All America

John/Sam. PG. ~300 words.
“Dean made you a promise,” John said.

Sam groped under the seat for the lever, grumbling under his breath about Dean’s damn short legs. It was bad enough when he had to put up with his knees shoved up under his chin while riding shotgun, he wasn’t going to have any of it when he finally got to drive.

The back door creaked open, a duffle thudding onto the seat. Sam twisted around just as the seat thunked into place and whacked his elbow off the wheel.

“Y’alright there, son?” John asked, eyebrows raised at Sam’s hissed curse. He settled into the passenger seat, adding, “Language.”

“Dad?” Absently, Sam rubbed at his arm. “Where’s Dean?”

“Sitting this one out.” John reached for the seatbelt. “Problem?’

Sam wet his lips, sting in his elbow forgotten. “No sir. I just-” He glanced at the keys dangling from the ignition. “Didn’t think you’d have time.”

“Dean made you a promise,” John said, his smile somewhere between fond and exasperated. The same look he gave Sam most these days. “I’m not going to break it just because he’s too sore to handle one little driving lesson.”

Before Sam could say something to mess up the opportunity, he cranked the engine, flexed his fingers on the wheel. The worn leather was warm, thrumming beneath his hands. Finally, he asked, “Where to?”

“Bring me into town,” John said. He stretched his arm out across the back of the seat, wide-palmed hand settling near Sam’s neck. “Then we’ll see.”


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