I forgot - pg13
I forgot
Fandom - Supernatural
Rating - PG13
Characters - Dean and Sam Winchester
Disclaimer - I disclaim any responsibility for the boys.
Warnings - Fluff, Protective! Dean, Sick! Sam and gratuitous use of handcuffs for none-bdsm activities along with not an ounce of Wincest to be seen.
Summary - “Sam!” Dean snapped, “Get out!”
~*~
“Get out,” Dean snapped. The car was pulled to the side of the road and Sam woke from a hazy sleep, not clear on the circumstances of Dean’s anger, but he was sure that he hadn’t done anything bad enough to get kicked out of the car and left on the side of the road.
“What?” Sam blinked and rubbed at his eyes. He felt as cold as the artic on a sunny day. They were in Arkansas too, which was hot and muggy during the summer.
“Sam!” Dean snapped, “Get out!”
Sam panicked, he shook his head and tried to say something anything. All that came out was a garbled mess that had Dean sighing before horror overtook his features; “Damn it, Sammy, I didn’t mean it that way!” Dean slapped a hand to his forehead.
“I meant for you to get into the back seat,” he explained.
Sam blinked back tears and when the hell had he become a woman? It was just weird for him to burst out crying when there wasn’t a reason for it. He sniffled and Dean handed him a tissue to blow his nose with.
“Why do you want me in the back?” Sam asked, but wiggled his way from front to back with minimal effort.
“You’re sick,” Dean sighed, he got out of the car and went to the trunk. They’d learned long ago that Sam was just horrid when he was sick. Crying and winging aside, Dean had seen it get to a point where Sam would become so delirious as to work on some made up case his head supplied him with, or the one the brother’s had been working on before Sam came down with the bug.
Dean opened the passenger side door by Sam’s head. He poured out a dollop of coughing syrup and Sam drank it without much needling. Then Dean spread an old blanket over him. It was a garish ugly brown and orange blanket they’d had for a practical decade or more; a childhood momentum that both brothers were particularly fond about.
Dean gently tucked the edges around Sam that he could reach; then he took off his leather jacket and balled it up and pushed it under Sam’s head. He carted his fingers through dark brown locks and Sam sighed, almost asleep. Again.
“I was afraid you’d leave me,” Sam muttered.
“No way, Sammy,” Dean whispered, “I won’t leave you,”
~*~
He found a motel and got a room on the side facing away from the highway where noise would be muffled, hopefully. Sam was out of it to the point that Dean had to help him inside and onto Sam’s usual second-bed-away-from-the-door before he was able to empty the Impala of their gear.
Dean put their things on the floor after locking the door behind him. He knelt beside Sam and felt his forehead with the back of a hand. Sam’s fever was spiking and it was going to get bad before it would get better.
Taking precautions - that he particularly didn’t want to take - Dean snapped the hand cuffs onto Sam; one around the bed post and the other around Sam’s wrist. Sam was on his back so he wouldn’t strain the arm attached to the bed. Then Dean set up the salt lines and wrote a note that he practically pinned to Sam’s shirt before leaving for supplies.
Sam woke up an hour after Dean left and moaned into the darkness. He tried to sit up, but something kept him prone. He felt the solid steel of the cuff and realized what Dean had done while Sam was past out cold on the bed. It was only by the flow of the moonlight filtering in through gauzy curtains that Sam was able to make out the note Dean had left.
Cuffed you to the bed,
Gone shopping,
Don’t pick the lock - or I will kick your ass.
Your loving brother, Dean
“Loving brother my ass,” Sam muttered and plopped his head back on the pillows. The surprise cough attack racked Sam’s ribs to the point of aching and oh-so-not-cool. Several moments later saw Sam breathing heavily. He toed off his boots and crawled under the bed covers, which wasn’t easy since he only had the use of a single hand; well, that and he didn’t have a paperclip on him at the moment and his profession lock-picking set was in his duffle bag that Dean had hidden away for some reason or another.
Sam fell asleep trying to keep awake in order to yell at Dean once his older brother entered their motel room.
Dean, however, missed a grand lecture about Not-cuffing-your-brother-to-the-bed-when-he’s-sick when he arrived an hour later with the salt lines in tact and Little Sammy in bed. Dean put his purchases down on the table and dragged the cuff key from his pants pocket. He clicked the lock open.
“Sammy,” he was careful about waking the younger man up. Hazy, brown/green eyes gazed at him.
“You ‘astard,” Sam muttered through a stuffy nose.
“Yeah, but it was to keep you safe while I was gone,” Dean shrugged, “Come one, I’ll give you a bath and then you can eat and go to sleep,” Dean helped Sam from his bed and into the bathroom where he was able to strip Sam in minutes.
“This is ‘barassing,” Sam sneezed and then coughed. Dean rubbed his back for what felt like an eternity to Sam. He had the water rolling into the bathtub that was actually big enough for Sam to be comfortable in.
“Dude, I gave you baths all the time when we were little, its no big deal,” Dean said as if Sam had forgotten that fact. “Dad never did,” Dean shrugged and helped Sam into the skin-tingling water.
“I forgot,” Sam was breathing better because the steam rose in thick clouds around them. Dean sat down on the toilet as Sam sank into the water.
“Yeah,” Dean closed his eyes, “I remember when you were four you got hit by a skunk and it took around tow hundred cans of tomato soup to get you smelling somewhat decent,” Dean laughed, “we were at Bobby’s though, so it was easier than doing that at a motel,”
“Really?” Sam questioned.
“Don’t go to sleep Sam,” Dean simply ordered. He cracked an eye open to see Sam’s nod. “Anyway, it took several baths to get you back to normal, but Dad burnt the clothes you were wearing when the skunk attacked, he had to go into town and get you knew ones,”
“I think I remember,” Sam replied. He sounded lucid.
Dean decided that embarrassing his brother wasn’t much of a price to pay in order to keep him from drowning and so opened both eyes to make sure Sam was okay. The water was making his skin red but Sam didn’t seem to care. In fact, he was shivering.
Dean ducked to his knees and picked up a wrapped bar of soap and a cloth. He threw the paper away before wetting both items.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve done this,” Dean muttered. He dragged the cloth up one toned bicep and across Sam’s chest.
“Yeah,” Sam smiled, “though it feels pretty weird,”
“Whatever, Mom may have brought you into this world, but I changed your diapers and I can take you out,” Dean mock-glared at Sam. “Besides,” he flipped the cloth into the bath water and ran it down a leg, “I meant taking care of you, after you left for Stanford, it seems that we never got to that point again,” Dean looked sad all of a sudden and Sam couldn’t chalk it up to his fever.
“I hurt you, Dean, badly,” Sam admitted, “It wasn’t you I walked out on; it was both of us,”
“Sammy…?”
“What we had Dean was special and I liked it. Though, sometimes I felt stifled because you always did what Dad wanted even though you knew it was a bad idea. You took care of me when you were pissed or happy, it didn’t matter either what I’d done to deserve your anger, you just did it,” Sam put a wet hand on Dean’s bare arm, “I missed that when I was at Stanford. I got sick a few times and I missed you, that isn’t to say that I didn’t always miss you being there, but it seemed that whenever I was sick, you’d go to some serious lengths to keep me safe,” he raised an eyebrow when Dean rubbed cloth against the soul of his foot, “handcuffs, really?”
“You do know that our fan-girls will have a hay-day when they read this in one of Chuck’s novels?” Dean smiled, “here I have you naked and I am not intending on having sex with ya,” he winked.
Dean sobered quickly enough though; “I missed you too Sammy. I was always looking for you, even when I knew you weren’t there. Dad did the same thing, even though he’d deny it even now that he’s dead,”
“I am sorry,” Sam was crying now and Dean decided it was because he was sick and they were talking about a wound that never healed between them. They just kept picking at the scab and ignored the bleeding.
“I am too,”
“No, really, Dean…” Sam sat up and the water sloshed around him. He wrapped his arms around Dean, not caring that he was getting his older brother wet by luke-warm Sammy water; “I’m sorry I forgot about what a wonderful big brother you are,”
Dean blinked back tears of his own; glad that Sammy’s head was cradled under his chin so that Sam couldn’t see his face. He wrapped his arms around Sam and held him tight.
“I forgot,” Sam whispered.
Dean rubbed his back.
THE END
Fandom - Supernatural
Rating - PG13
Characters - Dean and Sam Winchester
Disclaimer - I disclaim any responsibility for the boys.
Warnings - Fluff, Protective! Dean, Sick! Sam and gratuitous use of handcuffs for none-bdsm activities along with not an ounce of Wincest to be seen.
Summary - “Sam!” Dean snapped, “Get out!”
~*~
“Get out,” Dean snapped. The car was pulled to the side of the road and Sam woke from a hazy sleep, not clear on the circumstances of Dean’s anger, but he was sure that he hadn’t done anything bad enough to get kicked out of the car and left on the side of the road.
“What?” Sam blinked and rubbed at his eyes. He felt as cold as the artic on a sunny day. They were in Arkansas too, which was hot and muggy during the summer.
“Sam!” Dean snapped, “Get out!”
Sam panicked, he shook his head and tried to say something anything. All that came out was a garbled mess that had Dean sighing before horror overtook his features; “Damn it, Sammy, I didn’t mean it that way!” Dean slapped a hand to his forehead.
“I meant for you to get into the back seat,” he explained.
Sam blinked back tears and when the hell had he become a woman? It was just weird for him to burst out crying when there wasn’t a reason for it. He sniffled and Dean handed him a tissue to blow his nose with.
“Why do you want me in the back?” Sam asked, but wiggled his way from front to back with minimal effort.
“You’re sick,” Dean sighed, he got out of the car and went to the trunk. They’d learned long ago that Sam was just horrid when he was sick. Crying and winging aside, Dean had seen it get to a point where Sam would become so delirious as to work on some made up case his head supplied him with, or the one the brother’s had been working on before Sam came down with the bug.
Dean opened the passenger side door by Sam’s head. He poured out a dollop of coughing syrup and Sam drank it without much needling. Then Dean spread an old blanket over him. It was a garish ugly brown and orange blanket they’d had for a practical decade or more; a childhood momentum that both brothers were particularly fond about.
Dean gently tucked the edges around Sam that he could reach; then he took off his leather jacket and balled it up and pushed it under Sam’s head. He carted his fingers through dark brown locks and Sam sighed, almost asleep. Again.
“I was afraid you’d leave me,” Sam muttered.
“No way, Sammy,” Dean whispered, “I won’t leave you,”
~*~
He found a motel and got a room on the side facing away from the highway where noise would be muffled, hopefully. Sam was out of it to the point that Dean had to help him inside and onto Sam’s usual second-bed-away-from-the-door before he was able to empty the Impala of their gear.
Dean put their things on the floor after locking the door behind him. He knelt beside Sam and felt his forehead with the back of a hand. Sam’s fever was spiking and it was going to get bad before it would get better.
Taking precautions - that he particularly didn’t want to take - Dean snapped the hand cuffs onto Sam; one around the bed post and the other around Sam’s wrist. Sam was on his back so he wouldn’t strain the arm attached to the bed. Then Dean set up the salt lines and wrote a note that he practically pinned to Sam’s shirt before leaving for supplies.
Sam woke up an hour after Dean left and moaned into the darkness. He tried to sit up, but something kept him prone. He felt the solid steel of the cuff and realized what Dean had done while Sam was past out cold on the bed. It was only by the flow of the moonlight filtering in through gauzy curtains that Sam was able to make out the note Dean had left.
Cuffed you to the bed,
Gone shopping,
Don’t pick the lock - or I will kick your ass.
Your loving brother, Dean
“Loving brother my ass,” Sam muttered and plopped his head back on the pillows. The surprise cough attack racked Sam’s ribs to the point of aching and oh-so-not-cool. Several moments later saw Sam breathing heavily. He toed off his boots and crawled under the bed covers, which wasn’t easy since he only had the use of a single hand; well, that and he didn’t have a paperclip on him at the moment and his profession lock-picking set was in his duffle bag that Dean had hidden away for some reason or another.
Sam fell asleep trying to keep awake in order to yell at Dean once his older brother entered their motel room.
Dean, however, missed a grand lecture about Not-cuffing-your-brother-to-the-bed-when-he’s-sick when he arrived an hour later with the salt lines in tact and Little Sammy in bed. Dean put his purchases down on the table and dragged the cuff key from his pants pocket. He clicked the lock open.
“Sammy,” he was careful about waking the younger man up. Hazy, brown/green eyes gazed at him.
“You ‘astard,” Sam muttered through a stuffy nose.
“Yeah, but it was to keep you safe while I was gone,” Dean shrugged, “Come one, I’ll give you a bath and then you can eat and go to sleep,” Dean helped Sam from his bed and into the bathroom where he was able to strip Sam in minutes.
“This is ‘barassing,” Sam sneezed and then coughed. Dean rubbed his back for what felt like an eternity to Sam. He had the water rolling into the bathtub that was actually big enough for Sam to be comfortable in.
“Dude, I gave you baths all the time when we were little, its no big deal,” Dean said as if Sam had forgotten that fact. “Dad never did,” Dean shrugged and helped Sam into the skin-tingling water.
“I forgot,” Sam was breathing better because the steam rose in thick clouds around them. Dean sat down on the toilet as Sam sank into the water.
“Yeah,” Dean closed his eyes, “I remember when you were four you got hit by a skunk and it took around tow hundred cans of tomato soup to get you smelling somewhat decent,” Dean laughed, “we were at Bobby’s though, so it was easier than doing that at a motel,”
“Really?” Sam questioned.
“Don’t go to sleep Sam,” Dean simply ordered. He cracked an eye open to see Sam’s nod. “Anyway, it took several baths to get you back to normal, but Dad burnt the clothes you were wearing when the skunk attacked, he had to go into town and get you knew ones,”
“I think I remember,” Sam replied. He sounded lucid.
Dean decided that embarrassing his brother wasn’t much of a price to pay in order to keep him from drowning and so opened both eyes to make sure Sam was okay. The water was making his skin red but Sam didn’t seem to care. In fact, he was shivering.
Dean ducked to his knees and picked up a wrapped bar of soap and a cloth. He threw the paper away before wetting both items.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve done this,” Dean muttered. He dragged the cloth up one toned bicep and across Sam’s chest.
“Yeah,” Sam smiled, “though it feels pretty weird,”
“Whatever, Mom may have brought you into this world, but I changed your diapers and I can take you out,” Dean mock-glared at Sam. “Besides,” he flipped the cloth into the bath water and ran it down a leg, “I meant taking care of you, after you left for Stanford, it seems that we never got to that point again,” Dean looked sad all of a sudden and Sam couldn’t chalk it up to his fever.
“I hurt you, Dean, badly,” Sam admitted, “It wasn’t you I walked out on; it was both of us,”
“Sammy…?”
“What we had Dean was special and I liked it. Though, sometimes I felt stifled because you always did what Dad wanted even though you knew it was a bad idea. You took care of me when you were pissed or happy, it didn’t matter either what I’d done to deserve your anger, you just did it,” Sam put a wet hand on Dean’s bare arm, “I missed that when I was at Stanford. I got sick a few times and I missed you, that isn’t to say that I didn’t always miss you being there, but it seemed that whenever I was sick, you’d go to some serious lengths to keep me safe,” he raised an eyebrow when Dean rubbed cloth against the soul of his foot, “handcuffs, really?”
“You do know that our fan-girls will have a hay-day when they read this in one of Chuck’s novels?” Dean smiled, “here I have you naked and I am not intending on having sex with ya,” he winked.
Dean sobered quickly enough though; “I missed you too Sammy. I was always looking for you, even when I knew you weren’t there. Dad did the same thing, even though he’d deny it even now that he’s dead,”
“I am sorry,” Sam was crying now and Dean decided it was because he was sick and they were talking about a wound that never healed between them. They just kept picking at the scab and ignored the bleeding.
“I am too,”
“No, really, Dean…” Sam sat up and the water sloshed around him. He wrapped his arms around Dean, not caring that he was getting his older brother wet by luke-warm Sammy water; “I’m sorry I forgot about what a wonderful big brother you are,”
Dean blinked back tears of his own; glad that Sammy’s head was cradled under his chin so that Sam couldn’t see his face. He wrapped his arms around Sam and held him tight.
“I forgot,” Sam whispered.
Dean rubbed his back.
THE END