Never Going Back Again (Supernatural, Dean)

[sierraplaid]

Vaguely Fourth of July-y because the prompt talks about fireworks. I'm just going with it.

There's also a Sam fill for this same prompt here.

 

Title: Never Going Back Again
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Dean (gen)
Summary: Dean has a cold and sneezes a lot.
Time frame: Season 1
Warnings: None
AN: Prompt by tarotgal on the 2017 meme: "A character's cold (or allergy fit) follows the same pattern as a fireworks show. It starts out with a few sneezes here or there and then there's a steady amount of sneezing. But it always ends with a spectacular finale of sneezes. Other characters know this and every time he sneezes, they watch/wait to see if it's the beginning of the finale yet or not. His cold (or allergic reaction) just isn't over until that impressive fit of sneezing strikes."
AN 2: I had the Fleetwood Mac song "Never Going Back Again" in mind here, title-wise.

 

Never Going Back Again

There’s really nothing for it—they’re just going to have to spend the night in the car. Ordinarily that wouldn’t be an issue, except today it’s annoying on two fronts. First, they’ve gotten stranded in this part of the country before and should have seen it coming, and normally Dean would have had the presence of mind to go another way or stop for the night a few hours sooner than necessary because they’d come to the end of civilization. But Dean isn’t exactly firing on all cylinders, and that’s the second problem: he’s sick.

Even finding so much as a turnout on this godforsaken highway is proving unbelievably more difficult than it has any right to be. Dean sniffs as he keeps his eyes on the road, then twists away abruptly into his elbow.

“TXCSHhuh!”

“I should’ve tried harder to talk you out of this,” Sam says guiltily. “You could’ve been in bed hours ago.”

“I’m good,” Dean says with a sniff. “You’re the one who keeps yawning over there.”

“It’s just ‘cause I’m tired just listening to you,” Sam says. “You’ve got to be exhausted.”

“Nah, I’ve still got gas in the tank.”

“Hey,” Sam says eagerly, changing the subject, “can we agree that eastern Colorado and western Kansas are the pits and that we should never drive through here ever again?”

“Way ahead of you,” Dean says.

“Not even if absolutely necessary?”

Dean nods, turning aside into his sleeve. “hCHSHhhuh, uh, yeah, definitely. Not even if absolutely necessary.”

“’kay, good,” Sam says.

He watches as Dean swipes his nose on his cuff, then muffles a few coughs. There’s just enough moonlight for Sam to recognize the tiredness in his brother’s face, and between that and Dean’s denial, Sam is sure that it’s past time for them to call it a night.

“Want to pull over at the next turnout?” he suggests.

“That’s the plan.”

“Hey,” Sam says, pointing, as one appears at the outer reach of their high beams.

“Would you look at that,” Dean says, and he guides them off the road.

***

Now that Dean’s mind isn’t focused on driving, the sneezing is really taking over. He’s flat on his back in the front seat with his shoes kicked off and Sam’s sweatshirt zipped to his chin, warming up under both their blankets. He ducks into them to muffle a sneeze.

“hehXXSHhhhuh!”

“Sorry we’re not in a motel right now,” Sam says from the back seat. He’s sitting up, paging through Dad’s journal with the flashlight dimmed so as not to disturb his brother.

“Don’t sweat it,” Dean says, sniffling. “I’m not—hahTXCHH! not worried about it. Guh.”

He rolls over and reaches up to snag the tissue box off the dashboard, then sits up and leans back against the door for a minute to blow his nose.

“And sorry I got you sick,” Sam adds.

“Yeah, that is actually your fault,” Dean agrees. “Haven’t had a cold in years and then you come back, next thing I know, this happens. That ain’t a coincidence.”

“We can trade spots and I can keep driving, if you want.”

“Nah,” Dean says, from behind the tissues. “I’ve been g— hehCHHUH! giving you too much time behind the wheel as it is. ...heh-TXCSHhuh!”

Sam still looks concerned, watches as Dean gets another tissue and blows his nose a second time. Eventually Dean notices he’s under scrutiny and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, my god, Sam, it’s a cold. Stop looking at me like that. It gets worse before it gets better, right?” He coughs wetly and slides down the seat to lie back down.

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam admits.

Dean is still getting settled when he catches a sharp, sudden sneeze in his elbow, then brings the blankets to his face as his breath starts to hitch again. “h-h-hXXSHHh!”

“Are you gonna be okay?” Sam asks.

“Yup,” Dean says, breathless and unconvincing, before ducking back into the blankets. “hehXXSHHhh!”

“It’s kind of getting old,” Sam ribs him gently.

“Tell m—hahTXCHH! Tell me about it. Guh.” Dean takes a deep, stuttering breath in and then hunches forward as the itch takes over. “hRXXUSHhhuh! ..heh..heh-XXSHhhhuh! hTXSHhuh! htTCSHHUH!”

There’s a brief break during which Dean keeps the blankets over his nose and Sam can hear in his irritated sniffling that he’s not done yet.

“Want the tissues?” Sam asks, and Dean shakes his head, too itchy to speak, and then pitches forward.

“hehCHXXSHH!” He sniffs a few times, badly stuffed up. “h..hh…ahTCHHhhh!”

“Dude….”

“heh-hRXSH!”

“Dean.”

“hRXXSHHhh!”

Dean stops for a second, catches his breath, and has second thoughts about the tissues. He pulls out a handful and then collapses back on the seat with another slow flurry of sneezes.

“haTCHhuh! TCHhhuh! TCHUH! TCHUH!”

Dean sniffs, takes a few tentative breaths—maybe that’s it—and blows his nose.

Sam looks on, skeptical and waiting.

Sure enough, Dean pants, “Hang on,” brings the blankets to his face, breath hitching, and smothers one last sneeze.

“hehXXTCHUH!”

He sniffs hard, sighs, and then dissolves into coughs for a minute, but at least he’s not sneezing any more. He curls onto his side, sniffling still, trying to get comfortable and somehow find another heretofore undiscovered three feet of length in the cramped space. Sam’s patient as Dean nestles into the seat and rearranges the blankets, until eventually Dean stops fidgeting and lies still and quiet except for the sniffling.

“You good?” Sam checks.

“Mm-hmm,” Dean says, all stuffed up and muffled in the blankets.

“All right,” Sam says with a smile, adjusting himself against the door and turning back to the journal. “Get some rest.”

“Mm, yeah,” Dean’s voice comes back. “You, too.”

***

End

 

Edited July 4, 2017 by sierraplaid

[lilysneeze]

this is so marvelous I'm kinda lost for words! all those itchy hitchy sneezes that just won't let up! Dean curled up on the front seat of the Impala in Sam's sweatshirt! Sam's trying-to-be subtle but absolutely not subtle concern and checking in on him.... ah... I love your drabbles

[telltale]

The image of Dean completely lost in the throes of sneezing fit... oh my gosh.  I loved this.

[ayslin]

This is basically perfection.

[sierraplaid]

On 7/4/2017 at 0:47 PM, lilysneeze said:

this is so marvelous I'm kinda lost for words! all those itchy hitchy sneezes that just won't let up! Dean curled up on the front seat of the Impala in Sam's sweatshirt! Sam's trying-to-be subtle but absolutely not subtle concern and checking in on him.... ah... I love your drabbles

Ahhhh, thanks!!! You're awesome.

On 7/4/2017 at 8:09 PM, telltale said:

The image of Dean completely lost in the throes of sneezing fit... oh my gosh.  I loved this.

Yay, I'm so glad you liked it!

23 hours ago, ayslin said:

This is basically perfection.

Thanks, that's nice of you to say! Glad you enjoyed.