#dsobrenatural

“i didn’t know you liked this kind of music,” sam says, eyeing dean wearily as he watches him pull off the highway onto a dusty side road.

dean’s in the middle of the chorus singing- “lo que hicistes fue muy fatal”- when he finally replies.

“i’m not that white washed sammy,” dean jokes. “‘sides i’ve hunted a few times in texas, and sometimes you kinda pick that stuff up.”

dean’s joke about being white washed cuts through sam and he frowns. it’s not like he wants to be some type of stuffy, first generation “no sabo” kid. sam wants to know what dean’s singing along to, wants to know what “ya voy a quemar esta ilución” means, and maybe wants to sing along himself. instead, he rests his head on the passenger window and heat stinging his scalp. 

– ☆ – 

they pull into a parking lot of a taqueria with a few ghoul guts staining their shirts. dean pointed out the taqueria on their way to the cemetery, pointed out how the faded “ria” and one broken window meant the food was going to be very good. 

“it’s the hole in the wall kinda place, bet you the menu won’t even be in english,” dean said and sam shifted uncomfortably. 

they enter the restaurant and are quickly greeted by a woman behind the counter. “hola,” she says, a big smile on her face and wrinkles by her eyes to emphasize the authenticity of the smile. she looks very motherly, putting the virgen de guadalupe pictures hanging on the restaurant's walls to shame. 

sam shifts uncomfortably, again, as a weird feeling stirs in his gut. she almost reminds him of his mom. 

“¿qué te gustaría comer, chicos?” she-- sam assumes-- asks. dean’s already turning to sam, ready to ask the same thing but in english. sam beats him to it. 

“just get me three chicken tacos with lime and avocado,” sam tells him. then he awkwardly adds, “and uh- una soda de naranja.” he winces at the way the r’s roll off his tongue and he can see dean has a teasing look in his eyes. sam knows he’s going to be hearing “nar-rang-ha” in a pale imitation of his voice all the way back to the motel. 

dean turns back to the woman with a charming smile on his face and begins to order in spanish for the both of them. 

sam makes his way to one of the empty tables, resting his head in his hands as another virgen de guadalupe poster on the wall stares down at him disappointed. 

dean returns with a cheap table number marker and what seems to be a churro, he’s still eating it when he tries to talk. 

“heespank mosh loge me,” he says. well, this is one language sam knows how to translate. “hispanic moms love me,” is what dean actually means to say. 

“don’t talk with your mouth full, you’re getting cinnamon everywhere.” sam replies, nose wrinkled in distaste. 

dean flashes him a grin, showing off both his teeth and the food piling in his mouth. “you’re just jealous carla likes me more than you,” dean quips, this time without his mouthful. 

sam frowns, turning his head to look outside to hide his frown. “yeah,” he wants to say. “i am jealous because maybe if i could speak to her in spanish, she’d like me too.” 

– ☆ –

“ugh,” dean groans with his pinky in his ear, picking around. “i think i got ghoul guts in my ear.” he takes his pinky out of his ear to inspect it– and yup, sure thing there seems to be black goo on his finger. 

“that’s so gross dude,” sam frowns. he hesitates before putting his own pinky in his ear to see if he has some too. luckily, he seems spared. 

“that’s what happens when you play bait,” dean replies. “you get up close and personal with these douchebags and the next thing you know, your brother is shotting it in the fucking head and it’s guts are all over you.” 

“sorry,” it’s a half hearted reply, a tiny sly smirk on sam’s face. 

“yeah, thanks,” dean rolls his eyes. “that’s why i’m showering first.” he swings open the motel room door after turning the key and beelines towards the bathroom, dropping his stuff as he goes. 

“no wait!” sam calls out, trying to get there first but almost tripping on dean’s discard stuff. he is met with a door slamming in his face. “yeah, well i have ghoul in my hair.” sam mutters under his breath as he makes his way to his bed. 

he doesn’t bother laying down in bed, instead he sets his stuff down and grabs a five out dean’s wallet. closing the motel door behind him, sam heads to the vending machine for a water and small snack. 

unfortunately, a sign posted on the vending machine reads “no funciona” which sam is able to piece together as “not working” with his bare minimum spanish knowledge. so instead he makes his way to the front desk where he remembers the motel desk clerk was selling snacks. 

its a short walk in the warm texan night and sam wonders how much darker he’s going to get from being out in the sun all day. his right hand unconsciously pulls the sleeves of his hoodie down more to cover his skin. its natural, too natural like walking. 

the door of the motel lobby makes a loud ding sound when he enters and the desk clerk greets him with a wave. he nods back, small smile on his face as he reads the snack menu. it’s all in spanish though. the basic words “agua” “papas fritas” “galletas” and “jugo” sticking out to him. 

sam clears his throat awkwardly to get the desk clerk to look up from his magazine. “um puedo- puedas dame un agua y galletas?” he asks in his broken spanish. the desk clerk nods, grabbing a water bottle and a bag from under the desk.

“es-” the desk clerk starts. “is 3.50 dollars” he continues, switching to english for sam’s benefit which only makes sam frown. 

he places the 5$ bill in the man’s hand before hurrying off with his stuff, not bothering with the change. how would he even say it in spanish? es por tu? he shakes his head at himself as he fiddles with the motel key. 

the door to his and dean’s room finally opens where dean is sitting on the bed freshly showered and chewing on some beef jerky. “hey,” he calls out. the television is playing some type of mexican telenovela, a lady screams angrily in spanish and sam doesn’t even bother to tease dean about his television choice. 

instead he just flops down into one of the motel chairs with his own snack, the bag crinkling as he opens it. 

then he wonders why god is so cruelly punishing him for not knowing spanish when he realizes galletas mean cookies. not chips. and all he wanted were chips. 

– ☆ –

sam wakes up to arguing– arguing in spanish and he wonders if dean forgot to turn off the tv last night. but no, it’s just dean and cas arguing in spanish which makes sam frown. he doesn’t like being kept in the dark and dean knows his spanish isn’t good enough to follow the current conversation. 

it’s like rapid fire, once the words are uttered from castiel’s mouth dean is already three words into a new sentence. 

“yo soy! lo estoy vigilando!” dean argues, scowl on his face which just seems to set castiel of more. 

“todavía puedo olerlo.la sangre del demonio sobre él.” castiel fires back.

an uncomfortable feeling settles in sam’s stomach, the feeling usually makes it’s self known when castiel is speaking spanish. he feels almost like… a bratty child of some sorts and spanish is a toy he desperately wants. sam’s internally screaming at cas, “not fair! gimme, gimme!” he just wants to speak spanish too. 

it isn’t fair castiel, with his angelic abilities is able to speak any language in the world. “you can have the others, cas. just let me have this one language.” he thinks.

castiel must of sensed that sam was finally awake because he turns away from dean– dean who is in mid sentence- to say “good morning, sam.” 

“uh, hi, cas. good morning to you.” he says awkwardly, slight red on his cheeks from getting caught eyes dropping. (if you can even call it that.) 

“yeah, uh good morning sam. listen i was just telling dickless here that you-” before dean can finish, there is the slight fluttering sound of wings and castiel is gone. 

“hijo de puta!” dean swears at cas’s disappearing act. 

at least sam knows those words, in fact he knows 10 ways to cuss in spanish because dean thought it would be funny to teach 10 year old sam swear words. sam wishes dean taught him more. 

“just get your stuff, we have another hunt. up in idaho.” dean scrubs at his face, exasperated. he moves to pack up his own stuff and to slide on his boots. 

sam copies him, throwing his dirty shirt in his backpack and pulling out a new pair of socks. he’s almost done when he notices that he can’t find his phone. the last place he remembers leaving it was on the motel nightstand but it seems to be gone. “dean” he calls out while he looks. 

“ya?” dean replies from the bathroom, obviously brushing his teeth. 

“did you see where-” he pauses as he notices a small book in the nightstand drawer. it reads “spanish-english dictionary” in black bold letters against the yellow cover. it only takes him a moment to decide to slip it into his hoodie pocket. and his phone flashes with an incoming email allowing him to notice it fell on the ground beside the nightstand. 

“what did you want?” dean asks, poking his head out of the bathroom. 

“nothing, are you ready?” 

“just washing my hands,” he replies. 

sam heads out to the car, backpack slung over his shoulder and his right hand gripping the spanish-english dictionary tight in his pocket. like it would fall out and alert everyone in the nearby vicinity that he was “one bad latino who didn’t even know spanish.” 

at the car, he quickly opens the trunk and moving stuff around to reach for a crusty looking book that reads “law for dummies” a gag gift dean got him for his birthday once. its large enough to hide the small spanish-english dictionary. he carelessly throws his backpack in the trunk before sitting in the passenger seat. 

“finally putting that book to good use huh?” dean jokes as he slides into the drivers seat and notices sam’s book. 

“yeah.” he mumbles as the car roars to a start and they are back on the road again. 

sam looks down at his spanish-english dictionary, flipping it open to a random page and the first word he sees reads. 

tags got too long so im putting general moodboard info here without retyping