Prompt: Dean's allergies are really messing with him. He's been fighting them off all day, letting out a sneeze here and a sneeze there, but desperately struggling to keep from losing control over himself. It's almost painful for Sam to watch. When the brothers get to their hotel room that evening, Dean just can't take it anymore. He just plops down with a box of tissues and lets himself succumb to his allergies with a massive, lengthy bout of sneezing.
Agent Tough Guy
“Well, if you think of something…” Dean reached into his inside suit jacket pocket. His fingers lingered there a moment, and Sam noticed. But Dean pulled out a fake Homeland Security business card and handed it to the soccer mom. As she looked down at the card, Dean’s hand withdrew. In a smooth movement, two of his knuckles rubbed against his nostrils, which flared at the same time with a silent sniff. “Don’t hesitate to call us.”
The woman nodded. “I will. I just can’t believe that happened to such a nice young lady. She was so young. And so sweet. She always showed up to our neighborhood barbecues with the best potato salad.”
Sam nodded. “Thank you for your time.”
As they walked out of the house, Dean shook his head. “So what are you thinking? Some demon that targets the nicest person on the block and eats her brains?”
Sam looked skeptical. “You think she was the nicest person on the block?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention all afternoon?” Sam’s gaze caught Dean swiping his hand at his nose. Dean’s pace slowed slightly as he cleared his throat and sniffed hard. “She called bingo down at the church. She shoveled snow for the old guy down the street. She made potato salad for the whole neighborhood.”
“I dunno. Those sound like normal little things neighbors do.” Sam shrugged.
“But—“ Dean started to argue but barely got started. He stopped in place, halfway up the walk to the next house. Pressing a fist to his nose and mouth, his head bobbed down with a small “k’Cheeff!” The sniff that followed was wetter and stronger than the sneeze had been.
“And it sounds like you forgot your allergy medicine this lovely spring morning.”
“Shuddup.” Dean cleared his throat, sniffed again, and marched up to the door.
Sam sighed and rang the doorbell. The door was answered by an elderly woman. “Good day, Ma’am.” Sam and Dean flashed their fake badges. “I’m Agent Rose, this is my partner, Agent Adler. Could we ask you a couple questions about Ms. Jenkins down the street?”
The woman pressed a hand to her chest dramatically. “Oh, of course. What a tragedy. Come in, Agents, or they’ll get out.”
Sam and Dean shuffled inside before asking what ‘they’ were. ‘They’ could have been zombies or demons or shifters or forgotten gods or any of a hundred supernatural creatures that were out there. But ‘they’ turned out to be kittens. At least a half dozen of them, to be exact. They were little white and gray furballs who seemed to want nothing more than to play with Dean’s shoelaces and rub up against Dean’s shins. Sam looked amused. Dean looked horrified. He pressed his fist to his face again as his eyebrows and the pitch of his voice both rose. “Did you know… Jennifer Jen… Jenkins?”
“Absolutely. She used to look after my cats for me every time I went out of town. She didn’t even charge me for it. She was always just happy to help out.”
Dean glanced over at Sam, knowingly. And Sam returned the knowing look, just as Dean turned away. He smothered a half-stifled sneeze into the side of his hand. “ahPff!”
Sam nearly winced visibly. Dean wasn’t going to last long in these conditions. So Sam took the lead in questioning this last neighbor on the block. “Have you seen anyone suspicious around Ms. Jenkins’ house? Have there been any changes in her routine of late?”
“No, no.” The woman looked thoughtful, but she didn’t have any of the answers they needed. She scooped up one of the kittens, which mewled and kneaded into her sweater-covered arm. “Nothing like that. She was fine when I ran into her at the grocery store last Saturday. Everything seemed normal.”
“Well-if-you-think-of-something-give-us-a-call.” Dean rushed through the words, practically throwing a business card at the woman before fleeing the home. Several of the kittens chased after him, wanting to go with him. But he slipped through the front door and practically raced to the car.
Sam got in the driver’s seat, now actually chuckling. “You all right, Agent Tough Guy? Or did the cute widdle kittens get to you?”
“Shuh…” Dean shook his head. He pulled not a business card but a thin handkerchief out of the other inside pocket of his suit jacket and pressed it to his twitching nostrils.
“Wanna go back to the motel?”
Dean nodded and stared out the window, but he held the handkerchief in place at his nose as he tried to brush stray cat hairs off the cuffs of his black slacks. He scrubbed his eyes with his knuckles repeatedly and cleared his throat every few seconds, even though that clearly wasn’t helping.
When they got to the motel, Dean sat frozen in the car, staring out at the red door that suddenly appeared to be miles away instead of something like nine feet. “Hey…” Sam reached over and patted Dean’s leg. “You okay, man?”
Dean’s nostrils flared rebelliously. His tired eyes blinked. His nose pressed firmly into his hand. “F-fine.” Dean sniffled and, slowly, extricated himself from the car. He walked smoothly to the motel room. He walked just as smoothly, without pausing, through the motel room to the bathroom. Sam assumed he’d be hiding in there the rest of the night where no cats or dead do-gooder neighbors could get to him. Instead, Dean emerged a second later with the box of tissues from the bathroom.
He plopped right down on his bed, the box on his lap and the handkerchief nowhere in sight. Sam could tell at once that Dean wasn’t okay. He wasn’t fine. He wasn’t anywhere near fine. “Uh… Dean? Can I get you—“
“hetttttChahhh!” Dean snapped forward, sneezing into the nest of tissues he had bunched at his nose. “Heh-Enxxshhh! Heptushhhhh!”
The sneezes were strong and wet; they seemed to take a lot out of him. This time, Sam actually did wince. “Geez, Dean. Bless—“
“HEHPTshooo!” He readjusted the tissues at his nose, finding a drier spot to nuzzle his nose into. “ehyyrschhh! IH-Shikuhhh! Heyushhh! Heh-heh-heh!” He paused, mouth hanging wide open, brow wrinkling. Then he swayed back and forth with an even stronger. “HEYYYixxxshh! Ehpbtshhhh! Hehkfshhhhh!”
Dean’s other hand, that had been bracing himself on the bed, dove into the tissue box and came out again with another handful of tissues. He dropped the first ones onto the floor and tried to switch to the fresh ones, but a sneeze struck while he was transitioning. “HEPTSHHHHH!” he sprayed freely, bouncing in place on the bed. Then his nose hid again in the fresh mass of tissues. “hehhKtshhh! hahFfshhhh! Eh-yehshhhh! Heh-Ihshhh! Hehshah! Huhshah! Hahh-hah-Kahtuhshhhhh! hehGfxxxxshh!”
Dean sat hunched over, nearly folded in half at the waist. A tear slid down the side of his face from the corner of one eye that was still tightly shut, but he didn’t bother wiping it away. He stiffened in place, froze for a second, and then shuddered. “hah-KUPTShhhh! YIHPshhh! Hah-hah-Yrshhh! Ihh-uhshuhhh!”
Folding the tissues at his nose, Dean wiped and sniffled and wiped. When he pulled his eyes open, he found Sam standing in front of him. With a glass of water. And the open bottle of allergy medicine.
“Dew blad,” Dean said, grabbing the meds at once.
“You have a new plan?” Sam asked.
“Uh-huh.” Dean downed a pill and then drained the glass. “Keeb beig so dice like this add the whatever-it-is will go after you.”
Sam laughed and grabbed another handful of tissues. He switched them out for the ones in Dean’s hand. “I happen to like my brains right where they are, thank you very much.”
“I would’t let adythig habbed to… ehh… to y-you-yehh…hehh-YIHShhh! HUhhKShhh!”
“I’d believe you if we were fighting the demon of tissues. You’d destroy it in a second. But until you get through this allergy attack, we’re not leaving this motel room.” Sam grabbed his laptop and settled on his bed to do some research.