Take two brothers, add the mother of all head colds and throw in one bed ... what do you get? Poor, poor Sammy knows the answer; serious, brother-induced sleep deprivation ...
Yes, yes, yes, I know the two boys in a bed thing is old, but it's such an irresistable hoot! This might be a little two, three or possibly even four shot depending on how much fun and larks I'm having tormenting those boys!
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I can only wish.
Sam flinched as an elbow smacked him across the face for the third time that night. Sighing heavily, he knew the flying arm preceeded a complete change of position for the arch-fidget sprawled over three quarters of the bed next to him.
Sure enough, Dean's body rolled over heavily with a breathy groan; and ended up with his cold, wet and very congested nose pressed hard up against Sam's ear.
He heralded his arrival with a juicy, wet snuffle; "Sgnuk"
Sam cringed. "… oh man, this is gonna be a long, long night …"
The flickering neon sign at the entrance of the Lamorna Motel lit up the Impala's gleaming black roof with cascades of dancing red lights as she sat in the parking lot, waiting patiently as the Winchesters tried to check in after an exhausting and seemingly endless drive.
But all was not going well …
… "The annual what?" Sam asked wearily, with a hint of exasperation.
"The annual all-America Cacti and Succulents Festival" repeated the smiling middle-aged lady at the reception desk who had cheerfully introduced herself as Pat.
"Oh …" Sam tailed off, at a loss for anything constructive to say.
"Yes sugar, it's a fantastic event; thousands of people come from all over the US to admire our succulents!" Pat gushed without a hint of irony. "If you go to the store on main street tomorrow, you can try the spicy cactus chowder - it's a whole new taste experience, trust me!"
Sam attempted and failed to look impressed, smiling as sweetly as his drained and shattered body would allow.
Why, he thought, did Dean have to find a job about as far as it was mathematically possible to travel within the same land mass? Sam had been driving all day, he was aching all over and miserably, desperately, bone-crushingly tired; he could feel himself slipping into a coma at just the thought of driving one more inch.
Dean, for his part, having decided that he needed to keep working to shake off the 'friggin' sniffle' that he had picked up a couple of days ago, had spent the whole journey drowsing in the passenger seat, head resting against the window, his condition deteriorating by the minute. Over the course of the journey various feverish coughs, sneezes, sniffs and splutters had plastered an impressive accumulation of bodily fluids and bacteria over the Impala's passenger window, turning it into a giant petrie dish, which Sam had no intention of going near. Not now. Not ever.
"So, the bottom line, is," Sam groaned, looking into Pat's impossibly cheerful face, "because every cactus enthusiast on Earth has converged on the town today, your one vacant room is the only one we are likely to find within a fifty mile radius?" His heavy-lidded, deeply-shadowed eyes betrayed the overwhelming exhaustion that his irritation was trying to hide. "An' it's a double?"
"Uh, yes, that's about right, sugar."
"As in one double bed?"
Pat glanced appreciatively at the hulking shoulders of the tall young man in front of her, and the broad chest of the pallid, red-nosed figure hunched shakily beside him.
"Yes, one queen … it might be a bit of a tight squeeze for both of you big strapping boys," she hesitated, "but, you could always snuggle up and keep warm on this chilly ol' night, huh?" she leaned across the counter with a wink.
Sam closed his eyes and plastered a forced smile across his lips.
A barely audible croak drifted up from somewhere around his elbow. "We're brothers, lady…"
Pat's smile dropped and a hot blush crept across her face; "Oh, um, well … uh, it does have a couch …" she offered weakly.
Sam looked at his brother, "what d'y think Dean?"
Watery green eyes squinted up at him; "Shhhnurkkggh …"
"You know what," Sam sighed, looking back to Pat, "we'll take it; I've driven for sixteen hours straight; I'm exhausted, my brother's sick ... we'll just have to work something out."
He glanced across to his brother as Pat handed him the keys.
"Dean, wipe your nose, you're dripping all over the nice lady's signing in book".