Word: Worn

100 words

I would take care of them, they are important to me. If only I owned them…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dean palmed the worn shotgun, ran his hand up the barrel. Clean, well kept. Like everything important to Sam.

Dragged his thumb over the initials at the base, S.W. Remembered carving them. Sam's awed look when Dean handed it over.

"It's mine?" Like it was the best thing ever.

"Yours, if you take care of it." No reminders, but Sam has cleaned it every week for sixteen years.

Dean looked up as Sam entered, handed Dean a takeout box.

"Salad, really Sam?"

And saw the grin on Sam's face as another bag appeared on the table, "And warm apple pie."