The look Sam got just now, similar to the one yesterday night, was a bit creepy, too. It was the Sam-Winchester patented “Talking-to-victims-and-small-children-look”, number 18 in the Book of Sam’s Expressions.
Huh. Maybe he could use this to his advantage?
“Did you get me presents? Show me?” he made his own version of the puppy eyes and to his astonishment Sam seemed to melt in front of him. Hee!
“Sorry,” did Sam just hide his eyes in embarrassment? “Couldn’t find anything. Got you some t-shirts, but all short-sleeved. Really, this town is made of strangely-shaped persons, I swear. Not even…” “Not even what?” “Noteveninthewomenssectiondidtheyhaveanything”
It took a while, but Dean was so used to Sam’s mumbles that he figured this one out alone. He raised his eyebrows as high as they would go. “You looked in the chick-section? What, not enough that they beat me up for wearing another man’s stuff, now you want me to cross-dress as well? You want me to be kicked out of town, maybe tared and feathered as well?”
“NO!” Sam was horrified, which was a bit of a relief. “Man, there wasn’t anything, and I figured maybe, if the ch…women here were shaped strangely as well... Seems, though, that they are either too big or too slim, just like the guys. And all of them are maybe five feet tall, so…” Dean grimaced in disgust. The idea of walking around in jeans too short was even more undignified than walking in too long ones, so he should probably be glad that Sam wasn’t a midget instead of a giant. “Man, I want out of here. Yesterday, preferably.”
“Yeah, I get that. Here” Sam handed over the shirts, still wrapped in the plastic and Dean had to admit that even though they were not going to make a difference under his brother’s button-down-shirts, it felt like heaven to finally wear something that fit. “I found out something, though, so if I’m right, we can finish this hunt and leave tomorrow. Day after if you trip over the jeans again.” “Haha” Dean bared his teeth at Sam’s teasing remark and accompanying smirk. “Good, what did you find?”
***
Of course Sam was right. When has he ever not been right? Good thing they had left all their stuff in the motel this time, because now they both were soaked and smelled like crap. But at least the nasty thing was dead and the showers worked and the puppy-eyes had had the desired effect of getting the first shower. Sitting on the bed, even with even more bruises and a sprained ankle and dislocated/re-located/taped-and-splinted finger felt fantastic. Clean sheets, a soft and still firm mattress, clean hair and soapy smell… amazing what those can do to the morale. Even that the shampoo smelled like coconuts and his soap had the distinct aroma of pineapple didn’t spoil his mood any. So he smelled like Pina Colada? Who cared.
Tomorrow they would leave, find a washing-machine or buy new clothes if nothing was salvageable. No more sharing with his little brother; his own boxer-shorts. Fitting shoes! His own socks, which wouldn’t ride down in his boots anymore. Jeans that didn’t pinch and make him stumble and look like an idiot. What else can a man ask for?
And this huge, fleecy, warm and soft hoodie of Sam made him feel all comfy and meek. He snuggled into the pillow and closed his eyes, drifting a bit to the sound of running water from the shower next door.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
Re: Filled: Prompt #4 (and 3) (pt6)
Date: 2010-06-29 09:24 pm (UTC)The look Sam got just now, similar to the one yesterday night, was a bit creepy, too. It was the Sam-Winchester patented “Talking-to-victims-and-small-children-look”, number 18 in the Book of Sam’s Expressions.
Huh. Maybe he could use this to his advantage?
“Did you get me presents? Show me?” he made his own version of the puppy eyes and to his astonishment Sam seemed to melt in front of him. Hee!
“Sorry,” did Sam just hide his eyes in embarrassment? “Couldn’t find anything. Got you some t-shirts, but all short-sleeved. Really, this town is made of strangely-shaped persons, I swear. Not even…”
“Not even what?”
“Noteveninthewomenssectiondidtheyhaveanything”
It took a while, but Dean was so used to Sam’s mumbles that he figured this one out alone. He raised his eyebrows as high as they would go. “You looked in the chick-section? What, not enough that they beat me up for wearing another man’s stuff, now you want me to cross-dress as well? You want me to be kicked out of town, maybe tared and feathered as well?”
“NO!” Sam was horrified, which was a bit of a relief. “Man, there wasn’t anything, and I figured maybe, if the ch…women here were shaped strangely as well... Seems, though, that they are either too big or too slim, just like the guys. And all of them are maybe five feet tall, so…”
Dean grimaced in disgust. The idea of walking around in jeans too short was even more undignified than walking in too long ones, so he should probably be glad that Sam wasn’t a midget instead of a giant.
“Man, I want out of here. Yesterday, preferably.”
“Yeah, I get that. Here” Sam handed over the shirts, still wrapped in the plastic and Dean had to admit that even though they were not going to make a difference under his brother’s button-down-shirts, it felt like heaven to finally wear something that fit. “I found out something, though, so if I’m right, we can finish this hunt and leave tomorrow. Day after if you trip over the jeans again.”
“Haha” Dean bared his teeth at Sam’s teasing remark and accompanying smirk. “Good, what did you find?”
***
Of course Sam was right. When has he ever not been right? Good thing they had left all their stuff in the motel this time, because now they both were soaked and smelled like crap.
But at least the nasty thing was dead and the showers worked and the puppy-eyes had had the desired effect of getting the first shower. Sitting on the bed, even with even more bruises and a sprained ankle and dislocated/re-located/taped-and-splinted finger felt fantastic. Clean sheets, a soft and still firm mattress, clean hair and soapy smell… amazing what those can do to the morale. Even that the shampoo smelled like coconuts and his soap had the distinct aroma of pineapple didn’t spoil his mood any. So he smelled like Pina Colada? Who cared.
Tomorrow they would leave, find a washing-machine or buy new clothes if nothing was salvageable. No more sharing with his little brother; his own boxer-shorts. Fitting shoes! His own socks, which wouldn’t ride down in his boots anymore. Jeans that didn’t pinch and make him stumble and look like an idiot. What else can a man ask for?
And this huge, fleecy, warm and soft hoodie of Sam made him feel all comfy and meek. He snuggled into the pillow and closed his eyes, drifting a bit to the sound of running water from the shower next door.
**