Word count: 316
Genre: Humor
Rating: worksafe
Prompt: Brochesters, shower
"Dean, did you use up my shampoo again?"
Sam's annoyed voice echoed through the motel room, and Dean winced at the volume; not even the loud music in his headphones could drown out the sound of his little brother shouting.
"Calm down willya!" he yelled back. "I didn't touch your pansy-ass shampoo; I don't wanna end up smelling like flowers and shit."
Sam appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and dripping wet. His eyebrows were furrowed and he glared daggers at Dean where he lay on his bed.
"My shampoo does not smell like flowers, Dean, as you very well know, since you used all of it!"
"Dude, seriously. I did not use your shampoo. Maybe you've been washing your hair in your sleep or something. Just use soap."
Sam blanched. "'Just use so—' Dean, do you have any idea how bad that stuff is for your hair? You gotta take care of it or you'll end up bald before you're forty!"
"I will not end up bald ever. Soap's been good enough for me since forever, Sam, it's just you who are a delicate little girl with girl-hair that needs special attention, ok?"
Sam glared at him with the full force of The Bitchface until Dean shrugged and turned away, showing his brother his back and turning up the volume on his MP3 even further. After a while, he could hear Sam's stomp back into the bathroom and shut the door behind him - loudly. Dean glanced back once, making sure that the door was, indeed, properly closed, before tentatively reaching up to tangle his fingers in the hair at his temples, checking for thin or uneven patches.
Sam sniggered as he watched through the keyhole, turning and stepping back into the shower, where he proceeded to wash his hair using his (not even half-empty) bottle of shampoo.