E/O Challenge: Twist
Word Count: 100 words in each of three related drabbles. Very related. So related they are like brothers, or something.
Happy Birthday to the awe-inspiring Supernoodle. She asked for hurt Dean, bless her awesome heart, and anyone as awesome as that, deserves some awesome… going to stop now. Hope you enjoy these.
A/N: To Paul v: Thank you for reviewing last week. Your question, "What's the point in these drabbles?", deserves an answer. I admit—until I started to write them, I didn't like them that much either. But once I did? 100 word drabbles are hard. Done right, freaky hard. I don't always make it, but man, do they teach you about word choice and plot in a brutally efficient way. Every single word of your teensy weensy story has to count. It taught me tough, practical lessons about writing. And in the right mind set, they are also a heck of a lot of fun to write.
A/N 2: Speaking of, these make up one 300 word story. Sighs. Like I said, I don't always make it.
Disclaimer thingy.


"Twisted".

Sam knelt down, eyeing Dean's arm. "Dean, you twist an ankle, not an elbow."

"No, idiot. Fugly twisted it."

Sam put his giant hands on both sides of the joint. "Bro, it's really swollen."

"Ow!" Dean squirmed backwards on his butt, gasping when he hit a tree. "Hurts like a bitch. Need a minute."

"I'll burn the corpse. Don't move, okay?

"Not moving."

"I'm serious. Wait."

"Waiting."

"Stay."

"Woof."

Eyebrows bunched—a muscle in Sam's jaw flexed. Dean gave him a thumbs up.

Frowning, Sam slipped into the underbrush.

Dean cradled his arm, gritted his teeth, and stood up.


Please read chapter two.