The Best Medicine
Author:
geminigrl11
Genre: Humor
Characters: Dean, Sam
Spoilers: None
Summary: Dean and Sam share an unusual moment after a hunt
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes: Thanks to everyone who has contributed to TWoP’s “Southern Boys Say it Better” thread for the oh-so-usable quotes!
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They had been back on the road for less then twenty minutes when Sam broke.
It had been a tough fight. A tenacious little poltergeist had attached itself to a middle-aged schoolteacher near Columbus, Nebraska. She’d been terrified - and the spirit had done a number on all three of them before they had finally exorcised it.
The boys had both been silent as they pulled away from the woman’s home, her desperate gratitude a cloying thing when, really, they just wanted to get away.
The silence ended now with muffled sounds coming from Sam. His hand was pressed over his eyes and Dean could see him gasping for breath. Muttering curses, Dean found an open spot to pull over and put a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“It’s ok, Sam. It’s over,” he began, but then Sam turned to face him and Dean realized that what he had taken for suppressed grief was in reality Sam . . . laughing. True, helpless, barely-get-a-breath-in laughter.
He pulled his hand back, staring at his brother in confusion and a little bit of horror. Sam had to be possessed. There was no other explanation. Sam didn’t laugh - not like this. Hell, neither of them did. It wasn’t an essential hunting skill and God knew it wasn’t a learned trait from their father. What the hell was going on?
“You all right there, Sammy?” Dean asked cautiously, mentally trying to sift through the past few hours to figure out how and where some demon had taken control of his brother.
Sam pulled his hand away from his face and started to talk but then dissolved into giggles again.
“Cristo,” Dean whispered, but instead of the expected flinch, the word seemed to set Sam off even more. When he turned back to Dean, it was pretty obvious his eyes were still their regular hazel and not brimstone black. And they were crinkled up at the edges as Sam tried to control his mirth.
Annoyed now (well, relieved, actually, but why should he give Sam the satisfaction?), Dean glared at his brother. “Care to let me in on the joke?” he asked sarcastically, pique straining his voice.
“You said . . . you said . . .” Sam had to gulp to catch his breath.
“ ‘You put the ho in haunting,’ ” he finally managed. “That’s not even grammatically co ... correct!” Sam was laughing again, nearly doubled over, and all Dean could do was lift an eyebrow at him. Maybe Sam was hysterical.
“I swear, man, you should start making T-shirts or bumper stickers or something,” Sam snickered. “ ‘Do I look like Paris Hilton?’ ” Sam even imitated the flirtatious, over-the-shoulder pout Dean had posed with as he’d said the words.
“I never said-”
“I still have it on video!” Sam cracked up, clutching at his stomach. “Oh, man. Priceless.”
Dean was starting to get the joke, even if he did feel like Sam was having a laugh mostly at his expense. He shifted in his seat, a little embarrassed. He wanted to change the subject, but Sam wasn’t done yet.
“You remember ‘That Constance chick, what a bitch’?” Sam asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Dude, she was driving my car!” Dean could feel a smile starting to tug at his lips, but no way was he going to succumb to something so juvenile. “You’re just jealous because I come up with all the good lines.”
Sam nodded, in total agreement. “How about, ‘You want some white meat, bitch?’ ”
And, finally, even Dean had to give in. It started out as a chuckle, but he truly lost it when Sam snorted, “Dean: it’s what’s for dinner!”
The boys sort of collapsed against the seat, helpless laughter rolling off of them and filling the car. Dean literally had to wipe a tear from his eye, and Sam pounced. Wagging a stern finger in his brother’s face, he intoned, “No chick flick moments!” Which, of course, set off a whole new round of giggles.
Gradually the front seat quieted, punctuated now and then by an amused sigh. Their eyes met briefly and Dean grinned, still a little incredulous at the pure silliness he and his brother had just shared. He would never, on pain of death, admit how much he had enjoyed it - especially seeing Sam shake the cloud of melancholy that seemed to permanently hang over him. He hadn’t thought it was possible. For once, he was glad to be wrong.
Dean started the engine and put the car in gear, sparing Sam one more bemused glance before shaking his head and returning his eyes to the road.
“You really are a freak, you know that?”
Sam nodded, dimples still visible as he smiled. “And you’re right there with me, all the way.”