Your Turn
Title: Your Turn
Author: 27_jaredjensen
Word Count: 515
Characters/pairings: Gen; Sam, Dean
Summary: Birthday fic for the lovely and talented silverblaze85!
Cold!wet!sick!Sam and slightly-sick!hurt!Dean.
***
Sam runs in the direction he last saw Dean, straight into the wind. It’s raining, icy cold water soaking him and weighing his clothes down, making him sluggish and even colder than he thought was possible.
“Dean!” The shout echoes off the trees, and Sam is relieved to hear an answering yell from the direction he’s headed in.
Dean’s lying on the squishy, pine needle covered ground, flat on his back. His jacket is halfway off and Sam can see blood soaking through his gray t-shirt on his right side.
He checks Dean over with shaking, icy hands as Dean pushes himself up off the ground.
“Oh, God,” Dean groans hoarsely, dragging an arm across his wet face. He lets Sam prop him up against a tree. Sam pulls up Dean’s shirt, sees the long scratches along his side, and shakes his head disapprovingly.
“That’s gonna be a bitch to clean up,” Sam remarks, wiping his sleeve under his cold, runny nose. “C’mon, let’s get the hell out of here.”
***
“Take it, Dean.”
Sam’s tired of playing this game, and he’s seconds away from shoving the damn Tylenol down Dean’s throat. He clears his throat and swallows against a cough, waits for Dean to take the painkillers.
“Go change out of your wet clothes, Sam.”
Sam shivers, his teeth chattering, and he pushes his still-damp hair out of his face before shaking his head.
“Dean. Take…” Sam trails off, then wrenches to the side with a harsh sneeze. “Damnit.”
“Dude, you’re-”
“Dean, I’m fine.”
“You’re getting sick, Sammy, because you’re soaking wet and you-”
“And you hacking up a lung last week and spreading around your germs had nothing to do with it?” Sam asks irritably.
“No,” Dean answers. He coughs, then winces, and Sam sighs.
“Fine. I’ll change. But only because I’m freez-” He breaks off with another enormous sneeze. “Ugh. And then you’re going to take the Tylenol.”
“Only if you take some NyQuil.”
Sam narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t object.
***
Sam emerges from the bathroom in several layers of dry clothes, but he’s still shivering. Dean’s dozing on the bed, but he wakes up with a stuttering cough when Sam climbs in next to him.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dean finally manages to rasp out. He can feel Sam trembling next to him.
“You still cold?”
“Feel like shit,” Sam admits as another shiver runs down his spine.
“What happened to the meds?”
Sam rolls over onto his stomach, careful not to bump Dean’s bandaged side, and sniffles into the pillow.
“On the table. Don’t feel like getting them.” Sam’s eyes are closed. A second later Dean’s sliding out of the bed. Sam lifts his head.
“Dean?”
Dean returns with an armful of medicine. He takes some Tylenol while Sam swallows a dose of the cold medicine, and then he climbs back under the covers and shifts closer to Sam until their arms are touching.
“Hey, Sam?” Dean murmurs after a few minutes of silence.
“Huh?” Sam answers sleepily.
“It’s your turn to turn off the lights.”