Daddy's Little Soldier (SPN) - Dean

[MissBayliss]

***

Sam showered and dressed, fussed with his hair, shaved, made himself look presentable. Or as presentable as could be expected. He was a little pale, his nose a little pink. He looked how he felt, but he was on the mend.

Dean was coughing a lung out again.

“Dean, you wanna just let me go?” Sam said, thumping his brother on the back as he walked past.

Dean caught his breath, looked up at him, scrutinising, “No.”

“Why not?” Sam asked, grabbing his coat.

“Cause you always get the wrong stuff.”

Sam sighed, “You mean I never get pie?”

“Exactly,” Dean said, getting up from the table, leaning heavily.

“Fine, but I’m driving.”

“Sam, I can’t even walk straight, you think I’d risk my baby over a trip to the drug store?” Dean said, throwing the keys at Sam.

They soared no where even in the vicinity where Sam was. Sam rolled his eyes, and went to pick them up.

“Sorry,” Dean grunted, low and raspy.

“Can you make it to the car without keeling over?” Sam laughed.

Dean looked like he was seriously mulling over the question.

“Dean...”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, straightening, “Hurry up, sasquatch.”

***

Dean spent the car ride, sniffling into a fast food napkin, fiddling with the thermostat, and making grumbling noises at the way Sam was driving the car. So, he was pretty much driving Sam crazy.

“What do we need in the way of meds?” Sam asked, as they sat in the impala in the shop parking lot.

“Uh...”

“What have you had this morning?”

Dean looked upwards, counting on his fingers, “Antibiotic, anti-nausea, tylenol, decongestant... We’re out of cough syrup,” he said, looking at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes, “That’s because you downed the first bottle in two days...”

Dean grinned.

“Fine, we’ll get more, but stick to the recommended dose this time.”

“Who’s idea was it to let you come along?” Dean groaned, as he got out of the car.

Sam clenched his fists into balls, He’s sick... He’s your brother, and he’s sick... And he’ll be dead, when I murder him...

“You coming?” He called, wrapping his knuckles on the glass window. He doubled over coughing into a fist, leaning the other hand on his knee. Sam got out and shut the door, placed a hand under Dean’s elbow and straightened him up.

“Try to keep this to yourself in there, please,” Sam said, squeezing his shoulder playfully.

“Eat me, Samantha,” Dean’s voice was gravelly and low. Still sounding like he’d swallowed razor blades... and powdered whiskey.

“Jerk,” Sam whispered, as Dean waltzed off ahead of him.

“Bitch!” he called back.

Dean’s little burst of energy did not even last half way down the first aisle, when he had to stop and steady himself, wipe the sweat of his forehead with a shaky hand. Sam had decided not to make fun of him, or ask him why the hell he didn’t just stay at the motel.

“You good?” he asked, standing in front of him, hands in his pockets.

Dean swallowed slowly, “Yeah,” he pressed a hand against his chest.

“Alright, so what do we need exactly?” Sam said, trying to get his brothers mind of how crappy he obviously felt.

“Uh, tissues, for one...” he said, closing his eyes, leaning a hand on the shelf next to him.

“And you wanted pie, right?” Sam smiled, weakly.

Dean moaned, and not in a good way.

“Not really feeling pie, right now, Sam.”

“You took your pill, didn’t you? Are you feeling nauseous?”

He put a hand on his stomach, swallowed again, “It’ll pass,” he waved a hand, stood up straight.

Sam frowned, let his shoulder bounce off Dean’s as they turned to walk the rest of the aisle.

***

Dean hunkered down in the cold and flu aisle while Sam went foraging for food. Dean wasn’t really feeling up to traipsing all over the shop so he left that up to Sam. He still felt bad cause Sam was sick too, and he wasn’t the only one staying awake every night. And that was mostly Dean’s fault too. Dean’d never had pneumonia before. He’d had sinus infections and minor chest infections, couple of bouts of bronchitis growing up but never pneumonia. And if he was honest with himself, it scared the crap out of him. Pneumonia was bad, right? People had died from it, right? Dean pressed the heel of his hand against his ribcage, coughed into his elbow. The severity of it drew a few looks. The way it rattled out of him sounded like something bad, it screamed ‘Infection! Plague! This guy’s dying! Run for your life!’. At least that was the impression Dean got, from the looks on the faces of the people around him, who were now giving him a wide berth.

Friggen rude, Dean thought, slouching into Sam’s hoodie more, which was pretty much his now after this spectacular bonding experience. He wiped his nose on the sleeve and, yeah, Sam wouldn’t be wanting this back.

He pulled the soggy, crumpled fast food napkin out of his pocket and blew his nose, pretending to look at the assortment of cold and flu remedies. He was honestly on too many drugs to begin with. And he was pretty sure one was keeping him awake and one was making him drowsy. He stuffed the tissue back in his pocket, wiped yet more snot on his sleeve and grabbed a box of tissues shoving it under his arm, he grabbed two subsequent boxes and spent a moment wondering if he should get a forth... No, he wouldn’t be sick long enough to need them. Surely he was almost at the end of this... Surely.

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Surely..... hmmmmm no I don't think so. It's never that easy with the brothers. heeheehee

The detail is magnificent! I could picture myself in this wonderful scene. However, I would be cooing him instead of giving disgusted looks like those meanies

Can't wait for more!

[Anilkex]

“Sam, I can’t even walk straight, you think I’d risk my baby over a trip to the drug store?” Dean said, throwing the keys at Sam.

They soared no where even in the vicinity where Sam was. Sam rolled his eyes, and went to pick them up.

“Sorry,” Dean grunted, low and raspy.

My favorite part. Reminded me of Season 8 when Dean tossed a bottle at Sam in the bunker.

The way it rattled out of him sounded like something bad, it screamed ‘Infection! Plague! This guy’s dying! Run for your life!’. At least that was the impression Dean got, from the looks on the faces of the people around him, who were now giving him a wide berth.

Second favorite part - I can totally see that happening.

[MissBayliss]

***

Dean was staring vacantly at the bottles of cough syrup. Sam hadn’t come back yet and he was starting to consider waiting in the car for him, but something caught the corner of his eye, or rather someone.

There was a little boy standing at the end of the aisle, looking up desperately at every face that walked past. He couldn’t have been more than five. He was obviously lost. A voice ran through Dean’s head.

Not my kid, not my problem.

But a stronger voice stifled that one, chastised him for even thinking it. He sneezed messily into his shoulder, hugging the tissue boxes. The kid had now noticed him and shuffled forward a few steps. Dean gave a sideways smile and put the boxes back, walking towards the little lost boy.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, looking around.

The kid just stared at him.

“Where’s your mum?”

The kids eyes were red, like he’d been crying or he was going to. He shook his head.

“You lost her, huh?”

The kid sniffed and nodded.

“Okay, don’t panic, little man. We’ll find her,” Dean put a hand on the kid’s back and pulled him slightly towards him while he looked around.

“What’s your mum’s name?” Dean crouched down.

“Tracy...”

“Okay, good. We got this. Stay with me, alright?”

The kid grabbed the side of Dean’s jeans as the started to walk through the aisle. Dean smiled, coughed into his wrist. Trying, for the love of God, to keep it contained. He glanced back at the kid and his eyes were wide, staring up at him. Even kids could tell it wasn’t healthy. They walked down another aisle and the kid started to cry. Dean stopped and squatted down on his haunches in front of him.

“Hey,” Dean said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “What’s your name?”

“Kevin,” the boy said, as he sucked in breaths between little sobs.

“Okay, Kevin, what’s your mum look like?”

“Kevin!”

“Mum!” the kid turned and ran to the woman.

Dean stood up, hoping he didn’t look like a creep or something. And, my God, she was a knockout. Honey blonde hair to her shoulders, her long legs wrapped in tight jeans. Dean swallowed back another coughing fit and walked towards her.

“Kevin and I were just looking for you,” he smiled, weakly, his sickness getting the best of him.

“Oh, thank you. I just turned around and he was gone. Can’t take your eye off them for a second,” Kevin was now nestled in between his mothers legs, her hand on his head, stroking his hair.

“He’s sick,” Kevin whispered to his mother. Dean heard him, tried to smile it off.

“Kevin, don’t say things like that, it’s rude.”

“No, it’s true,” Dean said, clearing his throat. His hands were shaking and he stuffed them into his pockets, “Observant little thing,” he laughed, couldn’t stop the cough that erupted.

“Oh dear,” she cringed, “You’ve got someone looking after you, I hope.”

Maybe she wasn’t flirting, but it sounded a lot like it. Dean bit his tongue from saying something inappropriate in front of a kid. Maybe she was just being a concerned citizen, maybe she didn’t want to have crazy monkey sex with him in the back seat of...

“Dean!” Sam’s voice bellowed, and Dean looked to see his brother’s gargantuan legs carrying him towards them in a few steps.

“Speak of the devil,” she blushed a little and ohhh no, not this time.

“This is my brother,” Dean said, before Sam had even stepped up next to him, “My younger brother.”

She laughed, looked over her shoulder.

“Well, it was very nice of you to look after Kevin for me,” she looked down, “Maybe I’ll see you around... Come on, baby,” she grabbed Kevin’s hand.

“See ya, Tracy. Bye, Kev,” he waved at the kid, who waved back.

“Hope you feel better,” she muttered, before waltzing off, her hips popping as she walked and she had to be doing that on purpose.

When he looked at Sam, his eyebrows were so high they’d almost become a part of his hairline.

“What was all that about?” Sam asked, a basket full of food in his hand.

“Kid was lost, helped him out. It’s nothing, alright?” Dean started walking back towards the cough syrup aisle.

“It didn’t look like nothing,” Sam joked.

“Well, it wasn’t until you got there,” Dean jabbed back.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t realise we came here to pick up,” Sam laughed, “I already got the cough syrup... and the tissues. Let’s get outta here.”

Dean leant a hand on something to try and stop his legs giving out under him. He almost brought down a display of paper towels.

“Woah, Dean,” Sam reached his free arm out to catch Dean under the arm.

Dean groaned loudly, “Friggen legs...”

Sam fished the keys out, “Go wait in the car. I’ll get this.”

“Whatever,” Dean groaned, grabbing the keys from Sam. He took a few controlled breaths.

“You okay?” Sam said, eyes poking him.

“I’m fine, Francis,” he bit, before taking his weight off Sam and walking out to his beloved Impala.

***

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

SO CLOSE!!!! Dammit Sammy, let Dean have ONE conversation with the possibilities of being gay

This was a marvelous wake up call, I don't want this story to ever end!

[Sawyer]

Aww I looooove it when a stranger shows concern when one of them is sick -- I might have mentioned this already! So sweet of Dean to help out the kid too. Also oh my god, "friggen legs" hahaha that's so good! Soooo so so Dean.

[this_is_not_me]

Dean paused, then looked at Sam, eyes wide, brow bent in worry, “They’re going to think we’re gay again, aren’t they?

Ahahahaha... so awesome. Okay, I don't even watch SPN and only really know Sam and Dean through tumblr, but this story is amazing. I love that there's a legitimate plot to go with the sickness, and although they are feeling miserable, it doesn't feel overdone at all. I'm really loving this whole fic, which I've blown through from start to finish in the past hour or so.

[MissBayliss]

***

By the time they made it back to the motel, Dean was ready for another nap. Sam watched him make his way across the room, a box of tissues tucked under one arm. He flopped bonelessly onto the still unmade bed, shuffled until he was partially under the covers, shoes and all, and groaned for about a solid minute.

Sam rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed, “What is it, Dean?”

“Feel like ass...” he coughed, and curled onto his side.

“Jesus, Dean. That sounds awful.”

He pulled a tissue from the box and wiped his mouth, “It’s all green and shit.”

“Yeah, that’s infection, Dean.”

“M’not an idiot. Heh’kSCHUooo!”

“Bless you,” Sam said, sitting down on his bed, flicking a worried glance at his brother.

Dean’s eyes were closed, “Stop perving at me, ya weirdo. Go research something nerdy.”

Sam smiled until Dean started coughing again, “Like pneumonia?”

Dean opened his eyes into slits, “It’s fine, Sam.”

Sam shook his head, “We should have taken you to the hospital after the fire... The smoke and everything, it couldn’t have helped you, Dean.”

“Sam,” Dean said, lifting his head and propping himself up on an elbow, “I’m tired, okay? You know we can’t go back to the hospital. You know why. We may as well just stay here and wait for dad’s orders,” he lay his head back down on the pillow, smacked his lips, like he was preparing for sleep.

Sam clenched his fists, “Wait for dad’s orders...?”

“Sammy, please. Just let me sleep,” Dean’s eyes were closed again, and his tone was resigned. Sam let him sleep.

***

Dean woke up around 3pm, his stomach practically roaring.

“Well, good morning,” Sam was sitting at the table on his laptop, researching stuff on the yellow eyed demon.

Dean rolled out of bed and sloppily made his way to the table, plonking down in the seat across from Sam, rubbing a hand across his belly.

“When was the last time we ate?”

“I ate this morning. You haven’t eaten since last night.”

“Urgh, I’m starving. Wanna go to the diner?”

Sam sat back, surprised at Dean’s willingness to go anywhere but the bed he’d spent most of the last few days in, “We’ve still got soup in the fridge, I can just microwave that.”

“No, Sam. I need real food.”

Sam stared at him for a moment, “You sure?”

Dean stared daggers at him, “Yes, I’m sure. Grab your coat, I gotta hit the head.”

Dean clumsily got up, his chair swaying as he fought to stay upright.

Sam didn’t say anything, didn’t lecture him. It was good he was wanting to eat substantial food, wasn’t it? Even though Dean’s usual of burgers, fries and beer, wasn’t exactly the healthiest option, it was still a twinkle of light at the end of the tunnel for his brothers sickness. At least, he hoped.

Sam’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard Dean cough in the bathroom. It sounded explosive, and rattled heavily with mucus. Sam knew how Dean hated it when anything was out of his control, especially when it came to his own body. He knew how much Dean would be hating being so helpless, coughing whenever his lungs fought against him, sneezing whenever his sinuses tickled with pressure. He felt sorry for him. It must suck.

He gasped for a moment, sneezed into cupped hands, three rapid fire, breathy sneezes.

“Hit’schu! A’schu! Het’schu!”

Yes, it sucked alright.

“Aw, bless you, sweetheart,” Dean had emerged from the bathroom, staring at Sam, being a dick about the girly sneezes that Sam had absolutely no control over. And for the record, they were never normally girly.

“Shut up. Put a coat on,” Sam said, getting up and closing the laptop.

“Dude, I’m wearing a hoodie.”

“You’re wearing my hoodie. And you shouldn’t get cold or you’ll just get worse, so wear a coat.”

Dean muttered something under his breath.

“You’re lucky I’m not making you wear a scarf and beanie, dude,” Sam laughed.

“You watch it, sasquatch. I’m still your big brother, and I may just take the hoodie hostage.”

“Man, I don’t want that hoodie back. It has your sick all over it. I should burn that thing.”

To illustrate a point, Dean dragged the sleeve under his nose, sniffing wetly.

“You’re disgusting,” Sam huffed, grabbing the keys from his pocket, throwing Dean’s jacket at him.

Dean managed to catch it, then stifled a massive yawn behind a fist.

“Dean, you sure you want to go out?... ‘Cause you know what happened at the supermarket this morning. I don’t want to be picking you up off the floor.”

Dean rubbed a hand down his face, shrugged into his jacket, “It’s just arguing with you that’s making me tired, let’s go already. It’s been days since I had a burger.”

Sam patted him on the shoulder as he walked past him out the door. They walked side by side across the parking lot until Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and started hacking up a lung.

“You alright?” Sam asked, as Dean bent over himself coughing.

Dean gasped and panted, and coughed again.

“We’re going back inside,” Sam decided.

Dean knocked his hands away, walking forward to lean on the Impala, “Just let me get it out...”

Sam stood on the other side of the car as Dean leant both hands on the roof, his head hung low, coughing hard, spitting green mucus onto the ground. Sam found himself turning away, looking around to see if anyone was seeing this happen. Thank God, Angela wasn’t around. She’d probably slap Sam in the back of the head for letting his brother get like this. As if it was anyone else’s fault but Dean’s.

Eventually Dean straightened, his face and eyes red.

“You good?”

“I may have cracked a rib,” he moaned, clutching his chest.

Sam rolled his eyes again, and got in behind the steering wheel.

Dean slumped in next to him, breathing heavily, the wheezing crackle in his lungs audible, his hands pressing in, gently massaging his sore chest. Sam thought for a moment how great the day was going while Dean had been conked out in bed.

This was going to be a long day.

***

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

And a loooooooong day for us to enjoy! I love this so much! I can't find any more words to complement, I'm running low because of this story!

:heart:

[party_girl077]

Aww poor Dean. I love the banter! Another well written chapter

[this_is_not_me]

Have I mentioned yet how much I love this fic? I don't even watch Supernatural, and if the brothers' relationship is anything like this on the actual show, I am going to have to start. So adorable. Poor Dean.

[telltale]

This continues to be awesome!

[MissBayliss]

Have I mentioned yet how much I love this fic? I don't even watch Supernatural, and if the brothers' relationship is anything like this on the actual show, I am going to have to start. So adorable. Poor Dean.

This is the biggest compliment I can get! Thank you so much for bothering to read something you don't even watch the show of! Thank you for finding this fix so captivating. I just want to say that the brother's relationship is brilliantly manufactured to begin with, I'm just riding off the amazing writers coattails, trying to make is as authentic as it is in the show. And the chemistry between the two actors is something that can't be manufactured, and is just another aspect of the show that makes it so amazing (the most important aspect really) Hope you start watching the show and hope you continue to read and enjoy my fix Lovely to hear from you!

[MissBayliss]

***

Sam smiled sympathetically at the middle aged waitress that was sneering at them from behind the counter as Dean coughed raggedly into a napkin. Sam looked back at his brother and pursed his lips, “Dean...”

Dean muttered a curse under his breath, pressed gingerly against his chest. He gasped, pressed the napkin to his nose.

“Hut’XHCUuu! Heh’hsSCHOoo!”

“You alright?” Sam asked, pushing Dean’s glass of water a little closer to him.

Dean swore again, had trouble lifting his left arm to pick up the glass.

“I’m not kidding...” he said, after taking a shuddering breath in and setting the glass down.

“About what?” Sam said around another mouthful of salad.

“I actually think I cracked a rib,” Dean leaned back in his seat, swallowed to squash another cough.

“Seriously? You can’t be that unlucky,” Sam laughed, even though nothing was really funny.

Dean waved a hand, “I’ll look at it when we get home.”

Sam looked back down at his food. Funny how some dingy motel can become home. Sam had a home... Had a girlfriend too. Had.

He cleared his throat. He had his brother now, and wherever he was, well, he guessed that was home too. Their lives were weird.

Dean coughed again, drawing yet more attention. A man walking past their table stopped and looked at him.

“Woah,” he said, looking from Dean to Sam, then back to Dean, “You’re the guy from the coffee shop!”

Dean’s hand stayed firmly on his ribcage, he chanced a glance up at this guy.

“Ahh,” he ground out, “So, you caught the show.”

Sam could hear the annoyance in Dean’s voice, the embarrassment also, that was subtle enough that only Sam could pick up on it.

“It was my table you took down with you.”

Dean put his face in his hand, looking like he was trying to will this person out of existence.

“Are you okay, though? The ambulance had to take you out on a stretcher, you could barely breathe...”

“I’m fine,” Dean snapped, looking up at this guy, “It’s been a long week.”

The guy took a little step back, “I’m sure it has.”

Dean shook his head.

“Hope you’re feeling better,” He added.

“Thanks,” Sam replied, since Dean didn’t seem like he was going to.

The guy nodded at Sam, took one more pitiful glance at Dean and walked off.

“Would it kill ya to be nice?” Sam said, kicking Dean’s shin under the table.

“What was I supposed to say? Thanks for making sure I didn’t choke on my own tongue?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Dean threw the chip he was playing with down on his plate, “Urgh, let’s just go.”

“Dean, you were the one that wanted to come here in the first place.”

“Yeah, but I forgot that everyone probably knows everyone in this hick town and they’re probably all talking about the scruffy drifter that almost drowned in his own mucus on the filthy floor of a coffee house,” Dean had run out of oxygen by the end of the sentence and was coughing again, shoving the napkin over his mouth, no doubt to catch whatever came flying out of it. By the end of the fit his face was stark white, his hand gently cupping his left side.

“Shit,” Sam cursed, “Let’s go.”

****

“Alright,” Sam said, dumping the impala keys on the table, “Shirt off.”

They were back in the motel after Dean had spent the entire car ride gasping at every small bump they went over.

“Sammy,” Dean smiled mischievously, “you gonna buy me a drink first?” he retorted, already slipping out of his coat and hoodie for Sam to look at his tender ribs. Sam rolled his eyes again, he was going to give himself a headache the amount of times he’d been doing it.

“Dean, you’ve been thrown into tombstones, walls, trees, hundreds of times! Can you even crack a rib from coughing? That seriously can’t be a thing...”

Dean shrugged, lifted up his t-shirt. He shivered a little, goosebumps already formed on his stomach and chest. He was sitting on the edge of his bed and Sam crouched down in front of him.

“Left side?”

Dean nodded, swallowed, and began breathing through his mouth. Probably because his nose was still so stuffed up.

Sam started feeling along each rib, he got 6 or so down and Dean sucked in a breath, immediately paled. Sam felt it shift under his fingers, feeling along the hairline fracture.

“Yup, you cracked it.”

“Fantastic,” Dean groaned, pulling his shirt back down.

“What’s going on with you, man? I caught your cold and I’m fine already. Is this some kind of thing left over from the Adze? I mean, it did do a number on you...”

“I dunno, man. It does feel like I’m getting crapped on at every turn. Maybe we should call Phil. See if he knows anything.”

The fact that Dean admitted it was abnormal, and that he was hurting and just about over it, was actually good news. Sam needed to know that his brothers wellbeing was high up on the list of things Dean worried about. He spent so much time worrying about Sam there was hardly room for anything else.

“His number’s in my phone. I’m gonna -” he pointed to the bathroom, getting up slowly, using the walls for support just to get there. His phone sitting on the table.

Sam frowned for a moment, before grabbing Dean’s phone and flicking back through his call logs for Phil’s number.

Sam’s heart stopped.

Dean called Dad.

Dean had called Dad.

And that was... Shit... That was just before he was taken to hospital. God.

Sam sunk into a chair, holding the phone in front of him, just staring at the name.

***

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Sam’s heart stopped.

Dean called Dad.

Dean had called Dad.

And that was... Shit... That was just before he was taken to hospital. God.

Sam sunk into a chair, holding the phone in front of him, just staring at the name.

Oh god the feels from that. Dear lord...

Marvelous update! I do wonder what could be wrong with big brother Dean though. Hmmmmm...

Edited December 18, 2014 by Pyrus_Fangmon

[this_is_not_me]

Have I mentioned yet how much I love this fic? I don't even watch Supernatural, and if the brothers' relationship is anything like this on the actual show, I am going to have to start. So adorable. Poor Dean.

This is the biggest compliment I can get! Thank you so much for bothering to read something you don't even watch the show of! Thank you for finding this fix so captivating. I just want to say that the brother's relationship is brilliantly manufactured to begin with, I'm just riding off the amazing writers coattails, trying to make is as authentic as it is in the show. And the chemistry between the two actors is something that can't be manufactured, and is just another aspect of the show that makes it so amazing (the most important aspect really) Hope you start watching the show and hope you continue to read and enjoy my fix Lovely to hear from you!

Because of you and this fic, I have now watched the first three episodes of SPN. I love them together already. <3

[telltale]

So great! And I love cracked ribs in combo with sickness in my fictional world. Like, I haven't seen it that many times but it always makes me really happy.

[HPG]

Sam’s heart stopped.

Dean called Dad.

Dean had called Dad.

And that was... Shit... That was just before he was taken to hospital. God.

Sam sunk into a chair, holding the phone in front of him, just staring at the name.

I love it, and I cannot wait for the next part. The lines I quoted above were really really intriguing.

[MissBayliss]

***

Dean leaned over the sink and splashed some cold water on his face. The muscles in his chest ached, his abdominal muscles ached, his back ached, and now he had a stabbing pain in his chest whenever he took a breath in, courtesy of a cracked rib. He lifted his shirt and looked at his chest, there was no bruising, but he noticed his body shuddering with every breath. He gently cupped his sore rib, cast his eyes to the sky. This had been a terrific week, just terrific. He’d laughed, he cried, he’d wanted to throw himself off a bridge. That familiar nausea started again in his stomach and he knew it was nerves, or anxiety, or whatever mental crap it was when people were stressed to the breaking point. He couldn’t throw up again though, not again, and not with a cracked rib, that just wasn’t fair. He swallowed it, pulled his shirt back down and leant a hand on the vanity. What if it was some freaky ju-ju from the Adze? Probably not, he thought. Just his usual batch of bad luck. Very bad luck.

Dean opened the bathroom door and saw Sam sitting at the table staring at his phone.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t he pick up?” Dean panted, gingerly sitting across from him.

Sam cleared his throat loudly, like he always did when he was gearing up for a lecture.

“Dean... You, uh... Care to explain?” he slid the phone across the table.

Dean glanced down, mentally cursed himself every word in the book, but kept his poker face, and slid the phone back.

“Nothing to explain, Sammy.”

“I thought we weren’t gonna call dad,” Sam said, steeling his jaw.

“We didn’t, I did.”

“Yeah, that morning you took off and passed out in the cafe! What’s going on, Dean? I just want you to talk to me,” Sam was talking with his hands now. He always gestured wildly when he got flustered.

Dean stood up, his legs wobbled beneath him and the room tilted dangerously.

“Dean,” Sam sighed, “Sit down.”

Dean grabbed the keys off the table, “I’m going out,” he grunted.

“You can’t drive like this, Dean,” Sam’s voice had softened, but Dean was still bristled over the attack and headed for the door.

“Dean, stop,” Sam stood, and grabbed his brothers shoulder.

The weight of Sam’s hand almost broke him, and he fell towards the wall, catching himself with his shoulder. He kept going down onto his knees when he started coughing and couldn’t stop, the pain blurring his vision. He was vaguely aware of Sam’s hands on him, but the rest of his body was numb. But, no, he couldn’t lose consciousness, that would be too much of a relief. He just crouched on the floor, gasping like a fish. Eventually the coughing eased, and the sound returned to the world.

“Shit, Dean. I’m sorry. Let’s just get you to bed. I’m so sorry,” Sam was muttering, and right now Dean couldn’t deal with kicked puppy Sam, so he chose not to look at him as he guided him to the bed. He curled on his right side, a hand guarding his rib.

“Here,” Sam handed him a cushion to hug. After all, it wasn’t their first broken rib to attend to.

Dean nodded, “The room’s friggen spinning," he managed.

Sam patted his shoulder, “Just hang tight, brother. I’ll call Phil.”

***

Sorry this is a short one, and it's not really sneezy anymore but i hope you still like it!

[party_girl077]

I do like! I love how sam confronted dean and grabbed his shoulder then felt all guilty, I feel mean but I did love that.

Also I love how Dean can't shake his illness... I mean, it's a terrible shame

Thanks

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Sneezies or no sneezies, this story is AMAZING! Ah. May. ZING!

[spirkestielgirl87]

Really enjoying this.

[MissBayliss]

Sorry, I was feeling a little festive

***

Sam rose from Dean’s bedside. He wouldn’t even look at him. His own brother wouldn’t even look at him. His eyes avoided his gaze the whole time he’d hoisted his arm over his shoulder and dragged him to the bed, even as he muttered apologies. Sam swallowed his pain. Dean was sick, he needed to move on that.

Sam still didn’t understand it. He supposed he did come on a little too strong, a little too accusatory, but he never knew why Dean hid from him. Behind his car, behind women, behind booze and rock and roll. There were obvious cracks in the armour, great wide cracks leading to the depths of Dean’s soul, where he was still a frightened little boy. Dean hadn’t grown stronger over the years. He never developed a thick skin or an impervious shield. He’d just learnt to act like everything was fine. And he’d got damn good at it. But not good enough.

***

Sam rubbed a hand through his hair, glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror, thinking he needed a shave. Phil didn't know. It was a long shot anyway, they hadn't even known how to kill it. They just got lucky. And clearly, that's where their luck had ended.

"Phil's never heard of it," Sam said, coming out of the bathroom, "He's gonna look into it though."

Dean was hugging his pillow close to his chest, breathing ever so delicately.

"Awesome," he grunted.

"How you doing?" Sam asked, sitting down at the end of Dean's bed.

"Never better," he breathed, catching on his throat and coughing openly as he used both hands to press the pillow against his chest.

Sam lowered his head to his hand, massaged his brow. This was getting harder to watch and he felt terrible, but he just wanted out of there.

"Phil said he's got a cabin in Wisconsin he's not using at the moment, if we wanted something a bit more homey for a while... till you're back on your feet."

Sam tried to say it in the most nonchalant way, like it was a completely normal statement. No big deal.

"We gotta do the ritual first," Dean whispered, eyes fixed on a point in front of him.

He hadn't immediately dismissed the idea, which was positive.

"Why don't I do the ritual, Dean? There's no need for both of us to go out there."

"What? And have no one watching your back? No deal, Sam. I'm coming too."

Dean's macho attitude was undercut by his sniffling. He pressed the back of his hand against his nose.

Sam got up and crossed the room in a step to grab the box of tissues off the table. He pulled a few out and pressed them into Dean's hand.

"Heh'stchew! Huh'tchu! Hehchu!"

There was silence, Dean remained perfectly still.

"You alright?" Sam finally spoke.

Dean didn't get a chance to answer before there was a knock at the door.

"It's just me, boys, " the soft voice came from outside.

Sam's gaze lingering on Dean, who'd broken a mild sweat from his sneezing fit, before turning to answer the door.

"Hi Ange," he smiled.

"Oh, Sam, you look much better," she beamed.

"I feel better, albeit a little tired," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Haven't you been sleeping, dear? Where's Dean?"

Sam gave a wry smile, and pushed the door open, "There's your answer."

"Oh dear," she sighed, as Dean gave a little salute from his sick bed.

"Do you wanna come in?" Sam asked, standing back. It was unusual she hadn't made herself at home already.

"On, no, I don't want to hold you up. I just wanted to see if you had any plans for tomorrow."

Sam rubbed a hand down his face, "Tomorrow? No, why? Well, we're going to do the ritual if Dean's feeling up to it."

"The ritual?" She tipped back on her heels.

"Uh, yeah. Something wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just... tomorrow's Christmas."

“It is?” Sam looked down at his watch. It was. He’d known it was coming up, dreaded it, really. It would be his first Christmas without Jess, and he’d tried his best to push it from his mind, not even mention it, like he knew Dean would, because they never had Christmas, not really. Nothing that resembled Christmas anyway.

“I was wondering if you wanted to join me?” She asked, her eyes flicking with hope, and a little bit of sorrow, “It won’t be much, but I make mean roast potatoes, and... I’m going to be alone, and I thought... Well, I just thought I’d offer,” she smiled, “After all you’ve done for me... But, if you’ve got other plans, I understand.”

Sam glanced back at Dean, then to Angela’s hopeful face. “Now, what would make you think we’d have other plans?”

****

[spirkestielgirl87]

Aw I love the inclusion of Christmas! I love festive sick fics

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

“I was wondering if you wanted to join me?” She asked, her eyes flicking with hope, and a little bit of sorrow, “It won’t be much, but I make mean roast potatoes, and... I’m going to be alone, and I thought... Well, I just thought I’d offer,” she smiled, “After all you’ve done for me... But, if you’ve got other plans, I understand.”

Sam glanced back at Dean, then to Angela’s hopeful face. “Now, what would make you think we’d have other plans?”

Omg Sammy!!!!!!! He's such a sweetie!

Oh! I can feel the feels already! Please do update sooooooon!!!!!!!!!

And Happy New Year!