Sam's eyes are streaming, red and raw, barely open. He's sneezing every two seconds and he can barely catch a breath. Dean has said 'bless you' about fourty-two times before he gave up, and that was just within the space of an hour.
This has been going on for two weeks and it's steadily getting worse as the days get warmer. They're in some small town in the country where cattle are going missing, it's not a big hunt but things have been going slow these days. One of the local farmer's gazes at Sam thoughtfully.
"Seems like you might have hayfever, son," he says. Dean almost chokes trying to keep himself from laughing.
Sam smiles politely, eyes blurring. "It seems so, mister," he pauses to hold his breath against another sneeze, it goes away, "Mister Arnolds. Have a nice day."
He grabs Dean's shoulder and pulls him away. He hears the farm house door click shut and he bursts into a fit of sneezes.
"Bless you, bless you, bless you, bless you," Dean says.
Sam yanks a tissue out of his suit pocket and blows his runny nose. He slips into the passenger seat and tries to catch a breath.
"No new information," he says, "This case isn't going anywhere."
"Yeah, it's kind of a bust," Dean agrees, he eyes Sam critically, "You look like you got ditched by your prom date, Samantha."
Sam doesn't have the energy to scowl, a hot shower then bed sounds like the best thing in the world...
He must drift off because next thing he knows Dean is shaking him and they're parked outside of the motel. He blinks his eyes clearer, though they still hurt like hell so they're squinty most of the time anyway, and stumbles towards their motel room. There's a giant sunflower climbing up high next to their door, it gazes down at Sam and he starts sneezing so fast and hard that everything goes black for a second.
Dean grabs him and steers him inside. "I reckon we should bust out the NyQuil, have ourselves a birthday celebration," he suggests.
Sam nods, then pauses. "Birthday?"
Dean laughs. "Yeah, doofus, your freaking birthday."
"It's May 2nd?" Sam asks, glancing at the clock, then stopping when he realises there's no date on the clock.
"Yeah, I mean, I know we don't usually do the birthday thing but I thought we settled it a couple days ago that we'd go for drinks, but I guess you're not feelin' up to that now, huh?"
"Huh," Sam agrees, plonking himself down on the nearest bed. Dean grabs him some fresh tissues and wipes his nose for him like he's four years old, then he fills him up with NyQuil, Sam is way too tired and itchy to complain.
He shrugs out of his jacket and kicks off his shoes, falling back into the bed with his shirt still tucked in. Dean hauls him back up and forces him to change into sweats before letting him lie back down again. Sam watches Dean shuffle around the kitchenette, propped up on pillows, then there's a cupcake right in front of his face with a candle on top.
"Make a wish, Sammy," Dean orders, smiling. The cake is pink with a frosted butterfly on top. Of course. "They ran out of princess cakes but I thought this would do," Dean says.
Sam blows out the candle.
"What'd you wish for?" Dean asks, he sets the cake down on the bedside table, then stretches out next to Sam.
"Won't come true if I tell," Sam scowls, his eyes are starting to droop. He feels Dean's arm snake around his shoulders. He frowns. "Are you cuddling me?"
"No," Dean says.
"I think you are."
"Don't know what you're talking about."
"Right."
"Right. Happy Birthday, Sammy."
"Happy Birthday, Dean," Sam replies, he falls asleep to Dean's laughter.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
carisma_sensei
FILLED: Cupcake 1/1
Date: 2016-05-02 06:24 pm (UTC)This has been going on for two weeks and it's steadily getting worse as the days get warmer. They're in some small town in the country where cattle are going missing, it's not a big hunt but things have been going slow these days. One of the local farmer's gazes at Sam thoughtfully.
"Seems like you might have hayfever, son," he says. Dean almost chokes trying to keep himself from laughing.
Sam smiles politely, eyes blurring. "It seems so, mister," he pauses to hold his breath against another sneeze, it goes away, "Mister Arnolds. Have a nice day."
He grabs Dean's shoulder and pulls him away. He hears the farm house door click shut and he bursts into a fit of sneezes.
"Bless you, bless you, bless you, bless you," Dean says.
Sam yanks a tissue out of his suit pocket and blows his runny nose. He slips into the passenger seat and tries to catch a breath.
"No new information," he says, "This case isn't going anywhere."
"Yeah, it's kind of a bust," Dean agrees, he eyes Sam critically, "You look like you got ditched by your prom date, Samantha."
Sam doesn't have the energy to scowl, a hot shower then bed sounds like the best thing in the world...
He must drift off because next thing he knows Dean is shaking him and they're parked outside of the motel. He blinks his eyes clearer, though they still hurt like hell so they're squinty most of the time anyway, and stumbles towards their motel room. There's a giant sunflower climbing up high next to their door, it gazes down at Sam and he starts sneezing so fast and hard that everything goes black for a second.
Dean grabs him and steers him inside. "I reckon we should bust out the NyQuil, have ourselves a birthday celebration," he suggests.
Sam nods, then pauses. "Birthday?"
Dean laughs. "Yeah, doofus, your freaking birthday."
"It's May 2nd?" Sam asks, glancing at the clock, then stopping when he realises there's no date on the clock.
"Yeah, I mean, I know we don't usually do the birthday thing but I thought we settled it a couple days ago that we'd go for drinks, but I guess you're not feelin' up to that now, huh?"
"Huh," Sam agrees, plonking himself down on the nearest bed. Dean grabs him some fresh tissues and wipes his nose for him like he's four years old, then he fills him up with NyQuil, Sam is way too tired and itchy to complain.
He shrugs out of his jacket and kicks off his shoes, falling back into the bed with his shirt still tucked in. Dean hauls him back up and forces him to change into sweats before letting him lie back down again. Sam watches Dean shuffle around the kitchenette, propped up on pillows, then there's a cupcake right in front of his face with a candle on top.
"Make a wish, Sammy," Dean orders, smiling. The cake is pink with a frosted butterfly on top. Of course. "They ran out of princess cakes but I thought this would do," Dean says.
Sam blows out the candle.
"What'd you wish for?" Dean asks, he sets the cake down on the bedside table, then stretches out next to Sam.
"Won't come true if I tell," Sam scowls, his eyes are starting to droop. He feels Dean's arm snake around his shoulders. He frowns. "Are you cuddling me?"
"No," Dean says.
"I think you are."
"Don't know what you're talking about."
"Right."
"Right. Happy Birthday, Sammy."
"Happy Birthday, Dean," Sam replies, he falls asleep to Dean's laughter.
END