ONE HUNDRED PERCENT RECORD
WOW: Label. Dean's getting ready for a night out with only one thing on his mind, and we, lucky ladies that we are, get a two-drabble glimpse inside his wardrobe - sorry - duffel bag.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Dean or his clothing.
Dean's favourite t-shirt was one Sam had accidentally shrunk in the laundry.
It was grey and didn't have any fancy labels, but thanks to Sam, it clung nicely in all the right places now.
Stretching over his chest and shoulders, it bulged around his biceps and best of all, it showed off the faint six-pack he'd been secretly cultivating whenever he thought Sam wasn't looking.
When he leaned across a pool table it rode up, showing a tantalising glimpse of skin; he knew the chicks liked that, so he did it rather a lot.
Dean's favourite T-shirt had a 100% record.