THE EASY WAY OR THE HARD WAY
WOW: Flu. Sam knows the best way to secure Dean's co-operation.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, and that just sucks.
Sam gaped incredulously.
"You're not seriously planning to dig up the grave tonight?"
Dean gave a congested snort, rubbing his raw, wet nose to dislodge a hanging dewdrop.
"Unknot your *snuck* boxers Florence; it's jus' a friggin' cold."
Sam reached for his trusty thermometer; "we should check your temp bro', I reckon it's full-on flu."
Ignoring his brother, Dean bent over to gather his boots, "quit wastin' time with your pervy nursing urges, we've got work to do."
Sam scowled as he loomed menacingly over Dean's inverted ass.
"Dude," he warned darkly, "there's more than one place to stick these things."