Walk a Little Straighter, Daddy
Shut the door. Drop the bag, sigh, stretch.
A tiny groan made him turn.
His sons were asleep. Sam was curled against Dean. Dean's arms were wrapped around him.
The room was a mess. He frowned, walking to the couch, planning on waking Dean.
Before he could, Dean coughed, hard.
He felt the boy's forehead. His eyes grew.
"Dean," he gently shook him. "Wake up, buddy."
Dean looked up, so miserable, shaking.
"Shh…c'mere, son." He lifted him up. Cradle him close, wrap him up.
"You've been sick since I left…haven't you?"
"Shh…don't cry. Shh…I'm here."