Disclaimer: Neither the boys nor anything related to Supernatural belongs to me. I'm just having some fun with the boys, playing around with Eric Kripke's sandbox.

C'MON NOW, BOYS WILL BE BOYS

By: Vanessa Sgroi

Dawn was painting a watercolor of lavender and peach swirls above the horizon while the deserted interstate remained as yet bathed in soot-colored shadows. Along that endless ribbon of asphalt, the Impala's tires hummed their own distinct, and wholly-comforting, tune to her occupants. Dean's foot eased up slightly on the accelerator as he tightened his hold on the steering wheel and rolled his shoulders before dipping his head side-to-side to stretch his taut neck muscles. He stifled a yawn. Clenching and unclenching his hands in turn, he worked out a few kinks. His gaze flicked briefly to the right as his sleeping brother stirred in the passenger seat next to him.

After several moments of restless rustling, Sam finally righted himself with difficulty and pried his eyes open. He groaned softly as his body protested any movement after being so scrunched up.

"Mornin'."

Sam's reply was a grunt as he ran his hands over his face, pausing long enough to rub sleep from his eyes before continuing into his sleep-mussed hair.

Again Dean glanced at his sibling. "I thought you going full-on Van Winkle on me, man."

"Yeah? How long?"

"Long enough that I've stopped to pee twice."

That statement alone told Sam just how long he'd been asleep. When he wanted to, Dean could seemingly drive forever without having to make a pit stop.

"At the last one, I think you scared some little rugrats you were snoring so loud—rattling the windows. And the drool hangin' off your chin? Epic. Like Niagara Falls epic."

Turning his head toward the window, Sam surreptitiously checked his chin, found it dry and shook his head, a half smile tilting up the corner of his mouth. "I don't snore."

"Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that, Sammy. Keep telling yourself that."

The younger Winchester shifted in his seat and laid a hand across his stomach. "I'm hungry."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Starving."

Dean looked over at Sam, taking in again his too-lean, bordering gaunt, frame and hollowed cheeks. Those, along with the ashen skin and dark circles under his eyes, a visible testament to the excruciation the recent long months had wrought. Dean was pleased to note that during his kid brother's long Van Winkle-esque power nap, his skin had regained a hint of color and the dark purple half moons had faded to a heather gray, nearly matching the wrinkled t-shirt Sam currently wore. "Good. I'll stop at the next place I see. Shouldn't be too long," he reassured. "Can't guarantee they'll have much of your frou frou rabbit food though."

"Dean, a salad is hardly frou f—wait—did you use the words frou frou?"

"Hey, if the word fits…"

"Yeah—the word is healthy."

"Also known as tasteless."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You've just burned your taste buds away. If it's not fried, coated in grease, or topped with an unreasonable amount of onion, you taste nothing."

Dean quirked his mouth as he contemplated the validity of Sam's statement. With a nod, he wagged a finger at his brother. "True enough…with one exception. Pie. I can still taste all kinds of pie…I just never seem get it anymore."

The lighthearted banter felt good and Sam relaxed back into his seat. Now that he'd been awake for a few minutes, his own need to pee was making itself known and his stomach was beginning to sound like something akin to a pissed-off lion crossed with an irate howler monkey. He grabbed a random book from the footwell near his feet and began to leaf through it for distraction. Sam looked up eagerly when the Impala slowed down and spied the Next Door Diner a short distance off to the right. He sighed in relief.

Pulling into the parking lot, Dean watched Sam's impatient fidgeting with amusement. He smirked, shaking his head. His brother looked like he was five years old again and about to have an accident. The older Winchester tapped the brake with slightly more force than necessary, bringing the car to a jerky stop which earned a glare from Sam. "Go. I'll meet you inside." He chuckled as he watched Sam urgently hop from the car and race for the diner.

Minutes later, Dean looked up from his menu as Sam slid into the booth across from him. He smiled smugly. "Feel better, princess?"

Sam ignored him and picked up his own menu.

"Hope you remembered to wash those gigantic mitts of yours," he teased like he used to do oh so long ago. He took Sam's extended middle finger pressed against the back of the laminated menu as a yes. "I got you some coffee." He went back to perusing the selections before him despite already knowing what he wanted.

When the waitress returned to their table a few minutes later, Dean eagerly ordered. "I'll have the Mornin' Moo Cheeseburger and a side of extra crispy fries."

"Seriously, dude? It's like 5:00 a.m. and you're getting a burger?!"

"Yeah, man. It's a burger but it's got bacon AND a fried egg on top—that's breakfast food!"

"And the french fries?"

"If it'll make you feel any better, I'll switch that to extra crispy hash browns." Dean smiled at the waitress and gave her a wink, nodding his change.

Sam ruefully shook his head as the waitress turned to him.

"What can I get fer ya?"

Glancing at his menu one final time, Sam sighed. "Number six—the steak and eggs, medium rare and scrambled. That's comes with home fries, right?"

At her nod, he continued, "Can you make that a double order of those, please? And a double order of toast—sourdough."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, I'll also take an order of your buckwheat pancakes with a side of bacon—and you know what—a large glass of chocolate milk. Thanks!" Sam watched middle-aged woman walk away, anticipation of coming sustenance shining brightly in his eyes. He turned back to Dean who was staring at him incredulously. "What? I said I was hungry."

"I know but…but none of that was even remotely healthy."

Sam shrugged. "Eh. I decided to live it up for a change."

When their food came, Dean tucked into his cheeseburger with no hesitation, pausing in between bites only long enough to shovel in forkfuls of hash browns or take a sip of steamy coffee, which the waitress had kindly refilled several times already. He hadn't even realized just how hungry he was until he took the first bite. He finished quickly and sat back with a satisfied groan, satiated. He wiped his mouth with his crumpled napkin then dropped it on the empty plate in front of him. Bemused, Dean watched Sam plow through his own food in a methodical manner intertwined with abandoned glee. He also nursed his stinging knuckles a few times after getting whacked for stealing morsels off Sam's numerous plates.

Sam didn't come up for air until his food was gone. He swallowed the last of his milk and settled the glass back on the table.

"Uh…Sammy…"

"Yeah?" Sam let out a soft burp.

"…you might wanna…" Dean made a swiping motion with his index finger, "…you have a milk mustache".

"Oh." Sam quickly wiped away the evidence. "Wow, that was really good!" He rubbed his full belly.

After another cup of coffee for each, Dean paid the bill and they exited the diner. On the way to the Impala, Sam let out a loud belch, one that seemed to go on long enough within which to burp-recite an exorcism.

Dean curled his lip in disdain-laced humor. "Nasty."

"Yeah, I sounded like you. Besides which would you prefer? It all comes out this way now or possibly the other way in a little while?"

Waving a hand in warning, Dean pulled open his driver's side door. "Better all come out that way now, dude. I'm tellin' you, you stink up my baby, I will pull over and make you walk."

"Oh, please, like you don't stink the car up constantly? I'm like rolling down the window every five minutes!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I smell like roses and sunshine."

Sam snorted. "Ha! In your dreams maybe. You reek. Worse than I do. You're so bad, you make my eyes water…"

"You're just crying in appreciation. You know what they say, Sammy, sometimes you just gotta stop and smell the roses."

"Seriously, dude, my eyes burn and my little nose hairs curl up and die…"

"Little nose hairs? Have you looked closely recently?"

"What would you know about my nose hairs?"

"Hey, when they're long enough to braid…"

The bickering continued as the brothers settled into the Impala and headed off down the road, back toward that undulating ribbon of interstate asphalt gleaming beneath the early morning sun. Weather-wise at least, It promised to be a nice day.

Ten minutes later, Sam glanced at Dean and pulled at his lower lip.

"Uh…Dean…I…uh…I have to pee."

"Sam! Didn't I tell you to go again before we left the diner?!"

FIN