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Stitches

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When Dean comes back next time - he thinks, as he looks at the prices, that Alastair might be under-charging in order to get him hooked, but that alpaca/merino blend is so touchable, and he can't argue with it being half the price of the yarns at Cast Away!, the shop Sam had suggested - there's a basket full of a soft green yarn that Dean's drawn to. The colour is instantly appealing, in a way that feels familiar, but the delicate thread of red silk running through it leaves an uneasy feeling in his gut.

"It's new," Alastair says, coming up beside him in that way he has, standing a little too close. "I just, hm, felt like something different. Don't you think it's pretty?"

"I guess." It's so soft. Dean wants it. He feels like he should play it cool, but he can't stop fingering the skein he picked up. "What would you make with it?"

"Anything you like."

Alastair tugs on the yarn Dean's holding, and Dean gives it up with some reluctance. Alastair frees an end and wraps it around his fingers like a garotte.

"It's durable," Alastair says, pulling hard so the yarn snaps taut. "Made to keep its shape, no matter what you do with it, even if you make mistakes. You can rip it apart as many times as you like and start over from scratch."

"That sounds good." Dean goes to pick up another skein, but Alastair catches his wrist. It's sudden, a little startling, but Alastair just gives a toothy grin and presses the first skein into Dean's hand.

"Do you want it?" he asks.

Dean nods. "I don't have-"

"Needles?" Alastair says. His face lights up. "Let me show you my selection."