Supernatural One Shots

Sorry, Buddy

Prompt from @doglover1012

Sam's just zipping up his backpack when Dean comes in the room. "Where do you think you're going?"

Sam stands slowly, swinging his backpack over his shoulder, ignoring the twinge in his muscles. "To school," he says hoarsely.

"Uh, try again. You're going back to bed."

"I already missed a day."

Sam starts making his way to the door. Dean follows closely behind. "Yeah, a day. One day." Sam starts coughing into his elbow. "Besides you can't go to school with a fever, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't have a fever," Sam says when the coughing ceases.

Dean puts a hand to his forehead before he can stop him. "Liar." Sam smacks his hand away. "Wait here." Dean walks over to the table, grabs the thermometer, and goes back to Sam. He holds it out to him. "If it's 99 or below, you can go." Dean shakes the thermometer when Sam doesn't take it right away. Sam reluctantly puts it under his tongue. He looks down at his shoes, waiting for it to finish. Sam hands it over when it beeps. "Sorry, kiddo. 101.5. No school for you."

"Dean," Sam practically whines, but he gives in; he does feel bad. He drops the bag on the ground and toes off his shoes.

"There ya go." The two walk back to Sam's bed. Dean picks up some sweatpants off the floor. "Put these on; you'll be more comfortable." Sam glares and swipes the pants from Dean. "I'll be back."

Sam changes and gets in bed. He's so cold; he pulls the blankets up to his chin.

Dean comes in a minute later carrying a plate with buttered toast on it. Sam uncovers himself and takes it hesitantly. He takes a small bite and chews it slowly. Dean seems satisfied, so he jumps on his own bed, crossing his arms and watching TV. "Did you hear from Dad?" Sam asks. He always hates when their dad leaves for a hunt alone, but Sam is sick and John insisted on leaving Dean in charge.

"Not yet. He probably doesn't want to call and wake you up. You know, since you're supposed to be in bed, sleeping." Dean looks over at his brother. The small plate is abandoned on his lap, only half the toast eaten. "Finish that. Gotta keep your strength up."

"You say that like I've got a terminal illness. It's just a cold or something." Sam sniffs then coughs once. He picks the toast back up, taking a tentative bite.

"'Or something,'" Dean responds absently, watching whatever movie is on.

When Sam's finished, he sets the plate aside and sinks back into the bed, hoping to sleep again. "Oh, hey," Dean says. The other bed creaks when he gets up. "Can't forget your meds." Sam groans. He hears pills rattling in bottles.

He sits up and starts coughing again. Dean comes over and sits next to Sam. "Easy, easy." He rubs Sam's back in soothing circles until it passes. When he sits back up, he leans against Dean. He's exhausted and trying to catch his breath. When he finally seems better, Dean offers him pills, one oblong and white and the other small and pink. Sam takes them without complaint. Dean measures out cough syrup and holds it out to his little brother. The thick, orange liquid makes him wrinkle his nose. "I know you hate it, Sammy, but you gotta take it. Unless you want a repeat of what just happened." Sam makes a point to glare at Dean before taking it and downing it like a shot. Dean gets up. "Go to sleep. I'll wake you in four hours." Sam gratefully gets back under the covers.

• • •

The shivering is what wakes him up. The chill all the way down to his bones and the splitting headache is what keeps him awake. "Dean," he says, almost involuntarily, through chattering teeth.