Disclaimer: I don't own these guys, any parts of the show, and so on and so forth. Blah, blah, blah.
Author's Note: This story is for Tifaching, as an apology for blowing the whistle on an upcoming SPN event she was unaware of. So sorry about the spoiler and hope this makes it up to you!
Her prompt words for this were earthquake, rainbow, and fly.
He felt the trickle of sweat running down his back. He gripped the flimsy armrests and closed his eyes. 'Breathe,' he told himself. 'Smell the roses, blow the candle.' He hated the mantra, but it actually worked. Goodness knows he had heard it enough over the years; in hospitals, in physical therapy, hell he'd even heard some guy on Oprah pushing the mantra for better, more controlled breathing. It would get you through pain, panic, and increase your O2 stats.
So why the hell wasn't it working now?
"I don't want to do this," Dean said through clenched teeth. His eyes were closed, his throat tight from the stress.
"Yes, you do," Sam said calmly as he flipped through the emergency landing pamphlet.
"No. I changed my mind," Dean said. Before he could say anything else, he felt the world move under him. 'It's just a friggin plane,' he told himself as he glanced around wildly.
His knuckles were white as he continued to grip the armrests, the plane taxi-ing the runway.
"Too late," Sam said with a smile. "You're going to have to suck it up."
Dean pulled in another deep breathe, this one coming out shaky through his pursed lips.
"I don't want to fly," he said. He hated it. He didn't really have any specific reason for it, except that PLANES WENT DOWN AND PEOPLE DIED ON THEM!
"Dammit Dean, quit being all whiny," Sam snapped for the tenth time.
Dean flinched at Sam's tone. Sam was perfectly fine with flying, always had been. Dean though, he even hated movies with aircraft: Moonraker, You Only Live Twice, Con Air; hell, even Apollo 13 made his skin crawl. He always sat with baited breathe, waiting for them to crash even when he knew they wouldn't.
Sam was adjusting his headphones when he noticed the whiteness of Dean's knuckles and his erratic breathing. Dean's eyes were still clamped shut; sweat forming across his face.
"Dean, breath," Sam said, his own breathe whispering past Dean's ear. "Hey, remember back at the terminal? You wanted something for your headache...Well, that….that wasn't exactly Tylenol."
Dean opened his eyes slowly. Sam smiled to himself at their slow reaction time, his pupils widening from fear….or the sedative.
Sam smirked, watching Dean figure it all out. "You drugged me?"
"You're going to be fine, Dean. Everyone here, the plane, YOU—we're going to be fine."
"Sneaky bastard," Dean mumbled.
"You can stay awake if you try, it's mild," Sam explained quietly. "Just enough to make it possible for us to get to San Diego without this plane having to make an emergency landing because of you."
Dean glared at him.
"Don't pout, Dean. We're already in the air. See? It's working! Last time we flew, you were barfing by the time we got into the air. This is better already."
Dean sat silently, wondering what had every possessed him to let Sammy talk him into this. He should never have mentioned it. If he hadn't, the event would have passed by, unseen, for another year. He would be safely on the ground. Not in a giant metal can flying through the air, using some sort of physics he was never going to understand.
"We shouldn't go."
"Dean, you want to go! I know you! This is a once in a lifetime chance."
"Pfft. That's what you said about that organic berry picking….you remember how that ended."
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean. "Not the same thing."
"Yeah, cause an ass kicking storm that nearly drowned us, is not at all like a plane crash," Dean mumbled, his eye lids drooping.
"Exactly."
"But both are an act of God, right?"
Sam glanced around, hoping that no one around them was listening. He had bought three seats, just to make sure no one else would be crowding Dean, adding claustrophobia to his fear of flight.
"You know what happens in San Diego, right," Dean asked through a foggy haze. "Earthquakes."
"Dean—you know what else an act of God is," Sam argued. "Rainbows!"
Dean snickered, deranged momentarily. "Rainbows? That's your comeback to plane crashes and earthquakes? You're such a girl."
"Dean," Sam warned.
"With shaggy hair."
"Dean!"
"And a plaid fetish."
"Dean, here, take another one of these for me, okay," Sam said, annoyed, as he dug another capsule from his pocket.
"Nope, not gonna happen," Dean said in a silly sing song voice.
"There is no way I am listening to you—like this— for a cross country flight," Sam snapped.
"Better than me being all crazy anxious, right? This is what you wanted," Dean said with a crooked smile.
Sam sat silently, glowering at Dean.
Later, Dean was reclined in the seat, his eyes constantly drooping shut as he fought to stay awake.
"Go to sleep, Dean. You're going to be fuzzy headed if you don't sleep it off," Sam warned him. "When we get there, we have to catch a cab and get right to the convention center."
"Thanks for this, Sammy," Dean mumbled. "Glad you talked me into getting onto the plane."
"No problem, how many times do you get to take your brother to meet his fantasy porn star?"
Alright, hope everyone enjoys this, certainly you, Tifaching! See you around!