Written by a prompt by dither_river over at the oh Sam community.
Thanks to my lovely beta si_star_x =)
Disclaimer: I own nothing
It starts with those damn shoes.
Somehow Sam had managed to find his size in shoes at Goodwill, which really wasn't so weird considering not everyone wants that shoe size.
Since his last ones been soaked with god knows what thing that creature had inside of him, Dean let Sam be proud of his find, not mentioning the sickly yellow color.
He'll tease Sam about it later.
The day after the shoe find, Sam is distraught. And hey, considering they just finished a hunt and were both tired and sore so he let it slip.
But the next day, when he wakes up way too early in the morning to Sam taking a stroll in the motel room, yeah, he's starting to get suspicious. And does his idiot brother tell him what's up? No, no, everything is just fine.
A few hours later, they're sitting around in the motel room, trying to figure out next hunt. Sam is pale and gives Dean a murderous look whenever Dean asks him what's up.
So Dean gives up and leaves to get them something to eat and comes back to -
- His gigantic brother jumping around on one foot, trying to wrench his shoe off with his hands. When he notices Dean's back he stops quickly.
"I... I can't get them off." And looks like such a five year old Dean has to smile.
"I knew you had big feet, but that they're still growing? No clue" He grins back.
"No, I really can't get them off!
"So? We'll buy you a shoehorn"
"No, Dean. I can't get them off"
"Dude, they're shoes. Not possessed crabs. Just pull a little."
"And you don't think I tried?" Yup. Sam is furious.
After that there's a moment in life Dean would rather forget. The-trying-to-take-Sam's-shoe-off-part.
It probably looked funny, but it really wasn't. Because the shoes are not just stuck on Sam's feet. They're shrinking too. And the harder they try, the tighter they'll stick.
After ten minutes of trying to get those ugly freaking yellow shoes off in all ways they can think of, Sam is sitting on the bed, whitefaced with pain.
Dean decides that it's time to stop, gives Sam some pills and pulls up a chair to sit on.
"So..what the hell?" he says and reaches for the whiskey bottle by the bed.
Sam shrugs and takes a few deep breaths, trying to handle the pain.
"We meet any pissed of witches, demons, or angels lately?" Dean asks tiredly and bring the whiskey bottle to his mouth.
"Only a few" Sam says with clenched teeth and reaches for the bottle.
"Pills and alcohol don't mix-" Dean says and get such a glare the situation's almost funny. He gives the bottle to Sam though, it was a long time ago they had any kind of moral in that kind of thing.
"I'm not sure it's an intentional curse for me" Sam says after drinking some.
"What do you mean? You don't think anyone's after us?" he grins.
"I just mean" Sam grimaces and moves his feet around "The shoes might have just been cursed, not knowing that I was going to be the one buy them."
"Shouldn't you have noticed it sooner? I mean, it was two days ago. And suddenly you can't get them off?"
Sam looks away, and Dean closes his eyes, "Sam?"
"I...ah... haven't really been able to get them off since... I put them on. Two days ago."
Which, Really?
Dean stands up. Now he's the one who's pissed.
"Dean"
"And you didn't think to TELL me that?"
"It... was embarrassing" Sam says, looking sorry.
"Yeah, Sam. But if you got cursed shoes on your feet, you're supposed to mention it!"
Dean sighs and sits down again. "I'll call Bobby."
-oOo-
Bobby had nothing.
So a few hours later they're still stuck with research, having no clue what they're up against.
When Sam admits he can't feel his feet anymore, Dean really panics.
And that's how he finds himself at gunpoint to an older man in a shabby little house down the river.
How they figured out who had left the shoes at Goodwill, that's another story Dean wants to forget. Miraculously enough, they did. And here he is.
"I have nothing at value" The man says calmly.
"The shoes" Dean says and the man looks down at his old brown shoes.
"You want my shoes?"
Dean rolls his eyes. "The shoes. The freaking yellow shoes."
The man looks confused for a moment, but then smiles a bit. "I don't have them anymore"
"I know. How do you get them off?" Dean's patience is running out.
"Oh." The man looks at Dean. "You ask them"
"What?"
"You say, please pretty yellow shoes can you let go of my feet?"
Dean's pretty sure Sam hasn't tried that.
-oOo-
The smell when they burn the shoes is worse than anything they've ever smelled. And that's saying something.
But gone there are.
Dean looks over at Sam standing by the now dying fire. He's much better now, nasty bruised feet, but at least he won't loose them. "Dude. Two days?"
"C'mon Dean, can't we just…forget about this?" Sam answers and tries to limp away, but falls.
"Oh no. No way" Dean answers, pulls Sam up and puts an arm around his shoulders, helping him walk to the car.
"If you ever hide anything like that again, I'll kick your ass. Understood?"
Sam nods and looks down at the old brown shoes he's wearing. Dean thinks he'll wait a while before telling Sam it's the old guy's shoes. They're not cursed though, Dean made sure of that.
They're back at the car. Sam grimaces, closes his eyes and leans his head back.
Dean sits down in the driver seat and starts the car when he realizes something.
"Two days. You actually went to bed wearing those things?"
Sam opens his eyes and sighs "Yeah, Dean. I didn't want you to know okay."
"Because they were yellow?"
"You already knew that. I just… didn't want you to know they were cursed"
"Dude… they were yellow."
"But they fit"
"You bought yellow shoes"
"I get it, I'll never buy yellow shoes again" Sam says with an eye roll and closes his eyes again.
"Yeeeeellow" He says again, and this time he laughs.
And they drive of, both laughing and never ever buying yellow shoes again.
-end-