Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Supernatural. I'm just taking Sam and Dean out for a little spin for fun.

TO TEA OR NOT TO TEA

By: Vanessa Sgroi

Dean's door was half open so Sam didn't bother to knock considering his hands are full. He nudged the door completely open with his foot and headed toward the bed where Dean lay propped up against a couple of pillows.

"Please tell me that's coffee…" Dean mumbles as he eyes the mug in Sam's hand.

"Nope. Tea." Sam ignores his brother's disgruntled look and hands him the mug before placing a paper plate with two slices of toast slathered with peanut butter down on the table next to the bed. "As sick as you've been this past week, I doubt your stomach can handle much…especially coffee."

"What's wrong with coffee?" Dean queried cantankerously.

"Too acidic."

"Only when you make it."

"Drink your tea."

Dean sniffed at the trails of steam rising from the mug. "What the hell is this—it smells like you boiled potpourri and poured it in a cup!"

"It's Rose Petal and Hibiscus Flower."

"It smells like that old lady's house in Dyer, Indiana. You remember that place? My clothes smelled like rotten flowers for a month."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's exaggeration—well, slight exaggeration—their clothes had been rather robustly scented for a week or so. "Just drink it. It's good for you."

"No way. It can't be good for me. Not smelling like that." Dean tried to push the mug back into Sam's hands to no avail. "Why don't you just bring me some rose petals to munch on?"

"You're being ridiculous. Just drink the tea."

"Why are you torturing me?"

"Look, I drink this tea all the time…"

"And look at you! A skinny, girly, fluffy-haired, long-legged geek."

"Yeah, one who's highly intelligent, computer-savvy, sharp, observant, and athletic."

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. "Can't you at least bring me a more manly tea—like English Breakfast or even Earl Grey?"

"We're out. It's either this or Rooibos."

"Or there's always plain, old black coffee."

Sam scowled. "How many times do I have to say no? Drink the damn tea!"

Finally, Dean reluctantly complied, taking a small sip. He grimaced. "It's cold."

"Oh, for shit's sake." Sam huffed. He grabbed the mug out of Dean's hands and stalked away.

"Where're you goin'?" Dean said.

"Anywhere but here."

"What about my tea?"

"I'll bring you a glass of water."

"But…water's not warm and soothing…"

Sam stopped in the doorway, fighting the urge to turn around, march back to the bed, and dump the now-cold tea over Dean's head. "Maybe I'll just dump the water of his head," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, Sammy…"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the tea—I mean, it's the thought that counts, right?"

"Right." Sam half turns, looking over at Dean, who still looks sickly pale and worn. "At least eat your toast and peanut butter. If that stays down, maybe—just maybe—I'll bring you a half a cup of coffee. Weak coffee—not that rotgut you like."

Dean offers up a small grin. "Weak coffee is better than no coffee at all. But maybe later you can bring me a cup of that Ruby O's tea."

"Rooibos, Dean, Rooibos."

"Yeah, the red stuff. I guess I won't mind that." Dean picked a triangle of peanut butter toast and bit into it. "Make two and we can sit here and watch a movie."

"All right. As long as we don't watch Die Hard AGAIN."

"What's wrong with Die Hard? It's a great movie."

"I know. But you recite all the lines when we're watching. And we've seen it, like, a hundred times."

"Fine. You can pick the movie—as long as it's not The Princess Bride."

"But…"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Fine. How about Airplane?"

Dean's eyes lit up. "Hey, yeah. I could use a good laugh."

"Me, too."

"We both know the lines in that one, you know."

"So we'll recite them together then."

FIN