supernatural one-shots [requests closed] UNDER EDITING

sam winchester || flannel

|| not edited

"(Y/N)?" Sam's voice sounds from the closet.

"Hm?" you ask, your voice dripping with faux innocence.

"Do you know where my red flannel is?"

You look up from the book you're reading and see the genuine worry on Sam's face. Apparently, he really cares about this flannel.

But that doesn't stop you. "No. Why?"

"I can't find it anywhere," he frowns, looking around the room. "I don't know where I could've left it."

"Does Dean have it?" you offer, successfully playing the part of the concerned girlfriend.

"Maybe. I don't know." He gives a shake of his brunet mane and begins to climb into bed with you. "I just hope I find it in the morning. It's one of my favorites."

"I know," you say knowingly, rolling over to face your nightstand and click off the lamp. You smile to yourself in the dark as you listen to Sam's breathing slow and wonder where you'll hide the next flannel.

-|-

In the morning, you immediately roll over to make sure that Sam's still asleep. Luckily, he is, so you slip out of bed and make your way to your shared closet.

As you're picking out your outfit for the day, you hear Sam call out, "Have you seen my blue flannel? I can't find that one either."

You pop your head out of the closet doorway. "That one's missing, too?" you ask, feigning surprise. "Damn, Sammy. Get your shit together."

He chuckles lightly and approaches you. "It's not a joke," he says, although he's smiling. He slides his huge hands over your hips and kisses you good morning. "You really think Dean has them?"

You shrug. "I don't know. It's worth a shot, right?" Sam nods slightly and leaves in search of Dean. You laugh to yourself. "I crack myself up," you announce to the empty room.

-|-
- five hours later -
-|-

"I don't have your damn flannels, Sam!" you hear Dean shout, clearly annoyed.

"Are you sure? Because I have no idea where they are," you hear Sam press. "And we both know that you just love to piss me off." Both Winchesters enter the room you're lounging in, still arguing.

You watch them smugly and can't help but wish you had a bowl of popcorn on hand. "Maybe your girlfriend has them," Dean suggests, exasperated. "I don't know!"

It's clear Sam has been pestering him for a while about his lost shirts.

"She doesn't know, I already asked," Sam tells him confidently.

You fight the urge to snicker.

"Well, I don't freakin' know, Sammy," declares Dean, throwing his arms in the air and slapping them at his sides. "Maybe you left 'em in a motel somewhere. But they ain't here, that's for sure."

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother and trudges off to your shared bedroom, still searching for his missing flannels, only to find another missing.

"Seriously!?" you hear him yell from the other room.

-|-

It was a few weeks later and six more of Sam's oversized shirts had gone missing.

That morning, he discovered the seventh to be gone.

Sam storms into the bunker library and points an accusing finger at you. "You."

"Me?" you ask, raising a questioning hand to your chest.

"You took them," he announces triumphantly. "My flannels."

You take a few moments to drink in the moment. His haggard face, exhausted from weeks of trying to solve the mystery. His shirt, a gray T, the only thing he has left. And you swear you can see a monstrous vein pulsing in his neck.

"Well," you begin, trying to make your voice sound sugary sweet. Then you harden it as you tell him the truth. "It's about damn time. I thought i would have to keep them hidden until you were fifty."

Sam's face falls. "Wait. It was really you?"

You laugh. "Yeah, Sherlock. I thought you were supposed to be a detective or something. You don't even look that confident in your answer."

"I finally figured it out! I can't believe it was you the entire time!" Sam celebrates, pumping a fist into the air triumphantly. He eventually calms down and eyes you excitedly, "So... where are they?"

You open your mouth, looking smug, ready to reveal the shirts' location. But nothing comes out.

Sam senses that something is wrong. "What is it?"

You stay silent for a moment, not quite yet ready to admit what you've done. "You're gonna kill me."

Sam's face falls. "You lost them, didn't you?"

"I might have..." you trail off, searching for an easy way to put it. "Okay, I did."

Sam summons his famous bitch-face. "You can't be serious." At your silence, he raises a frustrated hand to his temple. "What now? I go to Old Navy and buy a new wardrobe?"

"Well, I could have sworn I put one in that cabinet," you offer, getting up and crossing the room to look in said cabinet's contents. At your failed attempt, you added, "Guess not."

Sam groans. "And this was my last clean shirt."

-|-

The next day, you're reading a book in the library when you hear the sound of Sam's large footsteps. You glance up from your book and almost do a double take.

He's wearing an all-too familiar flannel that's bursting at the seams of the sleeves. None of the buttons are hooked where they need to be because it's actually physically impossible.

The shirt is too small for the man's amazingly large frame and you can't help but burst into laughter.

"Is that my shirt?" You question through fits of giggles.

"You lost all of mine!" he exclaims. "What was I supposed to do? Walk around without a shirt?"

"Well, it wouldn't hurt," You state, smirking.

He rolls his eyes. "Fuck me."

"Okay," you agree, still smirking.

Your boyfriend grins as well and begins to approach you.

Once he reaches your chair, you lift a leg and stop him by pressing the flat of your foot into his stomach.

"Only if you wear that shirt the whole time."

Sam's sultry expression disappears. "I'll be upstairs reading a book," he said in that monotone voice you love, backing away from you and trudging up the stairs, sulking.

You laughed again. "I crack myself up," you sighed.  

I wrote this lovely little thing with one of my fabulous best friends, Bookgeek1015! She's been wanting to test the waters of fanfiction for a while, so we teamed up on this! I love it, and I love her, so give her a heads up or something if you think she should pursue a Wattpad career (I think she should :D)