la cocina es el centro de la casa happened because we were talking about how Dean can make authentic Mexican food and happily watches telenovellas and yet apparently can't speak two words of Spanish. So we were speculating about how maybe he and Sam wound up parked with some latina grandma at some point during their childhoods, and what she wrote as a result is delightful:
They’re long days, out here. Mrs. Gutierrez lives far enough away from town that there’s no way Dean’s walking—he’d roast before he got more than a mile. Dad’s got the Impala, of course, and Mrs. Gutierrez loaned her ancient Ford to another one of the older Mexican guys who’d gone along to help. Dean’s got his and Sam’s duffels and they’ve got a shotgun each, not that Dean would be letting Sammy help if it came to a fight. He can’t waste ammo on shooting practice, though, and it’s too hot to try to get Sam to wrestle with him, and there’s nothing to do. Sam’s been reading, of course—he picked up the summer reading list from his last school and they kinda accidentally stole a bunch of library books when Dad abruptly took them out of Boise a few weeks ago. Dean’s been reduced to watching these really terrible Mexican soap operas in the kitchen with Mrs. Gutierrez when she does her embroidery in the afternoons. He can’t understand what anyone’s saying, but the acting’s so over-the-top that he sort of gets it. Right now he thinks Rogelio is sleeping with his brother’s wife, though it might just be someone’s secretary. Mrs. Gutierrez clucks her tongue disapprovingly when Rogelio starts making out with the lady, and shakes her head. “Es una bruja,” she says, and bites off a piece of thread. “Él va a perder su corazon, y luego su pinga.”
“She’s totally going to cheat on him, too,” Dean says. And—yep, whatshername smiles all sexy over Rogelio’s shoulder at the other dude, and he and Mrs. Gutierrez sigh at the same time.