Flower Band-Aids

[Rika]

All right. Here we go! Little rough around the edges, but I hope you guys like it! Sorry for any typos I may have missed!

~~~~~~~~~~

There are puddles gathering in the bottom of Dean’s precious Impala, and he knows he should be freaking out about that. But instead he’s sitting there with a towel in his hands like an idiot, frozen.

She’s a tiny thing, can’t be more than 4 or 5 years old. She’s shaking and crying and literally trying to cram herself under the back seat, out of sight and out of reach. Any time Dean makes a move in her direction, she lets out a little yelp that sends him shrinking back again. But she’s bleeding from a bad gash on her knee, and freezing, and something’s gotta be done. Right?

Dean blinks, sniffs back a load of crap that’s threatening to make its way down onto his upper lip, coughs wetly into his shoulder, “It’s useless, Sam,” he throws his brother a pleading glance, “She won’t even look at me. I’m just gonna infect her, “He drops the towel to his lap, scrubs at his nose.

“I’m sorry, man,” Sam says, even though he looks more amused than anything else, “but we’ve gotta clean that knee up and get her warm. I’d do it myself, but she’s terrified of me.”

“Cuz you’re a frikkin’….giaaaahnt… HrrESHooo!... HuhTSCHOoooh!” Dean raises his head with a liquid sniff, sees 2 big, round eyes staring back at him. He pushes a wrist against his nose, swallows, grimaces.

“B-bless you.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, ignores Sam’s stare in the rearview mirror, “Th-thank…you…sorry,” He throws a hand up to his face, wrenches forward, “Huh-RSCHHeuuuh!” He gives his head a quick shake, coughs and groans.

The little girl is sitting cross-legged on the puddled floor, still shivering and bleeding, but no longer frantic. She chews on a finger, watches Dean, “Are you sick?”

He still has a hand slapped against his face, is afraid to move it, “Well…a little. That dip in the lake kida did be in.”

Sam’s rummaging through the glove compartment, tosses something back. It lands with a crinkle, bounces to the floor: a travel pack of tissues, “Yes! By hero, Sab,” he starts to bend down for them, but she’s already there, and before he knows it she’s crawled up onto the seat, one tiny fist raised in his direction, the tissue waving there like a white flag in the wind.

He takes it without hesitation, “Thagk you!” He turns around to clean himself up, blows his nose. He grabs some disinfectant from the first aid kit and squirts some in his palm. When he turns she’s still there, looking almost sorry for him. He picks up the towel, “Hey,” his voice is soft, gentle, “We’re not going to hurt you, okay?”

She glances at Sam, then back at Dean, and nods, “But we need to get you dry and warm, and fix up that knee. Will you let me do that?”

One more nod, and she lets him wrap her in the towel, extends her leg with a tiny whimper. It comes to him naturally, and as he gently disinfects and bandages her cut, it’s like the old times all over again. Little Sammy crying, coming to Dean with a gashed shin or a nasty sprain; he’s done this a million times. She’s even calmer when he’s finished, even giggles a little when he tucks the towel more securely around her and tells her she looks like a giant burrito.

Dean sighs, leans back into his seat, and lets some of the tension float away. He swipes a soggy sleeve under his nose, sniffles, and shivers. That lake did him no good at all. His nose is itching and his temples throbbing. He drags a hand over his face, sniffles again.

A tiny giggle turns his head, and he tries to smile, but his nose is fucking driving him crazy, “Wha…at?”

“You’re making a funny face!”

“HrrrrESCHOO!! HuhKNGSHoooh!...Heh….HuhCSHHeeew!!” Dean’s got his face crushed into his sleeve, is twisted towards the window.

“Oh,” the little girl says, and this time she’s got a whole stack of tissues clutched in her hand when he turns around.

He takes them, uses them all in quick succession, “Thank you! You’re a real life saver…hey…what’s your name sweetie?”

“Lilly.”

Dean smiles, a tissue crammed beneath his nose, “Well, hi Lilly. Nice to meet you. I’m Dean.”

She’s quiet for a few more minutes, and still, and he thinks maybe she’s fallen sleep. But then she pipes up again, little voice so sincere it does something weird to Dean’s chest, “Dean?”

He’s huddled next to her, hugging himself for warmth, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry you’re sick.”

He just smiles, doesn’t know what to say, and he can feel Sam staring at him, can almost hear Sam’s brain whirring and questioning, because, really, ‘sweetheart’?? Who was he and what was this tiny girl doing to his heart?

~~~~~~~

Dean doesn’t even remember falling asleep, but suddenly he jolts awake and the car is empty. He grabs at the door handle and lurches out into the cold night air. He sucks in a breath to call his brother’s name, but ends up coughing instead, leaning against the Impala and waiting for his lungs to splatter down onto the asphalt. Then there’s a gentle hand on his arm, and he whirls around to see Sam’s face, brows furrowed, “Woah. You all right?”

Dean clears his throat, sees Lilly a few steps behind his brother, takes a steadying breath, “Yeah…yeah, I’m good.”

Lilly looks a little wary as she as she trots up, but her eyes light up when she sees Dean, “You’re awake!” she exclaims, grabbing his hand and climbing up into the car, pulling him along behind her.

“HrrrESHHoooo!!” Dean pinches his nose shut, breath hitching a couple more times before he gives a harsh sniff.

“Bless you!” Lilly’s got a real cardboard Puffs Kleenex box, is holding it out to him, grinning, “They’re the soft kind.”

And, Jesus, is she right. They feel like heaven against his poor, sore nose. He twists away to give a hearty blow, watches Sam run one of their bogus cards at the gas pump.

Lilly’s rustling through the bag, “And these! I got you these, too, Dean!”

Dean looks down to see her beaming, holding out a small, pastel-splattered tin box, “What’s that?”

“Band-Aids! For all your boo-boos.” She touches a tiny finger to his scraped chin, another to a cut on his brow, “because you helped me!”

Dean smiles, watches her pull out one of the Band-Aids. It’s covered in stupid little flowers, all pink and purple and blue. But he doesn’t fucking care…at least not until five minutes later, when Sam clambers into the car, lets out a bark of laughter that’s cut short by Dean’s glare. “Here,” he chokes out, and tosses another plastic bag over his shoulder. Inside is a small travel blanket. Dean tucks Lilly in as they head back onto the highway.

But she’s frowning, bottom lip jutting out and eyes wide, “What about you?”

Dean pushes himself to the opposite window, painfully aware of his germs as he coughs into a fist, one hand pressed to his chest, “What…about be?” he manages between spasms.

She points a stubby finger at him, “You’re colder than me! You’re shaking.”

Dean tenses his muscles, trying to stop the tremors. He watches Lilly gather up her blanket, and scoot towards him, “Hoddey, your blagket’s dot big edough for both of us. You keep it.”

But she’s still got that stubborn look on her little face, lays the blanket on his knees. Dean throws his brother a panicked look, but Sam’s too busy pretending to mess with the cruise control settings, the corners of his mouth twitching. Lilly’s trying to crawl in his lap, “Wait, sweetheart. I’b sick, rebebber?” It’s as if his voice is trying to prove his case, congested and hoarse, “You cad’t get too close to be, or you’ll get sick, too.”

Lilly makes a small whining sound until Dean uncrosses his arms, “Don’t care,” she scrambles onto his legs, pulls the blanket up over both of them, tucks her head against his chest. He’s uncomfortable at first, focusing hard on not sneezing or coughing, sniffling every couple of seconds to keep his nose from running. Lilly sneaks a hand out to drag the tissue box over to Dean’s side. He snatches a couple, twists them into make-shift nose plugs.

Lilly giggles up at him, muffles a massive yawn into his shirt, “Looks…funny,” her eyes are drifting shut, long lashes throwing shadows on her cheeks, “Night, Dean.”

He pushes a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, tucks the blanket around her. “Dight, sweetheart.” And suddenly, he notices that his shivering has stopped, and that his head feels pleasantly heavy. He leans back into the cool of the Impala’s leather, laying a protective arm over Lilly to keep her safe and secure. Before he knows it, he’s drifting off.

~~~~~~~~~~

Five hours later, Dean’s back in the passenger seat, and Sam’s got the Impala parked neatly behind a bush, lights off. They watch in silence as, four houses down, Lilly’s parents sweep her up into their arms. She looks back in the direction of the car, just for a moment, before they swoop her inside.

For the first time, Dean’s grateful for this damn cold. He sniffles, grabs a tissue, blows his nose. He’s got the pastel tin box clutched in his left hand, is turning it over and over again.

“We gotta go,” Sam whispers.

“Y-yeah,” Dean crushes another tissue to his nose, “HrrESHHuhhh!” The outburst leaves one of his Band-Aids dangling from his chin. He reaches up, gingerly presses it back into place, “Stupid cold,” he says as his eyes water, and sniffs hard.

“Bless you,” Sam takes the tin from Dean, reaches it around to tuck it safely in the first aid kit. He gives his brother’s shoulder a slap, “Let’s get you a fuckload of Nyquil and a warm bed. Sound good?”

Dean’s still fiddling with the Band-Aid, but he nods. They drive away, Lilly and her house and happy crying family fading slowly away behind them.

~~~~~~~~~

OH. And, of course, here is the wonderful prompt:

Sam and Dean rescue a little girl from some kind of monster, but her parents are still missing, or are really far away, or something. So she's riding in the Impala with them while they search/take her home, but she's all traumatized and trying to crawl under the seats and stuff. Dean is sneezy and stuffed up and kind of bruised from the hunt, and she seems to come out of her shell a little bit when he lets her hand him tissues. They have to stop for gas, anyway, so Sam—awesome genius that he is—lets her come inside to pick out road trip refreshments and, you know, whatever else she might need to keep her entertained. Dean's puffy nose and bruises get doctored up with heart-and-flower Band-aids and such. He is all long-suffering and indulgent, but there's a suspicious sheeeen to his eyes when they reunite her with her parents. Sam pretends not to notice (while slipping the leftover Band-aids into the first aid kit).

[DogLover]

Awww...love...

Little girl babying Dean *laughs hysterically*

[Lady Blessington]

:heart:

[telltale]

Ohhhh. I completely adore this.

[sneasons greetings]

ASSFNF EHGNF NE

Yeahh...

I adore Dean's skills with kids. It's adorable

...And I adore Dean too.

Thank you!

[flower]

Loved it!!!

[Rika]

Thanks so SO much for reading, guys!

I'm super glad you guys enjoyed it.

SneezyDean is all over my brain lately. I mean, just ALL OVER IT.

So I'm glad my daydreaming ramblings are making some people happy!!

[glaciosity]

I melted a little. This is one of the cutest fics I've ever read :')

[iluvsneezes]

Aww, this was such a sweet story!!