SPNL Fic: Cellphone Series (2/16)
TITLE: No Way In He**
FANDOM: Supernatural, Ratatouille (Disney Movie)
RATING: PG 13, for language
GENRE: Humor
SUMMARY: Dean sticks to his morals.
WARNING: Here there be nothing! Which, is kind of weird.
CHARACTERS: Dean, Sam, Remy(alluded)
DISCLAIMER: The characters used are not owned by me. They are owned by Kripke and some other people.
NOTES: If you’ve never seen the movie ‘Ratatouille’ - Go watch it! I’m not spoiling it for you, so stop reading RIGHT NOW!! Thank you.
Sam had a broken -“Not Broken, just…badly sprained, damnit!”- ankle.
Plus the flu to boot!
He was being moody and cranky and very, very annoying. And Dean was really starting to rethink his whole ‘Don’t hurt Sammy while he’s hurt’ rule.
“The hell is this?” Sammy growls at the jug of juice in his hands.
“Read the label, Einstein,” Dean replies, not bothering to look up from the magazine he’s flipping through.
“This crap isn’t Cranberry. It tastes like piss.”
“Then drink your pee-pee in silence!”
“Dean!”
Don’t kill Sammy, Don’t kill Sammy…
“Fine then! Don’t drink it! Suffer from freaking dehydration for all I care, just shut up about it!”
Okay, he snapped.
And now Sam looked back at him so pitifully. He was pouting for goodness sakes! And he already had the red, teary eyes from the constant coughing and blowing his nose. And then there were the fever spikes that made Sam ask him for more blankets, please, and soup, if you can.
Damn it.
“Look, Sammy,” he sighed, forgetting all about his magazine and turning to face the pitiful man-child before him. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. You know, it’s just sometimes, you’re a real pain in the ass and when you’re sick, you’re like a freaking girl about everything and it’s hard not to knock the shit out of you.”
“You’re so kind,” Sam mumbled, sniffing at a stuffed up nose.
Dean cringed.
“’m bored,” his brother declared.
“Want me to go get you something?”
They had finished the hunt, another poltergeist in a train station, about three days again and hadn’t been able to leave since because of said poltergeist tossing Sam against a wall that just so happened to have nothing bellow it for the kid to land on, no matter how roughly. Instead, he fell a floor down and landed badly enough to injure the leg.
But it’s the fever at two o’clock the next morning that caused Dean to pull rank and declare that they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Sam shrugged.
“Wanna read?” Dean offered, holding up his previously abandoned magazine.
Sam shook his head. Which, lucky too, since come to think of it, Dean didn’t want his kid brother’s snot all over the thing before he even got to finish reading it.
“Well, food’s out of the question,” he muttered, ignoring how Sam groaned at the vague mention of the stuff. “Nothing on TV?”
Sam gave him a look, and yeah he should know better. They only had three channels on the damn thing, one was in a different language, one was the mandatory porn, and the other wasn’t always coming through.
“Want me to go see if I can beg a DVD player from the office and rent us a movie?”
Sam seemed to think about that one, or he was about to sneeze.
“Yeah, okay.”
Dean smiled.
Sam coughed.
Dean frowned.
Sam groaned.
Dean hurried out the door.
As luck may have it, not only was the lady at the front desk willing to lend them a DVD player, but she also recommended a movie that her kids ‘just loved!’ It was called Ratatouille, which was something about food Dean knew but he was assured that it wouldn’t have his little brother glaring at him for causing him to puke and stuff even more.
“Hey, Sammy,” he said, opening the door to their room and frowning at the sneeze that greeted him. “Yeah, ew. Use the damn tissues,” he grabbed the new box he’d gone out that morning to get and tossed it in his brother’s general direction before headed towards the TV.
“Ow”
“So, lucky you, that Laycee lady even gave up a movie. Said it was pretty good too.”
“Wha iz it?”
“Ratatouille, it’s about stew I think.”
“Uh, Dean.”
“Shhh,” Dean moved back to sit on his own bed. He hoped that sometime through watching whatever the hell they were watching that his brother would fall asleep and then he’d - probably nap himself since a sick Sam was exhausting. “It’s starting.”
“But, De-
“I said SHH!” Dean said, grabbing the old remote and raising the TV’s volume above whiny little brother level.
Ten minutes in and Dean’s sitting back against the headboard, gripping at his pillow and trying to (a) not use said pillow to cover his face for the horror before him and (b) not yell out to the movie folk about the rodents in their food and how creepy and germy and eww and ratty they are.
His original plan, about five minutes ago, had been to leap at the TV, grab the horror flick, and run it back to the desk lady, yell at her for a moment before rushing back to exorcism their room and check under his (and Sammy’s) bed for any little visitors that might have gotten an idea from seeing a blue brother of theirs on screen.
But then Sam had to go and actually like the damn thing.
So Dean was suffering at the sight of his favorite thing (food) being in the same screen as his most versatile thing (rodents). Talent be damned.
THE END.