Dean carefully tiptoed back toward the motel room's door. He was always so curious what his little brother was doing while he was gone away…
After he turned the doorknob, he very-very slowly started to open the front door.
First there was just a strange smell, and then the humming. Then Dean applied a little more pressure on the door, and frozen to death because of the view in front of him… Sam, his little Sammy, was humming. Right under his nose, some silly little girly song, and above all, he's panting his toe nails!
„SAAAAM! What's the hell…" Dean eats up the distance between them all at once and falling onto his knees and instantly started to lick at the painted nails.
„Dean? Damn it! What have you…oh, uh, ah, Dean, … DEAN, stop it! It's wet paint!" Sammy yelled.