TWO MEN AND A SHOWER
Characters: Sam and Dean
Spoilers/Warnings: Non-graphic nudity
Word count: 300
Disclaimer: Guess what, I don't own them!
The cockatrice blood was stinging like a bitch, and the Winchesters knew they had to get it off before it did them both some permanent damage. This, however, presented its own set of problems.
"What, you mean … together?"
"Yes Dean, we've gotta wash this off immediately. The letters' shower is big enough for us both."
"Yeah, but it's … you know … communal." Dean whispered the last word as if it was profoundly nasty.
"Dean, really? We're grown men."
"Yeah," Dean snapped; "grown men AND grown brothers. I don't want you seein' … my … y'know. An' I sure as hell don't wanna see yours!"
"Whatever;" Sam snorted, grimacing as he rubbed the burn spreading across his chest; "we'll stand back to back."
"No, that won't work," Dean mumbled; "you'll look."
"Why the hell would I look?" Sam replied irritably; "maybe you'll look too."
Dean shrugged; "like I said, we're grown men. It's what men do; they compare."
Sam sighed as the Impala pulled up outside the bunker. "keep your delusions of inadequacy to yourself, micro-jewels," he scratched his scalp furiously as they both scrambled out of the car; "I'm getting straight into that shower and you can damnwell blindfold me if you have to."
"Really?" Sam groaned; "we're actually blindfolding ourselves?"
"It's for the best," Dean snorted, tying a length of blue plaid around his own head. Sam was sure it looked like one of his shirts.
"This is stupid," Sam muttered, fiddling irritably with his own blindfold.
However, blindfolds aside, the shower worked its magic and cleansed the brothers' burning skin of the vile ichor with its cool soothing spray.
"I think it's worked really well," replied Dean sniffily; "we got clean without any awkwardness."
Then Sam reached out for the soap.
"Sam," Dean squeaked; "awkward! Really, REALLY AWKWARD!"