Fic: Ticket to Ride (SPN)
Prompt: The Impala needs to be towed back to Bobby's for Dean to fix her up, so they're forced to take public transportation for a day. I'm thinking train or bus.
Dean is so cranky about the whole situation that he didn't even notice having a headache that morning but by noon he's got a sore throat and watery eyes and a few hours after that he's full-blown, noticably sick, nose both stuffy and runny, pink-faced with fever and sneezing without having enough Kleenex, reducing what he does have to mulch. Not soon after that he's just a total mess and people on the train are looking at him like he has the plague, so he's kind of curled up against/half hidden next to Sam, sniffling pitifully.
Mostly what I'm looking for with this scenario is the visible-for-all-to-see progression of symptoms all the way up to that one sneeze of a cold where you go, "Oh, I really am sick." I love that.
Ticket to Ride
“Oh, come on!” Dean shouted, taking both hands off the steering wheel and staring at his baby, “What the hell’s going on?”
Baby spluttered and jolted forward a few times before coming to rest in the middle of the road.
“What happened?” Sam asked, as Dean leaned his head down on the steering wheel.
Dean ignored Sam’s ignorance and tried to start the car again, but she wouldn’t even turn over.
“Son of a bitch,” he moaned, “Help me get her off the road.”
Sam and Dean pushed the impala onto the gravel shoulder and Dean popped the hood.
Sam sat on the green cooler, fiddling with his phone as Dean cursed.
“Dammit, we gotta tow her. I can fix her up at Bobby’s but I can’t do it here,” Dean rubbed his forehead. Standing out in the hot sun under the hood was giving him a headache.
“Dean, it’s still a 12 hour drive to South Dakota,” Sam said, handing him a beer.
Dean snatched it, growling, “I know. The tow’s gonna cost a crap load.”
“Sorry, fellas! No room in the cab for you boys, and I can’t drive her all the way out to Sioux Falls so I’ll have to drop her at the depot and change trucks. There’s a bus that runs straight to South Dakota. Bus station’s about 10 miles down the road.”
“Fantastic.”
It took the brothers two hours to get to the bus station, on a street that was devoid of all shade. The sun was hot and high in the sky and beat down on them with furious persistence. They were sweaty with sun kissed noses by the time they arrived.
“I’ll grab us some supplies. Wanna get us two bus tickets?” Sam said, as they walked through the doors.
“Sure,” Dean groaned, not pausing to look at the seats, lest he collapse into one and never get up. The walk had really taken it out of him, and he was beyond dehydrated.
Dean sank gratefully into the bus seat, except he was a big guy, and his brother was even bigger, and they were forced closely together by these seats made for midgets with no legs.
“Just try to relax,” Sam sighed, watching Dean shuffle in his seat, “At least we can both get some sleep.”
“This blows, Sam,” Dean whispered, angrily.
“I know it’s not ideal, but at least we’re out of the sun, and that’s probably a good thing considering how sunburnt you are.”
“Shut up,” Dean made a face, “You’re sunburnt too.”
“Not as much as you, freckles.”
“Eat me.”
Dean cleared his throat, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. His headache was getting worse. Too much sun, and too much stress, and now his throat was dry and scratchy. Damn, bus air conditioning. He grabbed his water bottle from his side and tipped the precious liquid into his mouth. He pressed his eyes closed when he swallowed because, son of a bitch, that hurt.
“Hey, you okay?” Sam nudged Dean with his shoulder.
Dean cleared his throat again, ended up coughing lightly, “Friggen headache.”
“You want some asprin? Oh…”
“What?”
“The first aid kit’s in the car.”
Dean sighed, “It’s all good, Sammy. Just had a little too much sun.”
The bus was full. Not even a single seat spared. Sam, at least, was sitting on the aisle and could stretch one leg out. Dean, however, had the window seat, which meant his knees were bent awkwardly, trying to avoid ramming them into the back of the seat in front of him. His legs were aching now from the earlier trek, calves cramping up. His head throbbed and his throat didn’t seem to be getting better with water, like he’d hoped.
He tipped the last of his water bottle into his mouth and flinched as he swallowed. He let out a little moan, which drew a look from Sam.
“How long till we get to Bobby’s?” Dean asked, surprised at how raspy and weak his voice sounded.
“Dude, we’ve only been on the road half an hour,” Sam said, furrowing his brow, “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon, Sam,” Dean grumbled.
“So, what? There’s nothing else we can do. I’m gonna see if I can find us a new hunt,” Sam said, pulling out his laptop.
Dean would have replied but talking was making his throat worse. It honestly felt like it was swollen shut. Swallowing his own saliva made his legs weak with the jab of pain. All the while his head pounded behind his eyes, moving slowly to behind his cheekbones and bridge of his nose.
The thought crossed his mind that maybe he was coming down with something, but they’d had a few rough days. He was way behind on sleep and spending so much time out in the heat was bound to take it out of him. He was just exhausted. Nothing to suggest it was anything more than that.
Dean coughed into his fist, shifting in his seat. His skin had begun to prickle and his muscles were really letting him know how much they’d hated that walk.
He sniffed and realized his nose was a little runny.
“Hey, man,” Sam tapped him, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Dean opened his mouth to answer but had to turn away to cough. It was loud in the quiet bus. Most people traveling on their own, getting some sleep or trying to do some work on their laptops and phones.
“Awesome, Sammy,” he coughed again, pressing his lips tightly together, “Just awesome.”
Sam frowned.
“You got any water left?” Dean asked, wincing once again as he swallowed.
“Sorry, man. I finished mine,” Sam said, with puppy eyes.
Dean grumbled, coughing again. A sigh came from the row behind him. He shuffled deeper into his seat.
Dean sniffed and dragged his wrist under his nose before it dripped. God, he felt awful. He’d given up on talking since his throat had closed over, screaming at him every time he forced himself to swallow. He was hot and cold and sore all over.
“Huh’KSCXHU!”
“Geez, bless you,” Sam looked up from his laptop.
The sneeze was loud and wet and drew a few groans from some sleeping passengers.
Dean held his fist under his nose, snuffling, “Sam, you got any tissues?” his voice was a scrape.
“Uh,” Sam shut his laptop and pulled the duffle onto his lap. He rifled around in the bag for a moment, “All we got are diner napkins,” he held out two red napkins.
Dean grabbed them and shoved them against his nose, sniffing and scrubbing.
“Dean, man, you look awful. What’s going on?”
Dean shook his head, balling the napkins up in his fist. He swallowed hard before talking, “Just tired.”
Dean’s face burned. His sinuses were clogged, yet his nose was running at the same time. His eyes were blurry and wet, almost sticking every time he blinked. He was trying hard not to make a noise. The sun had gone down and slowly the passengers had started closing their curtains and nestling down in their seats for the night. He ached all over, a deep full body ache. His head was pounding in his ears and on top of his throat closing over, now his chest ached too.
He hunched forward coughing as quietly as he could.
“Dean,” Sam whispered, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “I can feel you shivering. Do you have a fever?”
“Huh’TTSCHhh! Heh’KSCHH!” Dean hastily pressed the napkins to his nose, blowing out the surplus of mucus that had settled there.
“Holy crap, Dean,” Sam said, “You’re really sick.”
Dean sagged back into his seat, breathing through his mouth.
“I don’t feel that great,” he croaked.
Oh yeah, totally sick. Very, very, very, sick.
“Hhi’SCHEW! Uh’KISCHH! Huh’EtKSCU!”
Murmured voices sounded around them, annoyed voices, groans and sighs and even a ‘shut up, dude. Take some Nyquil.’
Dean shivered forcefully as he blew his nose once again into the napkins. They’d grown soggy in his hands, but he was a little low on options.
Blowing his nose forced a cough, and Sam’s hand was firm on his back.
“Cold,” he whispered with his rapidly deteriorating voice.
Sam reached up and closed his air conditioning vent, which had been blowing on him all trip.
Dean was only wearing his t-shirt and button down, and they hadn’t been smart enough to shove their coats into the duffle. Sam, however, had his big black hoodie in his bag and pulled it out, offering it to Dean.
Dean shrugged into it, shoulders protesting at having to move. He really was a mess.
“Huh’TSCCHUuh!”
“Shut up!” someone groaned.
Sam glanced back, looking like he might beat down whomever that was if he found them.
Dean shivered violently again, pulling the sleeves of the hoodie down over his hands. The wet red napkins were dying his hands pink and he could only imagine what they were doing to his face.
He cleared his throat and moaned, resting his head against the window.
Sam watched his brother close his eyes, chest moving up and down rapidly. He was shivering and his face and neck had a sheen of sweat covering them. He had noticed Dean rubbing at his forehead all day. He thought he just had a headache, but clearly it was more than that. Dean had come down with some virus of plague like proportions, and was degraded to a sniffling, coughing, shaking heap, wrapped in Sam’s black hoodie, face buried in some red diner napkins that had long since reached their capacity.
All his coughs and sneezes had earned the disgust of the other passengers, who were forced into close quarters with him, the bus air conditioning blowing his germs through the cabin.
The bus was traveling on a bumpy road right now and they hit a pot hole, Dean’s head clunking against the window, eliciting a small whimper.
“Dean, you okay?”
Dean opened bleary eyes to look at Sam.
Wow, yeah, he was not okay.
Sam was about to say something but Dean lurched forward coughing into the hoodie sleeve. The hacks were wet this time, and left Dean even more exhausted in their aftermath.
Sam was about to jump out of his seat and demand they stop the bus so he could get his brother something, anything to combat this super-virus, when he noticed a girl get out of her seat and begin walking down the centre aisle towards them. She was gripping the backs of people seats to stop from falling over as the bus hit another pot hole.
When she reached Sam and Dean’s seats she squatted down, hanging onto Sam’s armrest, small bag at her hip.
“Hey,” she smiled. She was a petite girl, thin and short and youthful. She was hot, and a redhead. And had Dean had any more wits about him right now, he’d have already collected her number. “You guys okay?”
Sam glanced at Dean, who had curled back up against the window, not even acknowledging her presence.
“Hey, sorry for all the noise. That’s my brother, Dean. He’s not feeling so hot, but our stuff is travelling right now. He drank all his water hours ago and we don’t even have Tylenol.”
Dean coughed through closed lips, his eyes pressed shut like it was the most painful thing he’d ever experienced.
“He doesn’t sound good, does he?” she crinkled her nose, “He wasn’t this sick when you got on the bus, was he?”
Sam shook his head, then, “I’m sorry, who are you?”
She smiled and looked down, “I’m Daisy. I’m a nurse. Well, student nurse.”
“Oh,” Sam looked at Dean, “No, he wasn’t even sick… well, maybe he was but not this bad.”
She dug around in her bag, “I have some tissues and Advil.”
Daisy handed him a blister pack with four Advil remaining and a small travel pack of tissues.
Sam sighed with relief, “Oh, thank you, Daisy. I just was hoping I could get him to sleep so the Advil should probably help with that.”
“Right here, guys,” Dean mumbled, words rough and slurring together.
“Barely,” Sam laughed, watching Dean struggle to sit up, “Think you can dry swallow these?” he held out the pills to his brother.
Dean looked at him like are you freaking kidding me right now?
Yeah, that was a no.
“Excuse me,” an elderly lady from across the aisle was handing out a bottle of water, “He can have that, dear.”
Daisy smiled and took it, handing it to Sam.
Sam could have cried.
“Thank you,” he turned to his brother, “Dean, I got water for you.”
Dean shivered, and turned away, clearly done with this conversation.
Daisy stood up, holding onto Sam’s seat, “I’ll be back in a second.”
“Dean, please, just take the pills. They’ll make you feel better. I’ve got water. You don’t need to dry swallow them.”
Dean snapped forward, stifling a sneeze into the napkins, “uh’CHXT! Huh’NGXT-uh!”
He was trying to be quiet, bless him.
“Here,” Sam popped two pills out and unscrewed the cap off the water bottle.
Dean took them both in shaking hands, almost too weak to guide the water bottle to his mouth. He swallowed the pills but must have choked a little on a drop of water because he turned red, coughing so much. Not that he wasn’t red before. His nose and cheeks were sunburnt and the way he’d been scrubbing his face with those red napkins, under his nose and around his mouth had turned pink.
“Breathe, Dean.”
This time the cabin was quiet, no one moaning about their sleep being disturbed, no one telling him to shut up.
“Sod of a bitgch, thad hurt,” Dean groaned, tilting his head back against the seat and wincing.
“I got you some tissues, man. Here,” Sam opened the small packet and pulled two out, handing them to his brother.
Dean’s hands were warm and damp when they grazed against his.
Dean fitted the tissues around his nose and blew. He sounded awful. And this small packet of tissues was definitely not going to cut it.
Dean scrubbed them under his nose.
“Hey, make those last,” Sam said, stilling his hand, “We haven’t got many.”
Dean sighed, and it crackled in his lungs.
Daisy returned as Dean was sulking.
“Here, I got these off some other passengers.”
It was another bottle of water, some Tylenol, a couple of Nyquil and a few more tissues.
Sam sighed, “You really didn’t have to, but thank you,” he smiled.
“He should be okay to take the Nyquil with the Advil, but wait 4 hours before taking the Tylenol,” she advised, smiling sweetly, “Have you guys got any food?”
“Yeah, I’ve got something in my bag,” Sam said, pulling his duffle onto his lap once again.
“He should eat with the Advil, if he’s feeling up to it.”
“Okay, thank you,” Sam sagged with relief at having something to give his brother after this awful day.
“No problem,” she smiled, leaving them to it.
“She wandts be…”
Sam looked over and Dean was grinning, eyes closed, leaning against the window again.
Sam laughed, “Dude, she doesn’t want you. Not like this anyway… How do you feel? You’re radiating heat right now.”
Dean wrapped the used tissue around his nose and jerked forward almost silently, once, twice… five times. The last one squeaked into the tissue and the breathed in raggedly after.
“Bless you,” Sam creased his face in worry, “You don’t need to do that, you know?”
“Yes, I do,” Dean sounded even more congested than before, “People are already aboivdig be.”
“They can’t really avoid you on a bus, dude.”
“Egsactly,” Dean jerked forward again into his tissue, snuffling quietly.
Sam watched Dean slump back, breathing through his mouth, nostrils already looking chapped, the flush on his face due to more than just sunburn.
“It’s not your fault…” he said, quietly.
Dean’s eyes glanced over at Sam before he closed them and shivered, “I kdnow, Sabby.”
Dean continued his almost silent sneezes, but Sam could tell it was putting more pressure on his head, making his headache even worse than it had been. And he was getting more and more congested, refusing to blow his nose. He couldn’t control the coughing though. That came unannounced and as loudly as it liked, forcing Dean into the tiniest ball he could manage, wrapped up in Sam’s hoodie, leaning away from Sam into the window of the bus. He’d managed to get him to eat half a granola bar and take the Nyquil.
"I thingk I'b dyig..."
Sam smirked, "You're not dying, dude, but you are pretty sick. I think you have the flu."
"It's," he paused to cough, "freakin' delightful."
"Are you warm enough?"
Dean sniffed and grimaced, "I don't thingk I'll eber be warmb againd."
Sam wrapped his arm around his brother, surprised when Dean turned and snuggled towards him as a violent chill passed through him.
"I biss by car," Dean sniffed wetly.
"I know, dude. We'll be home soon. Just try to sleep."
"Huh'KSCHIUEW! Urghh..." Dean snapped forward into the tissues he'd clutched in his hand the entire ride.
He wiped his nose, groaning. Clearly exhausted. Too tired to even stifle that one.
"Come here, man," Sam held his arm out again and Dean leaned against him gratefully.
"This doesn't bean I wannda... talk about by feeligs... or anythig... I just... wandt your warmbth."
"Dean, relax," Sam laughed, rubbing Dean's arm, "and stop talking, you're making my throat sore."
Dean just moaned, coughing uncovered. Which meant he was too tired to lift his arm to cover his mouth. Yeah, he’d really gone downhill fast.
“That Nyquil should work in a minute and you can just sleep the rest of the way. We’re only about 5 hours outside of Sioux Falls and… Dean?”
Sam glanced down at the pale face, pressed against his shoulder, mouth slightly open, sweat lining his forehead, eyes gently closed, breathing evenly, if a little laboured.
“G’night, dude,” Sam smiled, tugging his brother closer, feeling Dean nestle in further in sleep. “We’ll be home before you know it.”
END
Dean is so cranky about the whole situation that he didn't even notice having a headache that morning but by noon he's got a sore throat and watery eyes and a few hours after that he's full-blown, noticably sick, nose both stuffy and runny, pink-faced with fever and sneezing without having enough Kleenex, reducing what he does have to mulch. Not soon after that he's just a total mess and people on the train are looking at him like he has the plague, so he's kind of curled up against/half hidden next to Sam, sniffling pitifully.
Mostly what I'm looking for with this scenario is the visible-for-all-to-see progression of symptoms all the way up to that one sneeze of a cold where you go, "Oh, I really am sick." I love that.
Ticket to Ride
“Oh, come on!” Dean shouted, taking both hands off the steering wheel and staring at his baby, “What the hell’s going on?”
Baby spluttered and jolted forward a few times before coming to rest in the middle of the road.
“What happened?” Sam asked, as Dean leaned his head down on the steering wheel.
Dean ignored Sam’s ignorance and tried to start the car again, but she wouldn’t even turn over.
“Son of a bitch,” he moaned, “Help me get her off the road.”
Sam and Dean pushed the impala onto the gravel shoulder and Dean popped the hood.
Sam sat on the green cooler, fiddling with his phone as Dean cursed.
“Dammit, we gotta tow her. I can fix her up at Bobby’s but I can’t do it here,” Dean rubbed his forehead. Standing out in the hot sun under the hood was giving him a headache.
“Dean, it’s still a 12 hour drive to South Dakota,” Sam said, handing him a beer.
Dean snatched it, growling, “I know. The tow’s gonna cost a crap load.”
“Sorry, fellas! No room in the cab for you boys, and I can’t drive her all the way out to Sioux Falls so I’ll have to drop her at the depot and change trucks. There’s a bus that runs straight to South Dakota. Bus station’s about 10 miles down the road.”
“Fantastic.”
It took the brothers two hours to get to the bus station, on a street that was devoid of all shade. The sun was hot and high in the sky and beat down on them with furious persistence. They were sweaty with sun kissed noses by the time they arrived.
“I’ll grab us some supplies. Wanna get us two bus tickets?” Sam said, as they walked through the doors.
“Sure,” Dean groaned, not pausing to look at the seats, lest he collapse into one and never get up. The walk had really taken it out of him, and he was beyond dehydrated.
Dean sank gratefully into the bus seat, except he was a big guy, and his brother was even bigger, and they were forced closely together by these seats made for midgets with no legs.
“Just try to relax,” Sam sighed, watching Dean shuffle in his seat, “At least we can both get some sleep.”
“This blows, Sam,” Dean whispered, angrily.
“I know it’s not ideal, but at least we’re out of the sun, and that’s probably a good thing considering how sunburnt you are.”
“Shut up,” Dean made a face, “You’re sunburnt too.”
“Not as much as you, freckles.”
“Eat me.”
Dean cleared his throat, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. His headache was getting worse. Too much sun, and too much stress, and now his throat was dry and scratchy. Damn, bus air conditioning. He grabbed his water bottle from his side and tipped the precious liquid into his mouth. He pressed his eyes closed when he swallowed because, son of a bitch, that hurt.
“Hey, you okay?” Sam nudged Dean with his shoulder.
Dean cleared his throat again, ended up coughing lightly, “Friggen headache.”
“You want some asprin? Oh…”
“What?”
“The first aid kit’s in the car.”
Dean sighed, “It’s all good, Sammy. Just had a little too much sun.”
The bus was full. Not even a single seat spared. Sam, at least, was sitting on the aisle and could stretch one leg out. Dean, however, had the window seat, which meant his knees were bent awkwardly, trying to avoid ramming them into the back of the seat in front of him. His legs were aching now from the earlier trek, calves cramping up. His head throbbed and his throat didn’t seem to be getting better with water, like he’d hoped.
He tipped the last of his water bottle into his mouth and flinched as he swallowed. He let out a little moan, which drew a look from Sam.
“How long till we get to Bobby’s?” Dean asked, surprised at how raspy and weak his voice sounded.
“Dude, we’ve only been on the road half an hour,” Sam said, furrowing his brow, “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon, Sam,” Dean grumbled.
“So, what? There’s nothing else we can do. I’m gonna see if I can find us a new hunt,” Sam said, pulling out his laptop.
Dean would have replied but talking was making his throat worse. It honestly felt like it was swollen shut. Swallowing his own saliva made his legs weak with the jab of pain. All the while his head pounded behind his eyes, moving slowly to behind his cheekbones and bridge of his nose.
The thought crossed his mind that maybe he was coming down with something, but they’d had a few rough days. He was way behind on sleep and spending so much time out in the heat was bound to take it out of him. He was just exhausted. Nothing to suggest it was anything more than that.
Dean coughed into his fist, shifting in his seat. His skin had begun to prickle and his muscles were really letting him know how much they’d hated that walk.
He sniffed and realized his nose was a little runny.
“Hey, man,” Sam tapped him, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Dean opened his mouth to answer but had to turn away to cough. It was loud in the quiet bus. Most people traveling on their own, getting some sleep or trying to do some work on their laptops and phones.
“Awesome, Sammy,” he coughed again, pressing his lips tightly together, “Just awesome.”
Sam frowned.
“You got any water left?” Dean asked, wincing once again as he swallowed.
“Sorry, man. I finished mine,” Sam said, with puppy eyes.
Dean grumbled, coughing again. A sigh came from the row behind him. He shuffled deeper into his seat.
Dean sniffed and dragged his wrist under his nose before it dripped. God, he felt awful. He’d given up on talking since his throat had closed over, screaming at him every time he forced himself to swallow. He was hot and cold and sore all over.
“Huh’KSCXHU!”
“Geez, bless you,” Sam looked up from his laptop.
The sneeze was loud and wet and drew a few groans from some sleeping passengers.
Dean held his fist under his nose, snuffling, “Sam, you got any tissues?” his voice was a scrape.
“Uh,” Sam shut his laptop and pulled the duffle onto his lap. He rifled around in the bag for a moment, “All we got are diner napkins,” he held out two red napkins.
Dean grabbed them and shoved them against his nose, sniffing and scrubbing.
“Dean, man, you look awful. What’s going on?”
Dean shook his head, balling the napkins up in his fist. He swallowed hard before talking, “Just tired.”
Dean’s face burned. His sinuses were clogged, yet his nose was running at the same time. His eyes were blurry and wet, almost sticking every time he blinked. He was trying hard not to make a noise. The sun had gone down and slowly the passengers had started closing their curtains and nestling down in their seats for the night. He ached all over, a deep full body ache. His head was pounding in his ears and on top of his throat closing over, now his chest ached too.
He hunched forward coughing as quietly as he could.
“Dean,” Sam whispered, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “I can feel you shivering. Do you have a fever?”
“Huh’TTSCHhh! Heh’KSCHH!” Dean hastily pressed the napkins to his nose, blowing out the surplus of mucus that had settled there.
“Holy crap, Dean,” Sam said, “You’re really sick.”
Dean sagged back into his seat, breathing through his mouth.
“I don’t feel that great,” he croaked.
Oh yeah, totally sick. Very, very, very, sick.
“Hhi’SCHEW! Uh’KISCHH! Huh’EtKSCU!”
Murmured voices sounded around them, annoyed voices, groans and sighs and even a ‘shut up, dude. Take some Nyquil.’
Dean shivered forcefully as he blew his nose once again into the napkins. They’d grown soggy in his hands, but he was a little low on options.
Blowing his nose forced a cough, and Sam’s hand was firm on his back.
“Cold,” he whispered with his rapidly deteriorating voice.
Sam reached up and closed his air conditioning vent, which had been blowing on him all trip.
Dean was only wearing his t-shirt and button down, and they hadn’t been smart enough to shove their coats into the duffle. Sam, however, had his big black hoodie in his bag and pulled it out, offering it to Dean.
Dean shrugged into it, shoulders protesting at having to move. He really was a mess.
“Huh’TSCCHUuh!”
“Shut up!” someone groaned.
Sam glanced back, looking like he might beat down whomever that was if he found them.
Dean shivered violently again, pulling the sleeves of the hoodie down over his hands. The wet red napkins were dying his hands pink and he could only imagine what they were doing to his face.
He cleared his throat and moaned, resting his head against the window.
Sam watched his brother close his eyes, chest moving up and down rapidly. He was shivering and his face and neck had a sheen of sweat covering them. He had noticed Dean rubbing at his forehead all day. He thought he just had a headache, but clearly it was more than that. Dean had come down with some virus of plague like proportions, and was degraded to a sniffling, coughing, shaking heap, wrapped in Sam’s black hoodie, face buried in some red diner napkins that had long since reached their capacity.
All his coughs and sneezes had earned the disgust of the other passengers, who were forced into close quarters with him, the bus air conditioning blowing his germs through the cabin.
The bus was traveling on a bumpy road right now and they hit a pot hole, Dean’s head clunking against the window, eliciting a small whimper.
“Dean, you okay?”
Dean opened bleary eyes to look at Sam.
Wow, yeah, he was not okay.
Sam was about to say something but Dean lurched forward coughing into the hoodie sleeve. The hacks were wet this time, and left Dean even more exhausted in their aftermath.
Sam was about to jump out of his seat and demand they stop the bus so he could get his brother something, anything to combat this super-virus, when he noticed a girl get out of her seat and begin walking down the centre aisle towards them. She was gripping the backs of people seats to stop from falling over as the bus hit another pot hole.
When she reached Sam and Dean’s seats she squatted down, hanging onto Sam’s armrest, small bag at her hip.
“Hey,” she smiled. She was a petite girl, thin and short and youthful. She was hot, and a redhead. And had Dean had any more wits about him right now, he’d have already collected her number. “You guys okay?”
Sam glanced at Dean, who had curled back up against the window, not even acknowledging her presence.
“Hey, sorry for all the noise. That’s my brother, Dean. He’s not feeling so hot, but our stuff is travelling right now. He drank all his water hours ago and we don’t even have Tylenol.”
Dean coughed through closed lips, his eyes pressed shut like it was the most painful thing he’d ever experienced.
“He doesn’t sound good, does he?” she crinkled her nose, “He wasn’t this sick when you got on the bus, was he?”
Sam shook his head, then, “I’m sorry, who are you?”
She smiled and looked down, “I’m Daisy. I’m a nurse. Well, student nurse.”
“Oh,” Sam looked at Dean, “No, he wasn’t even sick… well, maybe he was but not this bad.”
She dug around in her bag, “I have some tissues and Advil.”
Daisy handed him a blister pack with four Advil remaining and a small travel pack of tissues.
Sam sighed with relief, “Oh, thank you, Daisy. I just was hoping I could get him to sleep so the Advil should probably help with that.”
“Right here, guys,” Dean mumbled, words rough and slurring together.
“Barely,” Sam laughed, watching Dean struggle to sit up, “Think you can dry swallow these?” he held out the pills to his brother.
Dean looked at him like are you freaking kidding me right now?
Yeah, that was a no.
“Excuse me,” an elderly lady from across the aisle was handing out a bottle of water, “He can have that, dear.”
Daisy smiled and took it, handing it to Sam.
Sam could have cried.
“Thank you,” he turned to his brother, “Dean, I got water for you.”
Dean shivered, and turned away, clearly done with this conversation.
Daisy stood up, holding onto Sam’s seat, “I’ll be back in a second.”
“Dean, please, just take the pills. They’ll make you feel better. I’ve got water. You don’t need to dry swallow them.”
Dean snapped forward, stifling a sneeze into the napkins, “uh’CHXT! Huh’NGXT-uh!”
He was trying to be quiet, bless him.
“Here,” Sam popped two pills out and unscrewed the cap off the water bottle.
Dean took them both in shaking hands, almost too weak to guide the water bottle to his mouth. He swallowed the pills but must have choked a little on a drop of water because he turned red, coughing so much. Not that he wasn’t red before. His nose and cheeks were sunburnt and the way he’d been scrubbing his face with those red napkins, under his nose and around his mouth had turned pink.
“Breathe, Dean.”
This time the cabin was quiet, no one moaning about their sleep being disturbed, no one telling him to shut up.
“Sod of a bitgch, thad hurt,” Dean groaned, tilting his head back against the seat and wincing.
“I got you some tissues, man. Here,” Sam opened the small packet and pulled two out, handing them to his brother.
Dean’s hands were warm and damp when they grazed against his.
Dean fitted the tissues around his nose and blew. He sounded awful. And this small packet of tissues was definitely not going to cut it.
Dean scrubbed them under his nose.
“Hey, make those last,” Sam said, stilling his hand, “We haven’t got many.”
Dean sighed, and it crackled in his lungs.
Daisy returned as Dean was sulking.
“Here, I got these off some other passengers.”
It was another bottle of water, some Tylenol, a couple of Nyquil and a few more tissues.
Sam sighed, “You really didn’t have to, but thank you,” he smiled.
“He should be okay to take the Nyquil with the Advil, but wait 4 hours before taking the Tylenol,” she advised, smiling sweetly, “Have you guys got any food?”
“Yeah, I’ve got something in my bag,” Sam said, pulling his duffle onto his lap once again.
“He should eat with the Advil, if he’s feeling up to it.”
“Okay, thank you,” Sam sagged with relief at having something to give his brother after this awful day.
“No problem,” she smiled, leaving them to it.
“She wandts be…”
Sam looked over and Dean was grinning, eyes closed, leaning against the window again.
Sam laughed, “Dude, she doesn’t want you. Not like this anyway… How do you feel? You’re radiating heat right now.”
Dean wrapped the used tissue around his nose and jerked forward almost silently, once, twice… five times. The last one squeaked into the tissue and the breathed in raggedly after.
“Bless you,” Sam creased his face in worry, “You don’t need to do that, you know?”
“Yes, I do,” Dean sounded even more congested than before, “People are already aboivdig be.”
“They can’t really avoid you on a bus, dude.”
“Egsactly,” Dean jerked forward again into his tissue, snuffling quietly.
Sam watched Dean slump back, breathing through his mouth, nostrils already looking chapped, the flush on his face due to more than just sunburn.
“It’s not your fault…” he said, quietly.
Dean’s eyes glanced over at Sam before he closed them and shivered, “I kdnow, Sabby.”
Dean continued his almost silent sneezes, but Sam could tell it was putting more pressure on his head, making his headache even worse than it had been. And he was getting more and more congested, refusing to blow his nose. He couldn’t control the coughing though. That came unannounced and as loudly as it liked, forcing Dean into the tiniest ball he could manage, wrapped up in Sam’s hoodie, leaning away from Sam into the window of the bus. He’d managed to get him to eat half a granola bar and take the Nyquil.
"I thingk I'b dyig..."
Sam smirked, "You're not dying, dude, but you are pretty sick. I think you have the flu."
"It's," he paused to cough, "freakin' delightful."
"Are you warm enough?"
Dean sniffed and grimaced, "I don't thingk I'll eber be warmb againd."
Sam wrapped his arm around his brother, surprised when Dean turned and snuggled towards him as a violent chill passed through him.
"I biss by car," Dean sniffed wetly.
"I know, dude. We'll be home soon. Just try to sleep."
"Huh'KSCHIUEW! Urghh..." Dean snapped forward into the tissues he'd clutched in his hand the entire ride.
He wiped his nose, groaning. Clearly exhausted. Too tired to even stifle that one.
"Come here, man," Sam held his arm out again and Dean leaned against him gratefully.
"This doesn't bean I wannda... talk about by feeligs... or anythig... I just... wandt your warmbth."
"Dean, relax," Sam laughed, rubbing Dean's arm, "and stop talking, you're making my throat sore."
Dean just moaned, coughing uncovered. Which meant he was too tired to lift his arm to cover his mouth. Yeah, he’d really gone downhill fast.
“That Nyquil should work in a minute and you can just sleep the rest of the way. We’re only about 5 hours outside of Sioux Falls and… Dean?”
Sam glanced down at the pale face, pressed against his shoulder, mouth slightly open, sweat lining his forehead, eyes gently closed, breathing evenly, if a little laboured.
“G’night, dude,” Sam smiled, tugging his brother closer, feeling Dean nestle in further in sleep. “We’ll be home before you know it.”
END