Supernatural Sister Imagines

Imagine #78: Sick Day (Pt. 2)

Imagine: You're sickness is over and gone, but now both brothers are sick as dogs and it's up to you to take care of them.

Age: 15

Warnings: Fluff, and gross depictions of snot and sturf.

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     "Oh no." You murmured quietly as you opened the door to your bedroom, the silence hitting you in the face like a bowling ball as you breathed. A scentless smell, a silent sound, a visible nothing.

     They were sick.

    You padded toward Dean's room, clad in Sam's shirt that all but swallowed you whole, and a pair of the comfiest sweatpants you'd ever worn in your life.

     You pushed open his door and came face to face with a pile of crumpled up tissues.

     "Ew, Dean," You lightly stepped around the pile and knelt down by Dean's bed, his milky green eyes falling on you as he blew into another tissue before discarding it on the floor, "That's gross."

     "Where else am I supposed to put them?" He complained, his voice nasally and gruff. You ignored his whine and placed the back of your palm against his forehead, his fever burning through like a flame as you wiped away the sweat and stroked his cheek gently.

     "You've got it bad, big brother." You said fondly, smiling as he puffed out his lip in a pout and grabbed at another tissue.

     "You don't think I know that?" He said, his voice anything but angry, "Where's Sam?"

     "Don't know, I just got up. Let me go find him while you get yourself into the movie room, and maybe if you do what I say and take your medicine and be good, I'll make you a pie." I commanded as I pulled him upright, his limbs hanging loosely as he rubbed at his eyes.

     "You're too good to me, little girl." He mumbled as he stood and slid towards his bathroom, the door shutting behind him. You heard the shower spurt to a start and rolled your eyes as you left his room and made for Sam's.

     You opened Sam's door and immediately grew annoyed.

     "You too?" You exclaimed as Sam looked up at you, tissues piled in a bin-- at least he had the decency to throw them in a can-- and coughed violently into his elbow, already upright. You walked to the side of his bed and took his face in your hands, feeling his forehead.

     "Well, your fever isn't as bad as Dean's--"

     "Dean's sick too?" Sam interrupted, his voice just as thick with snot as Dean's. You nodded.

     "Yep, and like I said, his fever is worse, but you're coughing; he wasn't," You sighed as you kissed Sam's head and pulled him to his feet, pushing him gently toward his bathroom, "Go shower and meet your brother in the movie room. I'm on my way to make soup and get meds now."

     "Thanks kid, love you." Sam slurred as he stumbled into his bathroom and shut the door.

     You returned to your own room and changed into a shirt that was the right size before entering the kitchen and pulling a large pot from under one of the cabinets, tossing it nonchalantly on the stove and cranking it on while you gathered a large bowl and various other ingredients, pouring some water into the pot along with most of the stuff you needed.

     Sam stumbled through the kitchen first, kissing your cheek sleepily as he shuffled past and headed toward the movie room, tissues in hand. Dean came a few minutes later, however stayed longer than his brother, hugging around your waist from behind and burying his face in your hair like an incessant tick as you tried to cook his food.

     "Dean." You said firmly after a moment, but you only earned a groan in response. Rolling your eyes, you turned around and hugged him, kissing his stubbly cheek, "Go with your brother. Now."

     "But I love you."

     "Go."

     Dean rolled his eyes, smiling, and padded away, and soon the kitchen was silent as you finished making their soup.

     After what seemed like ages, the soup was ready and you were heading for the movie room with two bowls and two blankets in hand.

     "Alright, the doctor's in, fellas." You said cheerfully as you entered the room, both brothers slumped onto the couch with heavy eyes and stuffed noses. Sam gave a smile.

     "The only doctor I want to see," He said, holding out his hands. You placed one bowl of soup in them, the other in Dean's, before plopping yourself on the couch between them, grabbing up the TV remote and clicking away to Netflix, "Thank you, babe."

     "S'no problem," You shrugged, "You guys took care of me, now it's my turn."

     "Hey, the soup is really good," Dean interrupted from his seat, his voice muddled as a drop of the broth fell down his chin and he gave a hard swallow. You rolled your eyes and wiped it away with your thumb, ruffling his hair fondly.

     "You're cute, dorkwad." You mumbled as you leaned back in the seat and propped your legs on the table, finding a movie and putting it on.

     Soon the soup was scarfed down and blankets were thrown over bodies as Sam pulled you beneath his arm, legs propped beside yours on the table, and Dean placed his upper body to your chest, one of yours hand oh-so-gently sifting through his soft hair while the other wrapped about his shoulders. Occasionally Sam's thumb would drift up and down your arm a few times, as if he were making sure you were still there.

     "Thank you, Y/n." Dean murmured suddenly, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. You cocked an eyebrow, the hints of a smile playing at your lips.

     "For what?"

     "For being the mom we never had." He said, and suddenly you felt as though you wanted to cry, "I mean, Sam and I, we never had somebody to make us soup when we were sick and hold us and kiss us and sing us to sleep when we were sad. We didn't have someone who patched us up, or at least did it without being angry at us for being hurt. I mean, I say all the time, 'It's my job to take care of my little sister', but I never sort of realized how much you take care of us, too. Thank you for that." He said, looking up at you, and you smiled warmly as you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.

     "Of course I take care of you guys," You murmured, pulling your hand from his hair momentarily to send a knuckle drifting down his cheek before returning it, "You're my boys. No one else's."

     You looked up at Sam to see him smiling, and he gave a nod as you kissed his cheek, "No one else's."

     "Why don't you guys try to get some rest?" Both hands came up and found their way to Dean's scalp as you settled yourself more comfortably against Sam's side and began sifting your fingers through his hair soothingly, "You'll need your strength back as soon as possible."

     "With you pettin' my hair like that, a nap sounds like the best right now." Dean mumbled as his eyes shut and he breathed a long sigh. Sam's heartbeat thudded against your back as he uttered a small agreement to his brother and his eyes too fell shut.

     You began to hum quietly as your fingers twisting and twirled locks of Dean's hair around, and it wasn't long before you felt Sam's breathing even, followed closely by Dean's.

     "Sleep tight, my boys," You kissed Dean's forehead, a ghost of a touch that left your lips and his skin tingling, and laid your head against Sam's chest, "I love you guys."