Fic: Can't That Wait? (SPN)
Prompt: Dean has a cold but the Impala needs fixing up.
Can't That Wait?
“Huh’KKATSCHHU’uh! *sniff*… Urrrghh.”
“Dean… can’t that wait?”
Dean was bent over under the hood of the impala, snuffling into a rag flecked with motor oil.
“Oh my god, use a tissue, Dean.”
Dean dropped the rag and coughed, uncovered, hands covered in grease, tightening some part of something in the engine.
“Godda ged it fixged. Ged bagk ond the road.”
“Man, you need to just take it easy for a bit. Give yourself a chance to get over this.”
“I’b fide.”
“Sure,” Sam agreed sarcastically.
“Huh’EETTCHShew!” Dean sneezed into his shoulder, hands occupied. “Uhh,” he rubbed his nose on his shoulder, streaking his shirt.
“Dean…”
“Heh’hhTSHHU! Sab, little help?”
Sam sighed, stepping closer to his brother.
“What do ya need?”
“I’b kinda… hhh’huh…”
Dean was covered in oil up to his elbows, upper lip shiny with liquid snot.
“You want me to hold this?” Sam reached towards Dean’s hands.
“Ndo, dude! You’ll… I godda… hhh-“
“What do you want me to do?” Sam shouted.
“T-tissue… *sniff* Urrgh… hhhuh -“
“Oh.”
Sam grabbed a few tissues from the box on the work bench.
“Suuh’ Sab.”
“This is disgusting.”
Sam pressed the tissues against his brother’s nose.
“Het’TSCHU! Huh’KKXCHT! Hhhe’SCHEWw!”
“Yuck.”
Dean let out a breath, “I’b good.”
“Of course you are.”
Dean finished doing whatever he was doing, successfully attaching the… thing to that other… thing.
“Gonna come inside now, sicky?”
“Call be sigky onde bore tibe,” Dean glared, wiping the oil off his hands.
He straightened, coming out from under the hood.
“Whoa,” Dean blinked owlishly, tilting dangerously far back.
“You’re an idiot,” Sam moaned, grabbing his brother around the shoulders.
“I don’t feel so good,” He palmed his forehead, colour draining from his face.
“Okay, alright. Head down,” Sam gently guided Dean onto the stool, pushing his head down between his knees.
Dean snuffled miserably, coughing towards the ground.
“If you’d just stayed in bed today…”
“Urgh, shud up.”
“You good?” Sam asked, rubbing Dean’s back.
“Yeah…”
Sam wrapped his arm around his brother’s and hoisted him to his feet.
“Come on. Bobby’s making pie.”
Dean sneezed into the crook of his elbow and sniffled, “I love you guys.”
Can't That Wait?
“Huh’KKATSCHHU’uh! *sniff*… Urrrghh.”
“Dean… can’t that wait?”
Dean was bent over under the hood of the impala, snuffling into a rag flecked with motor oil.
“Oh my god, use a tissue, Dean.”
Dean dropped the rag and coughed, uncovered, hands covered in grease, tightening some part of something in the engine.
“Godda ged it fixged. Ged bagk ond the road.”
“Man, you need to just take it easy for a bit. Give yourself a chance to get over this.”
“I’b fide.”
“Sure,” Sam agreed sarcastically.
“Huh’EETTCHShew!” Dean sneezed into his shoulder, hands occupied. “Uhh,” he rubbed his nose on his shoulder, streaking his shirt.
“Dean…”
“Heh’hhTSHHU! Sab, little help?”
Sam sighed, stepping closer to his brother.
“What do ya need?”
“I’b kinda… hhh’huh…”
Dean was covered in oil up to his elbows, upper lip shiny with liquid snot.
“You want me to hold this?” Sam reached towards Dean’s hands.
“Ndo, dude! You’ll… I godda… hhh-“
“What do you want me to do?” Sam shouted.
“T-tissue… *sniff* Urrgh… hhhuh -“
“Oh.”
Sam grabbed a few tissues from the box on the work bench.
“Suuh’ Sab.”
“This is disgusting.”
Sam pressed the tissues against his brother’s nose.
“Het’TSCHU! Huh’KKXCHT! Hhhe’SCHEWw!”
“Yuck.”
Dean let out a breath, “I’b good.”
“Of course you are.”
Dean finished doing whatever he was doing, successfully attaching the… thing to that other… thing.
“Gonna come inside now, sicky?”
“Call be sigky onde bore tibe,” Dean glared, wiping the oil off his hands.
He straightened, coming out from under the hood.
“Whoa,” Dean blinked owlishly, tilting dangerously far back.
“You’re an idiot,” Sam moaned, grabbing his brother around the shoulders.
“I don’t feel so good,” He palmed his forehead, colour draining from his face.
“Okay, alright. Head down,” Sam gently guided Dean onto the stool, pushing his head down between his knees.
Dean snuffled miserably, coughing towards the ground.
“If you’d just stayed in bed today…”
“Urgh, shud up.”
“You good?” Sam asked, rubbing Dean’s back.
“Yeah…”
Sam wrapped his arm around his brother’s and hoisted him to his feet.
“Come on. Bobby’s making pie.”
Dean sneezed into the crook of his elbow and sniffled, “I love you guys.”