Personal Furnace

Prompt: (Based in reality, as both my daughters have this strange genetic quirk Sam does in the prompt.) Ever since he was little, Sam has put out incredible amounts of heat when he was asleep. It was always comforting to Dean when they were small enough to share beds, as he always could tell when Sam was really asleep. But now, Dean has suffered a bad case of hypothermia on a case and Sam's "butane heater sleeping" has been his only warmth for awhile. And he's become addicted to the point where he can't sleep without that comforting fire at his back. But is he too proud to tell Sam?

: : :

Sam sighs awake and blinks at the grey light leaking in above the curtains. He pinches crusties out of his eyes, rolls over in bed and bumps into Dean. "Oh... hey."

Dean twitches, inhales sharply and squints at him. "Mhh."

Rubbing his face, Sam props himself up on one elbow and studies his brother. "You OK?"

"Yeah, no. I'm good." Dean bunches up the comforter around his neck. "Time is it?"

Sam twists to read over his shoulder. "Six."

"Couple more hours." He pats Sam's pillow. "Lay down."

"Are you sick again?" Sam palms Dean's pale forehead, cards through his mussed hair.

"I said I'm fine. Just go back to sleep."

"Been awhile since that dip in the lake."

"I'm over that." Dean's jaw clenches in his disembodied head. "Are we OK here? If you're giving me the boot, just do it already."

"Nah, you're good," Sam smiles, "Cuddlebear."

"Aw, forget it." Dean pushes back the covers and sits, gooseflesh instantly puckering his bare arms.

"No!" Sam laughs and grabs his wrist. "It's fine. You're fine." He tugs the quilt back up over them both. "I get it. I'll keep you warm."

"Then paws off," Dean grumbles, going fetal.

"Yeah. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

"I'll bite you."

Sam yawns. "Hhhn." When a cold nose pokes into his back, he doesn't comment.


Sick Weekend at Bobby's

SPOILERS FOR 6.04

Prompt: Dean and Sam return from their trip to make sure that Bobby is indeed alright. He insists they stay for a day or two, but Dean is adamant that they don't. It quickly becomes apparent that Dean is sick (Oh! The sneezes!)...but he won't admit it because he doesn't want to 'burden' Bobby anymore. Bobby in his usual gruff way convinces the boys to crash for the night.

: : :

Sam claps Bobby's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Dean pulls him in for a back-slapping hug.

"Well," Dean says, stepping out and thumping him on the arm. "Look at you."

"Free man walking," Sam chimes in.

"That's me."

: : :

They're crowded around the kitchen table for celebratory shots.

"Since when's one your limit, kid?"

"His stomach's been a little rocky since the flight."

Dean sneezes explosively into his wrist. "Mazel tov. Drink. Save yourselves."

: : :

Dean's right outside the bathroom door when Sam walks out.

"Think you can drive?"

"What?" Sam takes in his shiny eyes and damp hairline. "Where'd you go? We've been calling you."

Dean gags and palms his belly. "Damnit." He drops his head between his knees.

: : :

"Didn't realize you liked my hall carpet so damn much."

"Nrh?" Dean squints.

"Only reason I can think of why you'd let yourself pass out on it instead of tuckin' into bed like most folk do when they get sick."

"I'm not..." He licks his lips. "I think I'm gonna puke on your bed."

A grey plastic bucket materializes just in time.

"Oh." Sam walks in with an extra blanket and settles it over Dean's feet. "Ew."

"Well, I feel better," Dean rasps, spitting. "This's been swell. Great to have you back, Bobby. Sam?" He's wrestling the covers. "Shall we?"

"Are you off your nut?" Bobby's eyebrows crumple under the brim of his hat.

"Yeah, you don't look so good, man."

Dean sneezes into his armpit. He draws himself up. "You should dust."

"Winchester, sit your fluey ass down. Since when are you as sensitive as a goddamn preschooler? I know I said some things, but you boys have a home here. That doesn't change."

Dean stares, red-faced. A tear sneaks down his cheek.

"Oh, now..." Bobby gently jiggles his shoulder. "Wait just a..." Dean shudders and shields his eyes.

"Uh, hey." Sam sits beside him on the bed and pats his thigh. He moves the tissues closer.

"I love you guys so much."

"I got the Tylenol."

In Sam's wake, Bobby smoothes back Dean's hair and gets a chestful of snuffling, puke-smelling, overheated man. Carefully he rubs the base of his spine. "Get a compress too."


Tongue

E/O CHALLENGE

Prompt 1: "Sprained" and "scary." A double-drabble with a Halloween theme, with rain and cold weather? Any type of sickness and limping is awesome. Boys together being brothers is always nice.

Prompt 2: In my head this is somehow connected to monster movies, chilly weather, werewolves and Hallowe'en. Sam at some point, through contact with something they hunted, is like, part werecat or I don't even know, part something, so that his saliva has this healing property. Now, it's fall and it's cold out and Dean gets wounded and maybe he's all, "Sam, bust out the thing," or maybe Sam just really wants him to feel better and busts it out on his own. Bonus points if somehow Dean also has a cold, hehehe.

A/N: I pared it down to two hundred words but that version wasn't as good. Here's this instead.

: : :

Sam's tongue looks exactly the same as before. Dean watches him work it over his stinging calf. Their breath fogs the car windows.

The lapping slows. Rain patters on the roof. Sam sits back and palms his mouth clean. "Better?"

There's just an indentation now, the tiniest pricks of blood welling up.

"Well that's handy."

: : :

Dean steps down onto the coarse, glistening pavement and grunts.

"What?"

He limps through the drizzle and lets himself in.

"You OK?" Sam flicks up the lights as Dean collapses onto the corduroy sofa.

"Sprained. Guess your magic spit can only do so much." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Kill those."

: : :

"Do you want it?"

Sam rolls toward him in the dark and sighs. "Hnh?"

"My blood. Does it juice you up?"

"No." Sam's elbows move in silhouette as he rubs his eyes. "Why, you offering?"

"You wish."

: : :

"Eh-HXXNGHT!"

"Whoa." Sam fists Dean's jacket against the stumble.

: : :

Dean coughs awake to Sam hovering just above his face, sniffing the air. He flinches and grips his knife.

"OK. You're OK. Just me." Sam's hands are up.

"What were you doigg?"

"Checking." Sam passes him a pill bottle. "Got a fever."

"You could sbell that?"

"And the sinus infection."

Dean cups his eyes and sneezes on the sheets. He whimpers. "Are all your sedses scary-accurate dow?"

"Comes and goes."

: : :

"Ooh, banana. Your favorite."

Dean snuffles delicately and teeters down the aisle beside Sam. "That stuff takes forever. I hurt dow."

"Whaddya gonna do?"

He eyes Sam's lips. "What exactly cadd you heal?"

Sam sets the medication on the counter and pulls out his money clip. He points it at Dean. "Ew."

: : :

Shaving, Dean sneezes and cuts himself. It has nothing to do with Sam's warm, rough tongue.


Homing Beacon

SLASHY SMUT WARNING

Prompt: More slashy!sneezekink!Sam. It's the middle of the night and the boys are in bed. Dean's semi-awake with an itchy nose thanks to a particularly bad case of the sniffles - which wouldn't be a problem if he could just reach the box of tissues next to the alarm clock before the sneezing fit starts. Thing is, Sam's sneeze-senses are apparently tingling even in his sleep because he's latched onto Dean in a cuddle that will not be denied, keeping poor Dean just out tissue-range. And it definitely doesn't help his concentration when sleepy Sam's hands start a-wanderin'...

: : :

It's warm and dark. The covers have a pleasant weight. Sam's steady breathing is balm.

Dean sniffles and rubs his nose.

Sam stirs beside him.

He snuffles again and feels a rough hand slip across his bare belly, sees the blankets shift in the green glow of the clock radio as Sam gravitates toward him in bed.

Dean glances at the clock and visualizes the tissue box he knows is beside it. "Bad tibigg," he tells Sam, then gasps in a hitching breath and pinches his nostrils shut. The hand on his abdomen dips with the spasm, then rubs him absently back and forth. Sam nuzzles into his hair and wiggles in flush against Dean's side. Dean blows out a shaky breath.

"So dow you wadt to cuddle." He stretches an arm toward the bedside table, just manages to touch the edge with his finger. "I'b cold all dight, add you pick dow to bake your boove." The Kleenex is solidly four inches away. "Dabbit."

Like a snail trained in kung fu he eases his torso toward the tissues. He scrunches up his nose against an itch, then jams a desperate finger under it as he sucks in a hard lungful. Sam's warm palm trails up to Dean's pecs and intently cups his nipple.

Dean's chest expands and gives, expands and gives. He teeters silently on the brink, then lets out air in a slow, wavery stream. He touches his mouth and grunts. Watery mucus trickles down to his lip.

He peers at Sam's hand. "Just what are your idtedtions, yougg baahhh..."

Sam winds a leg over both of Dean's and flops onto his chest like a whale. His fingers thread down into Dean's pubes.

"Copy that." Dean flounders one-armed for the Kleenex box but can't even get the night table now. "Ugh. AH..."

Sam pokes his nose into Dean's neck and his groin into Dean's hip and sighs, squeezing him tight.

"Ah-HEH..."

He moans in his sleep.

"HRR-TZHZHTTT-TISHSHSHSHUH! HETCHCHHHOOO!"

He inhales sharply. "Dean?"

"HAT-KKZHZHHZHK-hoo! KHETCHCHGK!"

"Ohhn." He kisses Dean's hair, presses himself harder into Dean, then reaches across him for the tissues. "Here."

Dean clutches them to his face. "HHHH-ITZZZZUH! XXSHSHSH! Hah..."

Sam mouths hot breath over his neck and fondles his bellybutton.

"Rrgh." The Kleenex hand falters. "Ah..."

Sam settles his ear on Dean's chest. His floppy hair tickles Dean's sensitive nose and catapults him over. "Heh-PBPBKHKHHH! DDSHSHSHSH! AKH-KHKHHHOOO! Heh... eh-HRH... HEDTDT-JJJJIKKHKHITSHSHSSSHSHOO!"

"Unh." Panting, Sam squeezes a new tissue around Dean's nose. "You OK?"

"Yeah." Dean takes it and rolls, tipping Sam over. "Heavy butherfucker." He mops his streaming face and blows.

"You're coming down with something."

"Your dick was the first to doe." Dean cozies up to Sam and gurgles harder into the Kleenex.

"Gmmh." Sam strokes his ass. "Does your dick wanna be friends with my dick?"

"You are so gay." Dean sneezes into Sam's chest and grinds his crotch into Sam's thigh. "Hurry up add fuck bee."