A Little Help
Title: A Little Help
Author: 27_jaredjensen
Word count: 1550
Characters/pairing: Sam, Cas, (gen)
Warnings/spoilers: Language, sorrynotsorry. If you’ve seen season 10 you’re probably good, but there shouldn’t be any spoilers because I kind of ignored Dean’s storyline for this one. And also Cas’ storyline. And I guess Sam’s...
A/N: It was really hard not to write Sam/Cas soooo I might do that too haha. For this one, ladyk wanted Cas trying to help a sick Sam after got hurt in S10. I gave Sam a sprained elbow, because that’s what they say in the episode, even though irl Jared hurt his shoulder. Sorry it took so long bb, hope you like it:)
::: ::: :::
Sam wakes up the same way he’s been waking up for the past two days- curled up on his left side and in so much fucking pain there are tears in his eyes. It’s still dark out and the curtains are pulled, so he sits up and has to let his eyes adjust for a moment before he’s able to spot the pill bottle on his nightstand.
He shivers as the blankets fall around his lap, even though his room is by far the current warmest place in the bunker. As he debates turning up the heater, he pulls off his t-shirt and boxers. Normally, Sam’s pretty alert first thing in the morning, but it isn’t until he’s in the shower that he realizes that in addition to the pain in his arm, he’s still feeling shitty and sluggish, even after the generous five hours of sleep his body allowed.
He clears his throat. Fuck. He breathes in, slow, even. Fuck.
He’s getting sick. He hasn’t had a cold in years, but he’s had enough in his lifetime to know the feeling. As if he didn’t have enough shit to deal with. He can already feel the congestion in his sinuses, the prickle in his throat, and he gives himself an extra five minutes under the hot water before stepping out onto the chilly bathroom tile.
Sam’s quick to dress, pausing only to examine the massive bruise that covers half his thigh. Jeans and a clean t-shirt are harder to pull on left-handed than he’d like to admit. He saves the effort for his socks and his boots, since his feet are freezing, and his sling. His head is pounding by the time he forces down a quick breakfast and a cup of coffee in the kitchen, but he hurries back to his room to sit at the desk with his laptop. He’s not giving up on his brother.
The first sneeze comes around lunch time, when the sun finally breaks through clouds and Sam’s feeling sleepy and stuffed up.
“HGSHCH!”
“God bless you, Sam.”
Sam’s sinuses are too irritated for him to be startled; he twists to his right with another wrenching sneeze, momentarily forgetting that his arm is in a sling. “Hh-HGGSHSH!”
“God bless you. Again.”
“Cas,” Sam croaks. “What the-hhh--hhHSHSHCH!”
“God bless you.”
Sam’s fourth sneeze is aimed this time into his left elbow. “HH-USHSH!”
“God bl-”
“Ugh. Cas, stop saying that. Hhh….hhhhhhh...ihhHHGSHCHTCH!”
“God bless you.”
WIth one hand cupped over his mouth and nose, Sam sighs and shuffles into the bathroom to wash his hands and blow his nose. When he’s done, he can’t breathe through his nose, which is bright red, and his throat is on fire. He leans against the doorframe and watches Cas survey the room.
“Addy dews?” Sam groans inwardly at how awful he sounds.
“No news,” Cas replies, quiet. “Are you unwell?”
“I’b fide.” Sam winces and lets out a rumbling cough that causes his whole body to shake. Every time he moves, his elbow aches more, his head pounds a little harder. He goes back to grab a handful of toilet paper from the bathroom so that he’s ready for the next round of sneezing- he can feel it building already- and takes a deep breath. He’s not thrilled that Cas is here, but maybe he can do a little work while Sam runs to the store. He’s not sure how much longer he can hold out without cold medicine.
“Cas, I deed to rudd to the store for bedicind. When I get back, we’ll talgk Crowley.”
“Let me go,” is all Cas says before he disappears.
Sam sighs, coughs. He runs fingers through still damp hair and sinks down onto his bed. He can’t shake the foggy feeling that’s clouding all his senses. All he wants to do is lay down and sleep. Maybe he’ll close his eyes for a moment- just until Cas returns.
:::::
Sam wakes to a cool rush of air and the rustling of plastic. He sits up- he doesn’t really remember laying down in the first place- and blearily watches Cas unpack a grocery bag full of bottles and boxes. Gatorade. Kleenex. DayQuil and NyQuil. Sam wonders if he asked one of the grocery clerks what to buy.
He notices the window is open, but before he can say anything, he’s overcome by a tremendous, tickling sneeze.
“Hh-HGGSHSHhuh!”
“God bless you.”
“The fuck is the window open for?” Sam snaps, shivering hard and feeling a little guilty when Cas frowns.
“It seemed a little stuffy in here and you looked...warm. You are sweating.”
Sam rolls his eyes. He’s the farthest from warm he could possibly be. Shiver after shiver runs through his entire body, causing his arm to ache. His nose is running like a faucet.
“Here,” Cas says, almost timid as he offers a box of Kleenex.
“Thanks,” Sam mumbles. His face is warm as he pulls out a tissue to blow his nose one-handed. He feels like a child. “You didn’t have to get these.”
“Will it not be easier to carry these around with you, so you don’t have to keep going to the bathroom for toilet paper?”
Sam flushes harder. His skin feels hot all over.
“You really don’t seem yourself,” Cas frowns. “How is your elbow?”
Sam shrugs and immediately regrets it.
“It’s healing,” he replies through clenched teeth. “Still hurts like a bitch.”
“And your health?” Cas raises an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should-”
“I’m fine, Cas. Thanks for running to the store.”
“You’re welcome.”
Sam stands and goes for the box of cold medicine, but Cas beats him to it. It takes Cas longer to open the cardboard box than it probably would have taken Sam, even one-handed, but Sam appreciates the thought.
He swallows the pills dry and regrets it when they get caught in his sore throat and make him cough. Before he can really do anything, there’s an open bottle of Gatorade in his hand, so he drinks.
“Thanks,” he croaks.
“Anything I can do to help,” Cas replies. “Speaking of...do you need a hand in, uh, cleaning?” He gestures vaguely at the floor.
Sam looks around the room, which looks more like Dean’s than his own with all his belongs spread carelessly around. He kneads the space between his eyebrows with two fingers.
“Sorry, I’ve been a little- let’s move out to the library.”
“The library? Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“Cas, we have work to do if we’re going to find Dean. I can rest later.” Sam grimaces at how awful his voice is starting to sound, but he pushes past Cas and heads down the hall.
::: ::: :::
Sam lasts all of two hours sitting at the table in the library. It’s freezing cold, for one, despite the blanket Cas had draped around his shoulders.
He also hasn’t read a single thing, between sneezes and a pounding heading. When he passes on dinner, Cas sighs, closes Sam’s laptop and puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder.
It feels strange to have Cas lead him back to his bedroom, but he’s too fucking exhausted to put up any sort of fight. His elbow feels like it’s throbbing and his throat hurts and all he wants to do is sleep.
“Do you want me to stay in here? Do you need my assistance with anything?”
Cas is staring at him, and Sam’s sure he knows that he’s in a lot more pain than he’s letting on, but he shakes his head. “I’m okay. don’t worry about it.”
Cas raises an eyebrow to that, but doesn’t say anything further, and Sam clears his throat hard to fight a cough.
Fuck, he misses Dean.
“Hhh…” Suddenly, Sam’s breath hitches, his eyes tearing up as a tickle explodes in his sinuses. “Huh-hhhh!”
His breath catches again, again, his chest expanding with each intake of breath, and he’s frozen with a fist raised in front of his face for an agonizing moment until he feels something soft pressed into his hand. A tissue.
“Huh-ihhSHSHSHUH!”
“God bless you.”
“Hhh….hhhhhhh…HGSHCHSH! Hhh-uhhSHSH! HHGSHCHTCH-uh!”
Sam’s panting. He squints at Cas, who hasn’t said anything, but appears to be waiting for…
“HhhHGSHSH!”
“God bless you.”
“Fugck.”
The congestion is back. His nose still tickles, but he doesn’t think he can handle any more sneezes. Instead, he takes a handful of tissues and scrubs hard at his nostrils. Cas looks worried.
“Thangks, Cas.” Sam tries to clear his throat. “I’mb ogkay.”
“You’re almost more stubborn than your brother,” Cas admonishes.
“I’mb ogkay. Just ndeed sleep.”
Cas nods.
“Okay. Sleep well, Sam.”
“Thanks, Cas. Fff-fuck-HGhuhUSHSHCH! Ugh.”
“God bless you. See you in the morning.”
After Cas closes the door, Sam flops down onto the bed and contemplates taking his clothes off before climbing under the covers. He kicks his boots off, at least, and wriggles around a little until he’s on his left side, head mostly on the pillow.
He soon finds himself with heavy eyelids, and though he’s not in the most comfortable position on the bed, he lets himself relax into the pull of exhaustion and NyQuil.
Sam falls asleep in a way he hasn’t in a long time, without his fingertips curled around the gun under his pillow, because he knows that Cas is near.
::: ::: :::