PRIORITIES
WOW: slip. Dean has his own, very unique set of priorities.
Disclaimer: I don't own them!
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It was a beautiful winter day, alive with sunshine and nose-tingling icy air, and Dean felt energised as he walked back from the store, laden with grocery bags, plus a small bottle of his very favourite whiskey secreted in his jacket pocket – because Sam would only bitch and moan if he saw it.
Dean didn't see the icy patch on the ground until he slipped on it, toppling ass over head into an ungainly heap.
Dazed and breathless, he slowly sat up, relieved to find himself injury-free.
Until he felt something wet trickling down his hip.
'Please let that be blood', he sighed.
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