A Double Bill of Damaged Dean

[dizzojay]

Says it all, really.

Both drabbles:
Genre: Humour
Rating: K+
Characters: Sam and Dean
Spoilers/Warnings: none
Word Count: 100
Disclaimer: Don't own them

FINGERS AND THUMBS

If only Dean were as good at DIY as he was at hunting.

xxxxx

BAM-BAM-BAM

BAM-BAM-BAM

Sam sighed and wearily kneaded his temples; he could feel a migraine brewing.

BAM-BAM-BAM

He wanted to shoot the asshole who donated a set of twelve matching framed classic car prints to the thrift store, and strangle the worker who put them in the window, right where Dean, boggle-eyed and salivating with joy, spotted them.

BAM-BAM-BAM

And now he had to listen to Dean hammering goddamn nails into his goddamn bedroom wall half the goddamn day to hang the goddamn things.

BAM-BAM- AAIEEEEE-OOOOOOWW-AUUGH-SONOFA-FREAKIN-BITCH!

Suddenly, it looked like Sam's evening was about to get a whole lot quieter.

xxxxx

end

LOVE HURTS

Dean's injured, Sam's concerned …

xxxxx

Sam watched as Dean emerged from the bathroom.

"Holy crap, … Dean?"

"What?"

Sam stared at Dean's bare back; "where'd you get those scratches on your back?"

Dean flinched; "nowhere, it's nothing," he mumbled, hastily tugging on his T-shirt.

"Bullshit," Sam snorted; "something's got their nails into you; your back's freakin' tiger-striped; let me look."

"No way," Dean grunted; "get your pervy urges someplace else."

"Dean, it could be infected; was it that chupacabra in Boulder?"

Dean shook his head.

"The black Dog in Maine?"

"Sam …"

Sam gasped; "not the werewolf?"

"No!"

"Well, what then?"

Dean sighed.

"Remember the waitress from the diner last week …"

xxxxx

end