Title: Room #9
Author: Lady FoxFire
Pairing(s): None
Rating: PG-13
Category(s): Humor
Summary: - This is a series of ficlet in which the Winchester brother stay in some of the most disturbing motel rooms I can image.
Disclaimer: If I owned the series you better believe something like this would show up in an episode.

Sam strolled across the parking light as the lots lights started to flicker on: his destination a 1967 black Chevrolet Impala.

"Number 9," Sam stated with an eat-shit grin as he spun the key around his finger. "It was the last room left seems as there is something going on in town and everything booked up," as he walked towards his brother.

Dean pushed himself off from were he leaned against his black beauty half asleep from the long drive as he waited for Sam to hopefully find them a room. "I hear a 'but' in there."

"It's a single," Sam said a grimace, "however it does have a queen size bed."

Dean shrugged his shoulders as he open the back door and grabbed his bag. "It's not like we've never shared a bed before," he said dismissing Sam's concern in favor of sleep.

"Yeah but you hog the covers," Sam says as he grabs his bag and laptop from the back of the car.

"And you keep putting you cold feet on me," Dean countered half heartily.

Leading the way towards the stairs that led to the second floor and their room, Sam said over his shoulder "Well you talk in you sleep."

"You kick."

"You snore."

Dean stopped dead in his tracks; the weariness momentary vanished by outrage. "I do not!"

"Do to," Sam sung out as he looked over his shoulder at Dean, an evil shit grin on his face.

"At least I don't' suck my thumb," Dean commented as he pushed his way past Sam and onto the second floor.

Sam stopped dead in his track at the top of the stairs. "I do not!"

"Do," Dean said simply, a tired grin on his face as he grabbed the key out of Sam's hand, walked door to number 9 and unlocked the motel room door.

"I do not suck my thumb," Sam said as he followed Dean into the room; kicking the door shut.

"Would I lie about something like that?" Dean said, dropping his bag at the foot of the bed and allowing himself to fall backwards onto the bed, his arms spread outwards as to claim the bed as his.

"Yes! Yes you would," Sam grind his teeth together as he set his bag and laptop on the small desk that was in the room; immediately he started to boot up the laptop.

"Dean? I said you would," Sam said after a few minutes without Dean responding. "Dean?" Turing around half expected to find his brother dead to the world however he found Dean in the same position he was in before but staring up at the ceiling in interest.

Sam stared at Dean in confusion for a few heartbeats worth of time before allowing his eyes to follow his brother's gaze.

"Is that…" Sam's voice trailed off; his eyes widen slightly as he realized what they were staring at. Sam took a step closer to the bed so he could look fully upon the ceiling.

"Yup," Dean replied in a drawn of tone of voice, cocking his head to the side Dean continued to look at the ceiling.

"I always thought they were a product of the movies," Sam stated with a slight trace of awe.

"I guess they're not."

"Yeah. You got to wonder about what type of person who want that…"

"I don't want it," Dean replied with firm conviction.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I would have figure this would be you type of thing," he said with a wave to the ceiling.

"Nope," Dean replied after a moment of thought. "What about you? Does it get you blood flowing?"

Sam continued to look up at the ceiling, his eyes got a distance look to them. "Maybe but it might be interesting to try."

Dean raised up on his elbows and looked at his brother. "Who are you and what have you down with my brother?" Dean said in a half-serious half teasing way.

Sam rolled his eyes as he looked down on Dean. "Please don't tell me you've never… you know?"

Dean rolled of the bed and onto his feet. "I'm a guy. Of courses I've thinking about it. And yeah I've wonder what it would be like to have sex under a mirrored ceiling." Dean said with a wave of this hand towards the bed and the ceiling, "but then I remember two things and that kills that idea before it gets too far. And do you know what those things are, Sammy?"

"It's Sam," Sam says automatically, "and no I don't."

Dean held up one finger. "Bloody Mary," Dean said his eyes locked on his baby brother's face the whole time.

Without meaning to Sam glanced up at the mirrored ceiling, cursing himself for doing so.

"And the second reason?" Sam asked as he glanced over to Dean who was sorting through his bag.

A knowing smirk appeared on Dean's face. "Have you though what it's going to be like to try to sleep under it?" and with that Dean grabbed his toiletry, walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Sam glared at the bathroom door; his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out the riddle Dean had left him with.

As if the Fates had decided to answer Sam's unasked question, a semi truck thundered on down the highway in front of the motel. The light from the semi's headlight finding it's way around the curtains, to bounce off the mirror and scatter light around the room.

Sam's shoulder slumped in defeat, his head bowed. "Fuck."