content: After hearing some suspicious noises coming out of Dean’s bedroom the night before, Sam decides to confront his brother.
word count: 2,088
“Dean, we need to talk.”
Sam’s voice sounds very serious while he leans against the kitchen counter and folds his stupidly long arms in front of his chest, glaring at his older brother with the familiar I-don’t-support-your-life-choices look. He doesn’t even waste his time with a “Good morning” or something similar and that’s always a bad sign.
Dean, however, isn’t really impressed by that. He places the bacon onto the hot pan at a leisurely pace, ignoring Sam completely, until he finally shoots a quick glance over his shoulder.
“And what’s so important at 7 a.m.?”
Sam huffs impatiently. “You know!”
Dean rolls his eyes. “No, I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
Sam fidgets uncomfortably as if he’d rather be somewhere else and doesn’t want to have this discussion at all. And then he starts to gesticulate, flailing his limbs in Dean’s vague direction, and performs a very complicated dance with his eyebrows.
“How about we talk about last night?”
Quite suddenly Dean’s attention is grabbed, but he keeps himself from acting like a deer in the headlights. Instead he clears his throat and asks, a bit croaky, “What do you mean?”
“Well, just look at you!” Sam says, pointing at Dean’s face with an accusatory expression. “There is that stupid grin I’ve seen so many times and I think it’s even worse than ever before. And let’s not even mention that huge hickey on your neck.”
Dean ducks his head and tries forcefully – and highly unsuccessfully – to fight back a blush.