Sea Fever
Title: Sea Fever
Author: dreamlitnight
Genre/pairing: Supernatural, hurt/comfort
Characters: Dean W. and Sam W.
Rating: G
Word-count: approx. 2,700
Summary: Dean has a fever and wanders off while Sam isn't looking.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Contains crack, angst, illness and Winchester brother schmoopiness.
Disclaimer: The Winchesters are not mine. Also, the title belongs to poem by John Masefield.
Written for a Prompt: Dean is doped up on all kinds of cold medicine (and/or possibly some booze) and his fever's frying his brain and he can't remember where he parked the car. Or Sam, for that matter. He's loitering somewhere, like a gas station or strip mall off a busy highway or whatever, all purple-eyed and pale and shivering and wearing Sam's too-big, ratty hoodie. Basically he looks like some strung-out hoodlum, so no one wants to help him figure out what the hell he's doing here 'cause they're busy herding their children away from the riff-raff. Eventually a store-owner or someone calls the cops on him. How did he get there and what happens next? Any genre/pairing.
Sea Fever
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by...
~John Masefield
"Sea Fever"
Dean was shivering, shivering so hard he could barely walk, but he needed to find... find... what was it?
Bringing a trembling hand up to rub at his aching, muddled head, he tried to get his tangled thoughts to un... tangle...
There was something important that Dean needed to find... someone... very important... Sam! Dean needed Sam. He Paused in his meandering and looked at his surroundings. There were people walking quickly, coming and going on each side of him, but they all seemed to be giving him a wide berth. Dean was an island and the sea of people were flowing around him.
Dean opened his eyes wider, trying to take in where he was... it was not familiar... it was not... Where was Sammy? Dean needed to find him... needed him right now. He felt panic bubbling in his chest and his breaths started to stutter. He turned in a staggering, lopsided circle, frantically searching for his giant, shaggy haired brother. The turning made him dizzy, lights from the nearby stores blurring and smearing. A rainbow of muddy colors... rainbows and mud... God sent a rainbow to promise no more mud... no... no more storms or floods, or ... well, God wasn't keeping his promise, 'cause it felt very stormy... and … Dean was lost at sea on a ship or an island... lost...
Dean lost his footing, rolling waves were difficult to navigate... It startled him when he bumped into a solid form and was pushed back with an accompanying angry yell. The harsh shove, knocked the wind out of him, as Dean tried to get his voice to work, to say 'sorry', and before he could catch his breath or his balance , his shoulder rammed into something else, a more fragile barrier and this time a high pitched voice was screaming at him to stay back... and someone was crying and rough hands were shoving and grappling with his unbalanced self and.... the sea was too stormy and rough and...
Dean's ship or... his island... he's not sure exactly everything is mixed-up, but Dean is being bombarded by a storm, an angry, loud storm. 'Cause see... the rainbow was not doing its job... or someone wasn't doing... He loses track of up and down and... maybe there was wind screaming and battering him... or just screaming and... then something hard connected with his rattling head and then the stars... came out... and shone... and sparkled very brightly...
Dean could breath again and he realized the sea had calmed down a little... was quieter... he had somehow found a place to moor, a safe place to wait out the storm...
“Hxxshugff!” a wet sneeze interrupted Dean's contemplative musings, he rubbed at his face, his tingling nose and scratchy eyes. Then, pulling irratibly at his damp jacket, he tried to garner a little warmth. It felt wrong. He stared down at the jacket... Dean frowned in confusion, this was not his ... he did not wear this... this jacket was faded brown and soft and... it belonged... it belonged to... to his brother! His brother...
Sam... where... Where was Sam?
Dean looked up from his contemplation of his outerwear... Where was Sam? Where was Dean! Dean tried to take stock of the situation... he was leaning against something hard, it was rough and cold. Icy rain was dripping on his hair and onto his face. He was having a terrible time trying to stay standing. Needed to get his sea legs.
Dean chuckled. “Sea legs”, was funny, “Sea creatures didn't have legs though...
The chuckle morphed into a cough and Dean felt like his ribs were cracking and he wished the wind was still blowing because he needed some of it, his was gone.
His throat felt like it was raw and no air was getting in or out and... he was choking and... that.... was.... the … end....
The ship was going down, or the island was sinking.... either way, Captain Dean or Captain Winchester was going down too.
Dean didn't want to but... the captain always went down with his ship... he wasn't sure if a captain went down with islands and he really didn't want to sleep with the fishes because he would miss... he would miss... Sam... yeah, he really wished Sam was here... he could help keep him afloat and that's why he had to be Captain Dean... a ship couldn't have two captains with the same name...and... Sam could help keep the fishes away.... Dean frowned... 'no', thought to himself that that would not be good because if Sam was a captain too, Dean did not want Sammy to go down with the ship, or...
Dean blinked owlishly, something was wrong.... Why was he in the water…. on a ship? And..something broke loose and he was able to get a breath and then another and then... “Owww!” His throat.... was killing him and his breath was wheezing now like a ship whistle and the coughing still didn't want to stop... and he was burning up and freezing at the same time and getting enough air was a problem... and... he felt seasick?.... seasick....
Suddenly hot bile was rushing up the back of his stinging throat. He tipped over and gagged on the foulness of it. His stomach jerked and cramped as he emptied the meager contents into the heaving sea.
When the roaring quieted, he could hear voices... gentle sounding voices... speaking, but he couldn't sort anything out and they weren't making any sense... just rumbling like thunder on the stormy seas...
Dean raised watering eyes and saw two figures knelt down in front of him... They must belong to the voices he reasoned... They were solid and stable, like they were anchored, and they held steady in the gale. Dean wished he was holding steady instead of rocking to and fro...
He tried to focus his blurry vision on the two of them... Dark blue, wide brimmed hats wavered on their heads and they wore heavy matching coats and Dean decided they were pirates. One of them had a beard, neither had earrings... they looked like pirates... nice pirates... but he didn't have any treasure for them... he didn't have anything but his brother and his baby... where was his brother and his car?... where...
The Storm shook him or maybe it was the pirates shaking him, then the voices grew louder, all grumbly and garbled. They kept messing up his thinking, he couldn't concentrate with them pestering him... Dean squinted up at them, tried to give them the stink eye. Couldn't they see he was busy?
And why weren't they offering him any rum? That would be the hospitable thing to do. He would, if he had some. “MMM... rum.” That would warm him up and get the awful taste out of his mouth...
The pirates poked him this time. These pirates were persistent buggers. They seemed to want him to do something, but he just rode the rocking sea and watched them and tried to gather up his scattered thoughts as he slid up one side of the wave and then down the other...
Then the pirates were holding onto him... and they towed him along with them and he was feeling sick again and he really hoped they would tow him somewhere warm, with less bobbing... Dean swallowed convulsively and tried to ignore the rolling in his gut that was competing with the stormy seas.
He was just so worn out.... he let them tug him across the rough crests, maybe they would tow him to Sammy... Sam! Yeah, he was looking for Sam... He pulled against the pirates, against the current. He wanted to ask them if they knew where his brother was, but the waves were buffeting him and he was choking and he got lost in the storm... once more....
Bright sun and warmth were what Dean became aware of next. The storm was over, the sea was calm... he heard a sweet sound, he heard what he had been searching for... Dean heard his brother's voice and he needed to get closer. He tried to push himself up, but couldn't seem to get enough leverage and everything hurt. A pitiful groan escaped as he continued to fight the soft bed and his weak body.
Sam heard his brother moving around and one more time thanked the kind hearted policeman and woman that had come to his brother's rescue, before excusing himself and going back into the room to check on said brother. Sam still couldn't believe that a very ill and totally loopy-on-cold-medication Dean, had gotten away from him. Sam had left him alone, for maybe, five minutes while he refilled their ice bucket from the ice machine a few doors down. Apparently that's all it took for his escape-artist, fever ridden brother to have gotten out of their room and walk three blocks to the small outdoor mall. Sam thought he might have a panic attack when he saw the empty room and the door standing wide open. But he had lucked out when he ended up at the right place, half an hour later, just as they were loading his delirious brother into an ambulance. It seemed Dean had been “disturbing the peace” the locals and someone had called 911.
Sam was just thankful his brother had been dressed properly and not sporting only his boxer shorts he had started the day wearing. Dean even had his boots on, because around noon he had been determined to get dressed in his clothes, and boots, and even one of Sam's own stretched out hoodies. His reason; “The ship”, he informed Sam, “was cold and a captain did not walk around without his boots on”. That's what Sam got for watching a marathon about pirates, privateers and shipbuilding on the history channel all day while his big brother was feverish. Anyway, Sam found it was easier to give in when his brother was sick and confused than to argue with the stubborn idiot. It was a good thing he had given in to his ramblings too, since it was only about forty degrees outside and misting rain.
Stepping into the brightly lit room, he found Dean moving around restlessly, attempting to get up. He had already knocked off his oxygen mask and Sam feared the IV would be the next casualty if he didn't get him calmed down. Lengthening his stride, he hurried to the bed and firmly grasped his brother's flailing arms.
“Hey Dean. Calm down. You're fine. I've gotcha bro.” Sam continued to soothe his distraught brother until he had given in and relaxed, then Sam released him, replacing the much needed oxygen mask. His brother had a good case of bronchitis and strep throat going. He also had a slight concussion because the “disturbed” citizens had apparently knocked Dean down or into something hard.
The police force might be nice in this town but the townspeople were another story. Dean had a purple lump near his temple that went nicely with his purple shadowed eyes and a few other bruises on his arms and ribs. The knock to his head, of course was contributing to his slightly confused state. The doctor had reassured Sam this would fade by tomorrow and Dean would be much better. Sam studied his pale features while he kept up the encouraging litany. Getting his sibling all settled again, he pushed the call button for a nurse.
Dean had remained pretty quiet except for a few muffled sneezes and intermittent coughing. His glassy green eyes though, were staring intently at Sam's every move.
Sam grabbed a tissue and pulled the mask back to dab at the shiny red nose, satisfied he slipped the mask back in place. Noticing his brother's fierce stare, he paused in his ministrations and leaned closer, meeting Dean's gaze. One large hand latched onto Dean's shoulder and he rubbed his thumb gently back and forth on the knobby bone, asking, “Hey. You in there brother? You okay?”
Dean leaned into his brother's touch and sighed roughly as the coughs tapered off. The tip of a pink tongue peeked out between cracked lips, attempting to relieve the chapped dryness. Dean then reached up to get rid of the thing on his face, but was forestalled by his observant and bratty brother.
Catching the errant hand, Sam tucked it back under the blanket and gave it a consoling pat. “I'll ask the nurse, when she comes in, if you can have some water or ice chips. Okay? Bet you'd like that huh? Some water to drink?” The younger brother murmured softly.
With a frown, Dean muttered that he had had enough water. “Tired of the sea and being seasick, Sammy. 'S nice bein' on dry land.”, he paused and gave Sam a flinty eyed-glare, “You talk with the pirates and get me some rum, no water.”
With that huffy demand, Dean closed his aching eyes, hacked a few more times, and then left Captain Sammy in charge for awhile. The storm had passed, so there would be no captains going down with any ships today. That meant Sam would be safe and Dean would let him handle the parley with the pirates and whatever. Captaining a ship or was it an island?... was hard work... Dean decided he really needed a nap... and some rum...
~The End. Thanks for reading and reviewing, if you care to.
Author: dreamlitnight
Genre/pairing: Supernatural, hurt/comfort
Characters: Dean W. and Sam W.
Rating: G
Word-count: approx. 2,700
Summary: Dean has a fever and wanders off while Sam isn't looking.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Contains crack, angst, illness and Winchester brother schmoopiness.
Disclaimer: The Winchesters are not mine. Also, the title belongs to poem by John Masefield.
Written for a Prompt: Dean is doped up on all kinds of cold medicine (and/or possibly some booze) and his fever's frying his brain and he can't remember where he parked the car. Or Sam, for that matter. He's loitering somewhere, like a gas station or strip mall off a busy highway or whatever, all purple-eyed and pale and shivering and wearing Sam's too-big, ratty hoodie. Basically he looks like some strung-out hoodlum, so no one wants to help him figure out what the hell he's doing here 'cause they're busy herding their children away from the riff-raff. Eventually a store-owner or someone calls the cops on him. How did he get there and what happens next? Any genre/pairing.
Sea Fever
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by...
~John Masefield
"Sea Fever"
Dean was shivering, shivering so hard he could barely walk, but he needed to find... find... what was it?
Bringing a trembling hand up to rub at his aching, muddled head, he tried to get his tangled thoughts to un... tangle...
There was something important that Dean needed to find... someone... very important... Sam! Dean needed Sam. He Paused in his meandering and looked at his surroundings. There were people walking quickly, coming and going on each side of him, but they all seemed to be giving him a wide berth. Dean was an island and the sea of people were flowing around him.
Dean opened his eyes wider, trying to take in where he was... it was not familiar... it was not... Where was Sammy? Dean needed to find him... needed him right now. He felt panic bubbling in his chest and his breaths started to stutter. He turned in a staggering, lopsided circle, frantically searching for his giant, shaggy haired brother. The turning made him dizzy, lights from the nearby stores blurring and smearing. A rainbow of muddy colors... rainbows and mud... God sent a rainbow to promise no more mud... no... no more storms or floods, or ... well, God wasn't keeping his promise, 'cause it felt very stormy... and … Dean was lost at sea on a ship or an island... lost...
Dean lost his footing, rolling waves were difficult to navigate... It startled him when he bumped into a solid form and was pushed back with an accompanying angry yell. The harsh shove, knocked the wind out of him, as Dean tried to get his voice to work, to say 'sorry', and before he could catch his breath or his balance , his shoulder rammed into something else, a more fragile barrier and this time a high pitched voice was screaming at him to stay back... and someone was crying and rough hands were shoving and grappling with his unbalanced self and.... the sea was too stormy and rough and...
Dean's ship or... his island... he's not sure exactly everything is mixed-up, but Dean is being bombarded by a storm, an angry, loud storm. 'Cause see... the rainbow was not doing its job... or someone wasn't doing... He loses track of up and down and... maybe there was wind screaming and battering him... or just screaming and... then something hard connected with his rattling head and then the stars... came out... and shone... and sparkled very brightly...
Dean could breath again and he realized the sea had calmed down a little... was quieter... he had somehow found a place to moor, a safe place to wait out the storm...
“Hxxshugff!” a wet sneeze interrupted Dean's contemplative musings, he rubbed at his face, his tingling nose and scratchy eyes. Then, pulling irratibly at his damp jacket, he tried to garner a little warmth. It felt wrong. He stared down at the jacket... Dean frowned in confusion, this was not his ... he did not wear this... this jacket was faded brown and soft and... it belonged... it belonged to... to his brother! His brother...
Sam... where... Where was Sam?
Dean looked up from his contemplation of his outerwear... Where was Sam? Where was Dean! Dean tried to take stock of the situation... he was leaning against something hard, it was rough and cold. Icy rain was dripping on his hair and onto his face. He was having a terrible time trying to stay standing. Needed to get his sea legs.
Dean chuckled. “Sea legs”, was funny, “Sea creatures didn't have legs though...
The chuckle morphed into a cough and Dean felt like his ribs were cracking and he wished the wind was still blowing because he needed some of it, his was gone.
His throat felt like it was raw and no air was getting in or out and... he was choking and... that.... was.... the … end....
The ship was going down, or the island was sinking.... either way, Captain Dean or Captain Winchester was going down too.
Dean didn't want to but... the captain always went down with his ship... he wasn't sure if a captain went down with islands and he really didn't want to sleep with the fishes because he would miss... he would miss... Sam... yeah, he really wished Sam was here... he could help keep him afloat and that's why he had to be Captain Dean... a ship couldn't have two captains with the same name...and... Sam could help keep the fishes away.... Dean frowned... 'no', thought to himself that that would not be good because if Sam was a captain too, Dean did not want Sammy to go down with the ship, or...
Dean blinked owlishly, something was wrong.... Why was he in the water…. on a ship? And..something broke loose and he was able to get a breath and then another and then... “Owww!” His throat.... was killing him and his breath was wheezing now like a ship whistle and the coughing still didn't want to stop... and he was burning up and freezing at the same time and getting enough air was a problem... and... he felt seasick?.... seasick....
Suddenly hot bile was rushing up the back of his stinging throat. He tipped over and gagged on the foulness of it. His stomach jerked and cramped as he emptied the meager contents into the heaving sea.
When the roaring quieted, he could hear voices... gentle sounding voices... speaking, but he couldn't sort anything out and they weren't making any sense... just rumbling like thunder on the stormy seas...
Dean raised watering eyes and saw two figures knelt down in front of him... They must belong to the voices he reasoned... They were solid and stable, like they were anchored, and they held steady in the gale. Dean wished he was holding steady instead of rocking to and fro...
He tried to focus his blurry vision on the two of them... Dark blue, wide brimmed hats wavered on their heads and they wore heavy matching coats and Dean decided they were pirates. One of them had a beard, neither had earrings... they looked like pirates... nice pirates... but he didn't have any treasure for them... he didn't have anything but his brother and his baby... where was his brother and his car?... where...
The Storm shook him or maybe it was the pirates shaking him, then the voices grew louder, all grumbly and garbled. They kept messing up his thinking, he couldn't concentrate with them pestering him... Dean squinted up at them, tried to give them the stink eye. Couldn't they see he was busy?
And why weren't they offering him any rum? That would be the hospitable thing to do. He would, if he had some. “MMM... rum.” That would warm him up and get the awful taste out of his mouth...
The pirates poked him this time. These pirates were persistent buggers. They seemed to want him to do something, but he just rode the rocking sea and watched them and tried to gather up his scattered thoughts as he slid up one side of the wave and then down the other...
Then the pirates were holding onto him... and they towed him along with them and he was feeling sick again and he really hoped they would tow him somewhere warm, with less bobbing... Dean swallowed convulsively and tried to ignore the rolling in his gut that was competing with the stormy seas.
He was just so worn out.... he let them tug him across the rough crests, maybe they would tow him to Sammy... Sam! Yeah, he was looking for Sam... He pulled against the pirates, against the current. He wanted to ask them if they knew where his brother was, but the waves were buffeting him and he was choking and he got lost in the storm... once more....
Bright sun and warmth were what Dean became aware of next. The storm was over, the sea was calm... he heard a sweet sound, he heard what he had been searching for... Dean heard his brother's voice and he needed to get closer. He tried to push himself up, but couldn't seem to get enough leverage and everything hurt. A pitiful groan escaped as he continued to fight the soft bed and his weak body.
Sam heard his brother moving around and one more time thanked the kind hearted policeman and woman that had come to his brother's rescue, before excusing himself and going back into the room to check on said brother. Sam still couldn't believe that a very ill and totally loopy-on-cold-medication Dean, had gotten away from him. Sam had left him alone, for maybe, five minutes while he refilled their ice bucket from the ice machine a few doors down. Apparently that's all it took for his escape-artist, fever ridden brother to have gotten out of their room and walk three blocks to the small outdoor mall. Sam thought he might have a panic attack when he saw the empty room and the door standing wide open. But he had lucked out when he ended up at the right place, half an hour later, just as they were loading his delirious brother into an ambulance. It seemed Dean had been “disturbing the peace” the locals and someone had called 911.
Sam was just thankful his brother had been dressed properly and not sporting only his boxer shorts he had started the day wearing. Dean even had his boots on, because around noon he had been determined to get dressed in his clothes, and boots, and even one of Sam's own stretched out hoodies. His reason; “The ship”, he informed Sam, “was cold and a captain did not walk around without his boots on”. That's what Sam got for watching a marathon about pirates, privateers and shipbuilding on the history channel all day while his big brother was feverish. Anyway, Sam found it was easier to give in when his brother was sick and confused than to argue with the stubborn idiot. It was a good thing he had given in to his ramblings too, since it was only about forty degrees outside and misting rain.
Stepping into the brightly lit room, he found Dean moving around restlessly, attempting to get up. He had already knocked off his oxygen mask and Sam feared the IV would be the next casualty if he didn't get him calmed down. Lengthening his stride, he hurried to the bed and firmly grasped his brother's flailing arms.
“Hey Dean. Calm down. You're fine. I've gotcha bro.” Sam continued to soothe his distraught brother until he had given in and relaxed, then Sam released him, replacing the much needed oxygen mask. His brother had a good case of bronchitis and strep throat going. He also had a slight concussion because the “disturbed” citizens had apparently knocked Dean down or into something hard.
The police force might be nice in this town but the townspeople were another story. Dean had a purple lump near his temple that went nicely with his purple shadowed eyes and a few other bruises on his arms and ribs. The knock to his head, of course was contributing to his slightly confused state. The doctor had reassured Sam this would fade by tomorrow and Dean would be much better. Sam studied his pale features while he kept up the encouraging litany. Getting his sibling all settled again, he pushed the call button for a nurse.
Dean had remained pretty quiet except for a few muffled sneezes and intermittent coughing. His glassy green eyes though, were staring intently at Sam's every move.
Sam grabbed a tissue and pulled the mask back to dab at the shiny red nose, satisfied he slipped the mask back in place. Noticing his brother's fierce stare, he paused in his ministrations and leaned closer, meeting Dean's gaze. One large hand latched onto Dean's shoulder and he rubbed his thumb gently back and forth on the knobby bone, asking, “Hey. You in there brother? You okay?”
Dean leaned into his brother's touch and sighed roughly as the coughs tapered off. The tip of a pink tongue peeked out between cracked lips, attempting to relieve the chapped dryness. Dean then reached up to get rid of the thing on his face, but was forestalled by his observant and bratty brother.
Catching the errant hand, Sam tucked it back under the blanket and gave it a consoling pat. “I'll ask the nurse, when she comes in, if you can have some water or ice chips. Okay? Bet you'd like that huh? Some water to drink?” The younger brother murmured softly.
With a frown, Dean muttered that he had had enough water. “Tired of the sea and being seasick, Sammy. 'S nice bein' on dry land.”, he paused and gave Sam a flinty eyed-glare, “You talk with the pirates and get me some rum, no water.”
With that huffy demand, Dean closed his aching eyes, hacked a few more times, and then left Captain Sammy in charge for awhile. The storm had passed, so there would be no captains going down with any ships today. That meant Sam would be safe and Dean would let him handle the parley with the pirates and whatever. Captaining a ship or was it an island?... was hard work... Dean decided he really needed a nap... and some rum...
~The End. Thanks for reading and reviewing, if you care to.