I started this one awhile ago, but it took some modification to get it where it is today. This isn't going to be a long story, but hopefully you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Read and review and whatnot :)
It was the twentieth time Dean coughed that got to Sam.
After going on a hunt (in the rain), all three Winchesters came home, irritable and dripping wet. John hadn't even waited a day before taking off on a new hunt, saying he'd be home in a few days. About two hours after that, Dean had started coughing.
Sam had ignored it at first—Dean wasn't stupid, contrary to popular belief, and he had gotten a class of water. After that came the runny nose. And then the sneezing. Sam dealt with it for awhile, but this time, he was fed up.
He slammed his books down on the table and stalked into the kitchen, rustling around in one of the duffel bags they hadn't bothered unpacking until he found the Nyquil. He then proceeded to storm back into the living area and slam the bottle down in front of Dean.
"So help me god, if you do not take this, I will force feed it to you," He snapped, before going back to his homework. Dean watched him with wide eyes, frozen into shock. Usually Sammy reserved that kind of anger for their dad. Deciding he was acquiring new (useful, in his opinion) skills, he uncapped the Nyquil and chugged down a couple mouthfuls. He never bothered reading the dosage instructions…
Which was something Sam knew and appreciated. When Dean was sick, the only way to make him better in a reasonable amount of time was to knock him out (or drug him). Sam bet that, within the hour, Dean would be fast asleep.
Sam was right. Within the next half hour, he heard noises as Dean got up and flopped himself on his bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. Sam smiled and settled back into his homework, figuring he would check on Dean in an hour, when the drugs had knocked him out enough that he wouldn't notice.
Sam was alarmed when he went to go check on Dean. His face was flushed red and when Sam went to go feel his forehead, he could feel the heat before he felt Dean's skin. He pulled the thermometer out and stuck it in Dean's mouth, waiting impatiently. Dean grumbled a little bit but didn't move too much. When the thermometer beeped to tell Sam it was done, Sam was shocked to see it read out a temperature of 101. He hurried to get cold washcloths.
Whatever Dean had picked up, it wasn't small. For the rest of their dad's absence, Sam spent his time rushing around the small apartment, gathering up anything and everything to help Dean feel better. Half the time Dean was barely aware of what was going on. He would wake up, mumble something incoherent, take whatever Sam was shoving in his hands, and fall back asleep. It left, not only Dean exhausted, but Sam too. So much so, that when his dad came back from his hunting trip, Sam didn't even wake up until John set his duffel down on the kitchen table, the guns and various other weapons knocking against each other noisily. Sam sat up quickly, wondering what could possibly be wrong with Dean now, until he noticed his dad's shadow walking around the kitchen. Sam got up and moved quietly towards the kitchen, though he doubted anything could wake Dean right now. His dad looked up when he got to the doorway.
"Hey Sammy," he said, seeming to relax a little bit. He was always like that when he first got home from a hunt—uptight and on edge.
"Hey dad," Sam answered, sitting down across from his dad. "How'd the hunt go?"
"Took a little bit longer than I expected, but I got the son of a bitch. What's wrong with your brother?"
Sam should have known he would have noticed something wrong right away. Usually Dean was the first one up when their dad walked in, a gun already aimed at the doorway until he was sure it was their dad. Dean hadn't even so much as twitched.
"He's been sick. It didn't start off bad, but about eight hours after you left, his fever skyrocketed and he hasn't really been awake much since then. The fever finally started coming down last night, so I think he's just sleeping it off now."
John nodded. "Let's hope so. Bobby called and wants our help with a hunt in Indiana. I told him we'd take off tomorrow."
Sam sighed, already fighting back arguments. "Well if he's not, he can sleep in the car. I can drive."
"Then you better go sleep now. If Dean's even semi-conscious tomorrow, you know he won't let you touch the steering wheel unless you're 100 percent awake."
Sam smiled at that and nodded, pulling himself out of his chair and walking off to the bedroom he and Dean were sharing. He barely made it to the bed before he passed out again.
Turns out, Dean was semi-conscious in the morning. In fact, he woke up, truly woke up, and seemed completely healthy. Sam marveled at his ability to spring back from being so sick. However, when he drew the line when Dean tried to insist that he could drive. Even their dad went against him, making Dean compromise at letting Sam drive for at least a couple hours. Dean didn't sleep at all. In fact, he seemed to have more energy now, then before he got sick. When the compromised couple hours were up, Sam was more than happy to relinquish the driver's seat. As Sam positioned himself against the window with ever intention, Dean spoke.
"Hey Sam?" he asked. Sam looked over at him, noting the serious tone Dean had. "Thanks for taking care of me."
Sam snorted. "You actually remember anything from the last three days?"
"Bits and pieces, but whatever I remember always includes you hovering over me."
Sam shrugged and leaned back against the window. "Its nothing you haven't done for me before."
This time it was Dean who snorted. "The mighty Sam, get sick? Seriously, when was the last time you got sick?"
Sam tried to think back, but he had to go a ways back. Dean was right; it was rare that Sam ever got sick. "It's been awhile, but if we keep talking about it, you're going to jinx me. The last thing we need is for me to get sick right before we go into a major hunt."
"Whatever." Dean playfully punched Sam in the shoulder and even though Sam smacked his hand away, there was still a smile playing at his lips as he drifted off into sleep.
Jinxing is exactly what Dean did. When he woke Sam up when they arrived, Dean could feel the heat pouring off him. Sam woke slowly, and even after he woke up he was groggy and confused.
"Damn dude, when did you start feeling sick?" he asked as he grabbed Sam's bag before Sam could even reach for it.
Sam shrugged helplessly. "Felt fine. Now I feel like shit."
"You look like shit," Dean offered. Sam merely glared back at him and headed for the door that John was standing next to. It opened to reveal Bobby.
"I booked you the room next door," he was saying as Dean and Sam approached. He took one look at the two of them and winced. "What's wrong with you?" he asked Sam.
John looked over at his youngest in shock. When they had left, Sam had looked perfectly healthy. Now his skin was flushed and there was a glassy tint to his eyes. He was leaning against a pillar, and John could see that it was a miracle he was even managing that, from how bad he was shaking. He held his hand out, obviously wanting the key to the room. John handed it over wordlessly.
"Ask him," Sam said, with a jerk of his head at Dean. Of course it threw him off balance and he had to put his hand against the building in order to remain standing. There was a click of the door as Sam unlocked it and he disappeared into the doorway without another word. Dean was the first one to break out of his shock.
"I'll get him settled and then I'll be over." John nodded and walked inside Bobby's room while Dean moved off towards where Sam had disappeared. The scene that greeted him was not exactly what he was expecting. Sam was laying only several feet in from the doorway, crumpled on the ground. Dean quickly dropped the bags and hurried over to him. As soon as Dean touched him, Sam started awake.
"What happened?" Dean asked as he helped pull Sam to his feet. Sam's body didn't seem to know what to do with itself, and Dean ended up taking most of the weight. Sam looked at him, confused.
"I don't know." His words were slightly slurred. "Last I remember, I was walking into the room…and then I was on the floor looking up at you."
Dean sighed—obviously he had passed out. "Let's get you to bed. There should still be some of that medicine left from when I was sick."
"M'kay," was the only answer he got. Obviously Sam wasn't going to be much help to him.
"Here, take this." He said, thrusting a cup full of medicine in Sam's hand. Sam obediently took the medicine, and was asleep in seconds. Dean made sure there was a cup of water sitting by the bed before he moved back into the next room.
"So what am I supposed to be asking you?" Bobby asked, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands behind his head. Dean sat down at the table with a huff.
"I've been pretty sick for the last three days. Obviously to thank Sam for looking after me, I spread the sickness onto him."
"You would have done the same thing for him, and we all know it," John said, knowing Dean was feeling guilty for infecting Sam. "We'll just have to do the hunt without him. I doubt he'll be too depressed about it."
Dan looked up at his dad in shock. "What? No, I need to stay here and look after Sam!"
"We need you with us more Dean. Sam can look after himself."
"Dad, the only reason I got over my sickness is because Sam was with me at every minute. If he hadn't been there, I probably would have died of dehydration—I wasn't really thinking about getting water." Even though Dean protested, he knew it wouldn't help at all. His dad had already made up his mind and nothing would change it. Bobby wouldn't meet Dean's eye though. At least someone agreed with him that this was a bad idea. He felt bad about bringing Bobby into a family fight but… "Bobby, come on man, you have to know that this is a horrible idea."
Bobby shrugged, but Dean could tell he felt bad about going against him. "We'll only be gone one night, and your daddy is right. We need the back up on this one."
"Can't you call in Pastor Jim or Caleb?" Dean's protests were getting weaker. With both of them against him, he didn't stand a chance.
"They wouldn't get here in time. You're going Dean, be ready tomorrow at eight." John said, sufficiently ending the conversation.
Dean got up, anger coursing through him. The next person that talked to him was going to get a mouthful. Lucky for the two older men, they knew to hold their tongues, so Dean was left to storm out of the hotel room in silence. When he got outside, he looked longingly at his baby, wanting so bad to just take her out for a drive and work off some anger, but right now, Sam needed him.