on it, maybe he had been a little too harsh. But for god's sake, it was the Impala!

"Quit pouting like a kid, Sam," Dean said in his authority figure voice. That'd usually quake a smart-ass comment out of the younger Winchester, but Sam simply grumbled under his breath. Dean inwardly growled. "Sorry, what was that? I don't speak chipmunk."

"I said that I'm not pouting," Sam mumbled in a low tone. At this, Dean smirked a little smirk.

"Oh yea? Curved back, crossed arms, bloated cheeks. All sounds like pouting to me."

Sam, for what ever reason, chose not to respond to that particular comment. He instead took great interest in the world outside the confines of the Impala. After what seemed like an eternity of 1mph movement, they were finally passing up something other than trees; a cemetery.

Not really much better, but at least something different.

Dean was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable with the silent Sam sitting next to him. Though he hated how his little brother nagged with a great passion, he'd grown accustomed to it. Driving without it just wasn't natural. If you could call this little crawl 'driving' at all that is.

"I'm sorry about the Impala …" Sam whispered. The softness of his voice sent a shiver up Dean's spine. He hated whispering almost as much as nagging.

"It still doesn't make sense, Sam! How the hell do you confuse gasoline for water?!"

"It was dark, Dean. I couldn't see what I picked up."

"Yeah well could you smell?!"

Sam sighed and Dean clutched the wheel tighter. He knew yelling wouldn't do any good for anything. But it was so much more satisfying than 'forgiving and forgetting'. Oprah could suck his big toe.

"I would just think you'd be a little more careful with it, ya know? You know how much I love the Impala!"

" …yeah. A lot more than you do me, right?"

At this, Dean flinched. His shoulders tensed and his brow began to sweat. He narrowed his eyes slowly, pointing them in his little brother's direction. Sam knew how much he hated it. He knew how much.

"I'm not even gonna dignify that with an answer."

"So you do then..." A soft sigh, "I knew it."

Dean was five seconds from throwing Sam's head through the Impala's foggy windshield. He hated these brotherly love moments that Sam was always fishing for.

And Sam knew that.

"I'm not doing this with you," he mumbled. Another exaggerated sigh from the passenger side.

"It's alright, Dean. You don't love me. I get it."

The older Winchester brother could feel that annoying tingly sensation rushing into his cheeks. He fidgeted nervously, leaning forward into the wheel.

" … …. I hate you right now."

"And that's the problem isn't it?" Sam whispered again, shifting his weight over toward Dean. Instinctively, the other man shrunk back. He knew Sam would keep at this until he gave in or found a place to hide from him for the night. He took a deep breath, swallowed what little dignity he had left, and began to speak …

" … … .."

"I'm sorry, you were mumbling."

" … …."

"One more time …?"

Dean growled, turning briskly to his little brother.

"I love you, okay?! I love you! I love you! I love you!"

Slowly, Sam's little pout morphed into the cheesiest grin one could ever imagine. He sat back in his seat and watched the tombstones pass by like turtles, still grinning. Dean sulked down into the seat, his face burning red. He simply let the wheel go at this point. What ever he could hit in a cemetery should probably be dead anyway.

"I love you too Dean," Sam whispered, peering back at his brother and smiling sweetly. Dean's red face grew ever redder and he pondered desperately if a drop from a car going 1mph would be enough to kill him.

Sam chuckled inwardly to himself. He'd enjoyed dragging that little emotional outburst from Dean.

And it'd only cost him one bottle of Deer Park water.