WATER BABY
WOW: wash. There's drama in the Bunker's bathroom.
Disclaimer: I don't own them
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Sam had feared that he would rue the day he agreed to Dean installing a bathtub in the Men of Letters' bathroom.
Dean had been like a kid at Christmas, and Sam had barely seen his brother ever since they got the damn thing. It wasn't even that Dean was using the bathtub for its intended purpose but instead was hogging the bathroom and luxuriating for hours and hours submerged in gallons of hot suds, blaring endless mullet rock, imbibing beer and filling the bunker with clouds of pine-scented steam.
Sam had hardly been able to get near the bathroom. He hadn't had a wash for two days, or a shave for three days. His hair felt like it had been dragged through a hedge, and worst of all, more than once he'd had to make use of the bushes behind the bunker for purposes he'd rather not think about.
But now enough was enough.
Dean had ten minutes to get his perfectly washed, cleansed and over-scrubbed ass out of the goddamn bathtub and out of the bathroom otherwise Sam was going to piss in his boot.
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