Fic: Magic Fingers (SPN)
Prompt: Character has never slept in a hotel this posh before. Which is why they begin the night unaware of how desperately allergic they are to the feathers filling the down pillow/duvet. Maybe they don't even know what down IS....
Magic Fingers
“Dude, this is sweet.”
Sam laughed, “We should do this more often.”
“Awww, man,” Dean let out a pleased groan as he sat down on the end of one of the double beds. He bounced up and down a few times, “Oh, the bed, Sammy. The bed.”
Dean cast a glance over his shoulder and sagged a little in disappointment.
Sam laughed again, “I’m afraid this place is too classy for magic fingers, Dean.”
Dean frowned.
Sam dumped his bag at the end of the other bed and walked towards the window, checking out the view.
Dean’s eyes fell on the little table where the hotel brochure sat.
“Dude,” Dean said, lunging for it, “We are so ordering room service.”
Sam shook his head and huffed, but couldn’t help smiling, “We probably shouldn’t blow all our money in one night.”
“Sam… I earned that money fair and square.”
Sam’s eyelids drooped, “You hustled some dumb rich guys at poker.”
Dean stared blankly, “Yeah. What’s your point?”
Sam laughed again, “Alright, man.”
“Yeah,” Dean grinned, lying back on the bed, reading the menu.
~
Sam thought at some point Dean would want to go and check out the hotel bar, but he seemed pretty content to hang out on the bed, messily eating a grilled steak sandwich, and watching TV.
Dean sniffled, mouth full of food.
“I’m ruined, Sammy.”
Sam looked up from his laptop.
“I’ll never be able to sleep in a two-bit motel room ever again.”
“I hate to say this, dude, but we might have to. This place isn’t cheap.”
Dean snorted, then choked on his sandwich. He sat forward coughing, eyes watering.
“You alright?” Sam asked with a hint of amusement.
“Sandwich tried to kill me,” he croaked.
“That’s why you shouldn’t eat lying down.”
“Know it all.”
Sam shook his head.
~
Fifteen minutes later Dean had finished the sandwich and was still cozy on the bed. He coughed again.
“Dude, is that still from the sandwich?”
Dean shook his head, still coughing into his fist, “Dunno. Feels like something’s caught in my throat.”
“Drink some water,” Sam suggested, looking back to his computer.
Dean sighed, and reluctantly got up, heading to the bar fridge and grabbing out a beer.
“I said water,” Sam moaned.
“Beer, water. Same thing,” Dean shrugged.
He sniffed and dragged the back of his hand under his nose.
“Ahhh,” he sighed, sitting back down on the bed, “This is the life.”
~
“Huh’KKSCHTuhh!”
“Bless you!” Sam looked up in surprise.
“Ah, that’s been coming for half an hour,” Dean said, scrubbing his nose.
Sam chuckled and shut his laptop, rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair.
“Hih’TTSCHHT!”
Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, who was struggling upright. He trudged into the bathroom and came back with a length of toilet paper, wiping his eyes, which looked red and watery.
“You alright?”
Dean bent at the waist and sneezed again into the tissues. It sounded harsh and throaty.
“Dude.”
Dean lay back on the bed. He cleared his throat, “What?”
“What’s up with you?” Sam thumbed the edge of his laptop.
“Dunno. Hay fever?”
“It’s January.”
Dean groaned, “I dunno, Sam. Maybe I’m allergic to your face.”
Sam rolled his eyes, “Are you sick?”
“I don’t get sick.”
“Sure,” Sam moaned.
“Hih’ETKCHSU!” Dean coughed, “Sond of a bitch.”
Sam ignored Dean and got up from the table, drawing the curtain and coming to sit on his own bed.
“What’s on the box?”
Dean chucked him the remote.
“You’re letting me pick?” Sam raised his eyebrows.
Dean shrugged, wiggling his nose like it was itchy.
“You must be feeling bad.”
“Shut up,” Dean whined, sniffing thickly.
~
“Hih’TSCHU! Heh’KKSCHHT! Hhh’ETSCHXT!”
“Jesus,” Sam eyed Dean.
“Heh, flatterig, but just call be Dean.”
Sam’s eyes widened at Dean’s voice, “What the hell, man? You sound awful. You’ve been sneezing for the past hour. What’s wrong?”
“Hih’CHXT! K’SCHTXU!”
Dean didn’t answer. He just got up and shut himself in the bathroom. Sam could hear him blowing his nose. Then the shower came on.
~
Dean emerged 20 minutes later. The skin around his nose and eyes was red and his hair was damp and sitting flat. His nostrils glistened and he wiped them on the sleeve of his Henley.
“Feel better?” Sam asked.
Dean slumped down on the bed heavily. He rubbed his face and groaned.
“Hih’TSCHHT!”
Sam sighed, face scrunched in sympathy, “Maybe you should call it a night. Get some sleep,” Sam suggested.
Dean coughed, “Baybe you’re right,” he said with a sniff.
Dean climbed under the covers and nuzzled into the pillows.
Sam got up and switched off the light, room still partially lit by the light of the TV.
“At least this bed is cobfortable,” Dean rasped through the congestion.
From there the night got a whole lot worse.
~
Dean was lying on his side, body turned away from Sam.
“Huh’KSCHTUu! Heh’TSCHU! Heh’eh… EK’TSCHUew!” Dean gasped, “Hep’TTSCHTXCH!”
He coughed wheezily.
“Shit, Dean. Are you alright?” Sam worried.
“Doh… dot alright,” Dean croaked, rolling on his back and placing a hand on his chest, “ I dunno… what’s wrog wid be.”
Sam could tell something was wrong. And not a little bit wrong, but a lot wrong. He could see the silhouetted profile of Dean’s face and something about the structure of it was different. Sam was out of bed and flicking the light on in seconds.
“Dude,” Dean brought a hand up to shield his eyes.
“Stop it. Let me look at you.”
“Whad?”
Sam took a sharp involuntary inhale when he got a look at Dean’s face.
“Dean, your eyes…”
“Huh? Huh’KKCHXT!”
“Oh, man… okay. Get up.”
“Whad’s wrog?” Dean coughed into his elbow.
“Your eyes are really swollen and you’re red… pretty much everywhere.”
Dean mumbled something, struggling to open his red, swollen, weepy eyes, to get a good look at himself.
Sam poked his neck, “Man, is that itchy?”
“Whad -“ Dean gasped incredulously, “Well, it is dow!”
Sam’s eyes widened, “Dean, these pillows are down. Have you ever slept on down before?”
“Combe againd?” Dean wheezed.
“Down. Duck down…”
Dean stared blankly.
“Duck feathers!”
“Doh, Sab. I ain’t eber slept on duck feathers before. I guess… heh’KSCTH! cheap places can’t… eh’CHHHXTT! …can’t afford it. Son of a - Heh’TSSCHT! Huh’ITSCHU! Heh’EKSCHTUEW! Huh’’hh’EXCHTT!”
Dean was hunkered down in the crook of his elbow, breathing heavily.
“Come on, man. Out of the bed,” Sam put his hands around his brother’s shoulders and manhandled him upright, “Jesus, the quilt is down as well. It has to be what’s caused this reaction.”
“Fugk. Cand’t I just habe onde good thig?” Dean sniffled, before dissolving into a high pitched, wheezy cough.
“You gotta strip off and shower, now. I’ll call reception. Do you have Benadryl in your bag?”
Dean blinked and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, “Thigk I used the last of it after that case with the lady with the cats?”
Sam shook his head, “It’s always animals with you.”
“Shud up. Hehh’TSCHK!”
“Shower, now. Cool water.”
“I hear ya.”
~
After Sam spoke to reception quite firmly about the situation with his brother things happened very quickly.
They were moved to a hypoallergenic room, no animal anything.
Dean was still sneezing, and snuffling, and coughing. His eyes streaming continually.
The hotel staff had swiftly located allergy medicine, the perks of 5-star service.
Doped out of his brain, head full and throbbing, still sneezing by the minute, Dean rolled his heavy head towards his brother.
“Hey, Sam.”
Sam reacted quickly, ready to give Dean anything and everything he might need, “Yeah, Dean?”
Dean coughed and curled up a little tighter, “Next tibe cand we pigk a place with magic fingers?”
End
Magic Fingers
“Dude, this is sweet.”
Sam laughed, “We should do this more often.”
“Awww, man,” Dean let out a pleased groan as he sat down on the end of one of the double beds. He bounced up and down a few times, “Oh, the bed, Sammy. The bed.”
Dean cast a glance over his shoulder and sagged a little in disappointment.
Sam laughed again, “I’m afraid this place is too classy for magic fingers, Dean.”
Dean frowned.
Sam dumped his bag at the end of the other bed and walked towards the window, checking out the view.
Dean’s eyes fell on the little table where the hotel brochure sat.
“Dude,” Dean said, lunging for it, “We are so ordering room service.”
Sam shook his head and huffed, but couldn’t help smiling, “We probably shouldn’t blow all our money in one night.”
“Sam… I earned that money fair and square.”
Sam’s eyelids drooped, “You hustled some dumb rich guys at poker.”
Dean stared blankly, “Yeah. What’s your point?”
Sam laughed again, “Alright, man.”
“Yeah,” Dean grinned, lying back on the bed, reading the menu.
~
Sam thought at some point Dean would want to go and check out the hotel bar, but he seemed pretty content to hang out on the bed, messily eating a grilled steak sandwich, and watching TV.
Dean sniffled, mouth full of food.
“I’m ruined, Sammy.”
Sam looked up from his laptop.
“I’ll never be able to sleep in a two-bit motel room ever again.”
“I hate to say this, dude, but we might have to. This place isn’t cheap.”
Dean snorted, then choked on his sandwich. He sat forward coughing, eyes watering.
“You alright?” Sam asked with a hint of amusement.
“Sandwich tried to kill me,” he croaked.
“That’s why you shouldn’t eat lying down.”
“Know it all.”
Sam shook his head.
~
Fifteen minutes later Dean had finished the sandwich and was still cozy on the bed. He coughed again.
“Dude, is that still from the sandwich?”
Dean shook his head, still coughing into his fist, “Dunno. Feels like something’s caught in my throat.”
“Drink some water,” Sam suggested, looking back to his computer.
Dean sighed, and reluctantly got up, heading to the bar fridge and grabbing out a beer.
“I said water,” Sam moaned.
“Beer, water. Same thing,” Dean shrugged.
He sniffed and dragged the back of his hand under his nose.
“Ahhh,” he sighed, sitting back down on the bed, “This is the life.”
~
“Huh’KKSCHTuhh!”
“Bless you!” Sam looked up in surprise.
“Ah, that’s been coming for half an hour,” Dean said, scrubbing his nose.
Sam chuckled and shut his laptop, rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair.
“Hih’TTSCHHT!”
Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, who was struggling upright. He trudged into the bathroom and came back with a length of toilet paper, wiping his eyes, which looked red and watery.
“You alright?”
Dean bent at the waist and sneezed again into the tissues. It sounded harsh and throaty.
“Dude.”
Dean lay back on the bed. He cleared his throat, “What?”
“What’s up with you?” Sam thumbed the edge of his laptop.
“Dunno. Hay fever?”
“It’s January.”
Dean groaned, “I dunno, Sam. Maybe I’m allergic to your face.”
Sam rolled his eyes, “Are you sick?”
“I don’t get sick.”
“Sure,” Sam moaned.
“Hih’ETKCHSU!” Dean coughed, “Sond of a bitch.”
Sam ignored Dean and got up from the table, drawing the curtain and coming to sit on his own bed.
“What’s on the box?”
Dean chucked him the remote.
“You’re letting me pick?” Sam raised his eyebrows.
Dean shrugged, wiggling his nose like it was itchy.
“You must be feeling bad.”
“Shut up,” Dean whined, sniffing thickly.
~
“Hih’TSCHU! Heh’KKSCHHT! Hhh’ETSCHXT!”
“Jesus,” Sam eyed Dean.
“Heh, flatterig, but just call be Dean.”
Sam’s eyes widened at Dean’s voice, “What the hell, man? You sound awful. You’ve been sneezing for the past hour. What’s wrong?”
“Hih’CHXT! K’SCHTXU!”
Dean didn’t answer. He just got up and shut himself in the bathroom. Sam could hear him blowing his nose. Then the shower came on.
~
Dean emerged 20 minutes later. The skin around his nose and eyes was red and his hair was damp and sitting flat. His nostrils glistened and he wiped them on the sleeve of his Henley.
“Feel better?” Sam asked.
Dean slumped down on the bed heavily. He rubbed his face and groaned.
“Hih’TSCHHT!”
Sam sighed, face scrunched in sympathy, “Maybe you should call it a night. Get some sleep,” Sam suggested.
Dean coughed, “Baybe you’re right,” he said with a sniff.
Dean climbed under the covers and nuzzled into the pillows.
Sam got up and switched off the light, room still partially lit by the light of the TV.
“At least this bed is cobfortable,” Dean rasped through the congestion.
From there the night got a whole lot worse.
~
Dean was lying on his side, body turned away from Sam.
“Huh’KSCHTUu! Heh’TSCHU! Heh’eh… EK’TSCHUew!” Dean gasped, “Hep’TTSCHTXCH!”
He coughed wheezily.
“Shit, Dean. Are you alright?” Sam worried.
“Doh… dot alright,” Dean croaked, rolling on his back and placing a hand on his chest, “ I dunno… what’s wrog wid be.”
Sam could tell something was wrong. And not a little bit wrong, but a lot wrong. He could see the silhouetted profile of Dean’s face and something about the structure of it was different. Sam was out of bed and flicking the light on in seconds.
“Dude,” Dean brought a hand up to shield his eyes.
“Stop it. Let me look at you.”
“Whad?”
Sam took a sharp involuntary inhale when he got a look at Dean’s face.
“Dean, your eyes…”
“Huh? Huh’KKCHXT!”
“Oh, man… okay. Get up.”
“Whad’s wrog?” Dean coughed into his elbow.
“Your eyes are really swollen and you’re red… pretty much everywhere.”
Dean mumbled something, struggling to open his red, swollen, weepy eyes, to get a good look at himself.
Sam poked his neck, “Man, is that itchy?”
“Whad -“ Dean gasped incredulously, “Well, it is dow!”
Sam’s eyes widened, “Dean, these pillows are down. Have you ever slept on down before?”
“Combe againd?” Dean wheezed.
“Down. Duck down…”
Dean stared blankly.
“Duck feathers!”
“Doh, Sab. I ain’t eber slept on duck feathers before. I guess… heh’KSCTH! cheap places can’t… eh’CHHHXTT! …can’t afford it. Son of a - Heh’TSSCHT! Huh’ITSCHU! Heh’EKSCHTUEW! Huh’’hh’EXCHTT!”
Dean was hunkered down in the crook of his elbow, breathing heavily.
“Come on, man. Out of the bed,” Sam put his hands around his brother’s shoulders and manhandled him upright, “Jesus, the quilt is down as well. It has to be what’s caused this reaction.”
“Fugk. Cand’t I just habe onde good thig?” Dean sniffled, before dissolving into a high pitched, wheezy cough.
“You gotta strip off and shower, now. I’ll call reception. Do you have Benadryl in your bag?”
Dean blinked and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, “Thigk I used the last of it after that case with the lady with the cats?”
Sam shook his head, “It’s always animals with you.”
“Shud up. Hehh’TSCHK!”
“Shower, now. Cool water.”
“I hear ya.”
~
After Sam spoke to reception quite firmly about the situation with his brother things happened very quickly.
They were moved to a hypoallergenic room, no animal anything.
Dean was still sneezing, and snuffling, and coughing. His eyes streaming continually.
The hotel staff had swiftly located allergy medicine, the perks of 5-star service.
Doped out of his brain, head full and throbbing, still sneezing by the minute, Dean rolled his heavy head towards his brother.
“Hey, Sam.”
Sam reacted quickly, ready to give Dean anything and everything he might need, “Yeah, Dean?”
Dean coughed and curled up a little tighter, “Next tibe cand we pigk a place with magic fingers?”
End