Team Sam Fic: It's a Manly Art
It’s a Manly Art
Dean didn’t understand it.
He knew his brother was weird - hell, he’s been that way since the day he was born -- but knitting? He just didn’t get it.
Sure, Sam has a sensitive side, but he's just as manly as Dean … okay … maybe not as manly as Dean, no one could be, but he was close enough that he shouldn’t be on the verge of joining a freaking crafting club and catching up on the latest gossip with all of the other grandmothers.
So really … he didn’t see what the big honkin’ deal is and he doesn’t feel guilty about throwing those damn needles and yarn balls out the window because Sam had been a total asshole back at that diner in Alabama. As it was, he was pretty damned lucky Dean hadn’t tossed him out of the moving car instead just his knitting crap.
However, even though Sam totally deserved it, Dean kinda, sorta, maybe, might have regrets about it.
Sam didn’t come right out and say that he missed his hobby and he hadn’t made an attempt to purchase new needles and yarn (maybe as some sort of penance for the stunt he pulled on Dean), but the kid clearly had some issues that knitting was helping him with because ever since he stopped, Sam started doing those little OCD things he did when he was stressed that always drove Dean insane when they were kids.
First he organized the trunk, which Dean didn’t mind too much since the thing was a mess and all of their weapons and crap were kind of just strewn about haphazardly, but then he started to clean and organize everything else too. He meticulously made their beds, alphabetized Dean’s cassette tapes, cleaned all of the weapons, organized all of the knives from largest to smallest, and literally growled at Dean if he dared to leave a sock on the floor or leave a speck of dirt behind him - it was like living with Monk and if Dean didn’t do something fast, he was going to lose his marbles.
So, there he was - standing in the middle of a local Hobby Lobby, wondering how much stranger his life could get and feeling completely lost while looking for a damned pair of knitting needles, and some yarn. But he was determined to make sure that if knitting kept his brother from making Dean’s life a living hell, then Sam was gonna damn well do it … even it is was gayer than all of the fabulous clothes in Liberace's closet.
OoOoOoOo
Sam heard the motel room door open and close from behind the bathroom door where he was just finishing up scrubbing the tub. It really wasn’t all that dirty, but since he had pretty much given up on trying to take up knitting again, he needed something to do with his hands.
Even though Dean had deserved every ounce of his humiliation back at that diner in Alabama, his brother’s reaction to it all by throwing his knitting out the car window only proved to Sam what Dean really thought about his hobby and maybe it was all for the best that he gave it up.
While he could argue that pigeon-holing men and women into stereotypical roles over who should be allowed to knit and who should not was fundamentally sexist, and if it was okay for women to hunt or shoot guns, then it should be just as equally acceptable for a man to knit, he felt himself thinking that maybe Dean was right - it was kind weird for a guy to knit and perhaps it was a little … effeminate.
So Sam cleaned.
Everything …
A lot.
“Sam?” Dean yelled as he stomped into the room. Sam pinched his face as he imagined the trail of dirt and mud his brother was probably tracking in.
“What?” Sam yelled back.
“I’m only staying for a minute. I left some food and stuff for ya on the bed.”
Sam rubbed at a particularly stubborn rust spot, “Where ya going?” He asked.
“Just out. Ya know … do some research.”
Sam snorted, “Right … you could just say you’re going to a bar.”
“Okay, fine. I’m going to a bar. Don’t wait up for me.”
“Whatever.” Sam shouted back.
Once Sam had as much of the spot rubbed out as humanly possible, he finally felt tired enough to possibly get some sleep and he left the bathroom, heading for his bed only to find not just his food still waiting for him, but another bag sitting next to it that he was more than a little surprised to see: a Hobby Lobby bag.
Dean was in a Hobby Lobby?
That mental image alone was enough to bring a grin to Sam’s face.
Curious, he went to the bag and looked inside. He found a fresh pair of knitting needles, three skeins of black yarn, and a book called Knitting with Balls: The Manly Art.
Attached to the book and covering the picture of a cowboy sitting on a horse while knitting a sweater was a post-it note scribbled in the chicken scratch that Dean calls writing:
Hey Bitch,
Got you this shit since I think you need to expand your skills and make me a hat or something instead of another goddamn scarf. Seriously, dude … no more scarves!
-D
The End
Dean didn’t understand it.
He knew his brother was weird - hell, he’s been that way since the day he was born -- but knitting? He just didn’t get it.
Sure, Sam has a sensitive side, but he's just as manly as Dean … okay … maybe not as manly as Dean, no one could be, but he was close enough that he shouldn’t be on the verge of joining a freaking crafting club and catching up on the latest gossip with all of the other grandmothers.
So really … he didn’t see what the big honkin’ deal is and he doesn’t feel guilty about throwing those damn needles and yarn balls out the window because Sam had been a total asshole back at that diner in Alabama. As it was, he was pretty damned lucky Dean hadn’t tossed him out of the moving car instead just his knitting crap.
However, even though Sam totally deserved it, Dean kinda, sorta, maybe, might have regrets about it.
Sam didn’t come right out and say that he missed his hobby and he hadn’t made an attempt to purchase new needles and yarn (maybe as some sort of penance for the stunt he pulled on Dean), but the kid clearly had some issues that knitting was helping him with because ever since he stopped, Sam started doing those little OCD things he did when he was stressed that always drove Dean insane when they were kids.
First he organized the trunk, which Dean didn’t mind too much since the thing was a mess and all of their weapons and crap were kind of just strewn about haphazardly, but then he started to clean and organize everything else too. He meticulously made their beds, alphabetized Dean’s cassette tapes, cleaned all of the weapons, organized all of the knives from largest to smallest, and literally growled at Dean if he dared to leave a sock on the floor or leave a speck of dirt behind him - it was like living with Monk and if Dean didn’t do something fast, he was going to lose his marbles.
So, there he was - standing in the middle of a local Hobby Lobby, wondering how much stranger his life could get and feeling completely lost while looking for a damned pair of knitting needles, and some yarn. But he was determined to make sure that if knitting kept his brother from making Dean’s life a living hell, then Sam was gonna damn well do it … even it is was gayer than all of the fabulous clothes in Liberace's closet.
OoOoOoOo
Sam heard the motel room door open and close from behind the bathroom door where he was just finishing up scrubbing the tub. It really wasn’t all that dirty, but since he had pretty much given up on trying to take up knitting again, he needed something to do with his hands.
Even though Dean had deserved every ounce of his humiliation back at that diner in Alabama, his brother’s reaction to it all by throwing his knitting out the car window only proved to Sam what Dean really thought about his hobby and maybe it was all for the best that he gave it up.
While he could argue that pigeon-holing men and women into stereotypical roles over who should be allowed to knit and who should not was fundamentally sexist, and if it was okay for women to hunt or shoot guns, then it should be just as equally acceptable for a man to knit, he felt himself thinking that maybe Dean was right - it was kind weird for a guy to knit and perhaps it was a little … effeminate.
So Sam cleaned.
Everything …
A lot.
“Sam?” Dean yelled as he stomped into the room. Sam pinched his face as he imagined the trail of dirt and mud his brother was probably tracking in.
“What?” Sam yelled back.
“I’m only staying for a minute. I left some food and stuff for ya on the bed.”
Sam rubbed at a particularly stubborn rust spot, “Where ya going?” He asked.
“Just out. Ya know … do some research.”
Sam snorted, “Right … you could just say you’re going to a bar.”
“Okay, fine. I’m going to a bar. Don’t wait up for me.”
“Whatever.” Sam shouted back.
Once Sam had as much of the spot rubbed out as humanly possible, he finally felt tired enough to possibly get some sleep and he left the bathroom, heading for his bed only to find not just his food still waiting for him, but another bag sitting next to it that he was more than a little surprised to see: a Hobby Lobby bag.
Dean was in a Hobby Lobby?
That mental image alone was enough to bring a grin to Sam’s face.
Curious, he went to the bag and looked inside. He found a fresh pair of knitting needles, three skeins of black yarn, and a book called Knitting with Balls: The Manly Art.
Attached to the book and covering the picture of a cowboy sitting on a horse while knitting a sweater was a post-it note scribbled in the chicken scratch that Dean calls writing:
Hey Bitch,
Got you this shit since I think you need to expand your skills and make me a hat or something instead of another goddamn scarf. Seriously, dude … no more scarves!
-D
The End