CHANGING CHANNELS
WOW: gape. There is only one custodian of the remote control in the Men of Letters' bunker.
Disclaimer: I don't own them
xxxxx
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ-*snort*-ZZZZZZZZZZZ-*snuck*-ZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Sam scowled.
Dean had insisted they sit up late to watch some trashy zombie B-movie on TV and now, ten minutes in, he was sprawled unconscious over the couch, mouth agape, shaking the bunker with snores that wouldn't sound out of place in a zoo.
ZZZ-ZZZ-ZZZ-ZZZ-*snuffle*-ZZZ-ZZZ-ZZZ-*gurgle*-ZZZ-ZZZ
Sam hadn't even wanted to watch this unmitigated crap anyway. Giving Dean a cautious side-eye, he slyly reached for the remote and his headphones; there was a documentary about the Antarctic ecosystem on another channel which sounded awesome.
He'd barely switched over ...
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ - *gnuh?* "Hey bitch … I was watching that!"
xxxxx
End