CHECK POINT
WOW: Pull. Happy Birthday Beaming Sunshine; some sleepy Sam and confused Dean for you!
There's something that's gotta be done, sort of like, right now, but the boys are a bit hazy on the details ...
Disclaimer: don't own; want, but can't have.
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Sam's eyes flickered open as he awoke to fingertips brushing his forehead.
Squinting into the amber glow of the nightlamp he saw Dean crouching over him.
"Concussion check, dude;" Dean whispered sleepily, "how many fingers?"
"Three," Sam muttered around a yawn.
Dean hesitated, "you sure 'bout that?"
Pulling Dean's hand toward him, Sam counted the extended fingers, "one, two, three ... see?"
Fascinated, Dean examined his fingers closely, drifting cross-eyed in the process; "huh! I make it six ..."
Sam sighed and rose wearily to his feet, gently guiding his rubber-kneed brother back to bed.
"Dude," he murmured, "you're confused … YOU'RE the one who's concussed!"
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