A/N: This is just a small oneshot I wrote for a challenge over on the sickdean community at livejournal months ago but never posted here. So now i am
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters, i'm just using them for my own angsty purposes
Of all the stupid things Dean had done in his life this had to be one of the most idiotic. Yes, at one point he had pretty much thrown himself between his father and a very angry spirit which had guaranteed him a stay in the hospital but he had done that for a reason. This had been stupid, he hadn't thought of the consequences before he had done it and now he was paying the price.
Dean had been asthmatic for as long as he could remember and usually he had been very good at controlling it; always having his inhaler, not pushing himself to the point where he would have an attack but this time he honestly hadn't thought it would be that bad.
This was the last time he was going to try to fit in. In an attempt to seem cool he had given in when the guys at school handed him a cigarette and practically called him a chicken when he didn't want to smoke it. Determined not to look like a wuss, he had lit the cigarette and taken a long drag. It didn't take long for the wheezing to start and for Dean's chest to constrict to the point where it was difficult to breathe.
He groped around in his jacket for his inhaler only to find it wasn't there. Of all the days to leave his inhaler at the crap shack motel they were staying at this week this was the worst. As breathing became more difficult, Dean found his vision starting to blur and he collapsed to his knees. He was vaguely aware that people were milling around him; their panicked voices shouting for help as a teacher hurried towards them. But Dean didn't care. He just wanted the pain to stop, to be able to breathe and for his chest to feel clear once again. Wanting the pain to stop Dean embraced the darkness and allowed himself to fall into unconsciousness.
When Dean awoke he was in a hospital, an oxygen mask on his face to help him breathe and his father and his brother sitting next to the bed with anxious expressions on their faces. Of course they would be angry at what he had done, how he had put his health at risk like he had but Dean didn't care. He was ashamed with himself .
"How are you feeling?" John asked as he stood up from the chair he was sitting in and moved closer to his sick son.
"I'm okay," Dean wheezed quietly, his voice sounding cracked.
"What you did was extremely dumb," he sounded angry and Dean completely understood why. He had screwed up and he deserved it.
"I know," Dean replied. "Shouldn'ta done it. Just wanted to fit in. Not gonna do it again," he started coughing and John's anger quickly evaporated and replaced with concern.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah just need a moment," Dean felt comforted as he felt his father sit down beside him and rub comforting circles on his back. "Not gonna do it again," he repeated weakly.
"I know," John told him and held his son close as he fell asleep in his arms.