Sam yawned and sat up, running his hand through his messy short hair. He looked around the dimly lit motel room, Dean was on the sofa, smirking up at him.
"Nice bed hair," Sam sent bitch face #12 at him and staggered off to the bathroom.
"You better not have used all the water up," he called, scratching his stomach.
There was only a grunt-sigh from Dean.
Sam shucked off the top he slept in and squinted at the mirror. He frowned, and backed, flapping at the light switch. After a few tries, the light flickered on.
Sam gasped, breath painful in his chest. He ran to the mirror and stared at himself in it.
His beautiful hair...
Sam fell as the floor came up and gave him a bear hug.
XXXxxxXXX
Dean knocked on the door. He hadn't heard Sam after a loud thump. He slowly nudged the door open. Something was blocking it. He finally got it open enough to thrust his head into the gap. His brother was slumped against the door, Dean's heart sped up until he saw the rise and fall of his brother's shirtless chest. He thumped the door open, and slipped in next to Sam.
He filled a glass of water from the sink and poured it heartlessly over Sam's face and chest. His brother gasped in a sharp breath and sat up, his mouth wide open.
His eyes were panicked, staring around the room until he saw his brother.
"Dean!" he wore a shit-eating grin, sitting back on his haunches.
Dean gestured to his own head,
"Remember anything?" he smirked. Sam gasped again, scrabbling to get up. His hands landed heavily on the counter top. His shaven head was tufty; almost bald places and clumps almost as long as his old hair. His breathing quickened, dislodging glistening drops of water that dripped down his perfectly toned chest
"Dean..." he whimpered. "Why?"
His brother appeared in the reflection beside him.
"Short hair or long hair, pie or cake, what's the difference, right?"