Sen Beret's Anniversary Meme!
It's actually been a year and two months since I became involved with the fandom, but hey, who's counting?
Masterlist
rules
Masterlist
rules
- comment on this post with your prompts! all prompts are welcome (be as vague or detailed as you'd like!) as long as they fit with the theme of sneezy/sick/allergic Sam, Dean, Castiel, John, etc.
- reply to prompts with your ( Read more... )
“Hey.” Dean greets his brother as he steps into the library. “I’m boiling some water, you want coffee? Tea?”
Sam clears his throat and wipes his nose on his wrist. He’s hunched over a textbook and what looks like a snowstorm of crumpled tissues.
“Uh, tea sounds pretty good, thandks.”
“How you feeling?” Dean asks as he pulls out a chair to sit at Sam’s table. He wrinkles up his nose as he picks up one of his brother’s used tissues. “You’re disgusting, by the way.”
“Oh, uh, yeah, I’mb sorry,” he coughs, bundling the rest into a wastepaper basket that he pulls from under his feet. “Didnd’t thindk andyone would be combindg downd here. But… yeah, I’mb doindg okay.”
“Nice try Sam, I heard you sneezing right down the corridor.”
Sam rolls his eyes.
“Seriously, are you any better?”
Sam shrugs. “I’m getting a little bmore used to feelindg crappy, if thadt helbps?”
Dean just slumps back in his seat.
“It’s a cold,” Sam insists, reaching for a handful of Kleenex from the box. “It’ll pass.”
“Mmm… Any time now, huh?”
--
They’ve all of them had this cold, bitch that it is, starting pretty soon after the angels fell. Call it a stress thing, or whatever. But it’s been a few weeks now and Dean and Kevin have long since seen the back of it. Sam, on the other hand, has been resting up plenty and gulping down Dayquil, and the bug’s not showing the slightest indication of shifting.
“And he’s the one who’s supposed to have a built-in Kent Hovind,” Dean mutters as he messes with the mugs.
“What’s that?”
Dean looks up to see Kevin, still in T-shirt and boxer shorts, leaning heavily on the kitchen doorframe.
“Nothing,” he sighs. “You want coffee?”
Kevin nods.
“How’s Sam?”
Dean holds up the jar of tea bags. It’s enough of an answer. Sam is the only one who drinks tea, and only then when he’s sick.
“This a trial thing, or..?”
“Hell if I know.”
**
“Jesus, Sammy!”
He shouldn’t be surprised to step back into the library to find Sam in the middle of a sneezing fit. Hell, he’s barely stopped sneezing since he caught this thing off Kevin. They’ve gotten fucking violent though, and whether it’s from not eating or the virus draining out his energy, Sam is looking less substantial by the day. He’s like a sack of bones inside this massive frame, clutching feebly to a clump of tissue while the fit flings him around as if it’s pummelling the life out of him along with the air.
“HuuHhhHSHHSHYEW! UHHUHSH! USHHH! USHHH! HuhUSHHHAH! HuhP’USHHAH! HssSHYAH! Hah…HAHp’ISHH’SHYEW!”
Dean bundles the mugs onto the desktop in a hurry. “Whoa, okay, easy there kiddo.” He lays his palm flat of Sam’s back as he lurches forward over his chair. “God. You sound like you’re getting worse .”
“Huhh… HESHSHSHYEW! KhhTtCHTCHYEW! Ehh… Hehh… HEHkISHHSHYEW!”
He’s slowing now, but there’s an exhausted quality to them. Dean’s starting to wonder how long he can keep this up.
“What the hell is going on with you?” It sounds angrier than he means it, but it’s out of his mouth before he can think it through.
“I… HehPPT! HehUHPTch! UhHUSHHShyew! Sniff! I dond’t kndow…”
He looks hurt, but maybe it’s just the blinky, watery, eyes.
What the hell, he’s started now…
“Someone knows,” Dean insists. “Someone must have an answer for why whatever inner strength could get yourself through the trials, but there’s not enough juice in the tank for some dumbass cold.”
“Dean I… HsSHHiSH! I dond’t kndow whadt you wandt mbe to tell you. I godt better from thadt, I cand’t… ghuhh…gedt better fromb this… Huh… RhuhHUHTCHAH! Sniff! I’bm tryindg.”
Sam’s head sinks into his hands, elbows propped against the back of the chair. He squeezes the bridge of his nose.
“Hey, what is it? Is it your sinuses?”
Sam nods.
“Okay… okay. Look, I’m gonna get you some asprin, alright?”
“Thandks.”
But Dean holds Sam’s gaze for an extra beat.
“I still want answers.”
“Budt…”
“Forget it Sammy,” Dean strides off towards the bathroom. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
He doesn’t turn to catch his brother’s look of incomprehension.
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So after he exhausts the Men of Letters collection on Ancient Spells and wants to try again with Crowley, there’s not a lot that Dean can do but insist that he be around. Sam’s not a fan of the handholding, but for the time being, he’s gonna have to deal. Crowley has friggin’ sonar perception for weakness and, professional or not, Sam’s pretty exhausted after three weeks of being sick.
Dean studies Crowley from the doorway as he scribbles on a piece of paper. He throws Dean a look before he folds the note and pushes it across the desk. He knows Dean’s not gonna let Sam get near enough for him to grab a hold.
Sam goes quiet when he opens the note and Dean actually wonders for a second whether Sam’s gotten at least a part of what he was after. He’d kinda forgotten how good his brother was at negotiation: he’s quick-tongued, even with a headache, and he doesn’t push too hard, just dangles the bribe and lets the person come to him.
“What you got there?” Dean finds himself saying.
“A recipe… for garlic tea.”
Sam’s shoulders slump.
“Natural cold remedy,” Crowley beams with pseudo-sincerity, “Works wonders for the congestion.”
Sam just lets the paper drop to the floor and storms out of the room.
“Aww… he’s so grumpy when he’s sick.” Crowley observes. “You should make him that tea. He’ll feel better.”
Dean rolls his eyes and shuts up the door, but he does make a mental note to look up his own recipe. He’ll try pretty much anything at this point.
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Sam just sniffs and coughs and looks fucking pissed at the world.
“You know what? Much appreciated Kevin. How ‘bout you go and do that? Sam and I are gonna work on our people skills, whaddya say kid?”
“Mb’I combindg over as a dick to himb?” Sam asks wearily when Kevin’s out the door.
Dean shrugs. “He’s a tough cookie. But, you know, he’s worried about you, and that’s about the only human emotion I’ve seen from him since his little chat with Crowley. I’m not sure I wanna discourage it.”
Sam nods and blows his nose. “You’re right,” he agrees. “I’ll apologise to himb. I’mb jusdt… I’bm sick of everyonde tryindg to fix mbe. Jusdt… hhhuh...” he scrubs at his nose with a fist and sniffs harshly. “Jusdt rembinds bme thadt I’mb ndot doindg such a… hhh… such a grhhHESHH’SHUH! Such a greadt j’job bmyself HeHH! Huhhh’UHHH…”
Dean grabs the tissue box from the bookcase and hands it over. At first it’s all that Sam can do to hold it in his hands while he smothers a set of sneezes into his shoulder.
“HurrRESHShyew! R’ESH’SHYEW! HuhhTSSSHUH! SHUH! HSHUH! TssshhSHAH!”
Sam’s voice is horse and cracking. Dean winces as he fumbles in his pocket for a packet of lozenges. He’s beginning to feel a little like a mobile pharmacy.
“Bless you Sammy.”
Sam coughs and sighs and pulls out a fresh clump of tissue to blow his nose.
“Are you really mbad that I’bm still sick?”
“No. God, Sam I just want you better.”
He sniffs. “Thend whadt… Whadt was all thadt sdtuff aboudt andswers?”
Dean bites his lip and trains his gaze at the floor.
“You knew what I meant by that,” he mutters.
“Ndo, Deand… I HuhHESHSHYEW! Sniff! I really didnd’t.”
He rubs at his forehead, exhausted, and continues to avoid his brother’s eye. “C’mon dude. Help me out a little here. We got a lot riding on you.”
“What do you wandt Deand?” Sam’s voice is, at once, measured and commanding, if still rough and congested.
“Zeke! Oh thank God. What the hell is going on here?”
Sam’s lips tighten in consternation. “I’mb a little busy.”
“Yeah, and my brother is miserable, if you feel like throwing a little angel dust his way..?”
“I amb keepindg your brother’s lungs working, his heart beating. I assumbed that was where you wandted me to condcendtrate mby efforts.”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“If you wandt to keep himb clear of indfectionds, I suggest you be mbore careful. You’ve mbade my job condsiderably mbore difficult.”
Sam’s head drops.
“Wait, wait, wait, no! Hold on a minute.”
Dean grabs hold of Sam by his shoulders. His eyes glimmer oddly.
“Sammy: He’s gonna be okay, right? This really is just a cold?”
“Let mbe condtindue with bmy work, and your brother will be fidne.”
Dean hasn’t even registered that Ezekiel has gone before Sam sneezes explosively in his face.
“Oh God, Deand, I’bm sorry. I sniff! I didnd’t realise you were so close.”
Dean reaches for some Kleenex and wipes off his forehead. “You’re fucking lucky I’ve had this one already.”
“I kndow, I kndow, I’mb sorry.”
His nose crinkles, and he’s careful this time to twist over his shoulder with a bundle of tissue.
“HehHEHTCHew! HeHTCHyew! KhhHAhTCHew!”
Dean lays a hand on Sam’s shoulder.
“Hey. I think Kevin’s gonna come back and make up something for your fever. How about you grab a couple of ‘z’’s while you’re waiting. We’ll find out if he’s any leads for us after,” he adds in a hurry, sensing a protest.
In the end, Sam relents, and shuffles up to bed with a blanket and a bottle of cough syrup.
--
When Kevin returns, Dean helps him make up the Apple Water, and he asks again about Sam’s health.
“He’s says he’s gonna be fine.”
“Do we trust him?” Kevin asks, sucking some apple juice from off his thumb.
“We have to trust him,” Dean answers at a mutter. “Not a whole lot else we can do.”
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and the little details like the tea and the apple water! and kevin being so concerned over sam, too, especially after the thing with crowley... that's so, so sweet. and dean trying to get through to zeke but just ending up confusing his brother!!! aww!
also, also!!! it is SO HOT to imagine sam still being so good at negotiating and everything with crowley while he's so sick and weak, working as he usually would, and crowley still noticing and offering the recipe! wow! and also the idea of sam already being so SO weak from the cold and his loss of appetite and everything and then having these MASSIVELY POWERFUL sneezes that rock his entire body and wreck his voice and knock him down even further. mmm.
and! WOW! for some reason, zeke coming out and having sam's illness with all of the congestion and everything be affecting him too... i don't know, for some reason, i really like that also... (and blaming dean for sam getting sick!!! aww!)
basically i loved, like, the entire thing. so so so so good.
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(i have to go to a ballet -- seriously, omg, i know -- buuuut i'll talk to you tomorrow!!)
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and it's the little things you write, like Kevin sucking apple juice off his fingers - which is a small detail that helps complete the picture of them standing in the kitchen doing stuff.
And Crowley was there and I totally adore him and he has noooo sympathy at all, but Dean's desperate enough to try talking to him anyway.
AH so good so gooooood!!!!!!
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Ughhh sammy feeling all defeted and those long fits. The spelling were to die for, honestly.
And ahh sassy crowley is the best.
I could go on forever about how awesome this was, really. You wrote all the charecters wo accuretly that I could totally see this actually happening.
Overall, just thank you so much! This went above and beyond what I was expecting! Your writing is fantastic.
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