Hobby fic: Multi-Purpose
Multi-Purpose
Sam cast off his last stitch then held up his newest creation with a critical eye. All in all, it didn’t look too bad for his first try at knitting something other than a scarf and though it had taken him the better part of a week just to understand the terms in the book Dean had given him on knitting, he had finally done it - he’d knitted his first hat.
Even if it did look like something a kindergartner had made.
“What the Hell is that?” Dean asked as he suddenly walked into the room, startling Sam. He felt his face flush a little with heat; he was still a little uncomfortable with his big brother knowing that he liked to knit and he had done almost all of the work on it while his brother was out either getting food or getting wasted at whatever bar happened to be closest. He hadn’t expected him to return with dinner so quickly and had thought he would have more time to pack the hat away since he hadn’t actually intended for the hat to actually be seen by his brother.
He had figured that he would do to the hat what he had done to all of the scarves he made -- just toss it in the nearest drop box for the Salvation Army or Goodwill store. Even then, he doubted that the donation would go to any use since he had dropped several stitches and there were weird holes in it where he had messed up the ribbing.
“N - Nothing.” Sam stuttered.
He hastily hit it behind his back, even though Dean had already seen the damn thing.
“Looks like something to me …c’mon, let me see it.” Dean demanded, dropping their bag of food on the table and advancing on him, trying to grab behind Sam’s back and snatch it from his hand.
“No. Stop it!” Sam fought back and soon there was a scuffle as Dean pounced on him like a feral cat. Their limbs tangled with each other as they each fought for the upper hand. Soon they were both falling from the bed Sam had been sitting on and they came crashing to the floor. Sam rolled onto his back, with his hand clenched around the hat, but Dean was on top of him, attempting to straddle his hips and making a grab for the thing. Purely on instinct, Sam’s knee jerked up and found that one spot on every man’s body that caused instant and debilitating agony.
Dean froze in shock. A look of pure betrayal flashed across on his face while a high-pitched wheeze escaped from lips stuck open in the shape of an ‘O’ .
Even when they sparred and tussled like they just had, there was a long-standing rule that one didn’t go for the cheap shot. Sure, faces could be punched, ribs could be cracked, and noses could be broken, but going for the junk … that was just low.
Sam winced in empathy and immediate regrets, “Shit, man … I’m sorry. You okay?”
Dean fell to his side, curled into a small ball as he rocked back and forth, “Urhnnnn …” He groaned in response.
“Look … it was an accident. I didn’t mean …”
“Arngnnnggg.” Dean moaned, which Sam translated as something akin to ‘Shut it!'
Dean continued to take shuddering breaths for several moments until he let out a low, deep throated “Jeeeeezzzuuuusss.” when he recovered enough to make somewhat identifiable words.
“Dude … Can I do anything or get you something?”
Dean turned and shot Sam a look of ineffable fury and uttered one word, “Ice.”
Crap …
Sam remembered that they had used the last of their instant ice packs from the med-kit, so he hurried out of the room with the small bucket the motel provided for ice and quickly filled it from the ice machine around the corner. When he came back into the room Dean was sitting up, but was still red in the face and hunched over in pain. Sam went to the bathroom for a towel to wrap the ice in, but found they had all been used and were either too wet or too big for the ice.
“Dammit, Sam. What are you doing? Just give me the freaking ice already.” Sam heard his brother growl as he came back out of the bathroom.
“Just a sec, I’m looking for something to put the ice in.” Sam looked about then saw the hat lying on the floor where he had dropped behind Dean. He crossed over and grabbed the thing then filled it with ice, tying it up with an extra length of yarn. It was looked ridiculous, but at least Dean was finally going to see what he had made.
Sam handed Dean the ice-filled hat and his brother looked up at him with one eyebrow raised in incredulity, “You gotta be kidding me … you knitted an ice bag?”
Sheepishly, Sam twisted his facial features, “It’s supposed to be a hat.” He informed his brother.
Dean grumbled something under his breath and snatched the hat turned ice bag. He then stripped to his boxers before painfully making his way onto the nearest bed and lying down with a sigh, he placed the ice over his sensitive and now bruised area.
“I’m really sorry, Dean …”
Dean closed his eyes and shook his head, “Just shut-up and go get a real ice bag, bitch -- this damn thing is already starting to leak all over me.”
Sam did as he was told and grabbed the car keys from the table so he could head to the nearest drug store. Feeling guilty, he made a mental note to make sure he picked up something else to ease the boiling anger his brother was harboring against him - maybe a king-sized bag of peanut M&Ms.
Sam looked back at his brother on the bed whose one open eye was shooting daggers at him. He winced in sympathy and realized he better make that a 2lb bag of M&Ms.
The End
Sam cast off his last stitch then held up his newest creation with a critical eye. All in all, it didn’t look too bad for his first try at knitting something other than a scarf and though it had taken him the better part of a week just to understand the terms in the book Dean had given him on knitting, he had finally done it - he’d knitted his first hat.
Even if it did look like something a kindergartner had made.
“What the Hell is that?” Dean asked as he suddenly walked into the room, startling Sam. He felt his face flush a little with heat; he was still a little uncomfortable with his big brother knowing that he liked to knit and he had done almost all of the work on it while his brother was out either getting food or getting wasted at whatever bar happened to be closest. He hadn’t expected him to return with dinner so quickly and had thought he would have more time to pack the hat away since he hadn’t actually intended for the hat to actually be seen by his brother.
He had figured that he would do to the hat what he had done to all of the scarves he made -- just toss it in the nearest drop box for the Salvation Army or Goodwill store. Even then, he doubted that the donation would go to any use since he had dropped several stitches and there were weird holes in it where he had messed up the ribbing.
“N - Nothing.” Sam stuttered.
He hastily hit it behind his back, even though Dean had already seen the damn thing.
“Looks like something to me …c’mon, let me see it.” Dean demanded, dropping their bag of food on the table and advancing on him, trying to grab behind Sam’s back and snatch it from his hand.
“No. Stop it!” Sam fought back and soon there was a scuffle as Dean pounced on him like a feral cat. Their limbs tangled with each other as they each fought for the upper hand. Soon they were both falling from the bed Sam had been sitting on and they came crashing to the floor. Sam rolled onto his back, with his hand clenched around the hat, but Dean was on top of him, attempting to straddle his hips and making a grab for the thing. Purely on instinct, Sam’s knee jerked up and found that one spot on every man’s body that caused instant and debilitating agony.
Dean froze in shock. A look of pure betrayal flashed across on his face while a high-pitched wheeze escaped from lips stuck open in the shape of an ‘O’ .
Even when they sparred and tussled like they just had, there was a long-standing rule that one didn’t go for the cheap shot. Sure, faces could be punched, ribs could be cracked, and noses could be broken, but going for the junk … that was just low.
Sam winced in empathy and immediate regrets, “Shit, man … I’m sorry. You okay?”
Dean fell to his side, curled into a small ball as he rocked back and forth, “Urhnnnn …” He groaned in response.
“Look … it was an accident. I didn’t mean …”
“Arngnnnggg.” Dean moaned, which Sam translated as something akin to ‘Shut it!'
Dean continued to take shuddering breaths for several moments until he let out a low, deep throated “Jeeeeezzzuuuusss.” when he recovered enough to make somewhat identifiable words.
“Dude … Can I do anything or get you something?”
Dean turned and shot Sam a look of ineffable fury and uttered one word, “Ice.”
Crap …
Sam remembered that they had used the last of their instant ice packs from the med-kit, so he hurried out of the room with the small bucket the motel provided for ice and quickly filled it from the ice machine around the corner. When he came back into the room Dean was sitting up, but was still red in the face and hunched over in pain. Sam went to the bathroom for a towel to wrap the ice in, but found they had all been used and were either too wet or too big for the ice.
“Dammit, Sam. What are you doing? Just give me the freaking ice already.” Sam heard his brother growl as he came back out of the bathroom.
“Just a sec, I’m looking for something to put the ice in.” Sam looked about then saw the hat lying on the floor where he had dropped behind Dean. He crossed over and grabbed the thing then filled it with ice, tying it up with an extra length of yarn. It was looked ridiculous, but at least Dean was finally going to see what he had made.
Sam handed Dean the ice-filled hat and his brother looked up at him with one eyebrow raised in incredulity, “You gotta be kidding me … you knitted an ice bag?”
Sheepishly, Sam twisted his facial features, “It’s supposed to be a hat.” He informed his brother.
Dean grumbled something under his breath and snatched the hat turned ice bag. He then stripped to his boxers before painfully making his way onto the nearest bed and lying down with a sigh, he placed the ice over his sensitive and now bruised area.
“I’m really sorry, Dean …”
Dean closed his eyes and shook his head, “Just shut-up and go get a real ice bag, bitch -- this damn thing is already starting to leak all over me.”
Sam did as he was told and grabbed the car keys from the table so he could head to the nearest drug store. Feeling guilty, he made a mental note to make sure he picked up something else to ease the boiling anger his brother was harboring against him - maybe a king-sized bag of peanut M&Ms.
Sam looked back at his brother on the bed whose one open eye was shooting daggers at him. He winced in sympathy and realized he better make that a 2lb bag of M&Ms.
The End