Sorry I'm late posting this drabble, but it just slipped out of my head.
The word this time is game. I don't own Supernatural.
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The boys stood at the entrance of the warehouse, looking uneasy.
"Who's going in?" Dean asked.
As if they needed to settle this once and for all, Sam raised his fist for rock paper scissors. Dean sighed in exasperation, knowing he had to play that "stupid game" again.
And of course, one, two, and… Sam threw out rock while Dean threw out scissors, as usual.
Sam smirked, and Dean stomped on the ground in defeat.
"I really hate this game," he grunted.
"Here's a tip," Sam said. "One of us picks paper next time. And that way, you would win."
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