Crack for Ironman.
Dean, shirtless and gorgeous, yanked open the drawer of the cheap motel bureau, but yielded nothing except for a few mothballs and dryer sheets. Every single cupboard and drawer in the room stood open. Both Dean's and Sam's duffel bags lay open and gutted, spilling jeans, knives, and tubes of toothpaste over the beds.
"Sam, where's my shirt!" he called, pounding his fist on the locked bathroom door.
A second later, it opened and Sam emerged with damp hair and ragged jeans, but distinctly lacking a shirt. His beautiful, golden-tanned, rock-hard abs glistened with condensation from the shower. He scowled.
"They're all gone," he said.
"Our shirts!" Sam gestured around the carnage of the room. "All our shirts are gone, Dean!"
Dean looked down at his bare chest. It could have been carved by angels, and really should never have been hidden from the world by such an evil thing as a shirt in the first place, but he was freaking cold. He went to the closet for his jacket, but it was empty.
"Son of a bitch!"
From behind, the heard the familiar soft rustle of wings and turned around, then self-consciously crossed his arms over his chest. Castiel frowned in confusion, blue eyes roving over Dean's and Sam's fantastic abs.
"Uh…why aren't you wearing shirts?" he asked.
Dean threw up his arms exasperatedly. "They disappeared!"
Cas' eyes were still on Dean's chest. And they weren't moving. The room fell still.
"Uh, Cas?" No response. Cas' eyes were glued. Dean snapped his fingers. "Hey. Cas."
Cas blinked at looked back up at his face. "Right, sorry. Um…what do we do?" he asked, not sounding at all like he particularly wanted to remedy the situation.
"We find whoever the hell stole our clothes and beat the living crap out of them!"
"Dean," said Sam half-heartedly, "calm down."
"No!" cried Dean. "I am shirtless and it's freakin' cold! This asshole's gonna pay!"
From behind him there was the sound of soft laughter, and all three turned to see Gabriel leaning against the doorframe, unsuccessfully suppressing his giggles.
"Give us our shirts back!" said Dean angrily, striding over to him and slamming him hard against the wall.
"Hmm…" Gabriel pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling. "Nah, I don't think I will."
"Why not?" said Sam over Dean's shoulder.
Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "Have you seen yourselves lately? I'm doing the sighted world a favor. You guys need to go out and flaunt it, baby."
"Enough of this crap!" said Sam, taking another step forward. "Give us our shirts back."
Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows at him, snapped his fingers, and vanished.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted again.
"Does this mean I don't have to wear a shirt either?" Cas had removed his coat and tie.
"NO!" Sam and Dean cried together in horror.
Cas ripped of his shirt.