He laughs at that, shoots her a ... are you for real? sort-of look and shakes his head. “I guess. Haven't run into Norman Bates yet, at least.” (and he's totally watching for any flicker of confusion at the reference, because there are certain standards that should be met, references people should just 'get' if he's going to spend any time around them without going insane – Sam is exempt, of course, because he doesn't get anything, ever – why he's measuring Jo he's not quite sure, because she's totally not a prospect and even if she was this is about as 'wrong place, wrong time' as it gets). “Though you gotta wonder about anyone who picks lamps that match the wallpaper. Friggin' creepy”
She talks about watching the bar and seeing grandparents, and it's one of these ridiculous situations because it probably sounds just about as exotic to him as driving around the country staying in crappy motels must to her and neither is really that exciting or glamorous, and the way she describes how she sees life on the road strikes a chord – yeah, she gets it, the what-he'd-call-romanticism-if-that-didn't-sound-gay of driving until you're ready to drop, of never staying in the same place long enough to need to pick out bedspreads and curtains, of going where your wheels take you and never looking back, drive-thru coke in the cupholder and the same five albums rotating through the stereo to the point the tap wears thin enough to crackle like vinyl. The things Sam doesn't appreciate and never will.
> So you had to cook and watch Sam all the time and stuff? Did you mind that? I mean, I always bugged my parents about a younger sibling but everyone I know who has one seems to complain all the time about them
REO trail off at just the right moment for him to have a convenient excuse to walk away, giving her a one moment index-finger salute, washing his hands (because having seen Ellen with a rifle he's pretty sure he doesn't want to have to explain why there's raw meat on the seriously sweet jukebox) before heading over and scanning the list of titles looking for just the right one to show Jo what real music is. The first few drumbeats of Four Sticks fill the Roadhouse as he makes his way back into the kitchen, tapping his fingers in time with the bassline first on the top of his leg as he rejoins Jo then on the counter.
“Um... Sam. Right. Yeah” Picking up where they'd left off he shrugs, rubs the back of his neck with the hand not dedicated to music appreciation. “I mean, no... Our mom” - Dean clears his throat, licks his lips awkwardly before deciding to hell with it, it's not like he's ashamed or choked up or anything - “She died when Sam was a baby, and Dad's always on the road so it's not like there was anyone else around. It's always been” - pause, while he yowls out 'Cos you know I gotta get away from you' in less-than-perfect unison with Messr. Plant, strums on an invisible guitar, eyes closed in hell yes, now this is music bliss - “always been me looking out for him.”
He shrugs again - “Kinda comes with the whole 'brother' thing, though.” Because there really isn't anything that extraordinary about it, right?