Hangover Boy
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Hangover Boy
Rating: PG
Word count: 795
Pairing/Characters: Sam, Dean (minor Sam/Dean if you squint)
Summary: Um...total crack, following on Such a Girl...Sammy's hungover and still looking pregnant, and John comes home...Dean tries to explain...
A/Ns & Warnings: Yeah...not mpreg, I promise. Just a little pregnant crack...and wee!hangover!Sam...and sweet, schloompy brotherly love.
Dean lay across the couch eating Doritos and listening to the sounds of his brother in the bathroom, retching out a nasty combination of Mexican food and whiskey, all mixed together with demonic venom and sixteen year old uncertainty. He was really rather amused by the whole thing,…until the door opened and his father came in, two days early.
Dean sat up quickly, shoving the Playboy under the couch and straightening his shirt. “You’re home early.”
“Easy hunt.” John said, setting his bag on the rickety table. “Where’s you’re brother?”
Dean hitched his thumb at the hallway. The sounds of vomiting had ceased for the moment. “Bathroom.”
“How is he?”
Dean wasn’t sure how to answer that question, exactly. He knew what his father was referring to…he and Sam had argued before he left. There was a loud moan, followed by Sam’s whine, “De-e-e-ean!”
John looked at Dean, then down the hall. “Dean?”
Dean shrugged and decided to go for the funny. “Apparently, he’s pregnant.”
“He’s what?” John took two steps closer to Dean, then Sam appeared from the hall, his hair standing at odd angles, his face pasty, and his stomach swollen and protruding over his boxers. “Dean?”
Dean stood, his mouth open…at a complete loss.
“I threw up again Dean.” Sam said, as if he hadn’t noticed their father standing there.
“Sam?”
Sam’s eyes got big when he realized John was there. “Dean.”
“Dean?” John echoed, his eyes darting back and forth between his boys. “How-No. What? What did you do to your brother this time, Dean?”
“Me?” It came out more of a squeak than a word. “Why do you think it was me?”
John glared at him. “Isn’t it always you?”
“This is not my fault.” Dean said, flabbergasted.
Sam scratched at his stomach, and looked like he was going to cry. “You gave me the whiskey,” he said, with a pout.
“You got your brother drunk?”
“No-well, sorta, but-“
“He’s sixteen Dean.”
“I-How did this become my fault?”
John gestured at Sam and his stomach. Sam looked at John and back to Dean.
“Okay, I gave him the whiskey…but I didn’t….do that.”
“What exactly is that?” John asked, crossing his arms.
Dean deflated a little. “A reaction.”
“To what?”
Dean lowered his eyes and ducked his head. “I think it was a gryphist.”
John turned full on Dean. “You think?”
“It was dark.”
“Dark?”
“Dean, you promised it would go away.” Sam sounded more like an 8 year old than a sixteen year old.
“It will Sam. Give it time. It’s better already.”
“No it isn’t.”
Dean sighed and crossed over to his little brother, putting his hand against the swelling. “It is. How’s your head?”
Sam pouted and put his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Hurts.”
“Done throwing up?”
“Think so.”
“Okay, let’s get you some aspirin.” He looked up at his father. “Let me take care of this. I’ll…explain.”
Dean slipped an arm around Sam and turned him back toward the bathroom, putting a couple of aspirin into Sam’s hand and got a glass of water for him, watching to make sure that he drank the whole thing. “Okay…you go lay down and try to sleep it off okay?”
Dean walked him into the bedroom they shared and settled him onto the bed. “How’s the baby? Still itchy?”
“Dean.” Sam whined. “Not cool.”
Dean chuckled and pulled a blanket up over his brother. “No, I suppose not…but dude, you really do look pregnant.”
Sam turned away from him and pouted and Dean chuckled. He patted Sam’s side. “Rest up, hangover boy. I promise you’ll feel better later.”
Dean stood up, surprised to see his father leaning against the door with a smile on his face.
“So, a gryphist, eh?”
Dean shrugged. “I took him out for dinner and we were coming home. It was attacking two kids making out in the park. Sam got a swipe to the stomach before he got a hand on it and held it so I could put it down.”
John looked over Dean’s shoulder and watched Sam burrow under the blanket. “The whiskey?”
“We’re out of painkillers and he got a gash on his knee that needed stitching. I gave him the whiskey to dull the pain and distract him.”
“And pregnant?”
Dean laughed and moved past his father. “Ask hangover boy. He’s the one who was worried the alcohol would hurt the baby.”
“Still not cool.” Sam called out from the bed.
“Still really funny.” Dean called back.
Sam looked up at his father. “He’s never going to let me forget that, is he?”
John laughed and shook his head. “No Sam. I don’t think he will. You need anything?”
“A new head?”
“Sleep. You’ll feel better later.”
Title: Hangover Boy
Rating: PG
Word count: 795
Pairing/Characters: Sam, Dean (minor Sam/Dean if you squint)
Summary: Um...total crack, following on Such a Girl...Sammy's hungover and still looking pregnant, and John comes home...Dean tries to explain...
A/Ns & Warnings: Yeah...not mpreg, I promise. Just a little pregnant crack...and wee!hangover!Sam...and sweet, schloompy brotherly love.
Dean lay across the couch eating Doritos and listening to the sounds of his brother in the bathroom, retching out a nasty combination of Mexican food and whiskey, all mixed together with demonic venom and sixteen year old uncertainty. He was really rather amused by the whole thing,…until the door opened and his father came in, two days early.
Dean sat up quickly, shoving the Playboy under the couch and straightening his shirt. “You’re home early.”
“Easy hunt.” John said, setting his bag on the rickety table. “Where’s you’re brother?”
Dean hitched his thumb at the hallway. The sounds of vomiting had ceased for the moment. “Bathroom.”
“How is he?”
Dean wasn’t sure how to answer that question, exactly. He knew what his father was referring to…he and Sam had argued before he left. There was a loud moan, followed by Sam’s whine, “De-e-e-ean!”
John looked at Dean, then down the hall. “Dean?”
Dean shrugged and decided to go for the funny. “Apparently, he’s pregnant.”
“He’s what?” John took two steps closer to Dean, then Sam appeared from the hall, his hair standing at odd angles, his face pasty, and his stomach swollen and protruding over his boxers. “Dean?”
Dean stood, his mouth open…at a complete loss.
“I threw up again Dean.” Sam said, as if he hadn’t noticed their father standing there.
“Sam?”
Sam’s eyes got big when he realized John was there. “Dean.”
“Dean?” John echoed, his eyes darting back and forth between his boys. “How-No. What? What did you do to your brother this time, Dean?”
“Me?” It came out more of a squeak than a word. “Why do you think it was me?”
John glared at him. “Isn’t it always you?”
“This is not my fault.” Dean said, flabbergasted.
Sam scratched at his stomach, and looked like he was going to cry. “You gave me the whiskey,” he said, with a pout.
“You got your brother drunk?”
“No-well, sorta, but-“
“He’s sixteen Dean.”
“I-How did this become my fault?”
John gestured at Sam and his stomach. Sam looked at John and back to Dean.
“Okay, I gave him the whiskey…but I didn’t….do that.”
“What exactly is that?” John asked, crossing his arms.
Dean deflated a little. “A reaction.”
“To what?”
Dean lowered his eyes and ducked his head. “I think it was a gryphist.”
John turned full on Dean. “You think?”
“It was dark.”
“Dark?”
“Dean, you promised it would go away.” Sam sounded more like an 8 year old than a sixteen year old.
“It will Sam. Give it time. It’s better already.”
“No it isn’t.”
Dean sighed and crossed over to his little brother, putting his hand against the swelling. “It is. How’s your head?”
Sam pouted and put his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Hurts.”
“Done throwing up?”
“Think so.”
“Okay, let’s get you some aspirin.” He looked up at his father. “Let me take care of this. I’ll…explain.”
Dean slipped an arm around Sam and turned him back toward the bathroom, putting a couple of aspirin into Sam’s hand and got a glass of water for him, watching to make sure that he drank the whole thing. “Okay…you go lay down and try to sleep it off okay?”
Dean walked him into the bedroom they shared and settled him onto the bed. “How’s the baby? Still itchy?”
“Dean.” Sam whined. “Not cool.”
Dean chuckled and pulled a blanket up over his brother. “No, I suppose not…but dude, you really do look pregnant.”
Sam turned away from him and pouted and Dean chuckled. He patted Sam’s side. “Rest up, hangover boy. I promise you’ll feel better later.”
Dean stood up, surprised to see his father leaning against the door with a smile on his face.
“So, a gryphist, eh?”
Dean shrugged. “I took him out for dinner and we were coming home. It was attacking two kids making out in the park. Sam got a swipe to the stomach before he got a hand on it and held it so I could put it down.”
John looked over Dean’s shoulder and watched Sam burrow under the blanket. “The whiskey?”
“We’re out of painkillers and he got a gash on his knee that needed stitching. I gave him the whiskey to dull the pain and distract him.”
“And pregnant?”
Dean laughed and moved past his father. “Ask hangover boy. He’s the one who was worried the alcohol would hurt the baby.”
“Still not cool.” Sam called out from the bed.
“Still really funny.” Dean called back.
Sam looked up at his father. “He’s never going to let me forget that, is he?”
John laughed and shook his head. “No Sam. I don’t think he will. You need anything?”
“A new head?”
“Sleep. You’ll feel better later.”