A/N: So, a few of us have devolved into throwing out story challenges. From these challenges are coming, for my part, really weird little things, such as "Pink." Here's another.

Glub

"That . . ." But the rest just kind of dribbled away.

Sam, sprawled beside him in the Impala like a used car lot's giant inflatable alien with all the air let out of him, moved only his mouth. "Yeah . . . "

"It . . ."

"Uh-huh . . ."

The light lay hard upon him. The car was overwarm. He supposed he should flip down Baby's sun visor, but that would require movement. He considered drinking water from the bottle resting between his thighs, but that, too, would require movement. "Crap."

"Yuh . . ."

"Why did we . . . ?"

"—fun," Sam muttered. "You said . . . "

"—was . . ."

"You say . . ."

"—was . . ."

Sam's voice had somehow acquired bitchface tone. "When—?"

"All of it."

"No."

"First part."

Sam said nothing.

"First part—? C'mon, Sammy. First part."

"Stupid. Stupid, Dean."

"Nah."

"You're the one who doesn't jog every morning."

"No need. Nothin's chasin' me.

"But this you do?" Yup. Bitchface. How could he do that with his voice, too?

"Charity, Sam."

"Since when do you care about charities?"

Fair question. The last time he'd cared was when he was a kid two days before Christmas, and he'd run off with the Salvation Army kettle full of coins just so this time he could buy Sammy a gift that was actually for boys.

"Today," Dean said.

"Stupid."

"Tell that to the kids who benefit from the entry fees."

"True," Sam muttered, "but c'mon, Dean . . . you really just wanted the prize."

Well. Yeah.

"And we didn't win," Sam noted.

"We participated."

"Thought you were the 'winning is the only thing' kind of guy."

"Well, when it comes to monsters . . . yeah."

Sam stirred slightly, flopped back again. "Holy crap."

Dean knew better than to try to move. "Batman."

"What?"

"You have to end the 'holy' thing with 'Batman.' It's part of canon."

"Batman has a cannon?"

"Not the weapon. Canon—one 'n.' The show's Bible. You know. To be true to what the creators created."

"Holy shut-the-freak-up, Batman."

Dean grunted. "There you go."

Silence, except for breathing. Though even that wasn't as loud as it had been.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"We put our lives on the line every time we take out a monster."

"Yeah? So?"

"So why on earth did you want to risk our lives in a stupid Weekend Warrior Ironman Triathlon Mudder thing? I mean, seriously? We could have dropped dead out there. You fell off the bike twice."

"You almost drowned. Guess sasquatches can't swim."

"You got a cramp in your calf and limped halfway through the run. Which slowed me down, since we were a team."

"Yeah, well, I had to save you from almost drowning."

"I didn't almost drown."

"Sammy, you were going 'Glubglubglub.' Like in the cartoons."

"I may have swallowed a modest mouthful of water that happened to briefly go down the wrong way."

"And damn near choked on it. In the middle of an ocean."

Silence, while they breathed.

"You know . . ." Sam issued a deep sigh. "This kind of tired . . . well, it's not a tired you can sleep away - for maybe a month."

Dean pulled up the water bottle, offered it to his brother on the end of an outstretched, trembling arm. "Here."

Sam took it with an equally shaking hand. Tipped the bottle. Drank.

"Glubglubglub," Dean said.

Mid-swallow laughter made Sam choke.

Dean just smiled.

~ end ~

The challenge was to write a story built around the line "It's not a tired you can sleep away," and had to involve water, said Nova42. (Thanks a lot!)