ART FROM THE HEART
WOW: Heart. All art comes from the heart. Sometimes it goes over your heart.
Disclaimer: I don't own them
xxxxx
Dean scowled. "So, let me get this straight; we've got to paint symbols on our skin to protect us against the succubus."
"Yup," Sam nodded; "It's not safe to do this hunt, otherwise."
"When have our hunts ever been safe?" Dean snorted.
"Forget it, "Sam snapped; "we're not taking any chances."
"Okay, so where's it supposed to go?" Dean asked.
"Here," Sam gestured toward his chest; "over our hearts; two concentric circles bisected by an inverted trident."
Dean sighed. "Damnit Sam, I'm crap at art stuff."
"Want some help?" Sam offered.
"No thanks," Dean scoffed, "I don't wanna look like a walking, talking Muriel."
"Your loss", Sam smirked offering Dean a paintbrush and a can full of slimy, dark liquid.
Shucking his T-shirt. Dean snatched the paintbrush, dipped it in the paint can and clumsily began his work.
"Ugh, this paint's sticky," he muttered gruffly.
"Well, it does contain goat's blood and yew tree sap," Sam replied, busying himself with his own masterpiece.
"Okay," Dean announced eventually; "I'm all done."
Sam turned and regarded the sketchy sigil daubed across Dean's chest, watching a stray dribble of paint that trickled lazily down his midriff.
Sam sighed. "Dude, seriously;" he groaned, "I said inverted trident – not tripod!"
xxxxx
end