Title: 'It's Stoopid and It Always Escalates…'
Summary: He thinks he might be having a reaction to the glue that Sam used to stick the bottle to his hand. Dean, Krazy Glue, and that missing scene from Hell House.
Characters: Dean, Sam, Krazy Glue and a bottle (gen, humour)
Pg13 – some language
A/N: Missing scene from Hell House. Inspired by 'I barely have any skin left on my palm' and I stumbled across a web page where a man revealed how he super glued a sausage to his friend's head at a BBQ. Go figure.
Disclaimer: The show and the boys do not belong to me. Not for profit.
'Its Stoopid and It Always Escalates…'
'In this hand; the ammo for the gun. And in this hand; Krazy Glue. A thousand and one uses. Now, a thousand and two.' F/X (1986)
Tick: Yet the evening's greatest victory is the partnership forged between this heroic duo! Friends to the end — bonded together by the Krazy-Glue of justice! Til death to they part! - The Tick
"Optimism and humour are the grease & glue of life" - Philip Butler
The cackling laughter mocked Dean as Sam grinned widely across at him. He had a look of triumphant goofiness plastered across his face and his laughter sounded relaxed as it slipped easily from him.
"Dude! What the hell?" Dean demanded as he tried to shake the bottle from his hand.
Sam just continued to grin at him, mouth parted as more childish laughter assaulted him, and shrugged his shoulders.
"Are you out of your mind?" he hissed, lowering his voice so as not to bring himself and the bottle attached to his hand to the attention of the other people milling about. "You glued my hand to a bottle."
"Actually, I glued a bottle to your hand," Sam corrected with a snort.
"Sam!" Dean exclaimed, exasperated. He tried to pry the bottle away with his free hand, "You. Glued. Me."
"You put itching powder in my pants!" Sam pointed out, eyes falling directly into Dean's locked gaze. His eyes were calm and serious but crinkled at the sight of Dean's addition.
"What are you? Twelve?" Dean grumbled out as he continued to struggle with the bottle. "I quote 'That prank stuff. It's stoopid and it always escalates'".
"You started it Dean," Sam said with another shrug. "And hearing my words from your mouth? Priceless."
He reached up to the overhanging wooden decoration, as he did only moments before, and pulled the hanging string. As the cackling laughter erupted again, Dean quickly reached up with his free hand and tugged at it, stalling the laughter abruptly.
"And now I'm ending it."
Sam smirked at Dean.
Dean continued to pull at the bottle. He felt his skin lift and stretch painfully but the bottle remained firmly attached. Sam's own hand shot out and landed squarely across both of Dean's.
"Don't do that," he reprimanded. "You'll hurt yourself."
"Maybe you should have thought of that before super gluing your brother," Dean grunted. He pushed Sam's hand and arm away.
"It's Krazy Glue" Sam clarified. He bit down on his laughter, finding Dean's predicament amusing as the embarrassed flush became a mixture of annoyed anger.
"Thanks Sam. Makes this-" he waved his bottled hand in front of his face, "-So much better."
With a sigh he let both hands drop back to the table. He swallowed a few times before clearing his throat. He thinks he might be having a reaction to the glue that Sam used to stick the bottle to his hand. "I think I might be having an allergic reaction."
He brought up his hand and proceeded to rub at his throat, feeling a tingly sensation there, and coughed one more time.
"No, you're not," Sam said with a shake of his head.
"Dude, I so am."
"You're just embarrassed," Sam said, "You're upset and stressed because you have a beer bottle stuck to your hand in a public place and you're running on endorphins and…"
"Sam! Stow it," Dean muttered, hand reaching out and snagging Sam's shirt, material twisting tightly in his fingers. "If you don't help me get this off, then there's gonna be broken glass and blood. And it won't all be mine."
Sam pulled his shirt out of Dean's grasp with a tug and put both hands up in mock defeat.
"Okay… calm down," Sam said, grin fading to a slight smirk, "We don't want to mess your pretty hands up."
He pushed himself out of the booth.
"Let's go to the restroom," he said waiting for Dean to shuffle across the bench, beer bottle slowing his progress, like he had suddenly been provided with a newly-deformed and useless lobster claw.
"C'mon," he said, reaching down for his brother's arm.
"Dude!" Dean protested as he irritatingly swatted Sam's hand away. "Glued. Not incapacitated."
"Just trying to help, man," Sam said, stepping back and allowing Dean to move.
"Some help," Dean complained as Sam slipped around him to his other side and grabbed at his right arm. "What did I just tell you?"
"I'm hiding your bottle-attached hand," Sam explained as he shielded Dean's arm and hand from prying eyes. "You want people noticing you taking your bottle to the bathroom?"
"Right," Dean laughed sarcastically as they neared the restroom door. "Because two guys going to the toilet together is so inconspicuous."
As they entered the restroom, and let the door swing shut, Dean pushed Sam away with a disgruntled "Get off me."
"Take it easy," Sam said, stepping back to the wash basin, "I'm sorry, okay? Let's remove the object before you get too melodramatic."
He turned the faucet on with one hand and pumped at the soap dispenser with the other.
"Seriously, I'm having some kind of reaction," Dean complained with another cough that, to his own disappointment, didn't sound very convincing. He followed Sam to the basin and offered his hand to him, "Get on with it, bitch."
Sam grabbed at his hand and placed it under the running water as he slapped soap over it and the bottle.
"It's Krazy Glue, Dean," Sam offered again as he worked the soapy water between the bottle and the skin of Dean's palm, "It's not toxic."
"Well, that's good know," Dean said with a roll of his eyes. "But I know my body."
"You can't be," Sam said. He prodded the bottle with his fingers, examining Dean's hand in the process. "It's harmless. Unless you get it in your eyes, then it can get nasty."
"Congrats college boy, you can read."
Sam ignored him as he continued to work at the bottle.
"And fumes – that can cause an allergic reaction," he continued. "But you've not been sniffing glue."
"No glue sniffing here, Sammy" Dean confirmed, huffing at Sam's exploratory fingers.
"Dean, seriously," Sam said as he pulled one more time at the skin and bottle. "Do you think I would do anything that could've hurt you?"
Shotgun and rock salt and the capability of pulling the trigger of a gun three times that he had been led to believe was actually loaded came to mind.
"Consciously," Sam added upon seeing Dean's raised eyebrows and pained expression.
"Sam!" Dean hissed as Sam pulled at his hand too painfully. "I don't care what the damn instructions said. There might be something in it that's affecting me – me –" he emphasised by pointing at and prodding his chest. "Not the hundreds and thousands of random people who Krazy Glue inanimate objects to themselves."
"You're just being a hypochondriac," Sam said, pulling at the bottle again. "You're breathing is fine."
"My skin is burning."
"It's probably pulling at it," Sam breathed out as his own exasperation started to settle in.
"Or it's, you know, burning the skin of my palm off," Dean huffed as he reached forward and pulled at the bottle himself.
Sam swatted Dean's hand away with a sharp slap to his fingers, "You know, some people use glue to fill cuts. What do you think a liquid bandage is?"
"Aint you a bundle of laughs. You're like my own freakin' Wikipedia," Dean grunted.
"This isn't budging," Sam sighed, defeated.
"No shit Captain Obvious."
"Want me to go and see if anyone's got any nail polish remover?" Sam offered, already halfway back to the door.
"No fuckin' way" Dean half-yelled, head flying up from inspecting his hand. He took a few hurried steps after him, grabbing at him with one hand wrapped tightly around his arm, and they both stumbled back to the basin.
"C'mon Dean," Sam reasoned. "It's the best thing. The acetone breaks down the bonds."
"I don't care," he said, grabbing at the bottle again and forcing more soap to be lathered over it, "There's no way I want people to know I let my little brother glue a bottle to my hand and… you know… two guys. One bathroom. Nail polish remover. People will start to talk" he said, smirking and blowing a kiss towards Sam.
So, Sam thought, he's not entirely lost his sense of humour.
"I need both my hands for Mordechai" Dean said. "You ever try handling a shotgun with a bottle stuck to your hand, Sammy?"
"Just don't…" Sam begun.
"This is coming off," Dean grunted and turned away from Sam, leaning over the basin, wincing, arms taught with pressure. "One way or another."
"Dean…" Sam warned.
"I swear to god Sam," Dean interrupted, "Next time, I'll stick the bottle where the sun doesn't shine."
Sam hovered near Dean's side, hands resting on an adjoining basin, as he watched Dean's hands tightly clasp around the bottle and heave.
"Hmm, I'll get you a cold compress."
"…I barely have any skin left on my palm."