Dean scowls at his chest in the mirror, tracing along the edge of the handprint branded over his heart. He has a matching set now, which--perfect, that's so much easier to explain than just one of them. He shakes his head in disgust. What the fuck is he supposed to do now, wear a shirt 24/7?
"Why'd you get the cool one?" he says to Sam, who's lying on the whole bed watching the whole procedure with this big shit-eating grin. "You just look like you're wearin' freaky contacts every now'n then. I get--this. Why couldn't I just have the stupid angel power without the membership badge?"
"I don't know, Dean, I think you look super cool," Sam lisps, crossing his arms. "I mean, that's hardcore, man. Do the hands, like, represent a commitment to like, a cause? Or did you get them done in remembrance of like, someone famous who died?" He twirls a piece of hair around his finger and flutters his eyelashes
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"Why'd you get the cool one?" he says to Sam, who's lying on the whole bed watching the whole procedure with this big shit-eating grin. "You just look like you're wearin' freaky contacts every now'n then. I get--this. Why couldn't I just have the stupid angel power without the membership badge?"
"I don't know, Dean, I think you look super cool," Sam lisps, crossing his arms. "I mean, that's hardcore, man. Do the hands, like, represent a commitment to like, a cause? Or did you get them done in remembrance of like, someone famous who died?" He twirls a piece of hair around his finger and flutters his eyelashes ( ... )
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