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“What’s this thing even look like?” Dean mused, eyeing the objects scattered throughout the room, “How do we know what we’re looking for?”
Sam’s gaze roamed the room, “Good question.”
“Can we google it?”
“That’s - actually not a bad idea,” Sam pulled his phone from his pocket and swiped open the screen.
“Hey Siri.”
‘Yes, Sam Has Girl Hair?’
Sam shot his brother a scowl. “Did you change my name on my phone?”
Dean tried to look innocent, but couldn't hold back his chuckle.
“I'm going to kill you Dean”
‘Pulling up the 'Murder Dean' playlist. Shall I play it?’
“No!”
Dean turned toward him, one brow raised, “You have an ‘Murder Dean’ playlist?”
Sam scoffed and shot him a side glance, “Like you don't have a ‘Sam Really Is A Girl’ playlist.”
…...
Dean halted in front of one of the shelves as his eyes fell on something shiny, reflecting the light. He studied it for a moment, head tilted, then reached out a hand.
“Don’t touch that,” his brother advised, studying whatever he was holding in his hands. Dean glanced at him, then back at the object on the shelf. He shrugged and shoulder and moved on: he would trust that Sam’s advice was sound.
“Look at us, investigating the scene and looking for clues,” he pulled a book from another shelf and glanced at the title, “We should just call ourselves the Scooby gang.”
‘Playing the Scooby Doo theme song’.
“No, Siri,” both brothers spoke in exasperation.
Sam snorted a laugh as Dean muttered, "Jinkies."
---
One neutralized cursed object later, and both brothers were ready to call it a night.
Dean yawned wide enough to make his jaw crack - Sam winced in sympathy - and asked, “Where’s the closest motel? I’m ready for some shut-eye.”
Sam pulled his phone from his back pocket. “Hey Siri. Pull up the address for Red Roof Inn.”
‘Pulling up saved bookmarks for BDSM.’
“What!” Sam tapped at the home screen, “No!”
“Hang on,” Dean shot his brother a wicked grin and pulled the phone from his hand,, “Let her do her thing, now.”
“Dean!” Sam could feel the heat in his face and knew he was blushing. He reached for his phone but Dean pulled it out of his reach, glancing at the screen. Sam watched his brother’s eyes widen slightly, brows shooting up and mouth falling open in surprise.
“Dean..” his voice was a plea as he reached again for the phone. His brother must have realised his embarrassment (humiliation was more accurate), because the man handed it back to him.
“It’s not ..” Sam started, “It isn’t.. I was looking up..”
“Don’t stress, Sammy,” a slow smirk touched the other’s mouth, “You’re a big boy, you can look up whatever you want.” His grin was wicked again as he added, “I do have questions, though, and believe me I’m going to ask them later.”
Sam rubbed a hand over his mouth, wishing his face wasn’t the flaming red he knew it to be, and turned toward the car. “Can we just get a room?”
“Sure,” Dean followed after him, laughter in his voice, “but would you prefer a standard room, or one with more leather and chains?”
He was never going to live this down.
“You suck, Siri,” he muttered as he deleted the searches from his phone’s browser.
‘I’m just trying to do my job, Sam Has Girl Hair. Let me know if I can help with anything else.’
Sam muttered a curse beneath his breath, and Dean’s laughter rang out behind him, as he opened the door and climbed into the car.