Supernatural One Shots

Two For One Special

"That sucked." Sam groans, rolling his neck.

"Easy for you to say." Dean closes and locks the door with his right hand, cradling the left to his chest. "You didn't just get the shit beat out of you by a ghoul." Dean sniffs and rubs the back of his hand against his nose.

"Gross."

"What?" Dean coughs into his elbow a few times.

"That." Sam points at him. "You're sick."

"No, I'm not." Sam takes a step forward. "If you touch my forehead, you'll wish the ghoul had gotten you." Sam smiles, amused. "I'm going to take a shower," Dean says. He sniffs again. "And you're going out to get food."

"Alright," Sam replies in a way that seems suspicious.

• • •

Sam's already back by the time Dean gets out of the shower. Dean walks over to the table where the bags are. Bags. Plural. "What is this?" Dean's points accusatorially.

"Uh, food." Sam reaches past Dean to get his own meal.

"You know what I mean."

"Well that is the logo for a national drugstore by the name of Walgreens. Ever heard of it?"

"Yeah, I have, smartass."

At the threatening look he gives him, Sam answers truthfully. "You're sick. Wait wait before you bite my head off – you're coming down with something," he amends. "Better? I wanted to get ahead of it, is all." He rummages through the bag. "I think we left our med kit at a motel, so I picked up some stuff." Dean groans and rolls his eyes when Sam takes out a thermometer. Then he takes out an array of medicines. "I'll just leave these here for when you're ready to admit you're sick."

"Thanks, Sam," Dean says sarcastically.

"Anytime." Sam grins, and sits down to eat his food.

Dean forces himself to eat half his food before he says, "I'm gonna hit the sack." It's way earlier than he usually goes to bed, but he just got beat to hell so why not? Dean goes to his bed and flops down on it.

"Here." Sam opens a couple bottles and takes out some pills.

"C'mon, man. Only pussies take something for headaches."

Sam sets the pills down. "Don't blame me when you feel like shit in the morning."

• • •

But Dean wakes up just hours later to a splitting headache and rolling stomach, and he knows he's going to throw up. He gets up and runs to the bathroom. He doesn't even have time to turn on the light.

Sam, only half awake hears coughing coming from the bathroom. When it occurs to him that his brother is probably puking his guts out in there, he jumps up and goes to the bathroom. He flips on the light. Dean groans and spits in the toilet then coughs some more. He closes the lid, flushes the toilet, and then presses his cheek against the cool plastic. "You done?" Sam asks.

"Maybe," Dean answers. He looks at his kid brother, and it kills Sam to see how pathetic he looks.

"I'll get you a glass of water."

As Sam leaves the room, he hears his brother say, "Thanks," sincerely. He fills a glass of water and grabs the pills off the table. When he gets back, Dean is sitting on the toilet with his head in his hands.

"Hey, man, I brought you water and some meds if you think you can keep 'em down."

"Thanks," Dean says, his voice rough. He gets up and takes the water from Sam. His hands are shaking. All the movement from throwing up must've been hell on his bruised (broken?) ribs based on how stiff Dean's movements are. The small cuts on his knuckles have reopened and started to bleed, probably from his tight grip on the toilet. Sam makes a mental note to wrap that later, possibly in the morning. He leans in the doorway, keeping a watchful eye on his brother as he brushes his teeth and then downs the medicine.