'Sam. You seen my red shirt?'
'It's in the wash.'
'What? No! Dude, I was gonna wear it tonight. That shirt is a chick-magnet.'
Sam's snort echoed through the bunker. 'And here was me thinking it was your 'ruggedly handsome' looks!'
Dean sniffed. 'Even Winchester genes need a helping hand now and then.'
'Hmm! Those Winchester genes which forced me to take out your half-Amazon daughter- and my niece- when she tried to kill you. Or the genes Dad used to present us with a half-brother we got to meet only after he'd been snacked on by ghouls.'
:
For a moment silence reigned, then Dean coughed. 'I'd settle for a boys' night out, chug down a few beers, play some pool, maybe a hand of poker. Like old times. You up for it, Sammy?'
Sam unleashed a smile, and like a ray of sunshine it warmed Dean's heart. Once again, he marvelled at the power of their bond, or whatever the hell it was that kept them circling each other like the Earth and the Moon.
'I'm in. We can twin up in our green shirts. They're squeaky clean,' Sam grinned.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::
'You two members of Greenpeace or something?'
'Ladies. Take a seat,' Dean said as the two attractive girls hovered uncertainly at their table.
'Actually, we're activists of D.S.W, ' Sam broke in, his expression utterly serious. 'Don't Slaughter Wildlife.'
'Cool,' the girls commented in admiration.
:
Amused, Dean caught his brother's gaze and a silent conversation ensued.
§ DSW- not bad, Sammy! As for Winchester Genes. They Rule! It's a law of physics. §
§ You're incorrigible! §
§ Bitch §
§ Jerk §
