Misery loves company
Title: Misery loves company
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: Anywhere in Season 1 really. Sam's down with the Flu and Dean is stuck taking care of patient Zero. Sick!Sam awesome!Dean
Author's note: Seeing as I've been suffering with the Flu for the last four days I decided the boys would have to suffer with me. Poor Sammy. Misery loves company. :P
Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P
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"Where the hell are my cookies?" Dean straightened from looking in the empty bag and glared at the mound of blankets in the bed across the room. The blankets shifted with a congested groan. "Sammy?"
"They got eaten." Sam said and coughed to try and clear his voice to no effect. He still sounded like James Earl Jones underwater to his own ears.
"I figured that out, smart ass." Dean growled. "I thought you weren't eating anything?" He pulled a bottle of water from the little refrigerator and grabbed the thermometer as well before going to the pile of blankets that now jerked with a series of mighty sneezes.
"Tasted good." Sam muttered hoarsely as his brother peeled back the layer of blankets and he squinted at the bright light.
"How can you possibly be cold?" Dean asked and shook his head. Fever heat poured off of Sam, his shaggy hair stuck to his forehead and all the while Sam shivered beneath the layers. "Open up plague boy. Let's see how high you're cooking now?"
"Bite me." Sam grumbled but took the thermometer in a shaking hand and put it in his mouth. What he really wanted was the water bottle Dean held just out of reach.
"Only you would go and catch the damn Flu in the middle of freakin June." Dean chuckled. He darted his hand in as the thermometer beeped and yanked it out before Sam could take it and hide it. "Uh huh. Bath time, Sammy."
"No way…in hell." Sam tugged the blankets back around his head and snaked an arm out for the water bottle.
"Hundred and four, Sam. No screwin' around." Dean ruthlessly pulled all the blankets off in a heap and pulled his brother's legs off the bed. "Or we can do what I wanted to do yesterday and you go to a clinic."
"No doctors." Sam groaned and let Dean pull him up so he was sitting. "S'just a Flu. M'fine." His teeth were chattering even as he burned and he couldn't understand how you could possibly freeze and boil at the same time. His head felt two sizes too big, his ears plugged and he promised himself to find proof that there was such a thing as a snot demon since it had taken up residence in his nose.
"No such thing as snot demons, Sam." Dean smirked even as he worried. It was clear to him that Sam didn't realize he was muttering aloud.
"Is too." Sam coughed again and turned into Dean. He gave a lopsided smile as his brother cursed.
"Dude…eww! On my shirt?" Dean tugged the damp fabric away from his chest with disgust.
"Wasn' me." Sam nodded sagely as Dean steered him into the bathroom. "S'demon. No way…no way one nose makes this much snot."
Dean snorted a laugh and deposited his miserable little brother on the toilet. "Don't fall over." He watched as Sam bent forward to hold his head and then turned on the tub to fill with cool water.
"Anti-gravity would be…awesome right now." Sam muttered and tried to hold up his head that, like the rest of him, suddenly felt a hundred pounds heavier, ignoring his brother's laugh. He wanted very badly to lie on the tile floor; could almost feel the cool surface against his face and groaned when he was pulled upright.
"Hey, I told you not to fall over." Dean kept an arm around his shoulders having just stopped him from folding onto the floor in a pile. Sam was a furnace with his shirt and sweatpants stuck to him. He sighed and set about peeling the sweat sodden shirt from him. "Warning you right now, Sammy. This doesn't bring that fever down you're gonna see a doctor."
Sam shook his head slowly but didn't have the energy to muster an argument. He tried to help when Dean lifted him and did manage to get one leg over the side of the tub. He gasped as his foot slid into the cool water and tried to lurch back but Dean held him firm and got his other leg over. "Cold."
"That's the idea, genius." Dean lowered him into the water and kept his head above the edge of the tub when he began to shiver violently. "Ten minutes, kiddo." Four days was really his limit and Sam had been miserable that long. He'd already put Bobby off for a job twice and was wondering when the older man was going to turn up knocking on their motel door wanting to know what the hell was wrong.
"Hey, Dean?" Sam said softly.
Dean leaned down into his line of sight. "Yeah, kiddo?" He reared back when Sam loosed a powerful, wet sneeze in his face. "You little shit!"
Sam snorted and then groaned in disgust at the bubble his nose blew. "Yuck."
"I oughta take a picture of you like that." Dean groused. He pulled down one of the hand towels and wiped off his face before doing the same to his brother less gently. "Do that again and I'm letting you drown in here."
"Will not." Sam closed his eyes and let his head fall back. "Cause I know where the last cookie is."
"You…" Dean rolled his eyes heavenward for patience.
"Big brother insurance." Sam smirked.
"I don't want it. You probably licked it." Dean took the thermometer out of his pocket while Sam wheezed a laugh and slipped it into his mouth between coughs.
"Can't breathe." Sam managed around the stick and glared as his hand was batted away. He ended up holding the thermometer in on one side of his mouth while he gasped in and out the other like a landed guppy. His nose had decided it was done with the whole air thing and now worked solely for the snot demon. He realized the water didn't feel cold anymore and eased lower into it as the thermometer beeped and was removed.
"Good news, Typhoid Mary. You're gonna live." Dean set it aside, happy with the loss of two degrees and tapped Sam's head. "Sit still while I get you some clothes."
"Typhoid Mary wasn't sick." Sam said absently. "Just a carrier."
"See, you say stuff like that and make me wonder how many brain cells you fried." Dean shook his head, amused at the endless font of useless trivia his brother had stored away up there. He went and collected clothes and the medicines too. He came back in and found Sam already pulling himself from the water while awkwardly trying to hold up the soaking sweats Dean hadn't bothered removing before putting him in. He smothered a laugh and pulled him up, easing him out and back to his seat on the porcelain throne. "Here." He handed Sam a couple pills and the water bottle. When he'd taken those he poured out a measure of the vile, blue cold medicine Sam despised and waited while he took that as well.
"You know they make that crap in flavors other than puke." Sam complained and downed half the bottle of water to wash away the taste.
"Yeah but they're not as much fun." Dean put his clothes on the sink. "Think you can handle changing on your own?"
Sam nodded quickly. "I think my pride's taken all the dents it can take for a while." He waved toward the door and sighed when Dean left with a chuckle. He had to admit he felt slightly better…well slightly less close to death than he had when he'd gotten into the tub. He peeled down his sodden sweats and gratefully pulled on the dry clothes. Sam groaned at how much energy just that had taken and levered himself up to his feet with effort. His whole body hurt and he'd have been less miserable about it if he'd earned all the bone deep aches on a job; being laid this low by a stupid virus was humiliating.
He opened the door and was glad to not find Dean hovering. "There any of that juice left?" He asked and then stumbled quickly for the bed and the Kleenex box as he felt his nose about to run away from him again.
"Yeah, hang on." Dean stood from where he'd quickly sat on hearing Sam shuffling in the bathroom and went to the fridge. He pulled out a small bottle of orange juice and another of grapefruit juice and poured equal measures in a cup for his brother. For Sam it was the magic drink he could keep down when nothing else interested his sick stomach. "Here you go." He handed the cup to Sam and pulled two of the blankets back over him as he laid back.
"Thanks, Dean." Sam said, suddenly sincere and smiled up at him before hungrily draining the little cup. It soothed his throat, settled his stomach and was the only thing, other than the cookies, he was able to taste.
"Yeah, whatever princess." Dean said gruffly and twitched the blankets higher. "I'll make you pay for it eventually."
Sam watched him go back to the table and sit, putting his feet up on the opposite chair and flick on the television. He opened his mouth to say something more and then grinned as Dean was rocked back in his chair by an explosive sneeze. His feet thumped to the floor as he righted himself and he turned to Sam with an evil look.
"Oh yeah, Sammy." Dean glared over at his chuckling little brother who burrowed deeper under the blankets and rolled away. "You're gonna pay."
"Last cookie's in the microwave." Sam managed between wheezing laughter and coughing and felt somewhat better knowing that soon he wouldn't be the only one suffering. He muffled his laughter in the pillow as he heard the microwave door open and another sneeze echo in the small room.
"Son of a bitch!"
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The End.