maggie touches grease with her hands

You know what I like? Reading the keywords for people's icons.


"No luck with the box yet, huh?" Dean said, then grinned (while Sam pre-emptively rolled his eyes) and added, "-- not like that's new for you."

"Did you get some food, at least?"

Dean tossed a box of chicken at Sam and settled down with his own, turning the motel tv to an All in the Family rerun while they ate. Sam was quiet, almost grim as he mowed down his coleslaw, and he kept frowning at the musty wooden box all through his meal, reaching for it with fingers still greasy while he was chewing his last bite.

"Leave it for a minute and have some hot wings," Dean said, leaning far back enough in his rickety chair to aim the toe of one boot at Sam's knee. Sam froze half-sprawled across the bed, turning his head to stare at Dean, then next thing Dean knew his brother had his fingers all in the box of wings. Picking out bones and breaking them apart. Digging in his bag until he found a piece of red string, wrapping them around the bones to make an equal-armed cross. Holding it up in Dean's face with a distinctly crowing expression, and declaring, "I'm a genius."

"Craft time with bird carcasses sure means genius to me," Dean said, but Sam was fitting the bone thing into the box with just the right little twist to make it pop open with a disturbing-but-satisfying hiss. "The key in having a key," Sam told him, "is knowing it's a key."

"Imagine what we could open with some curly fries," Dean said, but it was no use. Sam could already tell he was impressed.

( others behind the cut )

I'll probably do this again, if none of the icon owners who I randomly choose object to it. *g*