Dean with a headache vs. a childproof cap.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Lisa and Ellen would still be in it if I had any say.
Corollary - an immediate consequence or easily drawn conclusion.
The first thing Dean does when he gets in from work is to make a beeline for the kitchen cupboard that's currently moonlighting as a medicine cabinet.
It's early. Early enough that Lisa is still out on the school run and the house is blessedly silent, something his throbbing head is selfishly exceedingly grateful for. He loves Ben, he really does, but the kid is loud, and right now, all Dean wants to do is crawl into bed in a Paracetamol-Codeine-induced haze and sleep until the stabbing pain in his head recedes to a point where he's able to function without resembling a member of the recently deceased.
Except that Lisa's medicine cabinet is bare, save for a bottle of children's Calpol, Pepto-Bismol and a thermometer.
Calpol it is then.
Goddamn childproof caps. When did they get so freakin' tricky? No matter how hard he pushes down on the top, it just keeps spinning round and round and round and round... Okay, maybe his hands are a little shaky, but still… He sighs and drops into one of the stools at the breakfast bar, cradles his aching head in his palms. Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, saviour of the world, foiled by a bottle of pink kid's medicine he's starting to think is the evil brainchild of something or someone he's recently pissed off. He doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.
He's trying to think when Lisa walks in, Ben bumping into the back of her when she stops suddenly. To her credit, she doesn't question why he's home at three thirty in the afternoon on a weekday, choosing instead to send Ben through to the study to get started on his homework before raising an eyebrow at the bottle on the counter. It's almost embarrassing how easily the lid comes off in Lisa's hands given how long he struggled with the goddamn thing, something that previously would have pissed him off enough to send him running for the nearest bottle of Jack and the sanctity of the Impala.
At least the bottle is open. Finally.