Just a tiny little one-shot that I scrawled down. Thought some of you might appreciate it
Worth It
Sam sat at the kitchen table in front of his laptop, browsing news articles and looking for anything out of the ordinary, a bowl full of granola, yoghurt and berries at his right, coffee on his left.
He heard Dean clattering down the hallway, letting out a raspy cough.
“Morning,” Sam said, raising his head as Dean entered, hair mussed, eyes half open, wearing his dead guy robe and a pair of boxers.
Dean groaned and bee-lined for the fridge, sputtering another cough against his arm.
Sam raised his eyebrows as Dean foraged for food, dubiously inspecting something wrapped in aluminium foil. He threw it back in the fridge, clearly unsatisfied.
“hh’tssschht!”
“Bless you.”
“Hm.”
“You sick?”
Dean abandoned his search for food and stumbled towards the coffee maker.
“Need coffee,” he grumbled.
“You get drunk last night?” Sam asked.
Dean grabbed his mug and sat down across from Sam, seemingly oblivious to the question.
Sam closed his laptop, “You look like hell.”
Dean took a sip of coffee and coughed.
Sam grimaced and shuffled slightly away from his brother, dragging his cereal bowl towards himself.
Dean sniffed thickly, finally looking Sam in the eye, “What?”
Sam furrowed his brow, “Are you even awake yet?”
Dean grumbled, swiping his sleeve under his twitching nose.
“Hhuh’Ktschhttuh!”
“You’re sick.”
“Shut up.”
“Where did you go last night?”
“Mm. A bar,” Dean closed his eyes and held the coffee mug close to his face with both hands.
“Hook up with any random chicks?” Sam raised his eyebrow.
Dean opened his eyes to slits, glaring at his brother, before he started convulsing with coughs, setting his cup down and turning to the side.
“She was sick, wasn’t she?”
Dean sniffled, “Hehh’TSCHKkuuh! Urgh. Worth it.”
“Really?”
Dean grinned sleepily, “Totally.”
“Maybe you should go back to bed… or take a shower.”
“Mm,” Dean nodded, hunching over into his cupped hands, “Huh’KSHHSHS! Heh’Ttschht! Huhh.. hh…Huh’TTSCHk!”
Sam raised an eyebrow as Dean staggered to his feet, coffee mug in hand.
“Wake be whend you find a case,” he mumbled congestedly.
“You wanna take a case?... like that?” Sam had both his eyebrows raised now.
Dean opened his mouth to protest but a cough stole his breath, he bent forward, hand braced on the wall.
Sam picked up his bowl and stood, “I’ll make a supply run.”
“Get be popsicles. By throat is killig be,” Dean ruffled a hand through his hair, making it stick up worse than it was before.
Sam laughed, “Sure, man.”
End