Following the results of the
poll we took last month (don't make it easy on us or anything, guys, haha!), we've decided to hold a comment fic meme once every three months. This gives everyone time to write and prompt to their heart's content, and allows us mods to keep up with y'all. And we're starting right now!
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“I hauled your gargantuan ass into the Impala, out of the Impala, into this room, into the bathroom, and into bed, all without breaking a sweat. I swear, they should give me some sort of Olympic medal for that shit.” Dean pauses to laugh, but the sound is choked and strained. “Why didn’t you tell me it was that bad, you asshole? You clocked out at 104.7, which is so beyond the realm of covering up it’s not even close to funny. You should have told me--”
A smear of a giggle oozes out of the corner of Sam’s dry, cottony mouth and puddles on his stained t-shirt. “Dude, I told you so many times that I wanted to stay home. You called me Samantha, and said that only pansy girls got the flu. You cannot even attempt to pin this on me,” Sam insists, as his hand connects with a glass of lukewarm water and brings it to his lips, hands trembling with exertion.
“Whatever, man. As soon as you’ve kicked this My Little Pony, rainbow-spewing nonsense, we’ve still gotta go clean out that poltergeist.” For a moment, it seems as if Dean’s hands will reach for Sam’s head, card through his baby brother’s hair as they did so often when they were younger.
The tender moment is shattered when Sam lets out a tremendous, retching cough that sets all his joints to aching simultaneously. Dean’s common sense returns to him in a flash, and he shoves his traitorous fingers into his pockets, propelling himself out into the kitchen to ‘fetch Her Royal Highness some tomato and rice soup, with an ice cube if she asks very sweetly’.
Sam pretends he’s not imagining a soft body at his side, curly blonde hair brushing against his cheek, warming up his icy bones and chasing away the chill that’s settled below his sternum. She’s gone, anyways.
Still, Dean returns with a bowl of carefully chilled soup and a spoon, only to find Sam slumbering peacefully, arms twined around a pillow and murmuring something that sounds suspiciously like ‘Jess’ under his breath. If Dean were feeling particularly cruel, he’d shake Sam awake, prod him into eating, call him a few more names before letting him drift back off. Isn’t it time the kid got to have a happy dream, though?
Dean leaves the soup on the nightstand, and lets Sam continue his sojourn from the world.
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And the hallucinations are awesome. Ravens, people, extra doors. Still, he figures it out in the end!
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It's hard to know wht's real and what's not. Even when I KNEW that pillow wasn't really there, I kept reaching for it. Although, I was pretty sure the melting gift-bag was a hallucination, since it was floating in midair and changing from green to purple as it melted. :P
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Gotta admit though, I totally laughed out loud at “G’way, little girl. It’s naptime.” LOLOL.
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Doesn't Sammy always need a good snuggle? Poor guy. We fans sure do love to torture him! Thanks for reading :D
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Scary, funny, and tender all at once, that's not an easy trick o pull off. Wicked hallucinations! I had trouble sorting out what was real. (That's not a bad thing.)
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