I have the hiccups. So does Dean. What a plot-less drabble that wound its way into my mind!
"HI-UH!"
Okay, so this was not the adorable kind of hiccups that you giggle at small kittens suffering; the cute kind of throat contractions that last five or so minutes and then let you get on with your life. These were the kind of hiccups that made it potentially dangerous to consume a glass of water in public. Dean was not impressed.
Every single time his chest contorted to let another lung-jagging hiccup occur, his face twisted like he'd had a lemon shoved into his mouth, which made it particularly hard to read the weathered book on spirits that Bobby had shoved under his nose to research.
"HI-UH!"
Dean could practically feel his brother's silent laughter as Sam poked his head in through the bedroom door. "Dean?" he asked nervously. "The Impala's gone."
Dean's eyes widened.
Sam cracked a grin, and his elder brother's expression relaxed into a scowl.
Ducking back out of the room, Sam snickered, "Hey man, at least you've quit hiccupping every five seconds."
Dean's chest constricted. "HI-UH!"