"Getting a head start, this morning are we Samantha?" Dean said, making his way to the table at the epicenter of the bunker.
Sam looked up from his laptop. "Dean, it's 11 AM." He said, raising his eyebrows. "You slept through breakfast.
Dean took a glance at his wrist, before realizing his watch was still sitting on the side table in his room; the accessory foregone when he got into his boxers last night-the same pair he was now donning with the addition of his dead-man's robe. Dean looked back at Sam, bewildered. "11 AM? I slept for 12 hours?"
Dean pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. "Why didn't you wake me?"
Sam grabbed for the glass of water in front of him. "We don't have a case at the moment and I figured you needed the sleep."
Dean nodded and pulled his sleeves down, as the air vent caused goosebumps to crawl across his arm.
"I left you some coffee in the coffee pot." Sam said, not looking up from his screen.
Dean smirked and shuffled over to the kitchen. "You're staring at that laptop pretty intently. Anything good?" Dean asked, reaching for the mug in the cabinet above him.
Sam shook his head. "Not unless you count Katy Perry releasing another album."
Dean tossed some creamer into his cup. "Who?"
Sam smirked, shaking his head. "Nevermind."
Dean took his seat back at the table and took a short sip from his mug. "Ech, dude what did you do to this coffee?" he said curling his lips against the sour taste.
Sam looked up at him, skeptically. "What do you mean? Nothing."
Dean eyed the coffee before pushing it away from him. "Tastes weird." He said, drawing his robe closer, to protect against the draft.
Sam gave Dean a once over. "You good, man?"
Dean brushed him off. "Dude, I'm fine. Not my fault the coffee tastes like ass."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Not my fault it sat for so long, waiting for your lazy ass to get out of bed."
Dean shook his head. "I'm gonna hit the showers."
Dean stuck his hand under the stream, testing the temperature of the water before climbing into the shower. If he was being honest, he was starting to not feel so great. The sour taste the coffee had left on his tongue was still lingering and seemed to be intensifying, despite his best efforts to rake his tongue under his teeth. He reached forward, cranking the water temperature to its hottest setting. He needed to remind Sam not to crank the AC after his morning run. He took his time, letting the water fall down his back. When his fingertips began to resemble raisins, he decided it best to climb out, before Sam came looking for him.
He grabbed for the towel on the adjacent rack and wrapped it around his waist, once again feeling the hair on his arms stand up against the surrounding air; it was a drastic change from the shower that had turned his skin a cherry color. He shuffled across the hall to his room, quickly grabbing for the sweatpants in the bottom drawer of his dresser, shedding the damp towel. He made a grab for the white cotton tee hanging on the bedpost of his bed and slipped it over his head before plopping down at the edge of the bed. His stomach growled and he couldn't help but put his hand against the offending sound. He felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead as his stomach cramped and rolled. He swallowed. Not good.
He took the opportunity to lay down on his side, curling his knees to his chest. He felt his stomach roll again, and clenched his teeth as the previous sour taste he had attributed to the coffee flooded the forefront of his mouth.
"Hey Dean." Sam shouted, making his way down the hallway. "We are out of beer. I'm going to head to the store. You need...Dean?" Sam paused in the doorway. "Dude, what are you doing back in bed? You slept enough for a week."
Dean opened his eyes to glance towards his brother, before deciding against it and closing them once more. "Don' feel good Sammy." He groaned, wrapping his arms tighter across his angry midsection.
Sam perked up at the confession. Dean's got to be feeling pretty bad to fold so easily. "Don't feel good how?" He asked, making his way to the side of the bed.
Dean groaned. "Stomach." He exhaled sharply. "Hurts."
Sam nodded, taking in this information. "Think it was something you ate?"
Dean shrugged. "Both eat the same things and you're fine." He felt his intestine seize and drew his knees closer. "Oh god." He moaned.
Sam looked down at his brother. " Dude you're scaring me. What's going on?"
Dean felt the saliva pool in his mouth and made a run for the bathroom he had exited just five minutes prior. He lifted the lid of the toilet seat and hovered over the water, trying to stave off the inevitable. He could feel Sam's hands on his shoulders, helping him to his knees. He gripped the toilet seat, and dug his thumbs into the porcelain as his stomach clenched and released into the basin. Sam, for his part, was rubbing his back as he continued to be sick, no doubt feeling the muscles surrounding Dean's spine, tense and relax with each productive heave. Dean found respite in between the waves and pressed his cheek into the cold seat. "Sam?" He gruffed, spitting into the bowl.
Sam looked at him, expectantly. "Yeah?"
Sam let out a sympathetic chuckle. "How about we start with rest first?"
Dean closed his eyes, feeling the bile making its way back up his throat. "Ungh." He whined, leaning back over the bowl, giving into round two. Sam pushed off from the floor, and made his way to the adjacent sink, fishing out a rag from under the counter. He winced, hearing Dean heave harder into the basin. He let the water run cold, before holding the rag under the torrent and ringing out the excess. He laid the rag across Dean's neck, pressing it down, to make sure it didn't slide off in the exertion. Dean who had seemed to stop for the time being, looked up gratefully. "Thanks Sammy."
"You think you're done?"
Dean swallowed, wincing at the bitter taste. "For now."
Sam nodded. "That is good enough for me." He got to his feet, reaching out his hand. "Come on. You'll feel better in your bed."
Dean smacked the proffered hand. "I'm not an invalid."
Sam pursed his lips. "And I'm not saying you are," he said, trying to bite his tongue, "but if it was me who had just turned myself inside out, I would be feeling a little worse for wear."
Dean tried to be stubborn-he really did-but truth be told he was feeling pretty woozy and the idea of walking under his own power, was enough to turn his stomach. He accepted the outstretched hand, albeit reluctantly, and allowed his brother to help him to his feet. Sam reached behind him, flushed the toilet and reached for the wet rag that had fallen to the floor. He took stock of Dean, who remained steady on his feet. "You good to walk?"
Dean glared at him before making his way back to his room under his own power. He all but flopped onto his bed, curling up on his side, once more. Sam, who had made a detour for the kitchen, pressed a glass of water against Dean's knuckles.
Dean licked his lips. "Not thirsty."
Sam pressed the glass against his brother's hand, firmer in his approach. "I know, but you just lost way too much of your stomach lining to be refusing. Drink."
Dean propped himself up on his elbow, and accepted the glass, taking a few sips before his stomach starting protesting. Dean leaned up against his headboard, and handed the water back to Sam.
"Well." Sam said, setting the glass down on the side table. "I can all but feel the heat waves coming off of you, so I'm thinking some kind of virus."
Dean grabbed at his stomach. "Fantastic." he said, clearing his throat.
Sam nodded in solemn agreement. "Well neither of us have had the run-of-the-mill sickness in god knows how long so we are fresh out of provisions so I am going to have to make a stop at the store." He grabbed the trash can in the corner of the room and put it next to the bed. "You going to be good for a while?"
Dean sunk into his mattress, pulling his sheets up to his neck. "Just peachy."
"Okay." Sam said, kicking the trash can. "This is here if you need it. Should be back in half an hour. Try not to puke up your liver while I'm gone."
Dean growled and rolled over. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."