Some Nights

Fake It Til You Make It

"I'm fine, just not hungry." He tried again.

"Sam, I'm not asking twice." John's voice went lower in such a way that both of the boys stood at attention. "If you are feeling okay, you either eat the food, or we can have a conversation in Bobby's study."

"Dad!"

"Sam."

Sam knew John wouldn't back down. It wasn't in his blood, the very same blood that raced through Sam's veins as well. And he really didn't want to have a "conversation" with his father before a long drive either.

"Are you eating?"

"I thought you weren't going to ask twice." Sam thought snidely, but he didn't dare say it out loud. "Yes, sir." He said quietly.

John stayed long enough to watch Sam clear his plate before heading out the door to begin packing for the trip. As soon as he was gone, Sam dashed up the stairs, and into the bathroom, not having enough time to close the door before emptying his stomach into the toilet. He only prayed Bobby had followed his dad outside.

"Well, that sounded pretty." Dean said dryly.

Sam looked up weakly from where he was crouched over the toilet to see Dean standing in the doorway, not looking so hot himself. "Do you need me to move over?" He managed to ask sarcastically, his stomach lurching at the thought of his brother puking.

"Dude, you shouldn't be going."

"YOU shouldn't be going either!" Sam threw back at him, getting to his feet, a little unsteadily. "You are feeling just as bad as I am, and that makes you just as much as a liar."

"How do you know I'm lying?" Dean growled at him.

"Um, you didn't want to eat bacon. Hell literally freezes when you don't want bacon."

Dean stepped closer to the toilet, his own stomach rolling at the thought of bacon. Yeah, he was definitely not feeling good, and any mention of food was not helping. Sam bit his lip, watching Dean's hands shake before crossing over to his brother.

"We should just tell Dad, right?"

"No." Dean said firmly. "You know how he gets when we are sick. We just deal and move on. Fake it til we make it."

"Fake it til we-" Sam sputtered in frustration. "We are hunters. We could get killed if we aren't on our top game. And Dad said werewolves, Dean!"

"Exactly! When was the last time we got to hunt werewolves? Hm, remember? Because I don't, cause it was a freaking long time ago!" Dean exclaimed quietly.

"He will kill us!" Sam clarified slowly because Dean wasn't getting it. "Like...dead."

Dean leaned over, flushing the toilet, and  opened the window, letting the cool breeze take away the smell of vomit. He proceeded to grab Sam's arm, and led him into Dean's room.

"Let me go." Sam yanked his arm away, rubbing his wrist where Dean had gripped the hardest. "What the hell?"

"You aren't ruining this for me. You tell Dad, and I'll kill you myself."

"Oh yeah?" Sam challenged, stepping forward trying to look intimidating. He was taller than Dean, and it was something that he could throw in his short brother's face. "How about you go on and-"

"If you were going to tell, you would've said something instead of eating your whole plate of food." Dean grinned suddenly. "You want to do this as much as I do."

"But how are we going to hide it from Dad?" Sam said, smiling at little at his brother's infectious behavior.

"Fake it...." Dean started, lifting an eyebrow in Sam's direction, willing him to finish the sentence.