A/N: Happy birthday, Swellison and Impaladreams! Happy birthday too to brattyteenagewerewolf, even though this doesn't really fit your birthday wishes. I hope Sam and Dean swarm you all with pie and balloons and big warm hugs!
"Hihh..."
Sam blinks at Dean, then scans the desk line. Clear. "Shh."
Dean glares and exhales shakily, fingering his red nose.
Nails click on tile; the cockatrice is moving.
Dean sucks in a fast breath. Sam clamps his nostrils.
"Hrh-hh..." Dean's eyes slit. He holds his breath. "...Ugh."
Sam levels a warning look, releases him and presses play. A rooster crows in recording.
There's unearthly squawking, leathery flapping, a resounding thud. Two white feathers twirl down.
"AA-hh-h-HASHSHH-uh! HEH-XXXSHH!"
"'Medicine's for pussies'? Dude... you're ridiculous."
Dean pokes his head up, stands and plucks Kleenex off the desk. "That was bore ridiculous."