Hey ya'll. This is a supposed crack fic. I was in the mood for a laugh. And of course, who else do you think I'm going to pick on? :) It might be funny. It might not! That remains to be seen. Just FYI, this is based on something that happened to me. Enjoy!
Synopsis: The doctor said only five percent experience an allergic reaction. It was only Winchester Luck that Dean was among that five. A basic case of Dean acquiring an allergic reaction and Sam hardly able to stop laughing.
Kung Fu Fighting.
Dean Winchester woke early one morning feeling a bit…itchy. First the grand tingling sensation began behind his ear. Then lo and behold the festering itch took hostage of his forearm. Instinctually his fingernails found their way to each and every itchy spot. Every few seconds it seemed, his hand zoomed to every heated irritant like it was a programmed machine hitting the same spots over and over again, scratching til there was the relieving coolness.
In a daze from his nightly slumber, he was only half aware of his fingers moving methodically against the bottom of his neck. Sleep continued to beckon with the familiar heaviness weighing down on his eyelids. He fought to stay compliant, coveting an extra few minutes. But the sun's beam of light streaming through the motel window lit up the top of his lids, completely dashing any and all hopes of those precious few minutes.
Any attempt to turn his head was aborted as spikes of red-hot pain drove through his neck. Obviously the damn thing was still stiff: a souvenir from the monstrous wreck of a hunt he and his brother wrapped up the other day. Lying on his side for most part of the night obviously molded it to a certain form, like plaster. It took a mere second to understand that it was totally disobedient to his mental commands and would not move. Very carefully he rolled his entire body away from the blinding light, and it was then when he became fully aware of the itch.
It wasn't so bad at first. But the moment his mind sojourned from Dean's World and back to full awareness, aka, mother-of-a-bitch reality, he noticed the prickling was everywhere. Mentally he could feel his hands move to and fro across, scratching at every tid bit of flesh it seemed. Struggling to open his eyes, only managing to pry them up to slits, he saw that his arms- not one, but both- were shining raw.
Determination took the floor as he continued to keep his eyes open. For some odd particular reason, they fought to remain closed. They were watery and itchy as well. A salty tear escaped past its lacrimal prison and fell down his cheek, amplifying the itchiness. Absentmindedly his fingers moseyed on up to them, scratching at the oculus, up and around the base, and along the sides.
Achingly, he pushed his body off the bed. Besides his neck, his entire body apparently was in tune with feeling hardened and feverish. The doctor had said he would feel very sore for the next few days. It hadn't bothered him too much as he had dealt with much worse.
Still trying hard to keep his eyes open, he painstakingly shuffled to the bathroom and closed the door shut. Routinely his feet led him to the sink and mirror. Though he could barely see through the slits, the red and purple was all he needed to see before his mouth bonelessly dropped in horror.
"What the HELL?"
Though sleeping peacefully for the first time in days, Sam bolted upright at the horrific catcall from the bathroom. Owlishly blinking away the vestiges of sleep, he jumped from the bed, only making it two feet when his hysterical brother ran out. The sight itself made him freeze, and pause with amazement.
Dean's face was globular. Or rather it was puffy. His eyes appeared like round bulging eggs the color of an eggplant; his cheeks swollen like a chipmunk with a reddish hue; his lips parched and cracked, and around the stubble were tiny white dots. If Sam hadn't known any better, he'd say they were zits. But as his brother's case was obvious, he instantly understood they were hives. In short, his brother looked more like Ghandi with a buzzcut.
"What the hell? What the hell? Holy shit! What the hell?" Dean blared out in a litany. His hands wove all over his fat face, smushing in the folds of skin.
Sam somehow overcame his period of shock. "Dean. Dean. It's okay. It's okay."
"Okay? How in the hell is this okay?" Dean bellowed, his tiny eyebrows shooting up over the eggs.
"You've just taken an allergic reaction, that's all," Sam offered.
Dean put his hands on his hips. "No shit! How do I get rid of this?" He looked to his brother who was shaking. "What?"
Sam tried with every ounce of strength he had. Though working hard to control the spasmodic muscle twitches, his efforts proved futile as a snort came through. And then he couldn't hold it in any longer. "You look like a Chinese person! Holy shit!" He quivered with laughter. "Oh God. Oh God. This is too much! It kinda reminds me of that song, Kung Fu Fighting. Doodoodoo dodo do do do do do. Hahaha!"
"Screw you Sam," Dean scowled, throwing his hands up in irritation. Seeing his brother bent over crimson in the face, about ready to have an anaphylactic reaction, he puffed in anger. "How the hell did this happen? I'm not allergic to anything!"
Sam straightened back up, clutching his side, and wiping the tear that fell down his cheek. "Oh! Well, the doc did say that there was a five percent chance of taking a reaction to the Iodine Contrast."
Dean snarled back at him, scratching at his neck and arm. "Of course, it's my luck to be part of that five percent. Ooohhh! He didn't say anything about hives!"
At that, Sam couldn't help but shrug. "Guess that's part of it. Don't scratch, you'll make it worse."
"Ugh…I'm going to kill that damn doctor. I told him I didn't want a CT scan."
"Yeah. But it's a good thing you did Dean, cuz that poltergeist did a good number on you. And they had to make sure there wasn't any internal bleeding," Sam informed, wiping at his tears.
Dean sent him a critical glare, his puffy cheeks rounding and the slits forming into even thinner lines. "Thanks for the recap Francis…oohhh, my face," he choked, patting his deformed facial lightly.
"Just think Dean, the demons won't be able to recognize you no more," Sam attempted to console. But judging from the slow turn of the head and the angry squint, the comment wasn't appreciated. He shrugged with a short smile. "Just sayin'."
Dean flashed his teeth. "Whatever. What do I do now? How do I get rid of this?"
Still giddy, Sam answered. "Just chill dude. Some of the chemical is probably still in your pores. Just take a shower and I'll get cha some Benedryl."
"Good," Dean spat, making his way back to the bathroom. "And you better get the cherry flavor."
"Sure thing," Sam smirked watching his brother's retreating back. "Doodoodoo doodoo do do do do do."
The quick jingle of the retched song was rewarded with an angry roar and a charging-like-a-bull brother. Dean quickly turned around and ran. And in his haste to horribly maim his smartass sibling, two things happened. One: due to his limited eyesight, he barely had time to register that he was much closer to the bed than he thought, and ran into it; and two: the momentum he sustained in charging at his brother ultimately sent him flying over the bedspread and crashing into the nightstand.
The events that unfolded took Sam by surprise. His eyebrows were so high; they managed to hide within his low bangs, and he stood stock-still. A small cough of surprise was all he could muster as his brother groaned from the floor.
Ten minutes and one ice pack later, Dean sat hunched on the bed with a look of pure disgust; his brother on the side swapping out another ice pack.
"Stop scratching," Sam reprimanded, smacking at Dean's fidgeting fingers. "Do I need to get the duct tape?"
Dean scoffed. "I hate you."
"I told you I was sorry!" Sam reacted.
"No!" Dean's lips shifted into an amusing frown. "You got that damn song stuck in my head."
"Oh," Sam beamed. "Doodoo doodoo do do do do do."
Sam took away the ice pack, letting out a cackle of laughter.
To answer any questions: Yes, I did take a reaction like this, and yes! I did look like a Chinese person for two days (no offense to the Chinese)…and my friggin' sister went behind me all day singing "Kung Fu Fighting!" Oooh, I would have loved to shoot her…but unfortunately I was in public! Hope you enjoyed!