#samxyn

““Draw four,” Sam said, snapping you out of your revere. Dean paused mid-sip of his whiskey, his eyes cutting his brother from across the table. “Uno” had proven to be an entertaining way to pass the time after a long day-- especially paired with a few glasses of alcohol. In the beginning, you’d all tried Poker, but you’d swept them and emptied their pockets. After that, they’d agreed to never play you again-- especially not for money. 

Dean leaned forward and checked the card, ensuring that his brother wasn’t fucking with him, and pursed his lips, still shining with whiskey, as distaste flashed across his face. He grumbled, but drew four cards nevertheless. Something about his attitude and jerking movements made you giggle; warmth blossomed in your chest as you subconsciously filed the memory of this evening away for later. The alcohol was definitely kicking in.

“Your turn, [y/n],” Dean sighed, sifting through his cards and organizing them. He jerked them to his chest, holding them close, when he caught you leaning forward to catch a peek. You snorted a laugh, heat coloring your cheeks, before you sat back again and rifled through your own hand. If you played this strategically. . . 

With a hum, you threw down a draw as well, the “plus four” at the top corners making Sam blink in surprise. He huffed a laugh, then reached forward, before his eyes flicked upwards and landed on your card.

Oh, shit--

“Uno!” You both chorused. Sam threw his head back and groaned--

“Ha! You’re both jinxed,” called Dean. You clamped your mouth shut, all-too-familiar with this game, and threw your single card down in outrage. Sam protested, but he didn’t get far until Dean punched him in the shoulder. All three of you stared at each other for a moment, trading glances and pursing lips, eyes cutting hateful glances as eyebrows crept towards hairlines.