Author's Note:
Guess what? Another one in the closet. Call it a redemption of some kinds. Wish you like it.
A drabble. Sort of. T for language. SPN (sadly) is not mine, not like all mistakes you might find in this un-betaed story. Enjoy!
TIGHT
"God, Sammy… so tight…" Dean grunted. His eyes shut tight.
"Yeah… keep trying, Dean." Sam let out a deep sigh. Looking at the effort his brother had managed to muster, he couldn't help but smile. Teasingly.
"Don't you see I'm trying so hard here?" Dean snapped irritably while his gigantor of a little brother could only chuckle at his mighty attempt.
"Sure you've done your best?" Sam's smile grew even wider, "try pushing it harder."
"I AM!" Dean almost yelled. Sweat had started to bead on his temple and upper lips. "I've tried my best but I just can't push through. It's stuck, goddammit!"
"Well, if it doesn't work, don't force it then. It might tear."
"No, it won't!"
"Sure, it will."
"Not helping here, Sam."
"Right. Keep trying and I'll die waiting."
Sam ran his fingers through his hair. Frustrated Dean could be so amusing sometimes. Like he didn't seem to know when to stop. "Just give up, will you, Dean?"
"Why should I?" Dean glared menacingly at his sibling, refusing to admit defeat. Not so soon.
"Dean," Sam spoke in his best I-told-you-so tone of voice, "no matter what you do, it won't fit. You really have to stop before actually hurting yourself."
"I'm not…"
The words finally lost in silence. Evaporated in the motel room's stale air. Sam folded his arms in front of his chest. There was no way Dean was winning it.
"It's okay, Dean," Sam persuaded one last time, "just let go."
And that was it. Dean's shoulder finally slumped in defeat. His sigh was deep, low, and full of disappointment. "But I love this jeans…"
"Good. Put that away would you? I'll get you oriental chicken salad for dinner. No more sugar for you."
~ FIN ~
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