"Your Leg Is Touching Me."
Summary: Not what you think. Sam is sick after a hunt, and Dean is doing…things. But, he's trying to make him feel better damnit! NOT WINCEST.
Rating: PG for brothers bantering.
Disclaimer: Erik Kripke created them, I just like to use them for my own personal enjoyment, if you sue me then you'll just get a lot of debt, so ha!
A/N: My first fic was so deep and intense, I wanted to do something lighter, because light plotless things are fun to. But, don't fear, I'm not sinking into smut, this is just, the boys sick senses of humor here:)
Monday Night, 8:30 PM
"Your leg is touching me."
"You know I couldn't just sit there with you on this bed like this, you're just so damn hot."
"Dude, you're sick! Get off me!" Sam pushed at the Dean shaped figure that was straddling him on the bed. It was like something out of his nightmare. He swore, if Dean started breathing huskily in his ear he was going to slice his brother's hands off.
"Not until this goes down," Dean returned, hovering something over Sam that he couldn't half see because his eyes were blurry from being over tired.
Sam glared at the half blurry shape as best he could, with an: 'I'll kick your parts off man, I swear' look.
"Dean, do you have to incest me while you do this?"
"C'mon Sammy," Dean laughed his nine-year-old humor laugh. "I'm just having a little fun. I mean, you're all laid up like this for me," he held the item in his left hand up. "Oral or rectal?"
"I'm going to shove that up your rectal if you don't get your balls of my chest-" Sam almost choked when Dean shoved the thermometer in his mouth.
"Oral it is," Dean smiled. "And for the record man, I'm not the one who fell into that scum hole of a lake, and got, what was it that vivacious town doctor called it: "Exposure from the elements? So, how about a little respect for your big brother who's just looking out for you?" Dean said all this without interruption, because Sam currently had the glass thermometer shoved under his tongue. His smile got bigger "That's what I thought." He patted the side of Sam's head.
Forget slicing off Dean's hands, Sam was going to rip them off one at a time and make Dean eat them.
"You 'shed me!" Sam argued in garbled 'thermometer up your mouth' speak.
"You missed that last rock man," Dean argued back, not hiding the laugh that came to his face remembering Sam sliding on the slick, moss covered rocks at the lake. Dean had actually tried to grab Sam's arm and pull him back, but in the end, he lost his balance too. But, while Dean managed to regain it, Sam didn't, and, right into the algae infested, 63 degree lake water he fell.
The thermometer Dean had gotten from the cute woman at the hotel desk (who handed it to him with a sentiment of: "I hope your boyfriend feels better hun." Dean didn't correct her, only because her smile seemed to be bigger because of it, like he was forbidden fruit.) was an old glass one, which meant that there was no timer that would beep after it got its reading. It was supposed to be read after two minutes, but Dean didn't know that. He knew concussions, contusions, multiple lacerations. Being sick was like stepping on the soil of a foreign country for him.
"Wat 's it?" Sam said around the piece of glass stuck in his mouth. Unlike Dean, he did know about reading glass thermometers. He knew a lot of premed students in Stanford, he had to play mock patient for them a lot of times. (Much to Dean's disappointment and shock, they were mostly guys who asked this of Sam, all his female friends wanted to be lawyers or public activists)
"What is it?" Dean bent his head down towards Sam."Dude it's a thermometer." He gasped like Sam's words were a great shock. "Poor thing! You're delirious!"
Dean started stroking Sam's hair like he was caressing a lover. Sam slapped his hand away, and yanked the thermometer out of his mouth. "Don't touch me! You did this to me man!" He brought the thermometer around to his eyes to read what it said.
"Does it tell you what Trimester you're in Sam? Cause I'd kind of like to start painting the nursery walls pink or blue."
"Bite me." Sam stared at the reading with a groan. "103.5. Thank you Dean, thank you very much!"
"Oh, you're very welcome Sam." Dean returned.
"Dude, I swear, you got three seconds to get the hell off my chest-"
"You make is sound so dirty Sam-"
"Okay, Okay!" Dean held up his hands, and moved off of Sam. He had pinned him that way when they were kids and Sam was sick many times, because Sam would always curl up on himself like a little ball, not wanting anyone to touch him. So, the only way Dean could check to see how he was doing was to wrestle him down and sit on him. And still, at 26-years-old, Sam was exactly the same way. Children grew up to become men, but never entirely.
Sam fell back onto his pillows with another groan. The air conditioning in the room was set at 76 degrees, but he shivered. He had stripped down to his white undershirt and gray boxers, his jeans and sweater had absorbed most of the water, but his underclothes were still wet. But, he had been shivering so badly when he came back to the hotel that the only thing he could think of was to lie down and curl up like he did when he was a kid.
But, that wasn't working anymore, because being wet was making Sam colder. He sat up. "I need a shower." He stood up from the bed, rummaging around in his overnight bag for dry clothes.
"Hang on," Dean said, jumping up from the bed. "I need to put film in the camera."
"Dean enough!" Sam snapped, waving his shaving kit at his brother's face. "You always do this when I'm sick! You think making stupid jokes helps when I feel like crap?"
"It helps me," Dean argued. He saw Sam about to explode and throw the razors in the bag at his jugular. "Alright man," he laughed. "Uncle. Go get your germ infested ass in the shower and warm up okay?"
Sam grabbed the clothes he had picked up from his bag, holding them with his shaving kit. "Thanks." Crap, why did I just say that?
"No problem honey," Dean winked.
And there it is. Sam glared at Dean all the way through the action of shutting the bathroom door.
Dean laughed. "You make it too easy Sammy." He stretched out on his bed (this hotel seemed lack chairs, but it made up for it in roaches) grabbing the remote for the television. He flipped through local news stations, CNN, MSNBC, and finally settled on porn, his brother's ass wasn't going to cut it. It was a very basic story, a lost little girl – five three in white blonde pigtails in a lace up bustier and gingham skirt that showed a lot of roundness underneath – goes up to the police station to ask for "assistance" from the shirtless buff police officer with his gun holster resting very low over his crotch. The "cop" proceeded to "question her" in the back room, and then against the wall, and then on the tabletop.
Why can't the women I question be like that? I mean, they always have to turn into something with claws and teeth like knives, and try to eat my face off.
It was twenty minutes later, while watching "Daisy" shake something other than the cop's hand, for saving her, that a knock sounded on the door.
Dean switched off the TV, and went to answer it.
The pretty auburn haired beauty from the front desk was standing there smiling with a paper grocery bag tucked under her arm. "Hi."
Dean smiled slowly at her, leaning against the door jam. "Well hi there." His eyes moved down her gray tunic sweater, skinny jeans, and finally yes finally to her black four inch spiked knee high boots.
The woman smiled, laughing. "Whole outfit cost 75 dollars on sale, but I still look good." She was still under the impression that Dean was gay; otherwise her comment would've been way different.
"Yes you do," Dean agreed. "Being a bargain hunger just makes it more so."
"You're sweet." She said with the ease of a woman who didn't think that Dean would have any interest in her sexually. She held up the paper bag out. "I brought this for your guy; pain killers and stuff from the pharmacy down town. Figured you both wouldn't know the area, and I know the places where they won't rip you off for aspirin."
Dean took the bag from her, smiling. "Well don't you just go above and beyond-"
"Geraldine," the woman finished for him.
"Geraldine then," Dean shifted the bag and held out his hand. "I'm Dean, nice to meet you."
Geraldine shook Dean's hand. "You too. Glad I could help."
"Dude seriously, what the hell? You left my last pair of clean boxers at that last hotel. Going free and easy in my jeans isn't exactly a feeling I enjoy!"
Dean turned around to see his brother still wet from his shower, wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist, bent over his overnight bag, looting around in it. Sam looked up and saw Dean at the doorway with Geraldine. His eyes couldn't help tracking her, she was a good looking woman, but he only did it for a minute, because he was still pissed at the thought of being sick and being chaffed.
Geraldine completely misread Sam's words, looking guilty, like she had interrupted something. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I was just bringing Dean here some medicine for you. He told me you were sick. He seemed so concerned about it I had to help out."
Sam knew his brother's type of women. Geraldine's well proportioned body in such tight clothes was one of them. Yeah, I'll bet he seemed concerned, anything to get your jeans to come off later.
He stepped over to her, completely non chalet about being naked except for his towel. "Don't worry about it. I'm Sam." He held out his hand.
Geraldine shook it with a warm smile. "Geraldine. Sorry to hear about you being sick. But it's nice to have someone who cares about you like your guy Dean."
My guy? Sam smiled taking the offer. "Oh I know, He's the best," Sam draped his arm over Dean's shoulder, pressing himself up against him. "Always looking out for me." He turned to Dean, completely enjoying his uncomfortable glare about having Sam's wet naked chest so close to him. Two can play at this Dean. Game on. "Guess I'll have to borrow your boxers then, okay baby?" He blew in Dean's ear, making his next words husky. "But, I'll make it up to you later. You'll never have so much fun catching my cold." He laughed fully and lazy, removing his arm and walking back into the room with a slow swagger.
Dean was trying very hard to wipe himself repeatedly to get the 'wet naked Sam smell' off of him. He smiled, more of a grimace really at Geraldine. "Well, thanks for stopping by sweetheart-"
"Like I said it's no problem," Geraldine returned. "I hope you feel better soon Sam."
Sam raised his hand in a wave. "Thanks darlin'."
Dean smiled uncomfortably again. "Yes. Thank you." He closed the door on Geraldine.
Once they were alone again he glared his full big brother 'I'm going to drown you in a pool of your own bodily fluids' glare. "Dude, seriously? What the hell?"
"It's called payback Dean," Sam said with a laugh, enjoying Dean's angered look. "I'm tired of being used as your bitch to pick up women."
"That doesn't give you permission to fill my mind with disgusting, unnatural images!" Dean snapped, shaking himself like he had fallen into a vat of sludge. "God, I feel like I need to bathe for a week in Holy Oil!"
"Don't hate the player Dean, hate the game." Sam laughed.
"Shut up Sam!" Dean returned, staring at Sam still in his towel. "And put some clothes on man! I'm getting sick of looking at your parts so close to my face."
"I can't help it if it makes you feel inferior Dean," Sam returned, pulling on a pair of clean blue boxers he had found in the bottom of his bag. (He seriously did not want to wear Dean's boxers; he'd rather light himself on fire first.) He got into his jeans next, then a gray t-shirt. "All right," he held out his hands to Dean. "I'm decent Princess."
Dean looked back up, he hadn't been about to watch when Sam dropped his towel to get dressed. "I said shut up Sam!"
Sam laughed again. "Man, you act so laid back, but you're really a prude! You probably put your hands up over the racks of those Busty Asian beauties you stare at every day."
"You're one to talk Sam, you feel into that 'gay lover' act way too easily."
"Because you were asking for it Dean!" Sam returned, still laughing. "The motivation was right there, I had to run with it-" Sam's voice stalled out, and he suddenly grabbed onto the nightstand to steady himself. "Whoa."
"Whoa what?" Dean returned, with a smile of his own. "The game too much for you Sammy?"
"No Dean," Sam's voice had lost its playful payback edge. He reached for the end of the bed, like he almost couldn't find it and, sat down on it. "I mean-" he couldn't finish his remark, because his head suddenly started spinning. "God!" The dizziness was making him nauseous, and that was a combination he wasn't handling well.
"Sam?" Dean's anger at his brother's bad jokes was lost too. He watched Sam fold in on himself.
"Sam!" Dean knelt down next to Sam, hands on his shoulders. "What is it? Damnit, talk to me!"
Sam opened his mouth, but it wasn't to talk. A pool of rancid smelling vomit was now coating Dean's shoes.
"Sick," Sam spat out the last bit of vomit, his body was still tight.
"Yeah, I can see that now." Dean stepped over the vomit, though it didn't help because it was on the leather of his brown oxfords. My brother vomited on me. Well, that's just perfect.
"Sorry," Sam said, spitting one more time. "You asked me what it was."
"Yeah, but you didn't have to show me like this Sam!" Dean insisted. "I gotta go clean my shoes."
Sam watched Dean walk away, before dropping back onto the bed. He curled up on his side. The room was spinning like a ride. He was never one for rollercoaster's, he kept his eyes shut then, and now.
His head was killing him, every time he got nauseous; he always got a major headache. And, that was the case now. It got so bad, that a grimaced moan escaped his mouth.
"Sam?" Dean's voice came from behind Sam's closed lids. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
Sam opened his eyes. "Don't you dare try to straddle me again Dean, I'm not in the mood for your offbeat humor."
"Hey you're the one who wanted me to 'have fun catching your cold'." Dean joked.
Sam groaned again, both from the bad joke and from the pain in his head. It was like a jackknife hitting his skull. He dropped his head in-between his shoulders.
"Sorry," Dean applogized. "It slipped out." He could see drops of sweat coating Sam's hairline, and all along his neck. "Hey, you're not looking so good dude."
"No shit Dr. Winchester," Sam retorted. He started shivering harder. "Damnit, why'd I have to be the one to fall in that lake?"
"Because I'm more solid then you brother," Dean said.
"Head made of wood, filled out below like a Ken Doll," Sam returned, not raising his head from his arms. He was shaking so much it was making the bed move. "Can I have that blanket on the other bed?"
"Sammy, you know we shouldn't cuddle with you being sick."
"No jokes Dean. I-" Sam's shivering was increasing. "Damnit, I can't, I need to get warm."
There was something in Sam's voice that dropped the joking flair from Dean. His brother's skin was ashen, except for his cheeks which were blazing red like someone had slapped him. Dean felt his forehead.
"Shit, Sam you're burning up."
"Could have told you that." Sam's words were even shaking.
Joking and games were done, Dean was seriously starting to get concerned. He pulled the spare gray and blue woven blanket off the other bed and draped it over Sam's body, tucking it around him. "Better Sammy?"
"Sammy?" Sam questioned, his eyes raised up slightly-glassy- into his brother's. "Wow, you must really think I'm sick."
"Hey, no jokes, you said remember." Dean returned, he added another blanket. "You just stay under there and sweat it out."
"Dean, that's not how you get rid of fever," Sam's argued in a weak sounding voice. "Need to cool off, skin."
"Dude, I am not sponge bathing you!" Dean retorted.
"Not like I fantasized about it," Sam returned. "Fever's too, high, can, feel it." Sam's words were broken up, and becoming slurred, like he was drunk. The fever was indeed getting high, to the point that delirium would soon be setting in. He went quiet.
Dean's concern came into that quiet. "Sam?" He shook his shoulder.
"D'n," Sam could only get out a slur of his brother's name. " cold."
There was something pleading in that voice. Sam had been a pain when he was sick as a kid, Dean distinctly remembered that. But he also remembered him being pathetic about it, not because he tried, but because he looked so small and vulnerable, like a whipped puppy. And even now, at 6'4 and 26 years old, he was still the same way.
Dean touched his brother's shoulder, relenting. "I'll go get some ice. Hang in there okay?" He climbed off the bed.
There was a knocking at the door.
What? WHAT? Dean opened it in a flurry.
Geraldine was standing there, this time with a large covered bowl of something steaming. "Sorry. Me again."
Dean didn't even check her out this time, his thoughts were elsewhere. "Can I help you?"
"Chicken soup." Geraldine held up the bowl. "My mom's recipe. For Sam, I don't know what you two already tried-"
"Look lady, you're smoking hot, but even that's not gonna make me keep this up-"
Geraldine looked really confused. "I'm sorry-"
"Dean!" Sam's voice was loud in the room, way louder then someone with a high fever should have.
Dean forgot about Geraldine and ran back inside. Geraldine came in too, without Dean noticing.
"Sammy?" Sam's skin wasn't ashen anymore, it was bright red. His eyes were open, but they were glassy, unfocused. He touched his forehead, it felt like fire. "Damnit! Dude, not now!"
"Is he okay?" Geraldine asked, although she knew the answer, she just didn't know what else to say.
"His fever's spiking," Dean touched both of Sam's cheeks with the back of his hand, they two were bright red. "He's a tank, but he can't handle viruses. Been like that ever since he was little."
"Little? You two have been together that long?"
Dean didn't even counter her remark. "Stay with him, I'm going to go get some ice He needs more than chicken soup."
Geraldine set the bowl on the nightstand and knelt down next to Sam.
Sam felt the movement and turned his head to her, eyes much more unfocused. "Dean?"
Geraldine took Sam's hand. She had just met him, but Sam had such a puppy dog face and sad eyes, she couldn't just let that remark go. "Shh, he'll be right back Sam. He just went to get some ice. He loves you. He won't let anything happen to you."
Sam was almost lost to delirium, but he still could understand what Geraldine's comment was hinting at, even if he had forgotten who she was. Wish people would stop trying to make me sleep with my brother. He's not even my type. Sam laughed, which sounded almost giggly with the high fever. "Love-"
"Shh," Geraldine soothed him again, this time stroking his hair. "It's gonna be alright."
Dean returned two minutes later with ice inside a large oil pan he carried in the trunk of the Impala. There had been no buckets at the dirty ice machine. "How's he doing?"
"His fever seems to be getting worse." Geraldine's voice was very concerned. "He was asking for you-"
Dean set the pan of ice down on the mattress. He lowered both blankets off Sam's chest. "We're doing it your way Sam," Dean said. "Just don't blame me if you can't get a rise for a week." He poured the entire contents of the ice bucket on Sam's chest.
Even in his half delirious state, Sam screamed at the sudden harsh coldness. He tried to jump off the bed.
"Whoa sparky, calm down!" Dean pulled Sam's arms, pinning one of them, while Geraldine did her best to pin down the other.
"Sam, it's okay! It's okay!" Geraldine was doing her best to soothe him; she wasn't strong enough to hold Sam's arm down for long, so Dean had to do it.
"Shake out a couple of those pain meds you brought," Dean told her.
Geraldine complied, holding up twp aspirins a minute later. "You want me to-"
"There's no way in hell he'll let you put those in his mouth," Dean argued. "Just give me them, and take his arm. Pin it down as tight as you can." Once Geraldine had done that, holding Sam's arm down with as much strength as she had, Dean stared down at the two aspirins in his palm.
"Well this is going to be fun," he sighed once, then tilted Sam's head back, dropping both pills into his mouth at once. He then slammed his hand over Sam's mouth, which made Sam instantly start fighting.
"Dean, stop, he's going to choke!" Geraldine argued, trying to pull Dean's arm off of Sam.
"No he's not!" Dean said, keeping a firm hold on Sam's mouth. He had learned to do this when Sam was five, and wouldn't take the Children's Tylenol Dean had tried to give him for his chicken pox fever.
"He pressed his hand down tighter on Sam's mouth. "Samuel Jonathan Winchester! Swallow these damn pills or I'm going to sit on you until you choke your lungs up!"
Sam fought for another half minute, but finally he couldn't fight anymore, and both pills went down his throat in a dry mouthed choke of a swallow.
"Works every time," Dean said.
"You're a twisted man, you know that?" Geraldine informed her eyes furious. "Is this how you treat someone you care about?"
"He's used to it," Dean returned with a smile.
"What, you mistreating him?" Geraldine was starting to get really mad. She had been in abusive relationships before. "Screwing with him so much it warps his understanding of love-"
"Lady, you need to watch your mouth." Dean's playful banter voice suddenly went cold. "Don't you ever think for one second that I treat Sam like a poster boy for the Domestic Violence Hotline, understand? You have no idea what my "understanding of love" is with him- "
There was such a protective anger in Dean's voice that Geraldine instantly knew she had crossed way over a line. "I'm sorry. My boyfriend, he used to hit me, a lot. I've been out of it for a year. I just-" She glanced down at Sam, now quiet. "I don't want to see anyone wind up where I was."
She climbed back up from her kneeling position, seeing Dean's eyes, still murderous, on her. "I'm sorry. I'll go-" She started heading back towards the door.
She turned back at Dean calling her name.
"Thanks for the help."
She nodded a 'you're welcome'. "When Sam wakes up, tell him I hope he feels better." She paused for a moment. "I was wrong Dean, I'm sorry."
"You've said that sweetheart, a few times."
Geraldine blushed at Dean's husky tone. God, if he were straight. I never wanted to be a man so much like I wanted to be Sam. "You two are really good together. Don't ever leave each other."
Dean smiled, a smile with a slightly rolled eyed look. "He's my baby." He laid his head down on Sam's chest. You owe me SO much for this man!
Geraldine waved at him. "Bye Dean."
Dean returned the finger wave, watching the hot, HOT woman close the door and walk away.
Dean felt Sam's forehead, the fever was already starting to go down, either that or the ice was turning him into a snowman, but his skin was cool at least.
"That's right, sleep Sasquatch, because when you wake up, I'm going to have to knock you out again. That woman was hot, HOT man, and I just got through convincing her I'm an item with my kid brother because of you and your dumb towel crap!"
"You dumb bitch."Dean's words were angry, but he still caressed a hand through Sam's floppy overgrown bangs. "Just don't stay asleep for long."
Sam was still cold, cold and wet. He thought he had done this before. He opened his eyes, but the realized he wasn't at the lake, he was in the motel-and covered in ice? What the hell? Sam moved and pieces of half melted ice slid off his soaked shirt.
Sam turned to the sound of the voice. "Dean? What the hell? Why am on ice? Did I miss something fun?"
"Oh yeah, we're a couple now." Dean returned, shoving aside some of the ice to sit down. He jumped up a second later when the cold water soaked the back of his jeans. "Son-of-a-bitch!"
Sam chuckled. "Always knew I could get you wet."
"Dude, don't start that crap up again!" Dean snapped back, wiping at his jeans.
"Oh come on Dean! I woke up from some weird, fevered dream to find myself chilling like Champaign, and you watching me like you're the one who did it; you're way ahead of me on the dirty jokes!"
Dean shook his head, considering it. "Fine." He finally relented. He looked critically at his brother. "Seriously, though, how are you feeling?"
"Besides being the Abominable Snow Man, better." Sam returned, feeling his skin, it was cold, ice cold. "Fever seems to have broken. But-"
"But what?" Dean asked.
"I swore you called me by my full name-"
"Come on Sam I haven't called you that since I sat on you as a kid."
"I know what I heard-"
"Must've just been a fever induced fantasy Sammy. Was I wearing leather and carrying a whip?"
"Dean, I've already taken two showers today, I don't want a third!"
"Hey man, you said I'm ahead on the Dirty Jokes, so I might as well get waay ahead."
"Jerk." Dean returned, using their famous way to end such offbeat talking. He smiled, leaning over to grasp Sam's face, pulling forward like he wanted to make out.
"Dude, get off me!" Sam shoved him away.
"Didn't we already do this?"
"So what? I like to stick to my key moves."
"I'm getting out of this ice Dean and going to sleep on the other bed-"
"Sam you know I love it when you talk trashy-" "Ow, Damnit, what the hell?" Dean rubbed the back of his head.
"Dude you so had it coming!" Sam was now climbing into the other bed, and pulling the blankets up around him.
"I don't even get a thank you for saving your ice frozen ass?"
"Goodnight Dean." Sam burrowed himself into the bed, and closed his eyes. His breathing began to even out, slowly; he was reaching the verge of sleep when he felt something touching him. It was Dean's hand on his forehead. He turned back around.
"Dude, what the hell? I said goodnight."
"Shut up Sam." Dean ordered. He was quiet for a minute, watching Sam. The room was dark, but Dean's look was piercing. "I'm, I'm glad you're okay? Alright? You being sick is not fun for me."
"It's a riot for me though."
"I'm serious man." Dean's voice was soft, but honest. He cared about Sam.
And Sam knew it. He lay back down on his back, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Thanks for, you know, taking care of me."
Dean's smiled a real one. "No problem." There was a much longer pause, waiting inside him, something coming that Dean rarely, no never said, but something he always meant, he always knew. "I love you Sammy."
Sam opened his eyes, looking up at Dean. "What?"
"I said you're leg is touching me," Dean returned. "And I thought we agreed brothers don't get scanky like that."
Sam sat up and pushed him hard in the shoulder. "Dude, you're an idiot."
"Go to sleep Sasquatch," was Dean's counter.
Sam rolled his eyes and lay back down, but then, like an afterthought he propped himself up on his elbow.
Dean turned down to look at him. "Yeah?"
Sam took a breath, there was the quiet of the room, then: "I love you too."
This was so random, but it just came to me. If you take this as Wincest I can't stop you, but, it's brothers, joking around, and loving each other.
Review Please .