SPN: Spooks and Shotguns: Pride
“Would it kill you to just admit you’re sick?”
“’m not sick.” Granted, it wasn’t really convincing, Dean knew this, considering he was dragging his sleeve under his nose and snuffling hard, but hey. A man had pride, ya know? It was the principle of the thing. “Just allergies.”
Sam just snorted, shaking his head as he turned away, and Dean took the chance to crank the heating unit up some more. It was damned cold in the room, that’s all. For chrissake, there’s snow swirling all around out there. A man’s entitled to a little warmth.
“Whatever. Look, I’m gonna go find some food, then we can load up the Impala and blow this place, okay? Think you can keep from sneezing and snotting to death in that short of a time?” He had already shrugged into a coat and was stomping his feet into his boots. Dean barely repressed the urge to shake his head and gather up the missing bits of time he was losing.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Get some coffee while you’re out. And not that sissy shit!” he hollered as Sam slammed the door, rattling the windows. He huffed, rolling his eyes again at his brother’s flair for drama, and eyed the room.
Jesus, there was more shit to gather than he wanted there to be. He sighed, scrubbed a hair through his hair (which was getting longer than he liked, way time to get it cut again), and plopped inelegantly on the couch, reaching to grab his boots.
So what if that took a lot of energy? A man was entitled to rest his eyes for a few minutes. It had been a long day already. He muttered another excuse as he shifted, and realized foggily that he was laying down now. He’d take a quick power nap, then get everything packed up. Sammy wouldn’t even notice that he’d dozed.
Just a quick nap.
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Sam couldn’t exactly say he was surprised when he opened the door, and saw all of their stuff still about the room. It wasn’t -exactly- strewn… they had been raised neater than that, but it was definitely not packed. He -was- surprised that Dean didn’t appear by the time the door latched shut. He set the bags on the table, and the precious coffee… and Dean would have no idea how tempted Sam had been to spike it with some seriously girly syrups.
Dean was sound asleep on the tiny couch, curled up, knees and forehead pressed against the back as he shivered randomly, looking miserable.
‘I knew it, you jerk. Up all night coughing, but you’re not sick.’ Sam didn’t say a word though, just tugged a blanket free from the closet, and draped it carefully over his brother, and went to extend their stay.
A man had to have his pride, after all. He’d tease the hell outta Dean for it much later, when his brother was back up to speed.
Maybe.
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