Spotless: Animato
Chapter Thirty Four
Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader
Other characters: Gibson Child OMC, Bobby, Annie, Victor, Charlie, both bands and roadies, nameless DJs
Word Count: 3160
Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, the last of Uncle Dean for a while, drinking and mild drug use, smoking cigarettes (do not come at me for this), Kevin calling Dean out publicly but subtly.
Series Masterlist
The rapid beat of a double-stroke roll woke Dean from the haze of sleep. He cracked one eye open and found the source of the wake up call. Gibson, sitting on the floor in Dean’s suite, was wailing on the coffee table while watching a random infomercial on the hotel’s tv’s world class Sunday morning programming. At least the little dude hadn’t gotten into Dean’s guitars without asking.
“Gibby! What gives, man?”
“Oh, sorry,” the little boy didn’t even look back, instead he lightened his efforts into a tapping from the original knocking.
Dean huffed and fell back onto his pillow, muttering to himself and the ceiling, “I guess we’re up for the day.”
They had spent the night watching old monster movies and eating pizza. Dean had even taken Gibson to the hotel’s pool for a dip before the adult only hours kicked in. He had no idea how Pam and Lee kept up with the kid on a normal day, Dean was fucking beat. And that was after he slept more than double his usual night’s rest.
How was it after nine already?! No wonder the kid was bored.
“You hungry? Probably should see if the buffet’s still going,” Dean asked suddenly.
“Okay!” Gibson dropped his sticks on the coffee table and hopped up with the unbridled energy of youth.
“Yeah, uh, I gotta throw some real pants on, dude.” Dean dragged himself to the edge of the bed and rolled his back. “Give Uncle Dean a minute and we can head down.”
Gibson nodded, but then ran to the counter in the kitchenette. “I made you coffee! They’ve got the little cups. But that was a while ago.”
Dean raised his eyebrow and surveyed the damage from his perch on the bed. “You make one for yourself?”
“Yep! It was gross. And the pink sugar didn’t help.”
“Yeah, well, that’s because it is gross. White or brown are best— no matter what Uncle Sam says.”
Gibson giggled, walking carefully over to Dean with the paper cup sloshing slightly. Dean wanted to help him, but he looked so proud of himself that Dean just sat back and clenched his hands as he awaited the delivery.
“Thanks, buddy,” Dean diligently took a sip. It was god awful. Cold, sure, but also really bitter and thin. Thankfully the kid didn’t think to add anything for him. He sighed and took another gulp while trying not to breathe and taste it more. “Uh—-yeah. Can’t start the day without some fuel.”
“You like it?”
“Yeah, man, of course. Now, I am gonna get dressed, find your shoes so we can get some grub.”
Turned out, the continental breakfast was already being cleaned up when they got back downstairs. Gibson’s spirits dropped instantly, but Dean assured him it was alright, and took the little man over to the attached restaurant that was hopping with the brunch crowd.
“Look who the cat dragged in!” Bobby’s voice caught Dean’s attention as they rounded the corner with the hostess. “Make room. Miss— these idjits are with us, sorry they don’t have any manners about showing up on time.”
“Alright, I’ll— uh, I’ll let your server know.”
Dean had the wherewithal to murmur and hand over his thanks and apologies right in time to get a surprised smile. Kevin and Annie were on Bobby’s right while Sam and a very hungover looking Victor filled out the left side of the six person table.
“Rough night?” Dean teased.
“It aint over yet,” Victor lamented.
“Ooof! Been there, man. More bacon’ll help.”
Just then their server returned with two extra chairs and a busser slid in two extra place settings for them. “Thank you— thank you both. Seriously.”
“Of course, let me get you some menus.” Then the server disappeared in a flurry, weaving through the crowd of people in various states of dress and sobriety.
Kevin nudged Gibson with his elbow. “How was the sleepover at Dean’s? I bet he snores.”
Everyone around the table laughed.
“Bite me, Kev. Gibby, steal me one of his fries would ya?”
Gibson looked back and forth between the two men. “What?! No.”
Dean just shrugged. “He deserved it.”
“Two wrongs don’t make it alright,” Gibson told him knowingly.
“Yeah, UNCLE DEAN,” Sam butted in.
“From the mouths of babes,” Annie said, shaking her head in amusement.
Kevin just laughed and took an obnoxious Dean-sized bite of fries.
“So— last day on tour until school’s out, what do you want to do today?” Bobby asked the star of the table.
“Is Mom and Dad awake? I want to see them ‘fore Grammy comes and gets me.”
“And you will, dude. I’m guessing they’re just up in their rooms getting dressed or something. It’s still early yet.”
“What timezone are you in?!” Bobby gave Dean the stink eye.
Dean ignored his manager and just ruffled Gibson’s hair. The menus appeared and they all settled in for another hour of each other’s company.
Dean knew it had to be hard for Gibson when they were on tour, he’d lived his own childhood with his dad barely there. But to have both parents out of reach for months at a time seemed worse. That’s why they made sure to give Pam and Lee breaks on the road, fly them home for three days at a time when they could. And they let Gibson come along when he didn’t have school.
It still felt like a worse case scenario though. He didn’t even have a little brother to make the days go by faster. Lee’s mom and their nanny were all he had outside of school friends. And the dogs. At least the kid got pets too.
Dean never did.
“Full House, bitches!” Charlie declared and threw her cards into the center of the table. “Jacks over twos.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Madison exclaimed, leaning in to inspect Charlie’s hand herself. She’d tagged along with Lee’s mom down to San Diego so she could join in on the Vegas leg of the trip.
“She always pulls it out, I swear to god. I don’t know how, but she does,” Sam muttered and tossed his hand to Dean to shuffle for the next round.
They were an hour into the trip to Vegas and the mood on the bus was contagious. No more little ears and eyes to worry about, meant that the bottles and the bongs came out and the chips were stacked high across the tiny table.
“Alright, alright, fair hand. Get your cards in, and maybe you can win some of them stacks back. If you’re lucky,” Dean taunted, collecting the rest of cards and sliding them back into a deck to be shuffled. “Trouble? Ante up.”
You tossed your share into the pot and took another sip of your drink. Dean felt your eyes on him as he dealt, bottom lip between his teeth in concentration. Technically, he knew everyone was watching him as he doled the next hand, but your attention felt heavier the last few days. Maybe you knew something he wasn’t ready for you to know.
Maybe you were waiting for him to fuck up again.
Or maybe it was all just wishful thinking and you weren’t really watching him at all. Either way, he was preoccupied with it all when he picked up his cards to find absolute trash.
“Oh Christ. I’m going to need more to drink. KEVIN! Another round of shots, if you don’t mind?”
You chuckled. “Dealer can’t deal to himself, huh?”
“Apparently not,” Dean muttered, not even bothering to pick up his cards again.
“More chances for the rest of us at least,” Madison pointed out and placed her call bet.
The afternoon turned into night while Bobby drove on. Games and ridiculousness ensued. Just when they stopped for dinner, Dean found himself in the playful overlap of drunk and stoned.
He hummed a few bars of some pop number that was playing over the truckstop speakers and Kevin joined in in harmony as they trudged across the parking lot to the twenty four hour diner. Lee came in for the chorus and they started getting louder and sillier with it, doing the monkey walk with Dean in the middle of the two shorter guys.
Dean couldn’t hear the radio station any longer, but they carried it along, finishing the number strong while guessing at some of the lyrics. When everyone had reached the double doors of the restaurant, he caught you and Charlie with your phones up recording the shenanigans. Meanwhile, Sam and Madison were giggly, leaning a little heavier on one another than most people would be at just after seven at night.
“Alright, cool it you damn buffoons. Let’s see if they’ve got room for everyone,” Bobby grunted before disappearing inside.
“Looks like you guys are the fun bus!” Donna greeted, as SPS and company caught up with them.
“Just gettin’ started darlin’,” Dean drawled, nodding and smirking. “Though I doubt it’s all charades and crochet on Big Bertha over there either.”
Jody took a swig off of her flask. “Oh, fuck no. Nancy knits, but that’s about it. But that’s only when the Adderall kicks in.”
She dangled the metal bottle out towards the circle of waiting musicians in offering. Kevin and Pam both took a pull and passed it back. Then the equipment rig pulled in and the headcount shot up even more. Benny sauntered over with a knowing glint in his eye as he stepped right in between Dean and Donna.
“We think we gettin’ in or gotta spread out to the fast food joints?”
“Hard to say, looks pretty dead in there, but that might mean there’s a small staff too,” you answered as everyone’s head craned to look inside.
“Alright, well I’m heading over to the cancer section until we hear one way or the other,” Jody nodded towards Annie and Patience smoking down the sidewalk.
Dean perked up and followed her like an earnest puppy. He wasn’t a habitual smoker anymore, but he definitely still imbibed, especially on the road. Sam’s influence could only go so far. But oddly, you were trailing along behind him, followed by Jesse and a newer, yet awkward roadie that he’d only heard called Chief.
You actually pulled a pack out of your purse and held one out to Dean expectingly. “What?” you asked like an accusation.
“Are you just smoking because you’d knew I would be or—?”
You exhaled your first pull and offered him your lighter. “It’s been a fucking week, okay? Let me have this until we hit the states with actual vegetation and I have to deal with allergies too.”
Dean lit his cigarette nodding and blew out a smoke ring. “You don’t have to justify it to me, I was just checking I’m not the bad influence.”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re always a bad influence, doesn’t mean I still didn’t choose it.”
That got him a little hot, if he was being honest. And he felt his smile all the way to the tips of his ears. “Damn, Trouble. Always knocking me back on my heels, you know that?”
You took another drag and shrugged, looking around to see everyone else somehow in their own conversations. “Part of the job.”
“Nah, that parts all you.” Dean said without even meaning to.
You looked up at him and gave him a little squint. “You need to eat something or you’re gonna be miserable in a couple hours.”
“I’m trying!” He huffed, gesturing with his cigarette towards the front doors, right as Bobby made his glorious return.
“Listen up!” Bobby glanced around at the bands and accumulated crew. “They’ve only got room for thirty folks, so line up and whoever is stuck at the back’s gotta find something else. We’re pulling out of here no later than ten o’clock, so be on time or be left behind.”
You chuckled over the hard-learned line.
Dean sucked a deep pull off his cigarette, trying to speed through it and getting lightheaded in the process.
“Uh,” he exhaled and looked over at you then over you towards the rest of businesses in the travel center. “We trying to get in or we taking a walk?”
“I’m finishing my square.” You pointed to yourself and held up your cigarette.
Dean couldn’t get over your sass tonight. “Alright, then. A walk it is.”
It ended up with Jody and Patience sticking around while you and Dean finished smoking and then all four of you headed to the Arby’s across the parking lot.
“Alright, folks, we got a quick segment at the end to wrap things up. Phantom Traveler, are you ready to ‘Hit It or Quit It’?” the gruffer DJ asked them from his chair across the room.
They barely all fit in the little sound booth, but managed to squeeze together to make it work. Lee, Pam and Kevin were on the three stools they provided, while Dean and Sam hovered over them to get at the shared mic. It was six o’clock in the morning and Dean didn’t know if any of them had even slept. But there they were anyway.
“It is five questions we ask in rapid succession and you just say the first thing that comes to mind. And since all five of you are here, we’ll just go down the line— or clockwise I guess,” the younger DJ explained.
“I’m game!” Dean exclaimed, futsing with the ball cap on his head.
Pamela, who was holding the mic, winked. “Let’s hear ‘em, boys.”
The DJs laughed. “Alright, Pamela’s ready. First question: Who’s got the craziest ex’s of the band?”
Everyone ‘Oh’d!’.
Lee leaned in and said deeply into the mic. “I’m sitting right here!”
“Couldn’t have planned that one any better!” Dean teased.
“Wait! I want to hear the answer though!” Kevin butted in, steering them back on track.
“NEW KID doesn’t know these things yet!” The first DJ said excitedly.
“Oh, this is too easy, though,” Pam rumbled.
“Yeah, sorry, bro, everyone knows this one,” Dean tacked on.
“Eat me,” Sam snapped back.
“But yeah, it’s Sammy for sure,” Lee agreed.
Sam rolled his eyes but the DJs just ate it up.
“Okay! Second question is—- for—- Lee! Favorite venue you’ve ever played?”
“Seriously? He gets a real question and I got a Cosmo question?” Pamela said, annoyed, but not quite into the mic.
“Seriously— I’m just reading off the list,” the younger DJ promised, holding up a clip board.
“That one’s easy— Harvelle’s back home.”
“Hands down,” Sam agreed.
“Best burgers in Nebraska, too,” Dean tacked on.
“Ellen’s gonna kill you,” Pam warned.
“Totally worth it,” Dean shot her down.
“Yeah. Nothing like playing for your hometown,” Lee finished.
“What a bunch of saps!” The older guy teased. “Okay, okay, I’ll let you have it. Sam— third question: Who would you still like to collaborate with? You’ve got Annie Hawkins on the latest album, you’ve played with some of the greats at some special events— I know you all were close with the late, great Rufus Turner and now you’re touring with his granddaughter’s band Sheriffs, Psychics and Secretaries. Who else?”
“Uh, honestly? I’d kill to play with Sarah and Provenance, even though our sounds are totally different. Maybe Mick Davies? Especially now that he’s left Men of Letters, I am looking forward to what he works on next.”
“Wow— those are not names I expected to come up today. But, yeah, okay— always the wildcard Sam Winchester!” The younger DJ seemed genuinely surprised and maybe even impressed.
Dean could tell it annoyed Sam, but he was always way smarter than anybody gave his bodybuilder-shaped self credit for.
“DEAN! Question numero four: If you weren’t a rockstar— okay, musician– what would you be doing?”
“Right now I’d be sleeping, that’s for damn sure.”
Everyone laughed and nodded. “I don’t blame you there, but for a job?”
Dean scratched his three day stubble. “I always say I’d have made a killer mechanic or car restorer, but, uh, honestly at this point in my life I’m going to go with firefighter.”
“Nice, very heroic.” The first DJ approved.
“Dude!” Sam gave him a look that asked if he was alright.
Dean shrugged. “Well, hopefully we won’t have to find out. Just a reminder we’ve got two shows at Cesar’s Palace tomorrow night and Wednesday!” he plugged like they needed help selling tickets.
“Which are completely sold out! We’ve got tickets for our listeners tomorrow morning at seven, eight and nine if you listen for the code to play.” The younger DJ picked up where Dean left off. “One more question and you guys can get on with your days. And it’s for Kevin Tran— the newest member of the band, stepping up for the now reclusive Cas Novak. Fifth and final question!---”
Dean flinched at Cas’ name coming up, but all things considered, it could have been a much more brutal comment. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Bobby whisper something to you through the glass in the adjoining room.
“In one word describe your bandmates.”
“One word total or—?”
“One word a piece,” Sam clarified.
“Yeah one word total. Band. That’d be the worst question answered ever,” the first DJ joked.
“Okay, okay, I got it. For Pam I’ll say ‘badass’. Lee’s word will be ‘groovy’. Sam gets ‘salad’ and Dean can have ‘Trouble’.”
“Oh, fuck,” Lee actually had to cover his mouth. While everyone else just about choked on their own spit.
Dean glared at the kid, but didn’t say anything, counting down from twenty in his head.
“It is going to be a very long tour, folks,” Sam tried to ease some of the tension, clearly the DJs did not get the significance of what was just said.
“Alright that is a wrap with Phantom Traveler, in town for just a few days on the start of their latest tour. Thank you guys, it was a blast. Their fifth album drops next month. You guys have been digging the new single, so we’re gonna close with that as we get these guys on their way.”
The intro to ‘Baby’ played in the background as everyone handed over their headphones and shook the DJs' hands. Their marketing people came in for some quick publicity shots. Dean spotted you getting matching angles, where you stood behind their photographer, for the band’s socials.
God, he wasn’t ready. He had no idea if you caught what Kevin had said or if you knew he was really talking about you. The little punk had to go and say that shit on air of all places.
One thing was for sure, Dean’s time was running out. Sooner or later somebody was going to let it slip and it wasn’t fair to you to hear it from anyone but him. Now, he just had to figure out how.
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