The Winchesters were enjoying a rare lazy night in. Sam avidly watching a documentary about treasure hunting while Dean mostly dozed in between the exciting parts. They’d been lounging around for four days on a self-imposed vacation after finishing a rather mentally taxing job the week before. After finally ending the ghost that tortured little kids, neither brother had been sleeping well, screaming from nightmares that continued to haunt them even when the lights were on. They were on edge, desperate to re-bury the trauma and move on. Dean threw himself into his “Cajun” phase, cooking up jambalaya, frying chicken and okra, making etouffee and even boiling up a huge batch of crawfish. Sam had turned to his favorite novels and spent most of his time relaxing in the big armchair in the library within smelling distance of his brother’s delicious experimentation. But tonight, they decided a movie night was long overdue and decided to pick something to binge-watch.
They’d agreed on little-to-no violence and that eliminated like half the things on tv. After channel surfing for about an hour, Dean was about to give up when he heard his brother’s interest piqued. Sam had turned those big beautiful puppy eyes on him and Dean had grudgingly settled on the show about two brothers who were digging for treasure on some island. They’d been watching for almost six hours now and neither of them really wanted to get up from their comfortable spots.
Dean had been feeling pressure in his bladder for a while but he had absolutely zero desire to remove himself from the nest of blankets. So instead he pissed right there covered by the thick mess of blankets on his lap. The feeling was amazing, hot piss soaking into his sweatpants and pooling beneath his ass. He was so desperate that it’d been over too fast and for the last two hours, he’d been working on filling it back up. He took another sip of his beer and felt that familiar twinge in his abdomen. He rubbed a hand over his stomach and groaned slightly.
Sam looked over at him and frowned, “Stomach hurting?”
Knowing that Sammy could discover his accident at any moment, Dean’s dick twitched. He gave a weak smile and grimaced to make sure he sold it, “Yeah, think I’m gonna head to bed.”
“Okay, let me know if you need anything.”
Dean rolled his eyes and smirked, “Thanks, mom . I’ll be sure to do that.” Sam sighed and returned his gaze to the tv.
Dean carefully got up, thankful for the cover of darkness and walked behind the couch. He ruffled Sam’s hair on his way out, “Goodnight, bitch.”
He made a detour to the kitchen and grabbed the second case of beer as well as three bottles of water then headed down the hallway to his room. Once inside, Dean set the drinks beside his bed and then rooted around in his drawers until he unearthed a ratty towel and an extra set of sheets and pillowcases. He placed the towel over the left side of the mattress. Then made sure that the bedclothes were within reach before settling against the wall. He set up his laptop a safe distance away from the ‘splash zone’ and then opened his first bottle.
Dean chugged the first two beers within ten minutes. His bladder was feeling full, but not to the point he was bursting yet so he switched to water while he checked out his favorite porn sites. He wanted something that could play in the background while he had some fun. Something that didn’t require his attention to enjoy. He clicked to his personal playlist and scrolled through until he found the one he wanted then eased his sweatpants down so they were below his ass but still covering his dick. Dean started slow, stroking his cock and massaging his balls with one hand while he continued drinking.
He was in the middle of enjoying one of his most-watched videos when he started to feel a little uncomfortable. He took a long pull from his beer and watched his right thigh darken slightly. He didn’t want to wet himself completely so he stopped the flow and reached his hand into his pants to move his dick to the other side. He set the empty bottle onto the floor and then opened the second water. He’d finished the first as soon as he got to his room.
Sam walked down the hallway and paused outside of his door. Across the hell, Dean froze with his dick in his hand and a pool of urine between his legs. A gas bubble rose and as he belched, more piss leaked out. Sam knocked on his door and asked if he was doing okay. Dean replied with a generic annoyed comment heavy with sarcasm. His brother hesitated for a few more minutes and then Dean heard Sam walk into his room.
Shortly after the light in Sam’s room went off, Dean tired of watching porn and opted for a movie. He finished off the beer and drank almost two thirds of the last bottle of water before falling asleep. When he woke a few hours later with his bladder about to burst, he simply pulled his dick out and pissed over the edge of the bed then rolled over and went back to sleep.
Sam’s alarm went off at six and the younger Winchester grabbed blindly for his phone. He swiped the screen to turn it off and then yawned. He swung his feet to the floor and stood, scratching his stomach as he walked down the hall to the bathroom. He pissed while still half-asleep and then splashed some water on his face to wake up. He glanced longingly at the shower then went back to his room to get dressed for his run.
Once he put on his shoes and sweatshirt, Sam walked out into the hallway and paused. Dean’s door was partially open and Sam saw him sprawled belly down on the mattress. His laptop was still sitting at the end of the bed. Sam sighed and carefully entered the darkened room. He closed the computer and then placed it on the desk. While walking up to the bed, Sam stepped in something wet. He glanced down and grimaced when he realized Dean had peed on the floor in the middle of the night. He grabbed the towel lying on the bed and laid it over the puddle. Keeping an ear on Dean’s snores, Sam cleaned up the variety of bottles littering the floor and nightstand then pulled the Ibuprofen from the drawer and set it next to the lamp. He fetched a glass of water from the bathroom and placed it beside the pill bottle. With one last look, Sam rolled his eyes fondly and headed out for his run.
Dry air tickled the back of Dean’s throat and he woke with a cough. He rubbed a hand over his face and yawned then squinted into the darkness. He rolled to his back and closed his eyes when the room spun. He groaned and tossed his arm over his face, trying to block out the pounding in his head as well as the light coming from the hallway. He eased up to a sitting position and grabbed the bin so he could burp up a mouthful of stale beer. He set it back down on the floor and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth then leaned his head back against the wall.
Dean groaned and opened his eyes to scowl at his brother, “What time is it?”
Sam glanced at his watch. “Almost nine.”
He looked at his brother in disbelief, “In the morning?”
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, “Yes, Dean. Nine in the morning. I made breakfast. It’s waiting in the kitchen.”
Dean slid down onto the mattress and groaned, “Go ‘way, Sammy.” The younger Winchester chuckled and Dean cracked one eye open to glare at him, “Fuck off, bitch.”
His brother held his hands up in surrender and sighed, “Alright, jerk. You win. Just come find me after you rise from the dead, okay? I found a case.”
He walked away leaving Dean alone to fumble blindly on the nightstand for the bottle of painkillers and curse when he knocked the glass of water over. He felt around on the floor for the last bottle of water from last night and frowned when his hand met only empty air.
“The hell?” He glanced over the edge of the bed and sighed. Looked like Sam had already been there. Bitch. Dean slid off the mattress oh-so-gracefully and crawled over to his sink with the glass. The bottle rattled as he shook out four pills and downed them with the water. He had to re-swallow them when his stomach decided that it didn’t want anything else in it but they stayed down the second time. He sat down on the edge of the bed and rested his hands in his hair as he waited for the pills to take effect. He felt a twinge in his bladder and pulled his dick out of his pants. Seeing the towel on the floor, Dean let his dick hang loosely between his legs and relaxed his muscles. He moaned with relief just as Sam walked by.
“Dean! The hell are you doing? The fucking bathroom is right down the hall!”
The older man tucked himself back into his pants and glared at his brother, “Why on Chuck’s green earth are you yelling?”
Sam stamped his foot and gestured with his hands. “You just peed on the floor!”
Sam entered the room and stood over him. Continued to yell, “You can’t pee on the floor, Dean! Jesus! Do you think you can just get drunk and piss wherever you want? Huh? Is that it? Getting shitfaced gives you the right to do whatever you want!”
“Sam, stop . My head is killing me. Lecture me later.”
“Seriously?! C ‘mon, Dean, I know you know better than that. Dad used to tell me all about potty training you when he got really drunk. He always liked remembering your most embarrassing moments when he overdid the whiskey. So I know you know better. What the hell are you thinking!”
Saliva filled Dean’s mouth as his head pounded and he sighed, “Sam, I’m warning you. Stop yelling.”
“ No , Dean . I’m not going to stop. You wanna know why ? Because you PISSED on the goddamn FLOOR!”
With a groan, Dean lunged for the trash can. He hung his head over it as his fun from last night came back to bite him in the ass. He coughed and sputtered until all that came up was bile then accepted the water glass being held out to him. He rinsed and spat then leaned against the side of the bed. He drew his knees up and rested his head against the mattress.
“Tell me about the case.”
Sam sighed heavily then sat down on the bed. He shoved a hand through his hair and grudgingly answered his brother, “Ten dead. Drained of blood.”
Dean nodded without opening his eyes, “Vamps?”
“Yeah. Looks like. Probably a nest.”
“How long?” Sam followed the jump in conversation easily and informed him that the case was in northern Pennsylvania so it would take them about eighteen hours.
He decided to fill Dean in on the impending weather advisory and smirked when the hungover man groaned, “There’s a storm moving through the northeast. Supposed to snow pretty heavily so we should probably head out pretty soon.”
“Ready and waiting. I’ll throw your eggs and bacon into a burrito so you can eat it on the way, ” he stood and walked to the door, “Dress warm. It could drop below freezing up there.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go grab your stuff so I can puke in peace.” Sam grimaced and headed off toward the kitchen after grabbing the duffle off his bed.
By the time Dean slid into the driver’s seat, he was on his third cup of coffee and settled firmly in the bitchy stage of his hangover. When he didn’t immediately turn on the radio, Sam assumed his brother’s headache must still be pretty bad. Instead of filling him in on the case details and risking the wrath of sleep-deprived, post-whiskey binge Dean Winchester, he settled against the window and opted to get some sleep.
“Sammy. Wake up.”
“Huh?” Sam lifted his head and wiped the drool off his chin. Outside the window, the landscape was completely encased in white and Sam wondered why Dean chose to stop here. He couldn’t see anything but empty snow-covered fields on either side of the two-lane road. He glanced over at his brother and got his answer. Dean was wiping his hands and mouth off with a napkin from the glovebox.
“I need you to take over,” Dean said. He sniffed deeply and quickly wiped away the tears from his face.
“Dean, what happened? Are you alright?” Sam asked as he opened the door and stepped onto the side of the road. He glanced behind the car and spotted the skid marks where Dean had pulled off suddenly. Sam walked around the car, gagging when he saw what used to be Dean’s breakfast splattered right outside the driver’s door. He covered his nose and mouth and popped the door open then carefully stepped over the puddle and slid behind the wheel. Meanwhile, Dean had gotten out and was rummaging around in the trunk. Sam waited until Dean got back in and then carefully pulled the Impala back onto the snow-covered road. Dean made it about five miles before he hunched over the plastic grocery sack in his lap. Sam frowned as his brother gagged harshly and threw up.
Dean mostly slept after that, sunglasses covering his sensitive eyes and his head resting on top of the seat. Sam figured it was probably a bad headache triggered by the hangover so he kept the conversation minimal and the ride as smooth as possible. When Dean started to feel worse after throwing up another dose of pills later that afternoon, Sam pulled the Impala into a small motel in Decatur, Illinois. He checked them in and then helped his brother into the room. He pulled the curtains shut and turned off all the lights before coaxing Dean to try more pills after eating a few crackers. Just in case, Sam moved the room’s small trash can beside the bed.
While Dean attempted to sleep off his migraine, Sam booted up his laptop and researched the area they were headed to. The town that the killings took place in was surrounded by a dense pine forest and he wanted to have some lay of the land before they marched in blind. Sam left the room at six to get something to eat and when he came back Dean was still sound asleep. He went back to researching another possible case while he ate his chef’s salad from the diner next door.
Dean finally pushed the covers back and shuffled into the bathroom around eight in the evening. By that time, Sam had a map drawn up, contacted the local police and moved onto cataloging information on a few new cursed objects in his notebook. He glanced up when Dean walked back into the room and arched an eyebrow when he spotted the roll of toilet paper in his brother’s hand. Dean set it on the nightstand then stripped down to his underwear and crawled back into bed. A few minutes later, a hand emerged from the covers to snag the roll. Sam cocked his head and frowned at the lump. It sneezed loudly and then blew its nose noisily.
Sam sighed, “Do you have a fever?”
The lump rolled over. Dean coughed into the blankets and rubbed his nose. “Probably. ‘M freezing.”
The younger Winchester set his laptop to the side and eased his feet to the floor. He walked over to the table and grabbed their medkit. He sat back down on the bed and looked at Dean. “Okay, tell me. I’ll see what we have.”
Dean reached for the toilet roll as he sneezed again. “Ugh. Runny nose, sore throat. Head is pounding. Nauseous. Freezing.”
“Sounds like the flu, dude. I’ll go book the room for another night. Here, try to take these. They’re cold and flu.” Sam set a blister pack of green liquid gels on the nightstand and then grabbed his coat and shoved his feet back into his boots. He snagged the key off the table and walked out.
Dean grabbed the packet from the table and popped two pills out then swallowed them with the rest of his glass of water. He grimaced as he nibbled the last cracker and blew his nose again. The fucker wouldn’t stop running. He sniffed deeply and then spit the excess snot into a handful of toilet paper. He deposited it in the trash can and then pulled the covers up to his chin.
Sam shook his head to dislodge the fresh snow and stamped his feet to clean his boots off. The motel manager had been ecstatic to give them another two nights, grateful to earn even a measly hundred bucks during the snowstorm. Sam crossed to Dean’s bed and spread out the two blankets the manager had given him then checked the nightstand. One dose of pills was gone along with the rest of the water and the last cracker. Satisfied that Dean should sleep for a while, Sam hopped into the shower and then changed into his flannel pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt. He shivered and cranked the heater up then crawled into his bed after grabbing the remainder of his salad out of the cooler and pulled up the website he had been browsing earlier. He eventually ventured out to the vending machine after the snow eased up and bought a few snacks to tide them over, two packets of cheese crackers plus a small bag of vanilla cookies for his sick brother.
The Winchester boys did not have a good night. Dean was up for most it coughing and Sam developed a fever that had him tossing off the blankets and stripping down to his underwear until he started shivering and frantically pulled the covers up to his chin. Dean started throwing up around three and poor Sam got a bloody nose that wouldn’t stop for a good fifteen minutes. The morning found them curled up in bed with no desire to move. Dean’s stomach was still giving him fits and Sam’s nose was completely stuffed causing him to snore loudly through his mouth. They quickly blew through all three rolls of toilet paper available in the room and had to call the manager to request more.
Knowing that they were going to need supplies, Sam submitted a mobile order at the store across the street. A lanky teenage delivery boy showed up a little after eleven with boxes of crackers and kleenex, cough syrup, ginger ale, two large jugs of Gatorade, and an assortment of cold and flu meds. Sam was busy puking when the kid knocked so with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, Dean was the one to open the door. Before the kid could give him the rehearsed “Thank you for using our new mobile app and please be sure to complete the survey for a coupon” speech, the sick man had to turn away so he could cough roughly. After that, the delivery boy eagerly handed over the bags and hurried back to his car.
Dean shut the door and fumbled with the chain then deposited the bags on the table. He
rustled through them until he found a box of tissues and a bottle of blue Gatorade then walked over to the bathroom. He pushed the door open and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. He twisted the cap off of the sports drink and poured some in a glass sitting on the floor. Then he peeled the cardboard flap off the box of kleenex. He coughed into the blanket as he tapped his brother on the shoulder. Sam lifted his head from the toilet seat and squinted at him. Dean sniffled miserably and then pulled a tissue from the box and gently cleaned the puke off of Sam’s face.
He picked up the glass and held it out to his brother, “Here.”
Sam groaned and closed his eyes, “Dean… I can’t.”
Dean cupped his little brother’s sweaty head and smoothed his thumb over Sam’s temple, “Just try a sip.”
“I’ll just puke it back up…”
“Please, Sammy? For me?”
Sam sighed and raised his chin so Dean could help him drink the blue liquid. It stayed down so he took another small drink then laid his head back down. Dean praised him and took the glass into the room before coming back in and lifting him off the floor. Sam’s stomach protested and he burped softly. Dean waited until he was ready then helped him back to his bed. Sam let his big brother tuck him in and then waited until Dean had taken a few sips from the glass and grabbed a box of tissues off the floor before he too burrowed under the covers.