Sam sat on his side of the Impala, arms crossed and looking out the window as the world drove by. He was sixteen, Dean was twenty and they were following behind Dad in his big truck onto the next hunt.

"Come on, Sammy, you can't be mad at me forever," Dean rolled his eyes, looking at his over-dramatic teenage brother who just huffed and crossed his arms more. He was also wearing a ski-cap and gloves, cold from the window being open to air out a nasty smell in the car.

"You have to admit, it was funny. Seeing your face." Dean licked his lips, leaning back in his seat and drumming his fingers on the dash as another mile went by. "Fine, if you're not going to talk to me..." he reached over and turned the music up on the radio, Motorhead starting to blare through the speakers until Sam glared at him, reached over and turned the music off again.

"Sam, it's nine hundred miles until we get to Oklahoma. You can't stay quiet the whole time there." Dean looked over at his little brother. "Just get it out."

He watched Sam work his jaw and focus on the road ahead of them. Dean rolled his eyes, then reached over and grabbed the ski cap off Sam's head and tossed it out the window.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, pissed off. "That was my hat!"

"There, that wasn't so hard." Dean was smirking as he looked at his brother. "You need to get some sun on that scalp of yours."

Sam fumed, and if looks could kill... "I hate you."

"Yeah yeah yeah." Dean chuckled to himself. "Now stop sulking. You look like a baby."

"It could be because I'm BALD!" Sam glared.

"Heh. I had forgotten how weird your ears look without your hair to hide them."

Sam just huffed back into his seat and stared at the window. "I'm going to get you back. I swear to God..."

"Good luck on that one," Dean laughed, then turned up the music again and sang along loudly, purposely ignoring his now threat-throwing brother and decided he should have just left Sam in his sulky silent treatment sulking.

Good thing Motorhead drowned out his whining.