Fic: Untitled (SPN)
Title: Untitled
Rating: G
Word Count: 436
Prompt: from hoodietime: Weechesters. Dean is 5/6, sick with the flu. Not too serious, but the kid feels like crap. I want John to hold him, and I want Dean to do that feverish boneless-limp thing that kids do, and I want him to snuffle into his dad's shirt. But most importantly, I want John to call him 'Kiddo' (other nicknames would be wonderful in addition (Deano, Ace, Little Man, Buddy, Champ, Big Guy, Boss...um, yeah))
Warnings: SCHMOOP
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: Filled my own prompt...yup...
“You snottin’ on me, Kiddo?”
Dean snuffled into John’s chest.
“Doh.” Dean looked up, his dripping nose not doing much to support the denial. Had an expression to match, too. A sort of ‘What? Oh, no, Daddy, of course not. I wouldn’t do a thing like that!’
Sammy was at nursery school down the block. With Dean sick, John was even more grateful that peeling Sammy off the walls was someone else's job. At least for a few hours.
Whatever had hit Dean had come on fast. He was tumbling around on the floor with his brother, giggling, perfectly fine just the night before. This morning, John could barely understand the poor kid he was so stuffed up.
Hearing the hitching breath and feeling Dean curl in a bit closer, John snatched up a tissue. He clamped it against his son’s face. The kid kept his mouth sealed tight when he sneezed so snot was pretty much a guarantee. And John had few enough clean shirts is it was.
Dean sneezed twice, and made a face when John pinched his nose through the tissue and wiped. John pitched that into the trash only to have to grab another when Dean sneezed an unexpected third time.
The kid had managed to cover, and got his face and hands slimed with mucus for his trouble.
“You’re just a river of snot today, aren’t you Bud?” John cleaned him off and made him blow his nose. He got Dean to drink a few sips of juice and settled the boy back against him. It wasn’t long before Dean’s breath caught again, but this time the snag was in his chest. He barked a few coughs into John’s shirt and clenched his fingers in the worn flannel.
“Shh,” John murmured, rubbing his hand up and down Dean’s back. The coughing eased, but Dean sighed and arched into the touch so John kept at it. Soon the kid’s breathing settled into the regular, if congested, rasps of sleep.
John drew his hand up, along Dean's neck and through his buzzed hair, and settled it on his forehead. Dean was warmer than he should be, despite the children’s cold/cough crap John had made him take an hour before. But it looked like it was just a cold. Bad one, yeah. But kids bounce back.
John could feel the drool or snot soaking through his shirt and he grimaced just a bit. But he wrapped an arm around his son and settled him closer, kissing his head and running a hand steadily along Dean’s back. He’d do laundry a day or two early.
::
Rating: G
Word Count: 436
Prompt: from hoodietime: Weechesters. Dean is 5/6, sick with the flu. Not too serious, but the kid feels like crap. I want John to hold him, and I want Dean to do that feverish boneless-limp thing that kids do, and I want him to snuffle into his dad's shirt. But most importantly, I want John to call him 'Kiddo' (other nicknames would be wonderful in addition (Deano, Ace, Little Man, Buddy, Champ, Big Guy, Boss...um, yeah))
Warnings: SCHMOOP
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: Filled my own prompt...yup...
“You snottin’ on me, Kiddo?”
Dean snuffled into John’s chest.
“Doh.” Dean looked up, his dripping nose not doing much to support the denial. Had an expression to match, too. A sort of ‘What? Oh, no, Daddy, of course not. I wouldn’t do a thing like that!’
Sammy was at nursery school down the block. With Dean sick, John was even more grateful that peeling Sammy off the walls was someone else's job. At least for a few hours.
Whatever had hit Dean had come on fast. He was tumbling around on the floor with his brother, giggling, perfectly fine just the night before. This morning, John could barely understand the poor kid he was so stuffed up.
Hearing the hitching breath and feeling Dean curl in a bit closer, John snatched up a tissue. He clamped it against his son’s face. The kid kept his mouth sealed tight when he sneezed so snot was pretty much a guarantee. And John had few enough clean shirts is it was.
Dean sneezed twice, and made a face when John pinched his nose through the tissue and wiped. John pitched that into the trash only to have to grab another when Dean sneezed an unexpected third time.
The kid had managed to cover, and got his face and hands slimed with mucus for his trouble.
“You’re just a river of snot today, aren’t you Bud?” John cleaned him off and made him blow his nose. He got Dean to drink a few sips of juice and settled the boy back against him. It wasn’t long before Dean’s breath caught again, but this time the snag was in his chest. He barked a few coughs into John’s shirt and clenched his fingers in the worn flannel.
“Shh,” John murmured, rubbing his hand up and down Dean’s back. The coughing eased, but Dean sighed and arched into the touch so John kept at it. Soon the kid’s breathing settled into the regular, if congested, rasps of sleep.
John drew his hand up, along Dean's neck and through his buzzed hair, and settled it on his forehead. Dean was warmer than he should be, despite the children’s cold/cough crap John had made him take an hour before. But it looked like it was just a cold. Bad one, yeah. But kids bounce back.
John could feel the drool or snot soaking through his shirt and he grimaced just a bit. But he wrapped an arm around his son and settled him closer, kissing his head and running a hand steadily along Dean’s back. He’d do laundry a day or two early.
::