RUNNING IN THE FAMILY
WOW: clean. Henry Winchester is proud of his grandsons ... well, mostly.
Disclaimeer: I don't own any of them!
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Henry had always been a snappy dresser. No one could carry off a fedora like him, and his clean-cut herringbone suits had been his pride and joy.
It was a quality he'd inherited from his father. Winchester Snr had been a paragon of sartorial elegance, and Henry himself had hoped that John would grow up with a similar eye for quality.
Sitting in the diner, he watched Dean sit down beside him with his knees hanging out of his jeans; while Sam slumped opposite them him wearing something that could actually be a tarpaulin.
He sighed. Okay, sometimes these things skip a generation.
xxxxx
end