A/N: Written for MadServer's awesome Sneezy-SPN-Boys Comment-Fic Meme.
"Fucking cults." Dean spat, twisting, straining his wrists against the wire binding them harshly behind his back.
"Ow, stop it!" Sam hissed when his shoulder knocked into him- his chin, Dean assumed though he couldn't see a damned thing. The back of his head throbbed, where he'd been hit. Hit, then tied up, then tossed into a...
They were in a fucking coffin- the two of them together, like Sam wasn't already sasquatch enough, trussed up and crushed so close together that their legs tangled uncomfortably and Dean could feel his brother's heart beating rapidly against his own chest.
"Do you still have your boot knife?" Dean growled, fighting the urge to writhe some more. Claustrophobic he wasn't, but this was damned uncomfortable- not to mention infuriating. Had he said 'fucking cults' yet? Fucking cults.
"Doh," was Sam's doleful reply, voice thick with congestion. He hadn't sounded this sick that morning, just a few sneezes over breakfast, but Dean still should have sent him right back to bed. Some big brother he was. "They took everythig I had od be."
Dean cursed and let his head fall against the hard wood bottom of their confines. His fingers were already starting to tingle with the loss of circulation; whoever had tied them up hadn't been kidding around.
He tried pressing his shoulder against the coffin lid but it was shut fast. Son of a bitch. He was wracking his brain for ideas when Sam broke the silence with an ominous phrase.
"Oh shih... shit."
"S-Sorry, man, I... I've g-godda... hih!" He could feel Sam's chest begin to quake.
"Oh. Oh, no- please tell me you're jo-"
"Heh-ISSHhah!" The hot wet burst against his forehead stole the rest of his protest, left him gaping.
"Sorry..." Sam sniffed thickly, contrite.
Dean's mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds. Something dripped toward his eyebrow. "Dude!"
"I s-said I was sohh... sorry!"
"No. No- you shut up."
"B-bud I- heh!" His breath was hitching again, warm puffs against Dean's skin.
"Keep it to yourself, man!"
"I'm trahh... tryig..." He could feel Sam squirming, desperate for anywhere to sneeze that wasn't Dean's face but there was just no room to move. At the last second, Dean crushed his face into his brother's curled shoulder, feeling the incredible explosion wrench them both. It was painful and he couldn't hold that position for longer than a few seconds but at least his face was dry.
"Dude." Sam's miserably stuffed up voice now held an edge of pain. "Ged your kdee off by kdee."
"Get your snot off my face." Dean retorted, but uncurled as much as possible, trying to alleviate the pressure of their joints being pressed together.
Sam groaned and coughed. "Fugking cults."
Dean vehemently agreed.
Hours passed- at least Dean thought hours had passed, though he really had no way of judging- and Sam was fantasizing about tissues. Literally.
"God, I deed to blow by dose so bad..." He groaned for the millionth time right before gearing up for yet another sneeze.
Dean suppressed a sigh and curled in toward Sam's shoulder, timing it perfectly. They'd had time to practice. "HeitCHOO! Int-CHSH! Heh.. HH-HEH-NTSCHOO!" The damp spray caught the top of his head, hot breath curling down the back of his neck, but he'd long since resigned himself to having snot in his hair.
"Sorry." Sam croaked and coughed some more.
"You done?" Dean's voice was muffled in Sam's shirt.
"I thihhh... thigk so."
"Yeah, that'd be a no." Sam's cramped body was squirming again, a sure sign of a tormented nose. After a moment, he stilled.
"Doh, I thigk I'b dode. By d-dose idches like crazy, bud... w-waid... hih..."
Dean hadn't moved, straining his neck to keep his face shielded from the inevitable. "Hurry it up, man."
"Neehh... hh... heh-ntCHUSH!"
"Deed... tissues..." Sam whimpered. Dean refrained from pointing out that he didn't seem to mind using Dean's hair for the time being. Disgusting is what it was, but Sam had progressed from sick to just plain miserable and had officially reached the dreaded Sam Winchester stage of illness when everything he said came out like he was five years old all over again.
And even worse, Dean catered. He couldn't fucking help it, it just happened.
"We'll get you tissues, I promise. First thing when we get out of here, we'll get the biggest box of tissues ever."
"Wid lotion?" Dean could only imagine the puppy dog eyes his brother was currently aiming into the darkness.
"Yes, with lotion. The girliest, lotioniest tissues we can find."
Dean sighed and assumed the position.
His nose itched. His throat felt tight. The air was hot and heavy, thick with hours of their being trapped and, oh yeah, his nose fucking itched.
He growled and pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth but it just made it worse and before he could do anything else- "YEISHOO!"
All over Sam's neck.
"One word, Sam, and I swear I'll end you." His own voice rasped painfully.
A short pause, then in a small voice, "I was just goig to suggest we ged two bogxes of girly lotion tissues."
Dean sniffed and rubbed his nose against Sam's shoulder to quell the newly rising itch.
"Yeah. That sounds like a good plan."