The morning after…
“Dean, what’s this?!”
“You did my laundry?”
“Yeah. You were complaining about no clean underwear yesterday, remember?”
“But they are pink!”
“That’s hot pink, Sammy. And only the undies. The shirts are purple.”
“I hate you!”
The morning after that…
Dean stares into the bathroom mirror. Something is wrong. But he can’t put his finger on it.
He stares some more.
He closes one eye.
Then he opens that eye and closes the other one.
He turns from side to side and glowers at his own reflection.
“Sam!” He yells.
“Permanent marker!” Sam answers from the other room without missing a beat.