From Scotland with Love

By Carol M.

Summary: E/O Challenge…gear…missing scene from Weekend at Bobby's told in four drabbles… Dean proves that he will go to any lengths to help Bobby…sick!phobic!Dean, supportive! Sam

Word Count: 100+100+100+100=400

Spoilers: Weekend at Bobby's

Disclaimer: Don't own em, only love em

Dean said he puked four times on the flight to Scotland, so without further adieu, I give you all four of those lovely occasions…enjoy!

One

"Flight crew, final flight check. Passengers prepare for takeoff."

Dean eyes Sam in a panic, his hands gripping the seat so hard he's leaving permanent indentations. "So, being unselfish is pretty freakin'…"

"Unselfish?" offers Sam, looking up from Gear Magazine.

The plane begins to accelerate down the runway.

"Oh god!" Dean begins huffing and puffing, his face red and sweaty.

"Dude, are you in labor?"

The plane lifts off and Dean's stomach falls. "Sammy! Gonna…gonna…"

"Oh crap!" Sam fumbles for a puke bag from the seat pocket in front of him and shoves it at Dean just in time.

Two

About five minutes after takeoff, a vibrating whir sounds through the cabin. Dean's eyes go wide with alarm. "What the hell is that?"

Sam flashes an amused smile. "Relax, they're just pulling up the landing gear."

"But, won't we need that to land?"

"Yeah…in about nine hours."

"Nine hours. Right." Dean swallows convulsively, his face going grey.

"Dean, you don't look so good."

On cue, Dean lurches forward, gagging.

"Seriously dude, again?"

Dean clasps a hand to his mouth, nodding helplessly.

Sam scrambles to locate the puke bag out of Dean's seat pocket. "Here!"

Dean grabs it and hurls.

Three

Four hours later, Sam chows down on some meatloaf while Dean slumps in his seat sans food, keeping a death grip on a fork.

Sam glances at the utensil. "What's with the fork?"

"It's silver, Sammy. Just in case. Gotta be prepared for anything."

Sam nods and takes another bite of his meatloaf. "If you say so."

The plane suddenly hits an air pocket and shudders violently. Dean drops the fork and groans, his hand wrapping around his belly.

Sam gets his ass in gear and urgently pushes the flight attendant call button. "We need some more puke bags here!"

Four

"Folks, we hope you've enjoyed your flight. We'll be on the ground shortly."

Sam playfully shoves Dean. "See Dean, you made it, you survived. You didn't die!"

Dean gives Sam a troubled look. "We haven't landed yet, dude."

As if to illustrate his point, the plane takes a slight dip.

"Oh no."

Sam wordlessly produces a puke bag.

Dean grasps it desperately and heaves. When he's finished, he sags forward, exhausted.

Sam places a supporting hand on his back. "You good?"

Dean's body visibly relaxes as the plane touches down. "I'm awesome. Now let's gear up and burn some bones!"

That's All Folks! (off to get Dean some saltines and ginger ale!) ((and maybe rub his tummy a little bit))