Summary: Dean's hiccups aren't going away.
Spoilers: Set mid-Season 5
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and Eric Kripke – who'd best treat them well
A/N: Written for the LiveJournal Hoodietime Dean-focused hurt/comfort comment-fic meme.
"You want an angel of the Lord to take away your hiccups?"
Dean stares at his brother's twisting expression. It's small now but Sam's lips are pursed and getting, um, pursier and … hic … dammit. "What's wrong with calling Cas for help?"
Sam's lips are now twisted in a way that seems like it should freakin' hurt. His eyebrows rise. His mouth opens, and then closes and his lips roll the other way. "Because." A pause and a deep inhale. For fuck's sake Sam, couldja ham this up any more? Hic … "Hiccups are hardly a blip, Dean. They aren't even a gnat in the cosmic scale of crappery that we're dealing with. Because … They. Don't. Matter!"
Hic. "B… But they're not stopping." Dean knows he just whined. But this shit has been going on for hours! It's not normal. It's … demonic is what it is and his overgrown bean shoot … hic … of a brother doesn't … "You don't care."
Sam squints his eyes at him. Sighs exaggeratingly. "Drink more water."
"I've … hic … drunk water. I've pissed gallons of water out already … hic … Nothing fucking works."
Sam gets a pensive look. "What about breathing into a paper bag?"
"That's for hyperventilating. Hic. I think it'll … hic … make it worse."
There's a slight twitch in his brother's jaw. Sam looks at him again, eyes slightly twinkling. Dean knows something silly is about to come out of his brother's mouth by the slight upward tilt already forming. "Boo!"
Dean fights a returning smile. "Har … hic … har." If a scare really cured the hiccups … hic … well, he figures he must've accumulated enough at this point to never … hic … freakin' get them again.
Hic … hic … hic …
Sam's face gets serious again. "Hold your breath."
Dean considers this. Hic. He takes a suck of air and puffs out his cheeks like a blowfish.
Sam rolls his eyes. "What are you, twelve?"
"Mmm nnnt. Sh… p" … HIC … That last one burst out in a violent huff. Fuck. They won't stop. Dean's heart accelerates a tad. What if they never stop? What if this a final … hic … test to get him to cave? "Michael … hic … Michael is doing this."
"Makes hic sense. Drive me insane. Want hic outta my body … hic."
Sam stares at him directly. The penetrating hazel gaze makes Dean squirm and he … hic … moves a step back, his calf hitting the bed. Sam speaks slowly, enunciating every word pointedly, as if the hiccups have made Dean stupid. "You think an archangel has given you the hiccups?"
What was with the questions? Yes, Dean fucking thought this. And … hic … why not? Could be! They've seen weirder. He tells Sam this.
"I guess," is Sam's enigmatic reply.
They stay quiet. Dean paces. Hic … hic … hic …
Sam sits on the bed, runs a hand through his hair. His mouth is neutral now. Dean wonders if the twisted version is better because suddenly Sam's eyes meet his and they seem … hic … lost.
"Remember when I had the hiccups when we were kids, Dean?"
"Wh … hic … Huh?"
"Nothing worked, man. Lasted for days, it seemed. Pissed off Dad. Remember?"
Hic … Dean recalls lots of things that would piss off … hic … their father. Yeah. Sammy hiccupping for hours in the backseat of the Impala? Whining. Hic. "Wasn't your fault, Sam."
Sam looks up suddenly from wherever he'd disappeared into. Dean has planted himself on the opposite bed. His chest hurts … hic … he knows this is silly. Ridiculous. Of all the things that need to stop maybe this shouldn't rate … hic …
The bed suddenly dips next to him. He looks up startled into Sam's eyes, can't figure out what he sees there and that … hic … scares him more than he wants to admit. A huge palm presses against his back, another moving to his diaphragm in front. "What … hic … are you … hic … doing?"
"Shh," Sam says. He slips his hands beneath the fabric of Dean's tee-shirt and the sudden feel of warm skin against his body makes Dean flinch involuntarily. He tries to shift sideways. "What the hell? … hic … get off … hic … "
Sam moves his hands in slow, even circles over his skin, tilting in as Dean tries to shift away. "Relax. This worked with me."
The memory creeps in as Dean's muscles loosen under Sam's warm rubbing motion. Dad's short-tempered shout for Sammy to quit it already. Dean didn't even have to turn his head to know tears were flowing down Sam's cheeks. And crying? Yeah, great for getting rid of hiccups. Dean threw a look at the back of his father's head. Thankfully Dad was no longer looking in the rear view mirror. Silently he shifted closer on the seat and put one hand on Sammy's back and another on his front and whispered out of Dad's earshot, "This'll work. Promise. Just relax."
Hic … Sam's hands keep rubbing and Dean keeps his eyes glued to his thighs unable to look anywhere else. Hic … Dean isn't even sure if he's thought it or Sam says it. "Just relax."
And he does. And they vanish.
Without divine intervention.