Breathe_me27
The minute Sam sneezed Dean pulled off at an exit. "What are you doing?" Sam asked with a frown.
"You sneezed; you'll be sick in a matter of a day," Dean said matter of factly. Sam stared with his jaw dropped until he felt like he was going to cough. Which he wasn't because-
"I am not getting sick!" Sam protested, right before he sneezed again. Dean hmm'd like he'd expected it, and Sam glared at him. "The car's stuffy, and my sinuses have been bugging me since yesterday," he said.
Dean's eyes widened. "Wait, you started yesterday? That means you'll be sick by tonight; you have to tell me these things, Sammy."
Sam threw his arms into the air. "I don't because I'm not getting sick."
"Temper-tantrums on top of the sneezing: definitely sick," Dean said. Sam had to clench his fists to keep from beating on his brother: he was driving, after all. Then he uncurled his fists to catch another sneeze, and he was NOT getting sick.
By the time dinner rolled around he was coughing (because the air was dry, dammit) and when Dean asked the waitress for hot tea, since Sam was getting sick, Sam gave into his urge and kicked him. "Ow! I order you tea to help and you kick me. Nice."
"I'm not getting sick," Sam insisted. "Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?"
"Because I know you," Dean said, leaning forward now, and suddenly very serious. "And you? Show symptoms a day and a half ahead of time before you get sick. I'm totally not kidding."
Then he sat back and smiled at the waitress while Sam stared, flabbergasted. He did not do that. He couldn't remember a single time in his life when he'd done that. Dean was completely making it up, and he was not getting sick.
When he woke up the next morning, though, he was congested. He coughed and winced when it tugged on his sore throat. He sneezed three times in a row, and his head was pounding by the time he was done.
He was sick.
Dean came over, and Sam sank into the bed, waiting wearily for the "I told you so" that Dean was bound to say. Dean parted his lips to speak, and Sam nearly winced, waiting for it.
"You need to sit up: I've got medication and tea, but you can't have it if you're laying down."
...Not quite what Sam had expected. Dean helped him get upright and filled him with medication and tea, and by the time Sam had sipped the last few drops from the cup he was drowsy. "Sleep," Dean said, magically making the cup disappear. "Be right here when you wake up. You'll feel better then, I promise."
"I better, Mr. Know It All," Sam mumbled, and he knew Dean grinned before Sam shut his eyes and slept.
~Nebula
"You sneezed; you'll be sick in a matter of a day," Dean said matter of factly. Sam stared with his jaw dropped until he felt like he was going to cough. Which he wasn't because-
"I am not getting sick!" Sam protested, right before he sneezed again. Dean hmm'd like he'd expected it, and Sam glared at him. "The car's stuffy, and my sinuses have been bugging me since yesterday," he said.
Dean's eyes widened. "Wait, you started yesterday? That means you'll be sick by tonight; you have to tell me these things, Sammy."
Sam threw his arms into the air. "I don't because I'm not getting sick."
"Temper-tantrums on top of the sneezing: definitely sick," Dean said. Sam had to clench his fists to keep from beating on his brother: he was driving, after all. Then he uncurled his fists to catch another sneeze, and he was NOT getting sick.
By the time dinner rolled around he was coughing (because the air was dry, dammit) and when Dean asked the waitress for hot tea, since Sam was getting sick, Sam gave into his urge and kicked him. "Ow! I order you tea to help and you kick me. Nice."
"I'm not getting sick," Sam insisted. "Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?"
"Because I know you," Dean said, leaning forward now, and suddenly very serious. "And you? Show symptoms a day and a half ahead of time before you get sick. I'm totally not kidding."
Then he sat back and smiled at the waitress while Sam stared, flabbergasted. He did not do that. He couldn't remember a single time in his life when he'd done that. Dean was completely making it up, and he was not getting sick.
When he woke up the next morning, though, he was congested. He coughed and winced when it tugged on his sore throat. He sneezed three times in a row, and his head was pounding by the time he was done.
He was sick.
Dean came over, and Sam sank into the bed, waiting wearily for the "I told you so" that Dean was bound to say. Dean parted his lips to speak, and Sam nearly winced, waiting for it.
"You need to sit up: I've got medication and tea, but you can't have it if you're laying down."
...Not quite what Sam had expected. Dean helped him get upright and filled him with medication and tea, and by the time Sam had sipped the last few drops from the cup he was drowsy. "Sleep," Dean said, magically making the cup disappear. "Be right here when you wake up. You'll feel better then, I promise."
"I better, Mr. Know It All," Sam mumbled, and he knew Dean grinned before Sam shut his eyes and slept.
~Nebula