Duvet (SPN fic)

[Sawyer]

Hello! This was a birthdayficthing for ladykorana on LJ, so like, same deal, posted there and posting here also!

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When Bobby opens the door to his boys looking worse for wear, he isn’t necessarily surprised. They’re bruised and a little tired looking and Sam is all but leaning against his brother, his cheeks pink and eyes glossy. “What the hell happened to him?”

“Attacked by a poltergeist,” Dean explains away the stitched up gash on Sam’s forehead and makeshift cast on his right arm. “Caught a cold on top of it, too.”

“Hey, Bobby,” Sam says, a few beats too late and sounding sheepish and slurred, but mostly just exhausted. He blinks slowly and takes in a deep breath through his mouth, like the walk from the car to the porch was some sort of long, tiresome journey.

“Well what are ya idjits standing in the rain for?” Bobby replies and steps aside. Dean’s immediately leading Sam onto the couch, draping a blanket over him and palming his forehead, making sure to mind the stitches. “You know where the Nyquil is,” Bobby finishes.

“Thanks,” Dean says. Then, he gives the room a once-over. “Place is pretty organized for once. You expecting company or somethin’?”

“Something like that,” Bobby confirms.

Dean raises his eyebrows.

“I’m working a case with an old friend nearby,” Bobby tells them. “He’s dropping off his wife and kid later, for safety.”

“Shoulda called,” Sam mumbles from the couch, sounding terribly congested and rubbing his nose with his good arm.

“Don’t you dare start that,” Bobby reprimands. “You boys are always welcome here. Especially when…”

“Huhhh-ETSCHHuh!” He’s interrupted by a sudden, wrenching sneeze from Sam, who’s rewarded with a clean napkin from Dean so quickly that you’d’ve thought he was the psychic of the two.

“Bless you,” Dean says. “Okay. I’m going to grab some medicine. Sit tight, Sammy.”

Once Dean’s gone upstairs, Sam says, “Tell mbe aboud the case you’re workigg od. Eddythigg we cad do to helbp?”

“You sound terrible,” Bobby sidesteps. “Were you out in the storm last night?”

“Y-yeah, s—huhh—suh—s—MMPTSCH! Uh-ITSHhuh!—sort of,” Sam answers. “Haudted bard. Fidished as fast as we could, though.”

Bobby holds back a comment about how he can barely understand Sam through the skewed pronunciation from his stuffy nose, and instead says, “I think I’m looking at something similar, but we can’t be sure yet. Cameron’s coming by with details this afternoon.”

“Caberod?” Sam asks, and okay, the way he’s saying the guy’s name is at least a little adorable.

Before Bobby can answer, Dean’s back with a plastic bottle of nighttime cold medicine (it’s all Bobby’s got) and a couple Tylenol.

“This might knock you out,” he warns, “but you need the sleep anyway. How’s your head?”

“Cad’t feel it.”

“What? Sam—”

“Ndo,” Sam tries to clarify, pausing to sniffle thickly. “The cut. S’okay. I cad feel the rest of mby head, Deand.” He takes the bottle and the pills from Dean’s rough palm and knocks them back instantly, followed by a short bought of coughing.

While Dean is patting his brother on the back, Bobby asks if he’d be more comfortable napping in the guest room.

“Uhhh,” Sam breathes. “Couch is fide. Less trouble. I cad stay awake.”

Bobby’s about to tell him to stop being stupid and take the bed when his front door rattles. “Be right back,” he announces.

As expected, Cameron’s on the porch with his wife and daughter, whom Bobby has never met before. “I’ve got another lead,” he greets, leading his family inside.

“This is my wife, Liz,” he continues. Liz is tall and thin, with tight features and loose clothes and dark hair pulled into a braid. Her daughter isn’t much shorter, but she has a young, wide face and her father’s blonde curls.

“Nice car outside,” Cameron continues. “It yours?”

“It’s mine, actually,” Dean says, stepping into the foyer.

“This is Dean,” Bobby introduces. “He might be able to help us with the case.”

***

My dad’s been acting weird for days, ever since our lights started flickering and my mom complained about the kitchen smelling like sulfur. He had us pack our things this morning, which is dumb, I think, because I definitely have a Biology test tomorrow and I feel like it’ll be hard to study in some stranger’s house.

“Cassie,” my dad calls, “will you bring the bags into the living room for now?”

That’s his way of telling me that they’re about to talk about a whole bunch of adult stuff and they want me out of the way. Normally I wouldn’t argue, but that one guy is pretty hot and I sort of want to know what’s going on with my house.

“Go on,” Dad pushes, and I frown but obey him anyway.

“Oh, hey,” Dean adds, and I stop in my tracks. “If you wouldn’t mind being a little quiet? My brother’s asleep in there and he’s got a pretty bad cold and a fever that I want him to sleep off.”

There are two of them? “Fine by me.”

I drag our things into the other room. It’s very dim and full of books, and I try not to make too much noise when I unzip my backpack and then when I put my (really fucking heavy) textbook on the table.

But it doesn’t work! Dean’s brother startles awake on the couch and immediately starts coughing, moving quickly to cover his mouth with a bandaged hand. He looks sort of miserable. He looks supermiserable, actually.

“Sorry,” I whisper, opening my book and flipping through the pages as delicately as I can manage, hoping he’ll go back to sleep like Dean wanted.

“You cad turd the light od,” he says in a voice that’s so hoarse and congested it’s making my own throat hurt. Dean wasn’t kidding when he said his brother was sick. “You should’dt read id the dark.”

“Your brother said he wanted you to sleep,” I reply, but I shift my body a little so I’m facing him (and the light switch, consequently) a little more. “There’s light coming in from the kitchen, anyway.”

“Ndo. Here,” he sits up, letting the faded yellow blanket fall from his shoulders as if he’s about to get up and turn the lights on for me. I stand up to stop him (you’re sick, you shouldn’t be getting up!) but his body beats me to it.

“HHH – huh-hh’ITschhEW! Hih-iiihTSCHuh! Wow, sorry – hp’GTSHHew!”

I flip the light switch. “Bless you.”

He rubs at his eyes a little. It’s kind of cute. “Thangks. Huh-uuuhh’STCHishhew! God. Sorry. This cold.” He sniffles a couple times, and then flushes (I think?) on top of the red spots on his cheeks and nose. “Hey, while you’re up could you hadd mbe the, uh…?”

I follow his gaze to the tissue box. I pluck two of them off the top, and after I hear him sniffle a couple more times I decide to bring over the entire thing. His hand brushes mine when I do, and I can practically feel the heat coming off of him.

I’m able to read one section of the chapter before he’s done blowing his nose (and sneezing a couple times for good measure).

“What happened to your forehead?” I ask once he’s finished.

“I had a lambp throwd adt mbe,” he answers, his voice adorned with humor and stuffy sheepishness. “Whadt are you readidg?”

“Homework,” I grimace, because School is Gross. “I have a biology test tomorrow.”

“Thadt’s… hold od.” He squints at the lamp and buries his face in his sleeve. “Hih! Hih-hih-hh’ESCHHHuh!”

“Bless. You okay?” There’s some hesitance in my voice, but he’s leaning back against the armrest and he has deep, bruise-colored half circles underneath his eyes.

He mumbles some sort of affirmative (I think. He’s a little hard to understand) and shivers, even though the room isn’t drafty. That blanket is still at his waist from when he sat up earlier.

“Hah’ngTSHCHuh!”

“Bless you,” I say again, in unison with another voice this time. I turn around to see Dean enter the room and sit on the edge of the couch.

“Hey Sammy, how you feelin’?” There’s a sort of, like, firm tenderness in his voice that I wouldn’t have expected out of him when I first met him, all growly voice and leather jacket, but the way he looks at his brother is like he’s so hurt and so fragile and deserves all of the sympathy in the world.

Sammy (Sam?) slumps into the couch like a huge weight’s been lifted off his shoulders and he mumbles something that probably only his brother can understand.

“Well, here, I wanna take your temperature, okay? I know you have a fever.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. Jeez, come on, you’re shivering. Sit up for me.”

Sam does, and Dean takes the throw pillow and places it behind his back before pulling the blanket up to his shoulders and sticking an old mercury thermometer in his mouth. Sam coughs around it, but then he’s still, and Dean notices that I’m in the room for the first time.

“Hi,” I say, and it’s stupid and awkward and I feel strangely like a third wheel. “Do you, like, need me to get you anything?”

Dean might be about to answer me, but Sam coughs again so he takes the thermometer from his mouth and inspects the verdict.

“Just under one-oh-two. Gesundheit.”

Sam turns into the couch, away from his brother and I, and stifles a sneeze into his hand. “Ugh.”

Dean ruffles his brother’s hair, then turns to me. “Hey, uh…?”

“Cassie,” I offer.

“Cassie,” Dean continues. “Can you grab us a couple Tylenol? Bobby keeps them in the medicine cabinet upstairs.”

I take it that they want their privacy, really, so I don’t rush. When I get back I can hear Dean asking Sam about his arm before he coaxes him to sleep.

[VividBubbles!]

“Just under one-oh-two. Gesundheit.”

Sam turns into the couch, away from his brother and I, and stifles a sneeze into his hand. “Ugh.”

Did Dean just predict Sam's sneeze?! Awww, that's pretty much the most adorable thing ever!

I'm assuming you're continuing?

bye.

[ID2006]

There so needs to be more of this.... much much more.

[Zwee]

YES YES YES YES so perfectly perfect. Forever more of this story! I really like outside characters looking at Sam and Dean and analyzing them and stuff. Like how she notices how Dean softens when he's with Sam, and how they're being so cute and brotherly that she feels sort of like a third wheel.

Plus, I mean... Sick, reaaally sneezy Sam who looks at the light to sneeze and is embarrassed. And Dean predicting Sam's sneeze. Yes.

Fantastic.

[ID2006]

ps. where are these on lj, any other recent sick memes going on?

[Sawyer]

"Just under one-oh-two. Gesundheit."

Sam turns into the couch, away from his brother and I, and stifles a sneeze into his hand. "Ugh."

Did Dean just predict Sam's sneeze?! Awww, that's pretty much the most adorable thing ever!

I'm assuming you're continuing?

bye.

Hehe yes he did! I'm glad you liked it too! They are just the cutest.

And I wasn't really planning on continuing! Maybe if enough people are interested... but I am totally out of ideas for this!

There so needs to be more of this.... much much more.

You are the beeeeest, thank you! I'll think about it!!

YES YES YES YES so perfectly perfect. Forever more of this story! I really like outside characters looking at Sam and Dean and analyzing them and stuff. Like how she notices how Dean softens when he's with Sam, and how they're being so cute and brotherly that she feels sort of like a third wheel.

Plus, I mean... Sick, reaaally sneezy Sam who looks at the light to sneeze and is embarrassed. And Dean predicting Sam's sneeze. Yes.

Fantastic.

AHHH thank you!! Oh my god! So sweet of you to let me know which parts you liked! I'm a big fan of third person POV too (it's easiest to write) so I've been doing a lot of that lately! And ahh, I love them! Brothers! So sweet! Pooooor poor Sam

ps. where are these on lj, any other recent sick memes going on?

Oh, these have just been on my journal! Nope, no memes, not that I know of at least! But I totally wouldn't be opposed to one if someone wants to start one...

[42686]

Aw sick sammy all feverish and such <3 i really love this! i would definitely like to see a second part to the story :3

[Sawyer]

Aw sick sammy all feverish and such <3 i really love this! i would definitely like to see a second part to the story :3

You're so sweet, thank you!

Okay, okay, you guys are wearing me down! Tell me what you want to see and I'm all over it!

[ID2006]

So here are my few coherent thoughts for a next part. Dean and the others go take care of ghost. Sam wants to go but Dean convinces him to stay behind under the pretense of babysitting Cassie. Cassie frustrated until Dean makes her realize she's the one doing them the favor by babysitting Sam. Caretaking fluff. More blessings. Fevered dreams about ghosts and Sam saying more than he should. So much potential and possibilities for this. And of course lots of sneezing from Sam because the forcefulness of them and your spellings are AMAZING!

[Sawyer]

Ooooh. Oh my god. Girl you are incredible. I'm on it!!

[Sawyer]

Whoops! Sorry this took so long! I was out of the house for most of today. Here's the rest!

-

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“Sammy, sit back down.”

“Deand, I cad help!”

“Yeah, you know what, you can help. You can help by sitting your ass right back down on that couch and taking a break. You’re a liability at this point.”

“You dod’t kndow whadt you’re dealing with out there—”

“Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re hurt, you’re sick, you’re burning up. There’s no way I’m letting you come with us.”

“Deand—”

“I mean it, Sam!”

There’s silence for a moment before I hear the rustling of fabric against fabric, like Sam is finally sitting back down on the couch. I know I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but I’d just had a similar argument with my own dad and Bobby’s library was really the only place for me to retreat to – I didn’t mind waiting it out while Dean made sure his brother would stay behind.

“Besides,” Dean says at last, quieter this time, “someone needs to stay back with the kid.”

Sam’s coughing and I hear Dean get up, probably to grab him some more medicine. He’s been feeding Sam Nyquil for the better part of the afternoon and I imagine the bottle’s almost empty at this point.

“I don’t need a babysitter, you know,” I tell Dean when he comes through the door. “I’m almost fifteen.”

“Were you spying on us?”

“I overheard.”

Dean sighs and looks at the ground, then back at me again. “Okay, look. Of all people, I know you don’t need a babysitter. I’ve been staying on my own for days at a time since I was seven. But Sam does.”

“Sam’s an adult.”

“Yeah, doesn’t mean he’ll do such a good job taking care of himself in this state. Somebody needs to make sure he’s taking his medicine, make sure he’s eating, make sure he’s—”

“Don’t you think that’s a little overprotective?” I cut in.

“Shut up,” Dean tells me. He holds up the bottle of cold medicine. “See to it that Sam drinks this. Give him a little more than the recommended dosage because the guy’s a freakin’ giant. There’s another bottle in the medicine cabinet upstairs. Tylenol for his arm. He won’t say so, but the thing hurts like a bitch and the pills’ll help his fever and headache too.”

“He has a headache?”

“He always has a headache. And make sure he drinks and that he eats dinner. His throat’s sore so he might be stubborn about it, but the less he eats the less he’ll want to eat. I think Bobby’s got some instant soup. And,” he throws a look at the door when Sam sneezes, “he’s probably gonna need more tissues. They’re in the linen closet upstairs.”

“You do realize you’re talking to me like you’re his dad, right?”

Dean snorts, like he must have heard that one before. “Yeah, well.” I don’t mess around when it comes to Sam. It goes unsaid, but his eyes are screaming it loud and clear.

“My number’s programmed into Sam’s phone. Call if you need anything. If Sam’s asleep when I call, don’t wake him up; answer it yourself. I want him to get some sleep.”

“Oh my god. You are totally his dad.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

*

Goodbyes have been said (“Feel better, Sammy” and “Cassie, behave” and “we’ll be back soon”) and I’ve locked and, uh, salted the doors and windows (not my idea, but my dad and Dean sort of forced me to do it and said not to ask questions), and the house is really, really quiet all of a sudden.

Sam is asleep on the couch (surprise, surprise! Poor thing is exhausted) and now that I’ve got the house to myself I wonder if I should hang out in a separate room and let Sam have his privacy, or sit at the table in the library so I can keep an eye on him.

I grab the tissues from the linen closet upstairs and bring them back down so that they’re within reach – the other box is almost empty. Sam stirs just as I’m about to go back into the kitchen.

“Hey, welcome back,” I say.

“MNPTSCHh! Ah. Thandk you.”

I hand him a tissue. “Bless you.”

“Thadks – hh’tchISHHuh! Sniff! Uhh. Sorry about all this,” he says, gesturing to the mess of tissues and medicine surrounding him. “You dond’t have to stday id here. I’b probably codtagious.”

“I don’t mind,” I tell him. “I’m missing school tomorrow anyway. Gives me an extra few days to study.”

Sam clears his throat, and presses his fist against his mouth like he’s stifling a cough. I wonder if it’s time for more medicine. Can you overdose on Nyquil?

“Do you feel any better?”

“TSCHH! Uh’nGSCHH! I’ve had worse. Sniff!”

Doesn’t sound like it. “Bless you.”

“Ugh,” he rubs a hand over his face. “You’re goidg to get tired of sayidg thad. I haved’t beed able to st-st-aaah-p for t-two huh’ESSSHHuh! …for two days.”

“Poor thing,” I say without thinking, and now it’s taking everything I have not to cover my mouth with my hand. This guy is in his twenties; he doesn’t need my pity! How embarrassing!

But he looks sort of amused behind his blankets and tissues and red-rimmed eyes. “I thidk I soudd worse thad I look.”

“You do look pretty bad.”

“Hey!” he says in mock offense, his protest cut off by a coughing fit. I step up to pour him another dose (plus some) of Nyquil, and while he’s drinking it I prepare the thermometer.

“Did Deand tell you to take mby tembperature?” Sam chokes, sounding incredulous.

“He didn’t, actually,” I reply, and I mean it. “But he said you have a fever and I know you’re supposed to monitor them.”

Sam sniffles. “Okay just – hhhh! Holdodasec huh’MMPTSCHCHuh! EtSCHH! TssCHUH! Sniff! Okay. I think I’b good.”

“Bless.” I hand him the thermometer. He looks warm, and less than a minute in he opens up his mouth at the corner to inhale – probably because he can’t breathe through his nose. Yikes.

When the three minutes are up, he yanks the thermometer from his mouth and stretches it out to me with one arm while he sneezes into the other.

“Bless you. You weren’t kidding about not being able to stop.” His nose is red still, and twitching, but he jams a fist underneath it to hold back the approaching sneezes, then scrubs at it and screws his eyes shut.

Tentatively, I put my hand on his shoulder, and I take it as a compliment when he doesn’t flinch or tense up. “Hey, you feel up to dinner?”

“Uht’TSHCHuh!” Finally. “Soup, right?”

I shrug and grin. “It’s good for sick people!”

Sam smiles. “Cad’t argue with you there.” He starts to get up off the couch, and before I can push him back down he says, “I’b okay. I kndow where everythidg is, and I dod’t thidk you cad reach the bowls.”

When he stands, I’m actually craning my neck to look up at him. I know that Dean said he was tall – even Dean is tall – but Sam is a skyscraper.

If he notices me staring, he doesn’t make it evident as he makes his way into the kitchen with the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.

I follow behind him and frown when he pauses to cough into his shoulder. It sounds worse than before; just as deep but a lot less dry. I wonder if Dean would make him sit back down because of it.

Before he grabs the bowls from one of the higher cabinets, Sam washes his hands (one at a time so he can still hold on to the blanket). How considerate. I grab a can of chicken noodle and turn on the stove.

“You want to go back to the couch and I can bring this over to you when it’s done?” I ask. This trip alone has got him looking exhausted.

“’S okay. Good to get up add stredtch odce id a while.”

“Not when you’re sick!” I pour the soup into the pot on the stove and begin stirring.

“Okay, combprobise,” he says with a heavy breath before sitting at the kitchen table and huddling deeper into the blanket. He looks like a three-year-old.

“Fair enough.”

Before a few minutes has passed he looks like he’s starting to fall asleep in his chair, eyes drooping and shoulders slumping. I have to pat his back to get his attention once the food’s ready.

“S’rry,” he slurs. “Dozed off. Thidk the Dyquil’s kickidg id. Sniff!”

Uh oh. “Just a few bites?” I try. “Then you can go back to the couch and take a nap.”

He laughs quietly, stuffily. “You soudd ligke sobebody’s mbomb.”

“Yeah, well.” I’m supposed to be taking care of you.

Sam eats his soup slowly, sniffling from the steam and pausing to cough every once in a while. I’m impressed that he’s able to down the entire bowl, and he impresses me further when he manages to keep his balance all the way back to the couch.

He tucks himself in amongst the cushions and single pillow that Dean had set out for him earlier, and he’s out like a light and snoring softly in seconds. I consider petting his hair – I really want to – but decide against it right before I hear his phone vibrate loudly on the coffee table.

“Hi, Dean.”

“Sam’s asleep?”

“How did you know?”

“Because I’m talking to you and not to him. He doing okay?”

“Yeah, um. He ate some soup. A lot of soup, like half a can. He’s sneezing a lot.”

Dean chuckles on the other end. “Sounds like Sam. Coughing at all yet? How’s his temperature?”

“Yeah. Um. Just under 103 last time I checked. I found a thermometer.”

“Good. Keep an eye on him. It’s probably going to get worse before it gets better.”

“Worse?”

“Call me if he has trouble breathing. But he should come out okay. You can handle it, Cassie.”

I can handle it.

[VividBubbles!]

Awwww, the brotherly/motherly interaction between Sam and Dean is just so cute! And when Sam finally stood up in front of Cassie and she was like "Woah." Hehe. Sammy.

Are we gonna get any more?

bye.

Edited March 17, 2013 by VividBubbles!

[HoneyBunny]

Aghgh. I love how concerned Dean is And the sneeeeezes of course This is so so freakin hot!!

Damn. You got me all incoherent again.

[ID2006]

This turned out so much better than I had initially invisioned. I think I'm in love.

[Illiana]

Awesome so far! *__* Keep it up~! Love to see the next part!

[42686]

i really love this, how she just feels the need to take care of him even though she barely has any idea what shes doing XD

also:

“You do realize you’re talking to me like you’re his dad, right?”

Dean snorts, like he must have heard that one before. “Yeah, well.” I don’t mess around when it comes to Sam. It goes unsaid, but his eyes are screaming it loud and clear.

He laughs quietly, stuffily. “You soudd ligke sobebody’s mbomb.”

“Yeah, well.” I’m supposed to be taking care of you.

eheheheh clever

[Zwee]

Did Dean say worse? I'm pretty sure he did... I'M PRETTY SURE I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS STORY. So cute that she's all sarcastic and like "Oh my god you're literally his dad right now" and he's just like "Shut up." And Sammy! Being cute and sick and sneezy. And also that she's like "Poor thing" and then she freaks out, but he just thinks it's funny.

I like to think that if I was ever charged with taking care of a really tall, really sick, really sneezy, really really incredibly cute man, I could do it without a problem... But unfortunately I think I would just die. Taking care of Sam Winchester?? So so tempting. But unfortunately, I can't. Got a date with I'm-passing-out-on-the-floor-can't-handle-it-sorry.

Yeah I just really really love this story! Plus I mean... there has to be more, right? Because we have to see Sammy get worse! And then get better. I guess that's great too.

[SexualOddity]

Oh man I love you. This is just amazing. I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about third-party-fic but you have absolutely won me over. My goodness, this is adorable. He's just... he's sooooo sick, and Cassie is kind of taken aback by how sick he is, and that makes it even hotter, and Dean is all like 'right, fifty-two point order of business for taking care of Sammy' and Sam can't stop sneezing and he's all stubborn and he wants to help, but in the end he does what he's told and he takes his medicine and eats his soup and that is kind of cute too. I LOVE this. You rock.

[Sawyer]

WHAT IN THE WORLD? How did I get so many responses? Oh my god, I don't know what to doooo you guys are SO AWESOME thank you so much so so so much!!

Awwww, the brotherly/motherly interaction between Sam and Dean is just so cute! And when Sam finally stood up in front of Cassie and she was like "Woah." Hehe. Sammy.

Are we gonna get any more?

bye.

Hehe I know right? Oh my god, imagine looking up at him for the first time! You'd have to crane your neck!!

Aghgh. I love how concerned Dean is And the sneeeeezes of course This is so so freakin hot!!

Damn. You got me all incoherent again.

BELIEVE ME, THAT WAS MY GOAL. Hehe I'm glad you liked it!

This turned out so much better than I had initially invisioned. I think I'm in love.

Your initial envisioning was what pushed me to write the second part! It was WONDERFUL, thank you! You rock!!

Awesome so far! *__* Keep it up~! Love to see the next part!

Thank you so much! <3

i really love this, how she just feels the need to take care of him even though she barely has any idea what shes doing XD

also:

“You do realize you’re talking to me like you’re his dad, right?”

Dean snorts, like he must have heard that one before. “Yeah, well.” I don’t mess around when it comes to Sam. It goes unsaid, but his eyes are screaming it loud and clear.

He laughs quietly, stuffily. “You soudd ligke sobebody’s mbomb.”

“Yeah, well.” I’m supposed to be taking care of you.

eheheheh clever

Exactly! Hehehe although what fourteen-year-old does? And I can't believe you caught that! I wrote this so late at night that I'm not even sure if it was on purpose or not! You're so sharp!! Thank you!

Did Dean say worse? I'm pretty sure he did... I'M PRETTY SURE I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS STORY. So cute that she's all sarcastic and like "Oh my god you're literally his dad right now" and he's just like "Shut up." And Sammy! Being cute and sick and sneezy. And also that she's like "Poor thing" and then she freaks out, but he just thinks it's funny.

I like to think that if I was ever charged with taking care of a really tall, really sick, really sneezy, really really incredibly cute man, I could do it without a problem... But unfortunately I think I would just die. Taking care of Sam Winchester?? So so tempting. But unfortunately, I can't. Got a date with I'm-passing-out-on-the-floor-can't-handle-it-sorry.

Yeah I just really really love this story! Plus I mean... there has to be more, right? Because we have to see Sammy get worse! And then get better. I guess that's great too.

WHAAAAAAT oh my god you are incredible! I totally love when Dean acts Sam's dad (remember that time he told him to go wait in the car? seriously, I died. so awesome)! I would be freaking out too if I were her! Handsome tall long-haired men with colds oh my god, best thing in the wooooorld! I TOTALLY AGREE WITH YOU.

Oh man I love you. This is just amazing. I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about third-party-fic but you have absolutely won me over. My goodness, this is adorable. He's just... he's sooooo sick, and Cassie is kind of taken aback by how sick he is, and that makes it even hotter, and Dean is all like 'right, fifty-two point order of business for taking care of Sammy' and Sam can't stop sneezing and he's all stubborn and he wants to help, but in the end he does what he's told and he takes his medicine and eats his soup and that is kind of cute too. I LOVE this. You rock.

Shut uuuuup I love YOU omg I cannot believe you liked this! Third-party fic is definitely tricky but I think I use it as a sort of comfort blanket, or something! And wow, protective, knows-more-about-Sam-than-Sam-knows-himself Dean is so so wonderful to me (because he practically raised the kid! it makes sense, right?) aaand just just just wow thank you thank you SO MUCH!

Guys I'm on my way to writing a second part, I think! I might! I have some RPF stuff that I'm thinking of churning out tonight or tomorrow (or something?) but since everyone is asking I might give this one a shot! Seriously, thank you soooo much for like reading and commenting and everything wow wow it means a whole lot!

[Always-a-Ginger]

This is fantastic! very different approach. Love it!

[Sawyer]

Thank you so much! Third part coming up either tonight or tomorrow!! (just let me know what you guys want to see!)

Edited March 21, 2013 by Sen Beret

[iluvsneezes]

Aww, this is SO sweet, I'm dying for more!!!

[Skyler]

Aww how sweet! I love this fic

Keep going please, I implore!

[Sawyer]

Aww, thank you so much! Here's the last part! Sorry it took so long; I've actually definitely come down with exactly what Sam has here, maybe because of, like, karma or something, who knows! How ironic!

-

-

It’s nearly 9 PM when Sam starts to stir, mumbling incoherencies and shifting restlessly on the couch. I’m perched on a chair nearby so I can keep an eye on him like his brother said – especially after that part about his breathing.

There’s a lamp turned on in the corner closest to me – Sam’s request, so I could study – and I’ve got a humidifier plugged in next to it – Dean’s idea, not mine, because he said that Sam’s throat gets dry when he has a cold and that’s what makes him cough.

It doesn’t seem to be helping much, though. Despite being propped up against a couple pillows, Sam is wheezing a little in his sleep, his nose and lungs both making a whistling noise every few breaths. It would be cute if it was a little less alarming, but because Dean told me to let him rest, I refrain from waking him.

Just as I turn the page and try to learn about cellular respiration (and isn’t that ironic), I hear Sam say “Hey,” a lot more clearly than the way he’d been speaking before.

“Hey. Sam. You awake?”

He doesn’t answer, just winces and coughs more, harder this time while he shuts his eyes tightly.

“Jess?” he finally says. I shake my head. Who’s Jess?

“Deand?” Sam tries again.

“He’ll be back soon,” I assure him, although I’m not sure whose definition of soon I’m actually using. “Are you okay? You need anything.”

Sam doesn’t open his eyes, but snuffles into his pillow and mumbles something about a poltergeist and “tell Deand, mbake sure he’s safe, let himb kndow” and then turns his body so that he’s facing the back of the couch.

Fever dreams. That’s all this is, I’m sure.

Now that he’s a lot less coherent, I can feel his forehead without it being weird. Well. It’s still a little weird. But he’s more warm than it is weird – a lot more warm – and his forehead’s, like, really really damp. I should dose him up again.

After I’ve unscrewed the cap on the bottle, I fill the little plastic cup with medicine and hold it out to him, about to stir him awake.

But he’s still, finally. His breathing’s a little ragged and still sort of whistle-y, but he’s not thrashing like he had been before. I can’t bear to wake him up.

Instead I run into the bathroom and soak a washcloth in cold water, hoping that I’ll be able to cool him down from the outside. He doesn’t stir when I place it on his forehead, just exhales very slowly through his mouth.

I let him rest.

*

It’s half past 10 before I hear anything out of Sam. This time he’s fully awake, sitting up with his hand against his chest and staring confusedly at his lap.

“You need to take another dose of the cold medicine, okay?” I say. “Your fever is worse.”

“They’re always worse at ndight,” Sam says quietly. His throat’s probably worse too.

I hand him the plastic cup and he chokes down the thick, dark liquid with a split-second-long wince, followed by a couple of deep, chesty coughs against the back of his hand.

“Whadt timbe is it?” he asks after clearing his throat.

“Quarter to eleven.”

“Oh,” he sniffs, hard, and rubs his nose. “You shouldd get sombe sleebp.”

I can’t tell if he’s talking to me or to himself. He’s asleep again before I can find out.

*

Dean calls at midnight.

“How’s the patient?”

“He’s wheezing.” I wince at the panic in my own voice.

“Cough?”

“Yeah.”

“The cough means he can breathe. He’s breathing through his mouth so his throat’s dry and that makes it worse. There’s an inhaler in his duffel by the stairs.”

They’ll be back by sunrise.

*

It’s almost two in the morning and Sam’s fever is lower but it’s not gone, leaving him restless and fidgety and in no shape for sleeping. He offers to make coffee when my eyes start to droop.

“No, you stay in bed,” I order. “Or on the couch. Or whatever.”

“I’ve got to do sombethindg,” he insists. “I cand’t standd layindg downd for this londg.” He clears his throat and eyes my textbook. “Do you ndeed help studyindg?”

Wow, he really must be desperate.

“I don’t know if I can – do you have to sneeze?” He’s been rubbing his nose for, like, fifteen minutes.

“Ugh. Yeah.” He scrubs at his nose a little more and it makes a sort of squeaking sound. “But it wond’t help add thend I mbight ndot be able to stop. Sniff!”

“Well, um, here,” I hand him the box of tissues. It feels at least half-empty. “Just in case.”

He snuffles into the tissue and then squints at the lamp with his head tilted back. “HHH – hh’uhtCHHHshh! Uh. God. Sniff! HH – HH – huhETSCHchuh!” His breath wavers for a few more seconds, but then he’s furiously rubbing at his nose again with an irritated expression.

“Bless you.”

“Heht’ISHHhhew!” Oh, he’s not finished. “Huhhh’TCHHHShuhh!”

“Wow,” I say. “You weren’t wrong.”

“Yeah.” He huffs out a stuffy laugh and then blows his nose, thick and crackling, filling up each corner of at least four tissues and then balling them up for the trashcan. “Mbakes it harder to breathe, too.” His mouth hangs open to prove his point.

*

I must have fallen asleep some time after three, because when I drift into consciousness I can hear Dean’s voice, rough and growly and clear and firm.

“Sammy, it’s past four in the morning. Go to sleep.”

“Had to adswer the door. Cassie fell asleep, she’s beend uu-huhh-NNgjtshhUH! up all ndight.”

“Bless. So have you.”

“I got sombe sleep.”

“You feelin’ worse?”

“A little. I’mb finde.”

“Your throat still hurt? What about your head?”

“It’s a coldd, Deand. I’mb finde.”

He’s fine.

“Go back to sleep,” Dean orders gently.

And even though I know he was talking to Sam, I obey him anyway.

[VividBubbles!]

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ADORABLE!!!!!!!!

My gosh, Sam and his sickyness and Dean and Cassie with their Sammy concern. It's just so cute!

Please continue.

bye.