Fic Four Times it was Allergies and One Time it Wasn't (SPN)
Prompt: Sam and/or Dean. Five times it was just allergies and one time it wasn’t.
For some reason I read it wrong and thought it was meant to be five times in toto. My bad!
1.
“Urrrrgh, Saaam,” Dean groaned, scrubbing his nose forcefully with the palm of his hand.
“How is this my fault!?” Sam asked incredulously, holding his hands out by his sides waiting for his brother to resume walking.
Dean held up a finger, tilting his head to the side.
Sam sighed, waiting.
“Hhhh’… huh’EXCHTU!” Dean whipped his head into the crook of his arm, whole body bending over at the waist, catapulted forward by the power of it.
“Bless you,” Sam muttered with no sympathy, “Can we go?”
Dean furrowed his brow and cleared his throat loudly, shifting loose phlegm.
“You were the one that wanted to - hhh - that wanted to… son of a…” Dean directed his nose into his elbow crease again, “HHHh… heh’TXCHST!”
He coughed throatily.
“That wanted to interview the victim? Yeah, Dean. I did want to interview the victim in a case that you made us take.”
Dean sniffed, eyes looking bleary, red and watery.
“How would I know she had cats?” Sam added.
Dean narrowed his eyes, “You’re the researcher. You should know these things.”
Sam groaned, turning away from his brother, who resumed his shuffle down the street, breath hitching.
“Hehh’KKSSTCH!... Man, I hate cats.”
2.
“Hhh’ETSCHT! Huh’TSSSTCH! Hehhh’PTSCXHT! Hhh… hhuh… Heh’CHHXT! Huh’CHNGXT! Ohhh by God…”
“Geez,” Sam muttered from the motel room table.
“Shudt up,” Dean sniffled, gurgling into a cloud of Kleenex.
“Why didn’t you just buy more Benadryl?” Sam asked, watching Dean gear up for another fit.
“Heh’TSSTCH! Dond’t deed… hhh… Benadryl - Huh’PSCHT!... I’ve beed… hhh… doig fide without it.”
Sam furrowed his brow, “Oh, really? I’ve been trying to translate this Latin for four hours. I’m sick of listening to you.”
Dean coughed into his fist, other hand full of tissues, ready for his next fit.
“Huh’EEKPTSCHHh! Nnnnng,” Dean whined pathetically, snuffling.
“Is this really all from the wind?” Sam cocked an eyebrow.
Dean glared, “It’s the biddle of spring, dude. Give be a break.”
Sam rolled his eyes.
“Huh’PTSSHH! EH’TSCXT! Urgh… dorbally dnot this bad though.”
Sam sighed, “That’s because you take the Benadryl.”
“Stop tryig to bmother be - Oh, son of a - HEH’EKKCHXT!”
“That’s it. I’m going to the drug store,” Sam stood up and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair.
“Doh, I’ll go,” Dean paused to cough, “You godt worgk - ETTSHH! You godt worgk to do.”
Sam grimaced, “No, dude, I’ll be back in a minute and you look…” Sam gestured to Dean’s face, frowning in disgust.
“Ogkay, fide,” Dean leaned back against the headboard and massaged his sinuses.
“Try not to run out of tissues while I’m gone.”
“Doh probises.”
3.
Dean grabbed the crumpled piece of paper from Sam’s hand as they walked side by side down the main street, littered with hippie, organic clothing stores and vegan bakeries.
“So, what exactly do we need for this spell?”
“Just some of the standard stuff,” Sam gestured to the paper in his hand, “Wolfsbain, chickens feet… but there’s also these,” Sam pointed, “Some rare mystical herbs.”
“Which is why we’re going to a freaky magic shop like in Buffy?” Dean snorted.
Sam furrowed his brow, “Dude.”
Dean shrugged.
“Hey,” Sam slapped the back of his hand on Dean’s shoulder and stopped, “This is it.”
Dean followed his brother inside the shop, the door chiming delightfully as they entered.
Sam seemed to know exactly where he was going even though they’d never been there before.
“Dude, check this out,” Dean grinned, holding up a shrunken head.
“Gross, Dean, put that down,” Sam grimaced, “The herbs are this way.”
“Et’SCTCH!”
“Bless you!” Sam said, surprised.
Dean sniffed curtly, “Thanks.”
“Do you see Mugwort anywhere?”
“Ehh…hh…”
“What’s wrong?”
“HUPCHXTTtuh!”
“Bless you again,” Sam frowned, “You alright?”
Dean had his face buried in his elbow, rubbing his arm back and forth across his itching nose. He shook his head, “Something’s bugging me. Heh’CHXT! Huh’TSSSCHTK!”
“Go wait in the car, man. You’re obviously allergic to something.”
Dean sniffed wetly, “Urgh, Et’KSSCHT! God… yeah, alright - Heh’PSHHXT! Huh’NGXT!”
Sam patted him on the shoulder as he wandered out of the shop holding his nose.
4.
“Sam!”
“Yeah?”
“Did you change the laundry detergent?”
“… What?”
“Did you buy new laundry detergent?”
“Um, maybe? Why’s that?”
“Because I’ve been sneezing my head off all morning and now I’m all itchy.”
“Oh, shit. Here, show me your arms… Geez, Dean!”
“Right?”
“Okay, take that shirt off.”
“Hu’ETCHEWw!”
“Bless you. You should probably have a shower too. I’ll throw out that detergent and get the old one. Don’t wear anything I washed yesterday.”
“Okay.”
5.
Sam was sitting at the motel table, reading up on ghouls. Dean had been in the shower a long time, several sneezes already echoing from behind the door.
“Heh’PSCHHT!” Dean emerged from the bathroom, sneezing into his towel.
“Bless you. You alright?”
Dean sniffed and scratched his nose, “Guess Spring came early this year.”
Sam just huffed a laugh and went back to work.
…
“Mrs Weston, do you remember anything unusual -“
“Huh’EXCHT! Het’TSCHKST!” Dean snuffled against his sleeve.
“Bless you,” Mrs Weston said, sliding a tissue box across the table towards him.
Sam cleared his throat, “Sorry, you wouldn’t happen to have any cats would you?”
Dean widened his eyes at Sam from behind a mass of tissues, like he’d just revealed his weakness.
“Oh, heaven’s no,” she shook her head.
Dean sneezed twice more on his way to go wait in the car.
…
“Did you take Benadryl?”
“Yeah - hhhHHESSSCHT!”
The library patrons gave both of them dirty looks from their table in the corner.
“Well, it hasn’t worked very well. Sure you’re not sick?”
“I feel fine, Sam. It’s just my nose. Gotta be something bugging me.”
My throat is kinda sore, Dean thought, but it’s probably just from all the sneezing.
…
Dean coughed against his fist.
“Dean.”
He looked up from the stack of newspapers with bleary eyes, hours in the library were starting to get to him.
“You’re sick, aren’t you?” Sam had his mom-knows-best look on.
“It’s allergies,” Dean turned to sneeze into his arm, “Heh’EEKXXTCH! Heh’KKSCSTTt!” he coughed painfully, feeling a prickle of sweat forming in his hairline.
Sam reached his long arm across the table and put the back of his fingers to Dean’s cheekbone.
“I got news for you,” Sam muttered with a small smirk.
“Shut up,” Dean hit his hand away, starting to stand, “Let’s go back to the motel. I feel like shit.”
For some reason I read it wrong and thought it was meant to be five times in toto. My bad!
1.
“Urrrrgh, Saaam,” Dean groaned, scrubbing his nose forcefully with the palm of his hand.
“How is this my fault!?” Sam asked incredulously, holding his hands out by his sides waiting for his brother to resume walking.
Dean held up a finger, tilting his head to the side.
Sam sighed, waiting.
“Hhhh’… huh’EXCHTU!” Dean whipped his head into the crook of his arm, whole body bending over at the waist, catapulted forward by the power of it.
“Bless you,” Sam muttered with no sympathy, “Can we go?”
Dean furrowed his brow and cleared his throat loudly, shifting loose phlegm.
“You were the one that wanted to - hhh - that wanted to… son of a…” Dean directed his nose into his elbow crease again, “HHHh… heh’TXCHST!”
He coughed throatily.
“That wanted to interview the victim? Yeah, Dean. I did want to interview the victim in a case that you made us take.”
Dean sniffed, eyes looking bleary, red and watery.
“How would I know she had cats?” Sam added.
Dean narrowed his eyes, “You’re the researcher. You should know these things.”
Sam groaned, turning away from his brother, who resumed his shuffle down the street, breath hitching.
“Hehh’KKSSTCH!... Man, I hate cats.”
2.
“Hhh’ETSCHT! Huh’TSSSTCH! Hehhh’PTSCXHT! Hhh… hhuh… Heh’CHHXT! Huh’CHNGXT! Ohhh by God…”
“Geez,” Sam muttered from the motel room table.
“Shudt up,” Dean sniffled, gurgling into a cloud of Kleenex.
“Why didn’t you just buy more Benadryl?” Sam asked, watching Dean gear up for another fit.
“Heh’TSSTCH! Dond’t deed… hhh… Benadryl - Huh’PSCHT!... I’ve beed… hhh… doig fide without it.”
Sam furrowed his brow, “Oh, really? I’ve been trying to translate this Latin for four hours. I’m sick of listening to you.”
Dean coughed into his fist, other hand full of tissues, ready for his next fit.
“Huh’EEKPTSCHHh! Nnnnng,” Dean whined pathetically, snuffling.
“Is this really all from the wind?” Sam cocked an eyebrow.
Dean glared, “It’s the biddle of spring, dude. Give be a break.”
Sam rolled his eyes.
“Huh’PTSSHH! EH’TSCXT! Urgh… dorbally dnot this bad though.”
Sam sighed, “That’s because you take the Benadryl.”
“Stop tryig to bmother be - Oh, son of a - HEH’EKKCHXT!”
“That’s it. I’m going to the drug store,” Sam stood up and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair.
“Doh, I’ll go,” Dean paused to cough, “You godt worgk - ETTSHH! You godt worgk to do.”
Sam grimaced, “No, dude, I’ll be back in a minute and you look…” Sam gestured to Dean’s face, frowning in disgust.
“Ogkay, fide,” Dean leaned back against the headboard and massaged his sinuses.
“Try not to run out of tissues while I’m gone.”
“Doh probises.”
3.
Dean grabbed the crumpled piece of paper from Sam’s hand as they walked side by side down the main street, littered with hippie, organic clothing stores and vegan bakeries.
“So, what exactly do we need for this spell?”
“Just some of the standard stuff,” Sam gestured to the paper in his hand, “Wolfsbain, chickens feet… but there’s also these,” Sam pointed, “Some rare mystical herbs.”
“Which is why we’re going to a freaky magic shop like in Buffy?” Dean snorted.
Sam furrowed his brow, “Dude.”
Dean shrugged.
“Hey,” Sam slapped the back of his hand on Dean’s shoulder and stopped, “This is it.”
Dean followed his brother inside the shop, the door chiming delightfully as they entered.
Sam seemed to know exactly where he was going even though they’d never been there before.
“Dude, check this out,” Dean grinned, holding up a shrunken head.
“Gross, Dean, put that down,” Sam grimaced, “The herbs are this way.”
“Et’SCTCH!”
“Bless you!” Sam said, surprised.
Dean sniffed curtly, “Thanks.”
“Do you see Mugwort anywhere?”
“Ehh…hh…”
“What’s wrong?”
“HUPCHXTTtuh!”
“Bless you again,” Sam frowned, “You alright?”
Dean had his face buried in his elbow, rubbing his arm back and forth across his itching nose. He shook his head, “Something’s bugging me. Heh’CHXT! Huh’TSSSCHTK!”
“Go wait in the car, man. You’re obviously allergic to something.”
Dean sniffed wetly, “Urgh, Et’KSSCHT! God… yeah, alright - Heh’PSHHXT! Huh’NGXT!”
Sam patted him on the shoulder as he wandered out of the shop holding his nose.
4.
“Sam!”
“Yeah?”
“Did you change the laundry detergent?”
“… What?”
“Did you buy new laundry detergent?”
“Um, maybe? Why’s that?”
“Because I’ve been sneezing my head off all morning and now I’m all itchy.”
“Oh, shit. Here, show me your arms… Geez, Dean!”
“Right?”
“Okay, take that shirt off.”
“Hu’ETCHEWw!”
“Bless you. You should probably have a shower too. I’ll throw out that detergent and get the old one. Don’t wear anything I washed yesterday.”
“Okay.”
5.
Sam was sitting at the motel table, reading up on ghouls. Dean had been in the shower a long time, several sneezes already echoing from behind the door.
“Heh’PSCHHT!” Dean emerged from the bathroom, sneezing into his towel.
“Bless you. You alright?”
Dean sniffed and scratched his nose, “Guess Spring came early this year.”
Sam just huffed a laugh and went back to work.
…
“Mrs Weston, do you remember anything unusual -“
“Huh’EXCHT! Het’TSCHKST!” Dean snuffled against his sleeve.
“Bless you,” Mrs Weston said, sliding a tissue box across the table towards him.
Sam cleared his throat, “Sorry, you wouldn’t happen to have any cats would you?”
Dean widened his eyes at Sam from behind a mass of tissues, like he’d just revealed his weakness.
“Oh, heaven’s no,” she shook her head.
Dean sneezed twice more on his way to go wait in the car.
…
“Did you take Benadryl?”
“Yeah - hhhHHESSSCHT!”
The library patrons gave both of them dirty looks from their table in the corner.
“Well, it hasn’t worked very well. Sure you’re not sick?”
“I feel fine, Sam. It’s just my nose. Gotta be something bugging me.”
My throat is kinda sore, Dean thought, but it’s probably just from all the sneezing.
…
Dean coughed against his fist.
“Dean.”
He looked up from the stack of newspapers with bleary eyes, hours in the library were starting to get to him.
“You’re sick, aren’t you?” Sam had his mom-knows-best look on.
“It’s allergies,” Dean turned to sneeze into his arm, “Heh’EEKXXTCH! Heh’KKSCSTTt!” he coughed painfully, feeling a prickle of sweat forming in his hairline.
Sam reached his long arm across the table and put the back of his fingers to Dean’s cheekbone.
“I got news for you,” Sam muttered with a small smirk.
“Shut up,” Dean hit his hand away, starting to stand, “Let’s go back to the motel. I feel like shit.”