Quiet (SPN Dean Sam Bobby)

[Yaolita]

Sam gets sick with the flu and only allows Dean to take care of him because of past trauma with their father. Of course Dean ends up catching his sickness and the two brothers finish bedridden together. Caretaking fluff  

Work Text:

Dean, still half-asleep, enters the kitchen. Bobby welcomes him with a sly smile and a mock comment about the tardive hour. On a more serious tone, he tells him that Sam hasn’t come out from his room neither yet. Now Dean’s perfectly awake, looking at Bobby with a silent question. Bobby shrugs. Dean signed, pours himself a generous mug of coffee and goes back on his tracks to the rooms upstairs. He knocks on Sam’s door, once, twice, before entering quietly. 

Sam is in bed, nearly completely hidden under his blankets. Everything is quiet and dark in the room, which is surprising so late in the day. Sam is usually so annoying with his happy early morning person attitude, mister I’m going to run at 5h am without even one drop of coffee in my athletic body!

Eyes closed, Sam is not moving but Dean knows he’s not asleep. He had his brother sleeping near him forever. He knows every mimic, every movement he makes when asleep. And he also knows every mimic and movement he does when he’s not feeling well. Damn, for how long the kid had been in there by himself, without being able to rest?

He calls his brother’s name softly, once, twice. No reaction. He waits patiently. He knows Sam, knows how kind and patient you have to be with him when he’s not well, if you want him to tell you what’s going on and how you can help him. 

He knows that otherwise, his brother will just shut himself completely and suffers in silence, like a quiet little mouse. Since their father’s death, this is something Dean sweared to himself that would not happen anymore. The old man is not there anymore. They have no reason to abide by his stupid heartless rules. 

Sam finally opens his eyes and looks at him tiredly. He’s pale, with just a bit of pink on his nose and cheeks. A bit sniffly too, congested breathing. Clearly coming down with something, thinks Dean. But what? Normal stuff or demonic curse? Small cold or nasty flu? 

Sam is so unpredictable these days... So much happened to him, taking a token on his health. Even when he’s not sick, his eyes are sunken. He’s quiet and withdraw and pale as a ghost. Dean hates seeing him like that, hates that helpless feeling inside him when he looks at his brother’s light dimming with each passing day.

“Do you need anything?” Sam shrugs but can’t help a small shiver. “Cold?” Another shrug. “Roll over, I’ll stay a bit with you and warm you up.” Dean waits patiently for Sam to move. The kid’s movements are sluggish, he tries to hide a moan of discomfort. Aches probably. The flu then? Or a really bad cold?

Brushing his little brother forehead, Dean adds: “you feel warm. Getting a fever?” Another shrug. Damn that kid, thinks Dean. He would be dying and stay silent about it. Dean frowns at the idea of Sam’s dying. They had too many close calls the last few months. It hurts too much to think about it though. Better focus on Sammy alive in front of him and trying to decipher what the heck is wrong with him.

Bobby sticks his head through the door frame, a concerned look on his face. Sam hides even more under his duvet. He hates receiving attention when he’s unwell. He usually loves to be at Bobby’s place. Its a homely feeling he haven’t know much in his life. But when he’s sick, he just want to disappear from the surface of the earth. The last thing he wants is someone fussing over his sniffles and sneezes. 

And Bobby is the king of fussing. Sam doesn’t know
how to deal with that. The only person who has ever fussed over him is Dean. And Dean knows him. Share the same life story. The same mean father, who would get angry at them for slowing him down when they felt unwell as kids.

Dean knows how to fuss without invading his privacy and making him uncomfortable, reasons Sam. He knows what he needs, what’s gonna make him feel better, often better than himself and before he has to ask for. After all, he’s been Sam’s caregiver for as long as they can remember. 

With Bobby, it feels awkward and uncomfortable to be sick. Sam tries to make himself as invisible as possible, keeps to his room, stifles his sneezes and muffles his coughs into his pillow. He’ve learned the hard way as a kid that he’d better be quiet when sick. Old habits die hard, even now as an adult in a kind and supportive environnement. 

Soon, he’s installed on Dean’s chest, blankets tucked up to his chin. The tight embrace is oddly comforting on his aching body. Maybe now that he’s not freezing anymore, he’ll be able to fall asleep. He spent the last night and most of this morning tossing in bed, unable to find a comfortable position, getting more and more invaded by whatever sickness this is. 

What started as a general feeling of fatigue has been blossoming in the last hours into a nasty illness, with shivers wracking his body and aches making him hurt everywhere. His nose is drippy and is now getting quite stuffed up. Sneezes are getting more and more regular, hurting his tender throat. His head hurts, everything hurts actually.

Its been hurting even more because he’s been hiding his symptoms. Stifling his sneezes has been worsening his headache and the pain in his throat. He didn’t take anything for his sickness neither yet, to avoid the suspicious eyes of his family. He regrets it now, the pounding in his head is horrible. 

Before he needs to ask for it, Dean leaves the room and comes back with a cup of Nyquil, some Tylenol and a glass of water. Sam takes them without fuss and drinks greedily the water. Damn that kid, thinks Dean. For how long has he’d been thirsty and too unwell to go for a drink of water? 

Dean feels a pang of guilt at that idea. He should have checked on Sam before going to sleep last night. But he was exhausted after the long car ride to reach Bobby’s house. He had to drive the ten hours trip all the way, because Sam was oddly tired and spent most of the ride snoring in the seat beside him. 

He should have know it meant his brother was getting sick. Sam almost never sleeps during the day. But they just had an harsh night in a cemetery close to Burlington and he though his brother was simply recovering from it. Wrong again, the kid is now burning up with fever and all congested. It was cold and rainy at the cemetery. Sam probably caught his nasty chill there. 

Which means Dean’s probably next for it. When one gets sick, the other usually follows the day after. They are always together. Sharing everything. Its usually Sam first, more fragile on that level. And with Dean caring for him each time, contagion is almost inevitable.

Dean is not a fan of getting sick of course, but doesn’t mind it too much neither. As they never allow themselves vacations, its the only time they can stop a bit and rest. As long as he’s not puking or burning up with fever, Dean doesn’t mean sharing a day or two of sickness with his brother. Daytime tv, naps and whiskey loaded grogs, there are worst ways to occupy your days.

Dean winces at the idea of having the flu though. This is not some small illness that you can get better after taking it easy for a day or two. And he hates feeling feverish, shivering and aching everywhere. Most importantly, he hates seing Sam miserably feverish. 

But its too late to cry over spilled milk. Sam is already sick and in need of care. Dean knows he’s the only one his brother will accept help from when feeling poorly. No reason for Dean to be petty about it and make Sam feeling worse for the evident risk of contagion. He knows his brother will be careful with his coughs and sneezes and they both know it won’t be enough. Dean’s gonna catch it eventually and be bedridden with his brother. Might as well start now, he shrugs, and he makes himself comfortable in the bed, tightening his grip over his brother. 

He can feel Sam getting agitated in his arms, trying to detangle from their embrace. As soon as Dean let go, he stifles a series of sneezes in his elbow, sniffling quietly after. Signing internally, Dean gets up again and brings back the box of tissues from the attached bathroom. 

He looks at his brother blowing his nose with the rough tissues; as soon as Sam is asleep, he will go make a razzia at the local store for better flu supplies. Better to do it before being incapacitated himself. It would not come to Dean’s mind to ask Bobby for support. Its always been himself and his brother only. They don’t need help from a third party. They own enough to Bobby already. Dean can take of his brother without his help. 

He will cook some easy stuff too. The tomato and rice soup they like. Some smoothies also maybe. They always lose their appetite when they are sick but they will need easy to stomach food to take their meds with.

But for now, what is important is to put the kid to sleep. He probably spent a bad night because of his fever and his other burgeoning symptoms. Now that he has proper medication in his system, he should be able to get some rest.

Dean takes back his brother in his arms and cradles him softly. Soon, he feels Sam’s breathing pattern changing. His brother is clearly asleep, mouth open because of his stuffy nose, snoring softly. Dean waits a couple of minutes more, to be sure Sam’s asleep, and departs quietly the bed to go shopping.

When he comes back in the dark bedroom a couple of hours later, Sam is still asleep. He doesn’t look good though, with reddened cheeks from the fever and snot leaking from his now red nose. Its clearly the flu and not a simple cold, thinks Dean, the progression is too fast for a case of the sniffles.

Exhausted himself, he wipes Sam’s nose with the soft tissues he just bought, arranges on the nightstand the new flu supplies and join Sam on the bed again. Just the time to rearrange the messed up blankets and to hold his brother and he’s already deeply asleep.

Its Sam who wakes him up a couple of hours later, agitating quietly a thermometer in front of his face. Still in the mists of sleep, Dean doesn’t understand: his brother may be a bit needy when he’s sick, but he’s clearly capable to take his own temperature. Is he feeling much worse?

With a raspy voice, and after stifling a couple of sneezes, Sam suggests him to check his temperature. Dean is puzzled: why him? Its Sam who’s sick. But slowly, he starts to understand why; he’s feeling cold, very cold. Cold and achy everywhere. And he’s shivering, trying to stay as close as possible to his brother’s feverish warmth. Damn it! Not already! He though he would have at least a day or two before falling to his brother’s ailment. Damn that long car ride yesterday, basking in Sam’s germs for more than ten hours straight!

Dean can see in his brother’s eyes that he’s profoundly unhappy to have made him ill again. He reassures him rapidly, reminds him that contagion can’t be helped for them as they are always together. He tells him that its a privilege to care for him, even when he ends up catching his illnesses, that he wouldn’t change a thing about it. He’s not sure if Sam really believes him but it seems to appeases him a bit. 

They take their temperature silently, one after the other one, and pop up more pills after. Sam has a nasty cough now and his fever is much more elevated than this morning. Dean hates to see his brother so miserable. He would gladly take all these flu symptoms on himself if it could means that Sam would catch a break for once. But the best he can do for now is rubbing his back during the frequent sneezing and coughing fits and holding him in a close embrace after that. Soon the medicines are making them sleepy and they drift into an uneasy sleep.

Bobby looks at them asleep on the bed with a heavy heart. He would like to help, he would like to support. They are like his kids. He’s always worried about them. But the brotherly duo is self-sufficient. Not surprising, if you think about their unconventional life, past and present. 

They are ok for now, he try to reassure himself. Its just a simple bout of flu. The three of them have managed far worse. They are safe under his roof, he can discreetly keep an eye on them. He’ll make sure they won’t hear about the new hunts available until they are well again. Already, he has been dispatching the most urgent ones to other hunters. He will take care of the rest if necessary. This at least he can do for his boys. 

Luckily, he thinks, its Sam who got sick first and not the contrary. Otherwise, Dean would have never accepted to slow down and rest. Sam’s well-being is the only reason that can convince Dean to stop hunting. 

Even asleep with a fever, Dean still hold his brother. Every single move of discomfort from Sammy brings a frown on his face. Bobby knows that he will be awake as soon as his brother needs it, and even before sometimes.

He knows that he will hide how bad he feels, now that the flu has invaded him too, just so his brother doesn’t worry too much and continue to focus on his own health. And Bobby know Sam won’t, and will fuss over Dean’s instead.

He can see Sam getting agitated by a nightmare, like every time he has a fever. Already Dean’s blinks sleepily, murmures soft words of comfort, tighten their embrace. Sam calms down, they go back to sleep, before Bobby can ask if they need anything. He bites his lip. He worries too much. They will be fine, they just need to rest. But they dont really need him, Bobby thinks with a bit of sadness. They just need each other.