the one where sam (almost) cures dean's cold with cuddling
Title: the one where sam (almost) cures dean's cold with cuddling
Characters: Sam and Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 505
Summary: Dean is sick and grumpy. Sam is patient, but even he has his limits.
A/N: Written for one_d_mouse for the Again But With More Colds comment ficathon. Alternately titled look ma, I wrote shmoop!
Middle of the night and the snow falls softly but steadily around them when Dean pulls off to the side of the road. He kills the engine, telling Sam to settle in for the night.
"You want me to drive?" Sam offers, knowing what the answer will be. Not like he didn't make the suggestion before they left the motel, where Dean could barely stand up straight without coughing so hard that Sam's chest ached.
Dean weakly chucks a blanket at his head. "Dude, in this weather? You'd get us killed."
Sam scowls and knees him in the shin as he crawls into the backseat, settling in as best he can for a long, uncomfortable night. He doesn't mention the number of times the car swerved as Dean coughed and sneezed his way through the past thirty miles. Stubborn bastard.
Dean grunts, and Sam feels mildly apologetic as he proceeds to hack up a lung, curling up at the opposite end of the seat.
Sam sighs and bends down to grab the bottle of water at his feet, an exercise in acrobatics considering the way his limbs are contorted at the moment. "You okay?"
Dean scowls, wheezing, and shoves the water away. "Go to s-s-sleep, Sam," he stutters, trying to sound annoyed, but Sam would find him more convincing if he didn't sound like he was freezing half to death.
The heater in the Impala gave out days ago, but Dean's been too sick to stand out in the cold and find the problem. Sam knows his brother is really sick when even his baby suffers.
"Hard to sleep with your teeth chattering loud enough to wake the dead."
Dean lobs a shut up at him that is feeble, at best. He shivers, hunkering down under his blanket until only the top of his head is visible.
Sam rolls his eyes and drags Dean over by the collar of his jacket until he sprawls half in his lap. Dean yelps as Sam manhandles him into a more comfortable position, drapes the blankets over both of them, and wraps an arm around his chest.
Dean stops his pathetic attempts to push Sam away and stares down at Sam's arm with watery, half-open eyes that still somehow manage to look suspicious. "Are we cuddling?"
Sam pulls him just a little bit closer. "Yes, Dean, we're cuddling. Do you have a problem with that?"
Dean opens his mouth to speak, but sneezes half a dozen times instead. Sam reaches down into the box sitting in the footwell with his free arm and hands him a tissue.
"Don' touch me," Dean mumbles, wiping his nose and sniffling. Five minutes later and he's asleep, snuffling loudly into Sam's shirt. Sam shifts so he's drooling on the blankets (and Sam's sleeve) rather than the Impala's seat.
Then, he cards a hand through Dean's hair, closes his eyes and lets the sound of his brother's heavy breathing lull him to sleep.
For the prompt: Snowy night. Middle of nowhere. Dean pulls over the Impala and makes the executive decision that they're going to sleep for a few hours. Pretty hard to sleep though with Dean sick and trying not to sneeze every couple of minutes. Cue Sam trying to take care of his brother the best he can in the circumstances. Without offending an already tired, cranky big brother.
Characters: Sam and Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 505
Summary: Dean is sick and grumpy. Sam is patient, but even he has his limits.
A/N: Written for one_d_mouse for the Again But With More Colds comment ficathon. Alternately titled look ma, I wrote shmoop!
Middle of the night and the snow falls softly but steadily around them when Dean pulls off to the side of the road. He kills the engine, telling Sam to settle in for the night.
"You want me to drive?" Sam offers, knowing what the answer will be. Not like he didn't make the suggestion before they left the motel, where Dean could barely stand up straight without coughing so hard that Sam's chest ached.
Dean weakly chucks a blanket at his head. "Dude, in this weather? You'd get us killed."
Sam scowls and knees him in the shin as he crawls into the backseat, settling in as best he can for a long, uncomfortable night. He doesn't mention the number of times the car swerved as Dean coughed and sneezed his way through the past thirty miles. Stubborn bastard.
Dean grunts, and Sam feels mildly apologetic as he proceeds to hack up a lung, curling up at the opposite end of the seat.
Sam sighs and bends down to grab the bottle of water at his feet, an exercise in acrobatics considering the way his limbs are contorted at the moment. "You okay?"
Dean scowls, wheezing, and shoves the water away. "Go to s-s-sleep, Sam," he stutters, trying to sound annoyed, but Sam would find him more convincing if he didn't sound like he was freezing half to death.
The heater in the Impala gave out days ago, but Dean's been too sick to stand out in the cold and find the problem. Sam knows his brother is really sick when even his baby suffers.
"Hard to sleep with your teeth chattering loud enough to wake the dead."
Dean lobs a shut up at him that is feeble, at best. He shivers, hunkering down under his blanket until only the top of his head is visible.
Sam rolls his eyes and drags Dean over by the collar of his jacket until he sprawls half in his lap. Dean yelps as Sam manhandles him into a more comfortable position, drapes the blankets over both of them, and wraps an arm around his chest.
Dean stops his pathetic attempts to push Sam away and stares down at Sam's arm with watery, half-open eyes that still somehow manage to look suspicious. "Are we cuddling?"
Sam pulls him just a little bit closer. "Yes, Dean, we're cuddling. Do you have a problem with that?"
Dean opens his mouth to speak, but sneezes half a dozen times instead. Sam reaches down into the box sitting in the footwell with his free arm and hands him a tissue.
"Don' touch me," Dean mumbles, wiping his nose and sniffling. Five minutes later and he's asleep, snuffling loudly into Sam's shirt. Sam shifts so he's drooling on the blankets (and Sam's sleeve) rather than the Impala's seat.
Then, he cards a hand through Dean's hair, closes his eyes and lets the sound of his brother's heavy breathing lull him to sleep.
For the prompt: Snowy night. Middle of nowhere. Dean pulls over the Impala and makes the executive decision that they're going to sleep for a few hours. Pretty hard to sleep though with Dean sick and trying not to sneeze every couple of minutes. Cue Sam trying to take care of his brother the best he can in the circumstances. Without offending an already tired, cranky big brother.