WOW well. Dean's not happy, but Sam can't help himself, really he can't.

(Do I get brownie points for using the WOW three times in one drabble?)

Disclaimer: Checked my cupboards, under the bed, behind the sofa ... nope, don't own them.


Sam fought an increasingly unsuccessful battle not to laugh at the soaked and mud-coated figure slumped on an ER examination couch before him.

Glaring murderously at his brother, Dean shifted; trying to find a comfortable position for his swelling and darkening ankle; "s'not funny, bitch."

Shaking his head, Sam blinked to dislodge tears of unborn hilarity.

"Nothin' funny about fallin' down a friggin' well;" Dean snorted petulantly, "reckon I've busted my damned ankle."

A squeak of suppressed laughter escaped Sam as he nodded unconvincingly.

They both turned as a doctor approached; "well, well, what have we got here?"

Sam exploded.