Guess what day it is? Comment-fic day!
Once again, it's everyone's favourite day in Supernatural: May 2nd! You know what that means, right? Time to hurt Sam! ;)
You know the drill, right? Allow me to post a refresher:
( Read more... )
You know the drill, right? Allow me to post a refresher:
( Read more... )
Sam’s embarrassment as people look up to stare at his boisterous entrance masks the pain of the bee sting and it fades away with the heat of his face, soon to be forgotten.
The books he is looking for are sequestered in the back of the library amongst shelves of reference books that look as though they haven’t been touched in years. A fine coating of dust blankets them and each page turn tickles the back of Sam’s sinuses. He keeps to himself and finds a table to study at that is far from the other people in the library, trying to keep his repeated and constant sneezes down to a dull roar before the cranky, old librarian throws him out for being too disruptive.
Sam does his best to concentrate, but the words are blurry on the pages as his itchy, hot eyes tear up from the dust and it’s hard to keep his eyelids up as they grow puffier. He’s feeling worse than he ever has before with his allergies and his thoughts drift again to those two Allegra pills back at the motel room and he’s tempted to call Dean and ask him to pick up some Benedryl or anything that will make this crap go away no matter how sleepy the medicine will make him.
After a while, it’s not just the sneezing that’s bugging him -- he’s itchy all over while his skin feels hot and tight. He’s sweating so much that he has to strip down to just a t-shirt and continuously wipe moisture from wet bangs before it drips into his already sore and irritated eyes. He’s coughing now too on top of all of the congestion, making his throat burn and twist with each breath like a boa constrictor has wrapped itself around his neck, trying to strangle him.
It isn’t until Sam pushes back his chair and tries to stand that it suddenly dawns on him that this is so much more than just hay fever making him feel like shit. The room spins and darkens while floating, black orbs crowd his vision. His knees start to give and he has to grab the back of his chair before he falls.
He can barely see as he lowers his head, hoping for the wash of dizziness to pass and when it finally does, he can just make out his bright, white knuckles attached to sausage-like fingers that are tight, fat and swollen as they grasp the chair.
With no idea what is happening to him. Dread and fear flood his chest, making it even harder to breathe.
He has to get out … has to call Dean …
Leaving the pile of books he pulled from the shelves scattered and open on the table, he lurches from the chair and forces his cement-encased feet to stumble forward and towards the library exit. He passes by the circulation desk where the grey-haired librarian looks up at him again, but this time her face shows open-mouthed surprise and concern.
“Sir?” She calls out to him just as he reaches the exit.
It is then that he catches sight of his reflection in the glass door and he stops cold.
His face is swollen like a bloated corpse that has just floated up to the surface after a week under water. He chokes on his breath and wheezes painfully while his head and heart start to pound so furiously that he can’t pull any air into his lungs.
Can’t breathe … can’t breathe … can’t …
Someone start to shout as his knees fail to keep supporting his weight and the last thing he feels is the hard, cool, tile floor catch his falling body.
OOOOOO
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He just wants to keep sleeping and stay in his cottony cocoon forever, but it’s so annoying, especially the itch under his nose and it’s almost automatic when his hands reach up in an attempt to scratch the irritation away.
They don’t make it very far before they are stopped by someone’s fingers wrapping around his own, “Don’t scratch, Sammy. You’ll just make it worse.”
Dean?
Sam tries to open his eyelids, but they won’t cooperate - he can’t even get them to crack open even a little bit and the first thing he thinks is that he’s gone blind and will be trapped in darkness forever. He tosses his head back and forth, but he still can’t force his eyelids to part.
“D -“ He mutters around a tongue that’s four sizes too big for his mouth. His voice sounds muffled in his ears and not his own. He feels panic swell, “Can’ see.”
A cool hand swipes soothingly across his forehead, his heart “That’s ‘cause you’re all swollen up like a balloon right now … just relax … you’re gonna be okay.”
“Wha ‘appen’d?”
Sam feels the bed dip a little as his brother sits down on the mattress, “Would you believe it if I told you that something the size of your fingernail took your huge ass down?”
Sam’s having a hard time processing much of anything, “huh?”
“You were stung by a bee ... remember that?”
Sam nods and can feel the sting on the back of his neck throbbing in time to his heartbeat.
“The docs say you had some kind of uber-allergic reaction and they’re pumping you full of fluids and anti-histamines right now, but don't worry, the swelling should start to go down soon."
Sam sucks in a breath, a little bit more relaxed now that he knows what happened. He still feels itchy and his throat aches, but it’s much easier to breathe now and now that his initial panic has bled away, he can lie back and let the drugs to their job.
"Ya know, you’re pretty damn lucky though," Dean continues, "that old librarian back there just happened to be allergic to bees too and injected you with her epi-pen after you passed out. She said she recognized your symptoms after the same thing happened to her years ago and we owe her big time for saving your gigantic hide.”
Feeling Dean ruffle his hair, he has to fight to not sigh in contentment and possibly expose his brother to just how scared he had been or to how relieved he is to know that he’s near.
Sam feels the bed suddenly bounce as Dean snatches his hand away, “Ahhhhh ---- ahhhh - choooo. Dammit!”
The power of Dean’s sneeze shakes the mattress and Sam fails to suppress a grin even as it pulls at his swelled skin.
“Stupid, fucking springtime.” Dean mutters and sniffs.
Sam couldn’t agree more.
The End
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And not even Dean can escape the evilness of spring allergies! :D
Great job!
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