Memphis, Tennessee...
"What do you mean we can't go upstairs"!" Dean asked, his voice reaching fever pitch. "I want to see the King's Throne!"
"I'm sorry, sir," the guard replied, standing in front of a roped-off staircase that led to a teal and gold-trimmed curtain. "No one goes upstairs, but family."
"Would you believe me if I told you I'm a long lost cousin?"
"No," the guard replied, having heard that countless times before.
"Would you believe my Uncle Ben is?" Dean countered, waving a one hundred dollar bill in front of the man's face.
"No," the guard repeated, not budging.
Dean crossed his arms against his chest and pouted.
"Come on, Dean. There's plenty of other things to see," Sam reminded his brother, resisting the urge to tug at his sleeve like a six-year old.
"What's the point of being here if I can't see where Elvis and Priscilla got it on?"
"Dean, it's not important. We can see the rest of the house. Look, Dean, there's a car collection. You want to see that, don't you?" Sam tried to distract his brother, shoving the tour guide pamphlet at him, like one might dangle a treat under a child's nose.
"The hell it isn't....Wait, what car collection' Is the Cady here" I gotta see that. Do you think they ever did it in the back seat?"
Sam made a face. "Why is it always about sex with you? Can't you keep your mind out of the gutter just once?"
"My mind's not in the gutter. I just wanna know if they ever did it in the back seat. If it was my Cady..."
Sam raised a hand to silence him. He didn't want to know what Dean would want to do in the back seat of Elvis' pink Cadillac or with who, and he sure as hell didn't want to know what had gone on in the back seat of the Impala when he wasn't around.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed as he spied the words "Game Room" on the pamphlet and headed that way. There, right in front of his eyes, stood the pool table of all pool tables. The very one Elvis had played on. Dean couldn't resist. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and he wasn't about to let it pass him by.
Privately, Sam cringed. The Game Room was just as gaudy as the rest of the house, but Dean was loving it, and that was all that mattered.
The room was dark, the walls lined in some sort of weird, patterned wallpaper, stained glass lamps hanging from the ceiling, and a paisley print couch. Sam imagined what the room must have looked in its heyday, full of Mafia thugs, the air thick with cigar smoke.
There was a rope around the pool table, like everything else in the mansion, and a sign that clearly stated "Do not touch", but that didn't stop Dean. The next thing Sam knew, his brother was climbing over the rope, sliding his fingers along the wood trim of the pool table, and looking for a cue stick.
"Dean!" Sam hissed. "You can't go back there."
"What do you mean' I'm already back here," Dean smirked, amused at what he considered his brother's overactive sense of danger. They'd just put Lucifer in time out for all eternity, and Sam was worried about getting kicked out of Graceland. It was ridiculous. "I just want to make one break," he informed his brother.
"Are you nuts"!" Sam exclaimed, his head on a swivel, looking around for security, overhearing some kid ask, "Mommy, why's that man behind the rope" I thought that was against the rules."
"Rules are meant to be broken, kid," Sam heard Dean say in his head, but when he looked over, Dean was too busy breaking the rack. Sam groaned. "Hurry up before we get caught!" he scolded.
"You mean before I get caught, wuss," Dean corrected and made the break shot, sending billiard balls scurrying across the felt-lined table. He lined up his next shot, sinking two balls and sending Sam's heart rate through the roof before re-racking the balls and returning the cue stick to the cabinet.
"See" No harm, no foul." Dean thumped Sam on the back as he climbed back over the rope, looking like the cat that had just eaten the canary and tossing a wink at a pretty blond who'd stopped to watch and had caught his eye. He headed her way, drawn to a pretty face like a moth to a flame. "You worry too much. You're gonna die of a heart attack before you're forty."
"With you for a brother, I don't doubt it," Sam agreed and turned to follow Dean from the room, wondering if they'd get through the rest of the tour without getting kicked out.
"What do you mean we can't go upstairs"!" Dean asked, his voice reaching fever pitch. "I want to see the King's Throne!"
"I'm sorry, sir," the guard replied, standing in front of a roped-off staircase that led to a teal and gold-trimmed curtain. "No one goes upstairs, but family."
"Would you believe me if I told you I'm a long lost cousin?"
"No," the guard replied, having heard that countless times before.
"Would you believe my Uncle Ben is?" Dean countered, waving a one hundred dollar bill in front of the man's face.
"No," the guard repeated, not budging.
Dean crossed his arms against his chest and pouted.
"Come on, Dean. There's plenty of other things to see," Sam reminded his brother, resisting the urge to tug at his sleeve like a six-year old.
"What's the point of being here if I can't see where Elvis and Priscilla got it on?"
"Dean, it's not important. We can see the rest of the house. Look, Dean, there's a car collection. You want to see that, don't you?" Sam tried to distract his brother, shoving the tour guide pamphlet at him, like one might dangle a treat under a child's nose.
"The hell it isn't....Wait, what car collection' Is the Cady here" I gotta see that. Do you think they ever did it in the back seat?"
Sam made a face. "Why is it always about sex with you? Can't you keep your mind out of the gutter just once?"
"My mind's not in the gutter. I just wanna know if they ever did it in the back seat. If it was my Cady..."
Sam raised a hand to silence him. He didn't want to know what Dean would want to do in the back seat of Elvis' pink Cadillac or with who, and he sure as hell didn't want to know what had gone on in the back seat of the Impala when he wasn't around.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed as he spied the words "Game Room" on the pamphlet and headed that way. There, right in front of his eyes, stood the pool table of all pool tables. The very one Elvis had played on. Dean couldn't resist. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and he wasn't about to let it pass him by.
Privately, Sam cringed. The Game Room was just as gaudy as the rest of the house, but Dean was loving it, and that was all that mattered.
The room was dark, the walls lined in some sort of weird, patterned wallpaper, stained glass lamps hanging from the ceiling, and a paisley print couch. Sam imagined what the room must have looked in its heyday, full of Mafia thugs, the air thick with cigar smoke.
There was a rope around the pool table, like everything else in the mansion, and a sign that clearly stated "Do not touch", but that didn't stop Dean. The next thing Sam knew, his brother was climbing over the rope, sliding his fingers along the wood trim of the pool table, and looking for a cue stick.
"Dean!" Sam hissed. "You can't go back there."
"What do you mean' I'm already back here," Dean smirked, amused at what he considered his brother's overactive sense of danger. They'd just put Lucifer in time out for all eternity, and Sam was worried about getting kicked out of Graceland. It was ridiculous. "I just want to make one break," he informed his brother.
"Are you nuts"!" Sam exclaimed, his head on a swivel, looking around for security, overhearing some kid ask, "Mommy, why's that man behind the rope" I thought that was against the rules."
"Rules are meant to be broken, kid," Sam heard Dean say in his head, but when he looked over, Dean was too busy breaking the rack. Sam groaned. "Hurry up before we get caught!" he scolded.
"You mean before I get caught, wuss," Dean corrected and made the break shot, sending billiard balls scurrying across the felt-lined table. He lined up his next shot, sinking two balls and sending Sam's heart rate through the roof before re-racking the balls and returning the cue stick to the cabinet.
"See" No harm, no foul." Dean thumped Sam on the back as he climbed back over the rope, looking like the cat that had just eaten the canary and tossing a wink at a pretty blond who'd stopped to watch and had caught his eye. He headed her way, drawn to a pretty face like a moth to a flame. "You worry too much. You're gonna die of a heart attack before you're forty."
"With you for a brother, I don't doubt it," Sam agreed and turned to follow Dean from the room, wondering if they'd get through the rest of the tour without getting kicked out.