Give me a subject and five minutes, and bad things happen.
Twenty questions in the car was never Sam's favorite, at any age. But there's nothing else to do if you're going to cross Montana, and neither of them were big on heart-to-hearts. At least he didn't have to listen to Motorhead for a little while as a result.
"Is it something you want to do before you die?" Sam said, letting the center line blur just a little in his vision to see how long he could do it.
"Yes," Dean said.
Sam let a sigh escape and glanced sideways at Dean, weary of the game and several other things that made him more blunt than usual. "You know, considering what we do and how we go about it, don't you think you should just get it done?"
Dean kept his eyes on the road and nodded just a little while pursing his lips. "We are freaks, right?" he said.
"Yeah," Sam said. "So whatever it is, just -"
Dean threw his right arm out and across Sam's chest as he hit the breaks, since neither of them were wrearing seat belts, and when the car came to a burnt rubber stop right in the middle of the Interstate, they were already staring at each other. Sam's eyes were wide with interrogative disbelief and Dean was already smirking.
"What are you -" Sam was gearing up for a tirade.
"Really?" Dean said. "'Get it done'?"
"Yeah, I -"
Dean leaned across the seat and used his right hand to get a fistful of Sam's shirt to yank him closer. Before Sam could so much as tense, Dean had his hands on either side of Sam's face and was kissing him like he was drowning and Sam was the only air left. Before the shock could wear off and let Sam react in any way, shape or form, Dean was leaning away again with an eyebrow-wiggling grin.
"Been waiting my whole life for just one," he said.
Hands still ineffectively in midair, Sam stopped gaping long enough to say, "Okay, we are freaks."