E/O Challenge: slip
Word Count: A double drabble – one hundred words each for the birthday gals, CFEditor and Dizzo. Hope you each had wonderful, Supernatural-filled birthdays. Remember, you can't each have your own Dean, so share nicely!
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Summary: Hunters don't get sick days. Unless you're Dean Winchester.
Sick Day
Sam frowned, looking at the thermometer.
"It says 105," he said, shaking it out. "Must be busted. Let's try again." Sam leaned forward and slipped the instrument under Dean's tongue. Dean lay back against the pillow and sighed dramatically.
"Could you get me a burger, Sammy?" he asked.
"A burger? If you're not feeling good, I don't know -," Sam halted himself as Dean turned to him with wide, pleading eyes.
"Well...okay. I'll be right back." Sam grabbed his coat and with a last worried glance over his shoulder at a now seemingly sleeping Dean, closed the motel door behind him. At the sound, Dean's eyes flew open and he basked the thermometer in the heat of the light bulb in the lamp beside his bed.
Sam leaned against the door, his hand still on the knob. He knew just what his brother was doing – heating up the thermometer, and probably smothering his face under his pillow to give it a flushed and sweaty look. He could open the motel room door right now and catch Dean in the act -
Sam smiled. He'd let Dean play hooky. But his burger would be tofu.