Ficlet: Natural causes
Title: Natural causes
Author: astri13
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean
Genre: Gen, humor
Word Count: 506
Summary: There are some truths Dean is just not ready to face.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit.
Notes: Fluff piece written for spnflashfic
"I'm telling you, Sam, this is a curse," Dean forces out between clenched teeth. He squirms uncomfortably on the bed.
Sam rolls his eyes, exasperated. Since the physical …transformation, they've had this conversation like a million times. And Sam is pretty sure they aren't dealing with a curse, spell, angry spirit or one of the other supernatural causes his brother propositioned. Well, about ninety-five percent sure. If Dean weren't being his usual pigheaded self, he would see it too.
Still, Sam fights to remain patient. "It's not a curse, Dean. You'll see, it will be better soon."
Dean scoffs. "And I'm telling you, that chick from the bar has it in for me. She did this." He gestures to himself as best as he can, considering the state his hands are in. He squirms some more.
Sam gapes. "Dude, will you give it a rest? She didn't even talk to you," he points out reasonably.
"She looked at me funny," Dean pouts.
Now Sam fights to hold onto his rapidly slipping sanity. "Maybe she thought you were hot?" he offers. This at least is something Dean shouldn't feel the need to argue with.
And indeed, Dean seems thoughtful for a moment. "Well…um…of course she did." His eyes open wide. "You think that's why she did it? Because I didn't hit on her?"
"For the love of God, Dean, nobody did anything to you. Sure, it's a bit unusual in your case but these things just happen." Sam wants to bang his head against the wall. No strike that, he wants to bang Dean's head against the wall.
"They do not."
"Do too."
"Not."
"Too." Sam stops, realizing how ridiculous they must sound. Two grown men, seasoned hunters, reduced to arguing like four-year-olds. He clears his throat and tries anew to talk some sense into Dean. "'Look, if it makes you feel better, we can go to a hospital, get you checked out."
Dean glowers. "Over my dead body. You think I want anybody to see me like this?"
Sam figures this is probably not a good time to tell Dean that earlier, when Dean was sleeping, Sam has snapped a few pictures with his camera phone. He tries to hide his grin. Maybe there will never be a good time for this, though Dean will probably find out because Sam has mailed the photos to Bobby, Ellen and Joshua, and one of them is bound to crack up the next time Dean talks to them.
"Then there isn't much else we can do." Sam shrugs.
"You could research. Why don't you fire up the laptop already?"
"Because there is nothing to research, dude. I already know what to do. And so do you, you taught me after all." Sam inclines his head to Dean's hands, clad in thick woollen gloves which Sam has taped shut all around Dean's wrists to keep him from scratching.
Dean's face turns red, so much so that the angry dots on his skin seem to fade. When he speaks, he enunciates each word carefully. "For the last time, Sam, I.do.not.have.CHICKEN.POX."
Author: astri13
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean
Genre: Gen, humor
Word Count: 506
Summary: There are some truths Dean is just not ready to face.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit.
Notes: Fluff piece written for spnflashfic
"I'm telling you, Sam, this is a curse," Dean forces out between clenched teeth. He squirms uncomfortably on the bed.
Sam rolls his eyes, exasperated. Since the physical …transformation, they've had this conversation like a million times. And Sam is pretty sure they aren't dealing with a curse, spell, angry spirit or one of the other supernatural causes his brother propositioned. Well, about ninety-five percent sure. If Dean weren't being his usual pigheaded self, he would see it too.
Still, Sam fights to remain patient. "It's not a curse, Dean. You'll see, it will be better soon."
Dean scoffs. "And I'm telling you, that chick from the bar has it in for me. She did this." He gestures to himself as best as he can, considering the state his hands are in. He squirms some more.
Sam gapes. "Dude, will you give it a rest? She didn't even talk to you," he points out reasonably.
"She looked at me funny," Dean pouts.
Now Sam fights to hold onto his rapidly slipping sanity. "Maybe she thought you were hot?" he offers. This at least is something Dean shouldn't feel the need to argue with.
And indeed, Dean seems thoughtful for a moment. "Well…um…of course she did." His eyes open wide. "You think that's why she did it? Because I didn't hit on her?"
"For the love of God, Dean, nobody did anything to you. Sure, it's a bit unusual in your case but these things just happen." Sam wants to bang his head against the wall. No strike that, he wants to bang Dean's head against the wall.
"They do not."
"Do too."
"Not."
"Too." Sam stops, realizing how ridiculous they must sound. Two grown men, seasoned hunters, reduced to arguing like four-year-olds. He clears his throat and tries anew to talk some sense into Dean. "'Look, if it makes you feel better, we can go to a hospital, get you checked out."
Dean glowers. "Over my dead body. You think I want anybody to see me like this?"
Sam figures this is probably not a good time to tell Dean that earlier, when Dean was sleeping, Sam has snapped a few pictures with his camera phone. He tries to hide his grin. Maybe there will never be a good time for this, though Dean will probably find out because Sam has mailed the photos to Bobby, Ellen and Joshua, and one of them is bound to crack up the next time Dean talks to them.
"Then there isn't much else we can do." Sam shrugs.
"You could research. Why don't you fire up the laptop already?"
"Because there is nothing to research, dude. I already know what to do. And so do you, you taught me after all." Sam inclines his head to Dean's hands, clad in thick woollen gloves which Sam has taped shut all around Dean's wrists to keep him from scratching.
Dean's face turns red, so much so that the angry dots on his skin seem to fade. When he speaks, he enunciates each word carefully. "For the last time, Sam, I.do.not.have.CHICKEN.POX."