A Tight Spot
Dean's having a problem - it may sound depressingly familiar. It does to me anyway!!!
A TIGHT SPOT
Rating: K +
Genre: Humour
Word Count: approx 350
Disclaimer: Want, can't have ...
Sam's warned Dean about his eating habits before, but does he listen? Does he heck!
Sam paced up and down in front of the locked bathroom door.
"How long does it take to get dressed?" he yelled impatiently, feeling his painfully empty stomach growl. "C'mon dude, I'm hungry"
"Suck it up," a muffled voice from behind the door responded, "you can't rush perfection".
"It's a T shirt and jeans Dean - it's not a suit of armour!"
"Yeah well, it friggin' feels like one," the response sounded strained, like it came through clenched teeth.
Sam found himself listening at the door. He was sure he could hear groaning and grunting, panting and muttered obscenities. Never good sounds to hear from within a bathroom.
"Dean?" Sam called cautiously, timidly tapping on the door; "you okay in there?"
"Yep," came a squeaked response.
"Um, do you need some, uh, you know, like, um, laxative or something …"
"No!". The door clicked open and Dean stomped out. "No, I do not need laxative!" He was holding the two sides of his fly which were steadfastly refusing to meet in the middle.
"Friggin jeans won't do up," he grunted, face puce from the effort of sucking it in. "I reckon that last stupid laundry shrunk them;" The voice had conviction, but the face didn't.
Dean lifted the hem of his T shirt and stared intently at his twitching midriff as if he was expecting a forest imp to climb out of his bellybutton and wave at him.
They both regarded Dean's straining jeans. There, peeking over the top of the waistband was a very tiny, but very definite fledgeling paunch.
Sam stifled a snigger. "Uh, dude, I don't think there's any problem with the laundry".
Helpless green eyes looked up at Sam. "Ah, crap!"
"I've warned you to lay off the cheeseburgers" sniggered Sam gleefully. "It looks like rabbit food for you for the next few weeks!"
Dean squirmed with revulsion at the thought.
Sam continued to enjoy the moment, "we can start now if you like; that diner down the road does a nice Caesar salad - you can join me if you like".
Dean wilted miserably. "I would, but you'd better get it as a take out; and you can bring something else back with you"
"What?" asked Sam.
"A bigger pair of Jeans."
xxxxx
end
A TIGHT SPOT
Rating: K +
Genre: Humour
Word Count: approx 350
Disclaimer: Want, can't have ...
Sam's warned Dean about his eating habits before, but does he listen? Does he heck!
Sam paced up and down in front of the locked bathroom door.
"How long does it take to get dressed?" he yelled impatiently, feeling his painfully empty stomach growl. "C'mon dude, I'm hungry"
"Suck it up," a muffled voice from behind the door responded, "you can't rush perfection".
"It's a T shirt and jeans Dean - it's not a suit of armour!"
"Yeah well, it friggin' feels like one," the response sounded strained, like it came through clenched teeth.
Sam found himself listening at the door. He was sure he could hear groaning and grunting, panting and muttered obscenities. Never good sounds to hear from within a bathroom.
"Dean?" Sam called cautiously, timidly tapping on the door; "you okay in there?"
"Yep," came a squeaked response.
"Um, do you need some, uh, you know, like, um, laxative or something …"
"No!". The door clicked open and Dean stomped out. "No, I do not need laxative!" He was holding the two sides of his fly which were steadfastly refusing to meet in the middle.
"Friggin jeans won't do up," he grunted, face puce from the effort of sucking it in. "I reckon that last stupid laundry shrunk them;" The voice had conviction, but the face didn't.
Dean lifted the hem of his T shirt and stared intently at his twitching midriff as if he was expecting a forest imp to climb out of his bellybutton and wave at him.
They both regarded Dean's straining jeans. There, peeking over the top of the waistband was a very tiny, but very definite fledgeling paunch.
Sam stifled a snigger. "Uh, dude, I don't think there's any problem with the laundry".
Helpless green eyes looked up at Sam. "Ah, crap!"
"I've warned you to lay off the cheeseburgers" sniggered Sam gleefully. "It looks like rabbit food for you for the next few weeks!"
Dean squirmed with revulsion at the thought.
Sam continued to enjoy the moment, "we can start now if you like; that diner down the road does a nice Caesar salad - you can join me if you like".
Dean wilted miserably. "I would, but you'd better get it as a take out; and you can bring something else back with you"
"What?" asked Sam.
"A bigger pair of Jeans."
xxxxx
end