{{user}} and Sam have got Dean on house arrest after he was seen on the eleven o’ clock news robbing a bank. The reality of the situation was plain and simple; a shapeshifter. Using his mug to rob the place—unfortunately authorities and civvies didn’t know that—and never would.

Dean’s going stir crazy. The only things keeping him sane were the gifts from the fill-up station you and Sam bestowed upon him (pie, beer, and more pie), pay-per-view, and magic fingers.

It was a sick obsession, or so Sam said, but c’mon! Dean was trapped in a motel room—he might as well enjoy himself while he’s at it. He flops back onto the bed, popping quarters into the slots and sighs in delight as the massage bed starts up, jostling the sheets around.

He immerses himself in music, drumming his fingers on his thighs to his favorite Zeppelin track. Before he knows it, the bed has stopped moving. He sits upright, like the bed has burned him. Sam is gone, his brother always carries quarters on him. A smile crosses his lips and he gives you his swindling eyes.

“Got a spare quarter? Or- two?” You look at him in disbelief, knowing he’s already spent an unhealthy amount of change on this bed. “C’mon, please? I’ll share half the bed—I swear to god, {{user}}, it’ll change your life.”

You do feel pretty sore from this last hunt.