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Title: It's Not Gay
Author: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
mamapranayama
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen/humor
Summary: Dean gives Sam a hard time about his hobby, so Sam retaliates.
Note: Follows after the story Sam's Addiction which should be read first to understand this this one.
It's Not Gay
Sam knew he was going to get shit from his brother and Dean hadn’t failed to deliver.
He endured the jokes about knitting being gay on a daily basis and the ‘I guess you’ll be getting a cat named Mrs. Fluffybuns next’ and the ‘What’re ya making now Grandma, gun cozies?’ taunts with as much grace as he could muster, which was usually none at all.
However, Sam knew how to retaliate and after an afternoon of listening to Dean be a jerk about his hobby and questioning his sexual orientation every five minutes while he tried to work on his latest project on the road, Sam finally had enough and shoved his knitting into his bag along with his laptop, waiting for the right time to pull them out again.
The right time came when Dean pulled into a diner for supper.
As soon as they stopped, Sam grabbed his bag, followed him in, and sat with him at a booth. He waited again for the right moment and when it came, he pulled out his latest project with ninja-like precision just as the waitress approached their table, too late for Dean to object.
Dean shot daggers at Sam with his eyes.
The waitresses was a pretty, little thing … the kind of girl Dean definitely would flirt with and possibly try to finagle a phone number from, but the moment she saw Sam knitting at the table it was plainly obvious that she had put two and two together and came up with ‘gay’.
“Hey there, I’m Becca. What can I get you two?”
Sam couldn’t help but seal up her snap judgment in cement, “Well …” He lisped, “I don’t want to eat too much. Deanie here is taking me on vacation. First to Amish Country for some antiquing and then to the Hamptons for a little beach time, so I don’t want to pack on the pounds, not when I have to try and squeeze into my speedo … seems like everything I eat goes straight to my hips. Isn’t that right, smootchikins?”
For extra effect, Sam reached across the table and attempted to pat Dean’s hand, but his brother snatched it away and balled it up into a fist like he wanted to punch Sam, but being in a crowded restaurant, he had to reign in his thoughts on murdering his little brother in front of everybody.
“I suppose I’ll just have a salad and maybe some ice tea.” Sam ordered sweetly then smiled back at the waitress and batted his eyes before he resumed knitting his latest scarf.
Dean turned a bright and violent shade of red.
“And for you, sir?” The waitress asked.
“You know he’s not … I’m not … we’re actually …” Dean cleared his throat, but he couldn’t just blurt out that he and Sam were actually brothers when Sam was acting like his ‘partner’, that sort of thing didn’t usually go over well, especially there in southern Alabama and they were already getting a few weird looks from some of the other red-neck customers inside the little greasy spoon.
Instead Dean just ground his teeth for a moment before ordering, “Beer and steak …rare… in fact, make it as bloody as you can.” Of course, Dean would still need to assert his machismo by ordering the manliest thing he could on the menu even after he had just been ‘outed’ by his little brother and he was making it plainly clear that it wasn’t just the steak that would end up bloody that night.
Sam couldn’t help but smirk, unafraid of his big brother’s veiled threats, he was enjoying his discomfort too much and Dean’s food order only added fuel to the fire, “Oh honey … you sure you want to get that? You know what the doctor says about all that fat and cholesterol.”
Murder burned in Dean’s eyes, but he didn’t say anything as the waitress turned and left.
Needless to say, they didn’t stick around for their food to arrive. Instead, Dean hauled Sam up by the collar and practically shoved him out the door and into the car.
Dean let it rip as soon as the car doors were closed, and tore out of the parking lot at full-tilt, his face almost purple with rage. Sam was laughing too hard to really care about his brother’s erratic driving, that is until Dean grabbed his knitting project out of his hands and threw it -- needles, ball of yarn, and all out the window of the speeding car.
Okay … maybe Sam had taking it a little too far this time.
The End
More fic here: It's a Manly Art
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