Title: Roller Coaster Ride
Notes: Written for sexualoddity’s Sneezy Supernatural Boys Appreciation Society comment meme

Prompt: Dean isn't sick. No, really. But, he's dreaming that he is. He's dreaming really vividly that he's sneezing over and over, and he can feel the tickling and everything. He wakes up and Sam is next to him muffling sneeze after sneeze into his pillow.

Roller Coaster Ride

Dean was on a roller coaster. It was like the one Dad let him go on alone when he was fourteen. Dad and Sammy had watched from the ground and had waved, but he’d been going too fast to see them at the time. The way it had made a slow climb up and then shot down through the loops and rolls and dips had been incredible. The wind had rushed toward him… or was it he had rushed into the wind?

So he was on the roller coaster now.  Actually, it was the same exact roller coaster. It was 1993 and they were at Six Flags Amusement Park. And it was his birthday. And there was a haunted house at the park that Dad said was actually haunted. But for right now, for three and a half glorious minutes, it was his time to just enjoy himself like any normal kid. It was just him and the roller coaster. And a giant purple monster sitting beside him. Eating a lollipop shaped like a tennis shoe. “Smile for the camera,” he told the monster, lifting his arms up for the photo opportunity on the long plunge down.

As the roller coaster came to a stop and he grabbed the pack of lemons he’d set aside, he suddenly felt something unexpected. It’s not the uncomfortable churning of his gut that might have been the result of eating three tacos before getting on the roller coaster, though. It was a tickle in his nose.

Dean’s had this dream before. It wasn’t always a giant purple monster next to him. Sometimes it was a camel. Or a flying goldfish. Or a vampire with bright pink hair. But it was always something. And the way it always played out was that he got off the roller coaster, grabbed his bag, and gave it to his dad.

But Dad was nowhere to be seen. And there was this tickle. He set down the bag and rubbed at his nose. The tickle didn’t go away. If anything, it got worse. He leaned against a railing to steady himself, arms crossed on the metal. His nostrils twitched. He sniffed and rubbed again. God, it wouldn’t let up!  He could feel it deep in the back of his nose, but also playing at his nostrils as well. And every time he touched his nose it got worse. Every time he took a breath, the urge to sneeze grew.

He tried stuffing his hands in his pockets. He tried holding his breath. Nothing helped. He was going to sneeze. He closed his eyes, willing it away. But nothing happened just because he wanted it to happen, not even in his dreams.

The urge intensified until it was all he could think of. The problem was, he felt like he wasn’t supposed to sneeze. He felt like sneezing was going to be terrible. Like sneezing was going to mean the end of the world. Or worse.

But he couldn’t help it. The urge was just so great and he felt so damn helpless.  “hehh…” He tried to hold it back, but it was too strong for him. “ehhhh… heh-UFShooo!” The sneeze was sort of absurd-sounding as it half-burst from him.

The world didn’t end, which was good. But everything around him stopped. He turned, one hand up to his face as though to hide himself from view. But everyone was watching him. The roller coaster ride stopped. Everyone in the whole park stared in his direction. Even Dad was there, looking disapproving.

Dean couldn’t help it, though. The sneeze had come out of nowhere. And there were more. Apparently. “heh…” He rubbed at his nose, which was a terrible mistake. It unleashed a volley of sneezes. “heh-ERTshhh! hehFshhh! Hehshuhh! Ehhshuh!” Sneeze after sneeze without stop. He didn’t know how to stop. And no matter how many sneezes he sneezed, the tickle stayed in his nose, strong as ever. “heh-Shuhh! H’Shehh! Hehshufff! Hetchuhh!”

Dean woke with a start. His hand flew to cover his mouth and nose, expecting to sneeze again. But he found he didn’t have to any more. The tickle had just been in the dream. It had felt so real, so strong, it was strange to suddenly be free of it.

“Hey, Sammy? You’ll never believe the dream I just had.” His words pierced the silence of the motel room. Rolling over from one side to the other, he expected to find Sam slowly waking up, sleepy but ready and eager to hear all the details.

Instead, he found Sam already awake. Sam lay on his stomach, the lumpy motel pillows in his arms. His face was buried in them and his body shook—not with sobs or mere breaths, but with sneezes. They were quiet, muffled, but Dean could still make them out. “Hff! Chffff! Hmmf! Huffff!” The sneezes shook Sam’s body and Sam’s body shook the whole bed.

Dean reached over, laying a sympathetic hand on Sam’s back.

Sam jumped at the touch and raised his head. His face was slack, nose running just a little, mouth hanging wide open, eyes having trouble focusing. Then his head snapped down and he sneezed again. “h’IHTShekkkk! H’EHPTshh!” Twice.

Dean chuckled, figuring it out finally. “Hold on, Sammy. I’ll go get you some Kleenex. And in the morning I’ll get you meds. You gonna make it ‘til then?”

Sam nodded, mouth half open, nostrils flaring, and Dean knew that feeling all too well. He launched himself out of bed and headed for the tissue box in the motel bathroom.