E/O Drabble Challenge
Challenge Word: FLAKE
For whatever reason, this idea for a second drabble came to me today and I had to write it. It's a nice counterbalance to the serious, sad one I posted yesterday.
Word Count: 300
Other players in the challenge are now too many to list here! There are lots of people playing in this Supernatural leaf pile. You can find the list of names at Enkidu07's profile page and/or OnyxMoonbeam's profile page. Also, to find all of the lovely drabbles, there's a sweet little C2 community out there to subscribe to and enjoy. You can find the link on their profile pages mentioned above.
Disclaimer: Neither the boys nor anything related to Supernatural belongs to me. I'm just having some fun with the boys, playing around with Eric Kripke's sandbox.
THINGS ARE A LITTLE FLAKEY
By: Vanessa Sgroi
"I'll be back," muttered Dean as he grabbed the Impala's keys and headed toward the door, hastily tucking a wrinkled t-shirt into the waistband of a pair of questionably-grungy jeans. Along the way, he stuffed his bare feet into his boots.
Brow wrinkling in confusion, Sam asked, "Where're you going in such a hurry?"
"Store."
"The store? For what? Two seconds ago you were heading for the shower."
Dean stopped and swung around, expression oddly frantic. "I found a flake."
"A…flake? Of…?"
"You know…dandruff…" Dean mumbled, suddenly looking shifty-eyed, as if this was an indictment of his personal hygiene habits.
"So?"
"So I have to go get some sort of—you know—that special shampoo. Make sure this doesn't get worse." There was a slightly horrified emphasis on the last word.
"Dude, I think you can relax…"
"But I wear a lotta black, Sam…" Dean argued. "I mean, half my t-shirts are black, right? To hide the blood…"
"Look, it happens to the best of us, Dean. Especially in winter 'cause the air's so dry. Save yourself a trip—just use some of my conditioner."
Dean wrinkled his nose. "You mean the one that smells like rotting flowers?"
"It doesn't smell like flowers, rotting or otherwise. According to the package, it's supposed to smell like a rushing mountain river."
Dean heaved an aggrieved sigh. "Right. You know, a real rushing mountain river would probably smell like fish."
It was Sam's turn to sigh over his contrarian sibling. "Dude, whatever! Are you going to use some or not?"
"It'll help?"
"Yes."
"And it won't…do anything to my hair?"
Sam ran a hand down his face. "Dean, it's conditioner—not acid."
"All right, fine. I'll use it."
"Good—crisis averted. Now go take that shower, man. I can smell you from here."
FIN
