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“Okay, buddy,” Sam says with a sigh as he steers Dean outside into the sunshine. He shares a glance with Taylor. “Let’s get you home.”
The witch who cursed Dean has vanished, but they’re not sure what to expect. She said he was going to be different, the opposite of how he normally is, but that’s the extent of it.
Dean sends Taylor a wide grin that looks so much like his normal self, she wonders if the curse did anything at all.
“Let’s go somewhere,” he suggests, tossing his arm around her shoulders. He’s warm and strong and smells like the ocean. Not very different so far.
Sam and Taylor share another look, but this time Sam’s is wary. “Go where?”
“Mexican food,” Dean decides, giving a firm nod. “And margaritas for everyone!”
Okay, so yeah, he’s a little different. Margaritas and Mexican food? What about burgers and beer? Maybe Taylor should be thinking a little harder about finding that witch to reverse the spell, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind that he’s a little out of sorts.
And, to be honest, Taylor doesn’t really mind either. If this is the biggest thing they have to worry about tonight, it’s actually a relief. They’ve been so busy hunting lately that they haven’t had any time to wind down.
Sam scratches his chin and says, “We should probably just get home.”
Dean steps onto the sidewalk and glances around like he’s searching for his car. “Come on, Samuel, live a little. TGIF!”
Taylor laughs, Sam frowns, and Dean wiggles his eyebrows.
“Now where’s my car?” Dean asks.
Taylor leans against the black Impala and points. “What do you mean where’s your car?”
Dean looks at the Impala, his nose wrinkling. “What? You don’t mean that .”
They both nod at him.
“No, no, no,” Dean says, shaking his head. “No way that’s mine. It’s...old. And probably really loud.” He looks around again, and then spots a minivan across the street. “Now, that is what we need. Let’s go in that.”
Sam opens the passenger door for him. “We’re not taking someone else’s car. Get in.”
Dean balks. “I wasn’t suggesting we steal it. Just leave them a note. We’ll bring it back. Obviously.”
“Nope,” Sam says.
“You’re right,” Dean grumbles, making Sam raise his eyebrows at Taylor. “That would be rude to take someone’s car–especially if they need it.”
Taylor holds in a snort when she realizes Dean is serious. That hadn’t ever been their motto in the past. Sure, they helped people out–but it was usually using whatever means necessary. They’d been known to steal a car or two in their day.
“If you get in, we’ll get margaritas,” Taylor says, bribing him like he’s a little kid.
“And a movie?” Dean asks. “A romantic comedy?”
She chokes on a laugh and then ducks her head to hide her smirk, especially when she sees that Sam isn’t amused.
“Get in the car,” he says.
Dean hops in and looks in the vanity mirror. “This hair…” he murmurs, ruffling his short strands. He glances at Sam when his brother gets in the driver’s seat. “Maybe I should grow it out like you.”
Sam’s jaw clenches. “Maybe you should just...not talk.” He flips on the radio.
Classic rock fills the car. Dean grimaces and turns it down. “What is this?” He changes the station a few times until Katy Perry’s strong voice comes through the speakers.
“Now, that’s better,” Dean says as Sam drives them away from the building. “She is all that.”
“Oh my God,” Taylor whispers. Sam is holding in laughter, his shoulders shaking. “How about Miley Cirus? What do you think about her?”
“As long as she stays on the right path, she’s good. She has potential. And Wrecking Ball–come on, who doesn’t love Wrecking Ball–”
Before he can start singing, she asks, “And Ed Sheeran?”
Dean swivels in his seat to look at her, his lips curving. “Kind of dreamy, right? I mean, his voice… ”
Sam laughs out loud. “I was not expecting that.”
“What?” Dean asks, perfectly serious.
Sam shakes his head. “Nothing. Are we really going for Mexican food?”
“Yes,” Taylor says at the same time as Dean. When Sam meets her eyes in the mirror, Taylor just nods. “Come on. We all deserve a night out.” When he looks doubtful, she adds, “It isn’t hurting anyone to take the night off. We’ll find the witch later and everything will go back to normal by tomorrow.”
They cruise down the main street of the town until Dean squeals like a little girl, making Sam slam on the brakes. “Yes!” Dean points. “There. Look, they have a giant blow-up pineapple. Perfect.”
Sam looks doubtful, but he pulls in front of the restaurant. When they all step out, Dean grabs Taylor’s hand.
“Let’s go shopping after this,” he suggests, plucking at her leather jacket. “Get you something brighter. Something that’ll bring out your eyes.”
Her mouth drops open, but before she can answer, he’s distracted by the pineapple lights in the entryway.
“Fun,” he says, and then gets distracted again with a sombrero, which he promptly puts on Sam’s head. “Muy, muy macho.”
The hostess leads them to their table while Taylor falls behind, admiring Dean’s new swagger as he walks.
Dean sits down and grabs a menu. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’m not really that hungry…”
“Not hungry?” Sams snorts. “Since when?”
Dean ignores him. “I wish they had something a little healthier. I mean, these carbs…”
He continues to scan the menu. Sam checks his phone, clearly looking for a message from Jody and Garth, but shakes his head. Taylor doesn’t really mind. Worst case, Dean spends the night like this and she has something to tease him about forever when he gets his real personality back.
“Let’s play a game,” she suggests after they’ve ordered.
Dean already has his margarita, and he’s sipping it with enthusiasm. Might as well entertain themselves while they’re waiting to hear from someone.
Dean smiles, clearly pleased with the idea. “What kind of game?”
“A question and answer game. I ask a question and you answer what comes to your mind first,” Taylor says.
Dean nods and drinks more of his margarita. “Good. Go.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Pink.”
Sam snorts. “Favorite song?”
Dean angles his head. “OMG. Anything by Olivia Rodrigo.”
“Jeans or shorts?” she asks.
Dean glances at his outfit. “Shorts. And flip-flops. This outfit is… Yuck.”
“Favorite food,” Sam says.
“Easy. Salad.” Dean leans in conspiratorially and whispers, “But chocolate in secret.”
“Not pie?” she follows up.
“Vomit. No. Who eats pie?”
“Clearly not you,” Sam says.
Dean stands and then laughs when he wobbles a little. “The margarita’s already working. I’m such a lightweight. I need to go to the bathroom.”
He vanishes down a hallway.
Sam points. “If he’s not out in two minutes, I’m going after him. Who knows what he’s doing in there?”
“Probably trying to find flip-flops,” Taylor says with a grin. “You have to admit, it’s kind of funny.”
“You won’t think it’s funny later when he tries to get you to buy a dress to match your eyes.”
“Come on–it’s just one night. If we can’t take at least one night to forget all the seriousness, then we’re not going to make it for very long.”
Sam considers this for a minute, then pulls out his phone when it rings. He answers, pauses for a moment, then his shoulders sag in relief. He ends the call and says, “We have a location for the witch.”
“Can we wait until after dinner, at least? I really want to see what his favorite movie is.”
Dean appears behind her. “Titanic!”