Treatment
Comment-fic prompt: Dean says Sam's fever is so high they could fry an egg on his forehead. Slightly delirious Sam tests this theory.
“God, Sammy, you're so hot I could fry an egg on your forehead!”
That was what Dean had said, about two hours before Sam got one of the craziest ideas that had ever crossed his mind--testing it.
So now Sam's sitting on the kitchen floor, hair matted with egg, with egg running down his forehead and dripping onto his collar, sniffling and rubbing the back of his hand against his face.
Dean just stared for a moment. At first he thought Sam had decided to make breakfast, but he couldn't figure out a) Why a guy so sick he'd refused soup an hour ago had chosen scrambled eggs for breakfast, or b) how even Sam had managed to drop an egg on his head accidentally.
"Um, what are you doing?"
"Wanted to see if I could really fry it."
"My God, you're like a five year old when you're sick, you know that? It's a saying, moron."
"Oh."
"All right, let's wash your hair."
"No!"
"It's going to dry like that. And then I'll have to cut it off," Dean threatened.
"'S better to leave it in longer."
"Why would anyone leave an egg in their hair?"
"Jess did."
At the mention of Jess, Dean prepared for the tears to start, but Sam looked more wistful than grieved or angry. "Why did Jess put eggs in her hair?" Dean asked gently.
"Made it shiny. She'd mix up this stuff with egg and I don't know what in it, and then she'd leave it in for like an hour. It was real soft after." Sam's hands stroke an imaginary head in memory.
"Well, your hair is just a little bit shorter than hers, so it's probably been in long enough. Come on, shower time."
“God, Sammy, you're so hot I could fry an egg on your forehead!”
That was what Dean had said, about two hours before Sam got one of the craziest ideas that had ever crossed his mind--testing it.
So now Sam's sitting on the kitchen floor, hair matted with egg, with egg running down his forehead and dripping onto his collar, sniffling and rubbing the back of his hand against his face.
Dean just stared for a moment. At first he thought Sam had decided to make breakfast, but he couldn't figure out a) Why a guy so sick he'd refused soup an hour ago had chosen scrambled eggs for breakfast, or b) how even Sam had managed to drop an egg on his head accidentally.
"Um, what are you doing?"
"Wanted to see if I could really fry it."
"My God, you're like a five year old when you're sick, you know that? It's a saying, moron."
"Oh."
"All right, let's wash your hair."
"No!"
"It's going to dry like that. And then I'll have to cut it off," Dean threatened.
"'S better to leave it in longer."
"Why would anyone leave an egg in their hair?"
"Jess did."
At the mention of Jess, Dean prepared for the tears to start, but Sam looked more wistful than grieved or angry. "Why did Jess put eggs in her hair?" Dean asked gently.
"Made it shiny. She'd mix up this stuff with egg and I don't know what in it, and then she'd leave it in for like an hour. It was real soft after." Sam's hands stroke an imaginary head in memory.
"Well, your hair is just a little bit shorter than hers, so it's probably been in long enough. Come on, shower time."