A/N:My beta for this drabble was Merisha. She is helping me improve my writing skills. Enjoy and let me know what you think. This got removed so I thought I would reload it.
Just the Flu.
Sam's POV
Flu-[floo] noun, an illness characterized by fever, chills and coughing.
The dictionary's description of the flu. If only that's all it was. They left out the part about the fatigue, aches and trips to the bathroom. Coughing, I tried to focus on the webpage I was reading. Sick or not we still had a job to do. Plus I didn't feel right leaving Dean to do everything.
An hour or so later I finally had what I was looking for, Claire Anderson's grave site. I picked up my phone, about to call Dean and tell him, when he walked through the door. His arms held the food he had gone out for almost three hours ago. "Where have you been, Dean? It doesn't take that long to get food."
Grinning Dean says, "It does when there's a hot waitress who..."
Cutting him off I say, "Dude forget I even asked."
Shrugging he tosses one of the bags at me.
"Right, well while you were out having fun, I was working on the case."
"Really, and how'd that go for you Sammy boy."
With a dirty look for the 'Sammy boy' comment, I pass him a piece of paper. "Found her grave site smartass. Have fun digging alone."
Laughing Dean says, "I ain't going alone Sammy. You're coming with me. You've only got the flu so suck it up and get ready."
Giving Dean a disbelieving look, I grumble, "You've got to be kidding me. You expect me to come with you."
"Yeah, Sammy let's go. The less bitchin' you do the quicker we'll get done."
Shaking my head, I give him my best impression of what he calls my 'bitch face', "You're unbelievable Dean. I'll remember this when you get sick."
Three days later and wouldn't you know it, he gets sick, paybacks a bitch. "So Dean you ready to go do some research."
I can't help but grin when he groans out, "Shut up Sam. I'm trying to sleep over here, dude. I'm sick, I've got the flu, all thanks to you."