#Sam Winchester sickfic

[sluttyimpala]

suffering from an ear infection and all i can think about is teenage sam having one as well.

just dean taking care of him. telling sammy when he has to take his antibiotics and making him lay on his lap so he can put the eardrops in. sam complaning about how strange the drops feel in his ear and dean running his fingers through his hair to relax him.

and when the infection leaves sam wishes it didnt so he could lay his head on dean's lap and feel his fingers in his hair. not in a weird way tho (right?). he starts dreaming about being sick again, recalling the plush feel of dean's thigh and his long fingers gently touching his ear.

until once he finds himself in a dream where his head was in dean's lap for very different reason. "thats it sammy just like that" "so good for me, yeah?" dean's fingers gripped his scalp and moved his head up and down. sam holds on dean's hips as he feels himself gag and his throat spasm around dean's gigantic cock–

que sam waking up sweaty as hell, with the worlds biggest boner and determination to get sick again

[glamlet69]

The Destiel Sickfic is still in the works (I'm sorry), so here's another snippet to tide you over!

Dean nodded. “Do you plan on sticking around?” He didn’t know why he immediately regretted asking the question, but he did.

Cas looked at him again, making sudden and uncomfortable eye contact. Dean almost looked away, but he forced himself not to.

“Would you like me to?”

“Uh, I mean if you want to. I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“'Okay' you’re staying? Or 'okay' you’ll think about it?” 

“I’ll stay until you’re better. Something tells me Sam might need some help.”

Dean frowned, offended. “What's that supposed to mean?”

It was then that Cas smiled, exhaling a small chuckle.

Before anything else could be said, Sam returned, raising an eyebrow and hesitating in the hallway when he saw Cas in the doorway.

[stardust-goddess]

Covid Sucks

Dean Winchester x Sick! Reader

Summary: Reader has covid and Dean takes care of her.

A/N: The universe might be out to get me or looking out for me by giving me covid the day after my birthday lol. Since I’ve been stuck in bed I decided to write this up. I apologize if it isn’t as good as usual, I’m still not feeling that great. Thank you as always for the support,likes, reblogs, etc. it means so much to me. Enjoy💕

Warnings: Should be mostly fluff. Mentions of being sick and covid.

You really didn’t think anything of it at first. You had always had seasonal allergies, especially when the temperature liked to change from hot to cold and back in the span of days. When you woke up this morning with congestion and a slightly scratchy throat, you chalked it up to just that. You had been in the bunker all day, specifically in the library. You hadn’t been a hunter for as long as the boys have, so you tried your best to research when you could on all the different supernatural creatures out there.

As the day progressed, you started feeling a little worse. By dinner time, you were starting to think that maybe it was more then just allergies. In addition to your congestion and sore throat you now had a headache, body aches, and chills. Rubbing your hands up and down your arms discreetly to try and get some warmth, you knew the boys would notice soon, especially Dean. You and Dean had only been dating for a few months, but he was very attentive and good at reading you. You had always been a little sensitive anyway, having trouble masking your emotions. You were pretty much an open book, and Dean knew you very well. You hated getting sick, and you hated worrying Dean, but you knew that once he noticed there was no trying to hide it.

Eating small bites of your dinner, you are vaguely aware of the conversation the boys are having about a possible hunt. Feeling a little out of it, you don’t realize right away that Sam is trying to get your attention.

“Y/N, you ok?” Sam looks at you confused and a little concerned.

“Sorry, yea must of zoned out. What did you say?” You replied, trying to sound more cheerful. But you knew it was only a matter of time before you were caught. Dean’s eyes zeroed in on you, giving you a once over as you answered Sam’s question. You looked a little paler then usual, the skin not covered by your t-shirt and pants covered in goosebumps. Every now and then you’d give a little sniff that sounded like you were trying to clear your sinuses.

“You feeling alright baby” Dean speaks up, watching you carefully.

You tensed slightly, yup you were caught. But in your foggy headspace you still tried to cover it up.

“Yea my allergies have been bugging me today, but other then that I’m good.”

“Allergies huh?” Dean says in disbelief. He gives you a no nonsense look before leaning over placing his lips on your forehead for a minute before leaning back “Do your allergies usually give you a fever? You’re warm.” Dean said with a look of concern. Slumping in defeat you let out a small sigh that makes your breath catch and causes a cough. Quickly turning away to cough in the crook of your elbow, Deans suspicions are confirmed.

“Ok so I might be getting sick, but I’m sure it’s just a cold or something.”

Standing up Dean takes your hand and helps you stand, before guiding you to the bathroom. Sam following along behind. Dean flicks the light on and has you sit on the closed toilet seat, rummaging through the medicine cabinet. Sam leans up against the door to watch. Grabbing the thermometer Dean turns to you, gesturing for you to open your mouth. You do so and Dean gently places the thermometer under your tongue. Muffled you try to speak.

“Guys I’m sure it’s nothing, really-“

“Baby stop, don’t jostle the thermometer” Dean says, cutting you off and giving you an exasperated look. Pleading with his eyes to let him help you.

Defeated you sit quietly. You knew he was doing all of this because he cared, you just didn’t want to be a bother. Finally hearing the little beep, Dean grabs the thermometer and looks at the digital screen.

“100.5, let’s make sure it doesn’t get any higher.” Turning back to the medicine cabinet, Dean grabs the bottle of ibuprofen. Shaking two in his hand he passes them along to you, grabbing a glass of water for you as well. Crouching down in front of you Dean watches as you take the medicine. When your finished, he moves the glass on the counter for you and then places a hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles.

“What are you feeling right now baby?” Dean hated when you got sick. He was already protective of you, and you being sick increased that feeling tenfold.

Not trying to hide it any longer you reply. “I feel cold, my head and body hurts on and off, I feel congested, and just gross all around.” Raising two of your fingers to your temple when you start to feel the ache come back, you rub at it gently. A slight look of discomfort takes over your face, that doesn’t go unnoticed by Dean. Replacing your hand with his, Dean takes over rubbing before turning to look at Sam in the doorway.

“What do you think Sammy?”

“Sounds like covid to me. The store in town should still be open, I can run and get some tests to make sure.”

Groaning you slump forward pressing your forehead against Dean’s shoulder. “Covid sucks.”You whine. You hated this. Dean holds in a chuckle at your outburst. Even when you were sick you were still adorable.

“Alright, come on let’s get you into bed while we wait for Sammy.”

After getting you settled, Dean sits next to you. Grabbing your hand and running his thumb along your knuckles. Deciding to ask the question that had been on his mind.

“Y/N? Why did you try to hide this? This could’ve ended up being so much worse if left unchecked. You’re health is important and I don’t want anything to happen to you”

You looked at Dean, seeing deep concern in his eyes. “I just hate worrying you and having you take care of me like I’m a child or something. When I woke up this morning I really did think it was my allergies, but I just felt worse as the day went on. I figured I could just handle it on my own. I’m sorry if I made you mad.” You look down at your lap, embarrassed that you tried to lie.

Tilting your chin up so you’re looking back at him, Dean tucks some hair behind your ear that fell forward when you looked down.

“I’m not mad baby, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to hide things from me. I know I’m not the best at that myself, but I’m trying. You are never a bother to me and I don’t want you to have to go through things by yourself. You, your health, and your happiness are my priority. You can tell me anything and everything and I’ll always be there to help you. I love you and I’m not going to be mad or annoyed if you need me.”

You feel your eyes well up at his sweet words. He may not have always expressed it but you knew deep down he was a nurturing person. That was one of many reasons as to why you loved him. He had such a good heart.

Wrapping your arms around him you burrow your head into the crook of his neck. “I love you, Dean. You’re my priority too.” Wrapping his arms around your waist Dean pulls you into his lap, making sure your comfortable. He kisses your temple then places his chin on your head. Holding you close as you continue to wait for Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After taking a test it was confirmed, you had covid. Dean had already gotten it a few months prior, luckily before you were dating so you were safe back then. Since you were dating now and sharing a room, there was no issue with him being in bed with you and taking care of you. Sam however hadn’t gotten it previously, which meant you were confined to your bedroom. You knew you were going to be bored, but you didn’t want to risk Sam getting sick and knew that this was necessary. Dean had also made it clear that he wasn’t going leave you alone, so at least you had him to keep you company.

Waking up the next morning, you let out a little groan. You felt worse then yesterday. There didn’t seem to be any new symptoms, but you’re current ones felt more intense. Trying to get more comfortable you take note that your by yourself, Dean’s side of the bed cold. He must’ve gotten up before you. Slowly pulling yourself up you lean against the headboard. Cradling your head in your hands and rubbing your forehead to ease the intense ache. Hearing the door open you look up, Dean coming into the room with a tray in his hands. Placing the tray on your night table, Dean takes a seat at the edge of the bed on your side facing you.

“Morning baby, how are you feeling”

“Not great, honestly I feel worse then I did yesterday.”

Frowning a little Dean leans over and grabs the thermometer off the tray he brought in. Taking your temperature you wait for the beep.

“101 still not terrible but hopefully it doesn’t get any higher then that.”

Grabbing the ibuprofen next he gives you another dose to take.

“Are you hungry? I made breakfast.”

“A little bit.” You reply slightly surprised that despite all your symptoms you still had an appetite. Dean takes the tray and puts it on your lap, before standing and rounding the bed to go back to his side. You notice two plates of eggs and toast, one for you and one for him.

“Don’t force yourself to eat it all if you don’t feel up to it, but at least eat a little. Do you need me to help you?”

“I can do it, thank you though.” You reply picking up your fork and starting to eat. Satisfied that your ok, Dean grabs his plate and eats as well. You get through about half of your plate before your feeling full. Taking the tray to move it off the bed, Dean beats you to it.

“I got it, let me clean this up and I’ll be right back.”

Watching Dean leave the room you scoot down a little further into the bed. You don’t want to fully lay down due to your full stomach but don’t want to be fully upright either. Entering the room again Dean gets back in the bed pulling you closer and wrapping his arm around you so you can burrow into his side.

“Comfortable?”

You nod against his chest, relaxing into his embrace further when his hand starts rubbing up and down your back.

“Wanna watch a movie?” You nod again and Dean grabs the remote for the TV. Scrolling through the options and settling on your favorite. Dean keeps the volume a little lower then usual so it wouldn’t make your headache worse. You smile at Deans actions “Thank you Dean, I love you.” Dropping a kiss to your forehead Dean gives you a smile in return.

“I love you too baby, now rest up. I’ve got you.”

Relishing in his warmth you felt content. Yea covid sucked, but Dean would be there to make it better.

[lovemydarkestsecrets-blog]

Sam lay on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, shivering despite the warmth of the room. His head pounded, and his throat felt like it was on fire. He had come down with the flu a few days ago, and it had hit him hard. He felt miserable and alone, missing the comfort of someone taking care of him. Their dad was out on a hunt, leaving Sam to fend for himself.

The door creaked open, and Sam looked up to see Dean stumble in, slightly disheveled from a party. Dean’s eyes widened when he saw Sam's state. “Sammy, you look like crap,” he said, concern lacing his voice as he walked over to his brother.

Sam tried to muster a weak smile. “Thanks, Dean. I feel like crap too.”

Dean dropped his bag and sat on the edge of the couch, reaching out to feel Sam's forehead. “You're burning up, kid.” He stood up quickly, heading to the kitchen. “Hang on, I’ll get you something to drink.”

A few minutes later, Dean returned with a glass of water and some medicine. He helped Sam sit up, holding the glass to his lips. “Drink this, and take these,” he instructed softly. Sam complied, too tired to argue, and gratefully swallowed the pills Dean handed him.

“Thanks,” Sam murmured, sinking back into the couch. His eyes fluttered shut, the simple act of taking the medicine exhausting him.

Dean sat back down, watching Sam with a mixture of worry and affection. “You should’ve called me, Sammy. I would've come back sooner.”

Sam opened his eyes, looking at Dean with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. “Didn’t want to ruin your night.”

Dean shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re more important than any party, Sam. Always.”

Sam's heart swelled at Dean's words. Despite the age difference and their complicated lives, Dean always managed to make him feel safe and cherished. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Dean’s hand. “I know, Dean. I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

Dean’s expression softened even more. He scooted closer, gently cupping Sam’s face in his hands. “You’re never a burden, Sammy. Never.”

Sam felt a tear slip down his cheek, overwhelmed by the tenderness in Dean’s voice. He leaned into Dean’s touch, feeling the warmth and love radiating from his brother. In that moment, the world outside their small, transient lives faded away, leaving only the two of them.

Dean brushed the tear away with his thumb, his eyes locking onto Sam’s. There was a charged silence between them, an unspoken understanding that had always been there, just beneath the surface.

Without thinking, Dean leaned in, his lips gently brushing against Sam’s in a tentative kiss. It was soft and sweet, a promise of everything unspoken between them. Sam’s heart raced, his fever and exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he kissed Dean back, feeling a sense of belonging he had always craved.

When they finally pulled away, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Dean smiled softly, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that took Sam’s breath away.

“Get some rest, Sammy,” Dean whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be right here.”

Sam nodded, his heart full and warm despite his fever. “Okay, Dean. Thanks.”

As Sam lay back down, he felt a pang of loneliness. He looked up at Dean, his eyes pleading. “Dean, can you… can you lay down with me? Just for a little while?”

Dean hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He kicked off his shoes and lay down beside Sam on the couch, pulling the blanket over both of them. Sam nestled into Dean’s side, feeling the warmth and security he had missed so much.

Dean wrapped an arm around Sam, holding him close. “You’re gonna be okay, Sammy,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “I’m right here.”

With Dean beside him, Sam finally felt the tension and fear melt away. He closed his eyes, the steady rhythm of Dean’s breathing lulling him to sleep. As he drifted off, he felt a sense of peace and belonging, knowing that no matter what, Dean would always be there for him.

[maywinchester]

You Think You Do

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: 911

Warnings: Based around the end of season 9, Sick reader, Dean's self pity, angst, fluff

Author's Note: Holy shit balls so I've never posted a fanfic before! I have written many in my brain for my own self-indulgence but I've never written any out much less posted anything other than sharing other's works. So with that I'll say sorry in advance if it sucks, all feedback is appreciated! I don't own any rights to Supernatural, so lets get started!! :D

It had been weeks since you felt like yourself, & it hadn’t gone unnoticed. Your headaches had become almost constant with short spells of relief in between & you felt like you had a weight inside your chest, making it hard to breathe & pulling your chest to the ground. Your other symptoms included fatigue (& the dark circles that came with it) irritability, general weakness & wheezing, especially when you slept. Things were only getting worse, which meant that the boys constant fussing over you was getting worse too.

Sam was logical; when you first started showing symptoms he suggested fluids & rest, he treated it like a cold, which is what you thought it was. Now that it was apparently more, he was hitting the medical books in the Men of Letters laboratory. 

Dean, however, had treated it like the Spanish Flu from the beginning &, now that it had turned out to be more serious, he was almost insufferable.

One thing had really peaked Dean’s interest though: Why wasn’t anyone else catching this? Dean had been right under you from the moment he noticed a change & before that he was constantly around you as well. The question only heightened his anxiety & so did Sam’s silence when Dean brought it to his attention.

“I don’t know man. Something’s not sittin’ right with me. Y/N never gets sick, ever.” 

His voice was extra gritty, lined with worry. It carried down the hall to you & Dean’s shared room where you laid, trying to fall asleep, & listened as your heart broke for him. You knew it was serious & it was probably too late for anything short of angelic. With Cas still MIA, things were starting to look bleak, but you still didn’t want to let in on just how bad you felt.

“I know” Sam sounded tired “We’ll find something Dean.” 

You heard Dean coming down the hall, dragging his feet as he walked. The guilt crept in, you could tell they were exhausted. You held your breath until you saw him in the doorway & gave him a faint smile, trying your hardest not to seem as weak as you felt. 

“D” your voice was barely a whisper, but he was close enough to hear as he sat beside you on the bed, brushing your hair back. You closed your eyes & hummed, taking in the feel of his rough but gentle hand as he rested it on your cheek & the smell of whiskey as his warm breath fanned over your face. 

“We’re trying to find something sweetheart” He had that look, the one for when hope was dwindling down & he was preparing himself for the worst but trying to put on a face for you. 

“I know.. I heard” You move over to make room for him & he lays down before you even have to ask, wrapping an arm around you & pulling you into his chest. 

“Are you okay?” He scoffs at that & you look up at him. Why are you asking if he’s okay when you so clearly are not? You see the battle in his eyes as he contemplates his answer.

“I wish it was me.” You take a deep breath & a moment to appreciate that he told you the truth, & to realize what that means to Dean Winchester. What you mean to him, & your heart breaks a little more. You wanted to tell him just how bad you felt, to lean on him the way you knew you could, but he was already feeling defeated & the last thing you wanted to do was confirm his fears.

“I know.. but then I’d be wishing it were me.” You give him a knowing look, you know he’d rather take the illness & whatever consequences than sit there & watch you deal with it.

“Let's be honest though, I handle these things better than you” You shoot him a playful smile that he tries to return. 

“You shouldn’t have to handle them at all Y/N. You don’t deserve this.”

“But you think you do.” It wasn't a question & he refused to meet your eyes, staring a hole in the door.

“I think we both deserve for Cas to show his ass & fix this.” Dean’s tone was harsh, probably more than he meant to be. His everyday frustrations were elevated by the Mark, but you’d learned to let it go, you knew he was doing his best.

“Maybe, but he has other people to look after now.” He looks at you then, wondering how you can be so understanding while being so miserable. You read him like a book.

“I know, I’m a saint.” you grin, the biggest you’ve had the energy for in days, & he returns it, genuinely this time. He holds your gaze for a moment before you look away, shy for no reason in particular, other than the green eyes staring back at you.

“You really are” you look back at him then, a questioning brow raised “You deal with my crap constantly, you take care of me & Sam. You’ve stuck by us even when everyone else left. You’ve been tortured for us, you’ve died for us.”

“Well, it was more for you, but yes” you laughed. “I love Sam, but some of those demons really do have a gift” He winced at the memory.

“I’m gonna do whatever it takes to get you better” He looked deep into your eyes, making sure you understood the seriousness of his promise.

“I know.. you always have.”

[rebelwhump]

Migraine

TV Show: Supernatural

Apologies for the lack of content lately. Hopefully, I’ll be back to writing for my OC’s soon. Until then, enjoy this emeto fanfic I found in my drafts and decided to finish.

—————

They were on the road, traveling to a hunt in Mississippi. They were still 500 miles out from their destination, a small town where 10 year old girls were mysteriously disappearing. Dean is blasting AC/DC from the car stereo, while playing pretend drums on the steering wheel.

“Can you turn it down, please?” Sam asks, his head throbbing with each beat of the drum. Dean rolls his eyes.

“You’re no fun,” he grunts, lowering the volume. When he turns a corner, the sun is shining directly in Sam’s eyes. He winces and closes them tightly.

“God, why is it so bright outside?” He asks, covering his face with his hands. There’s pressure building behind his eyes and the throbbing in his head is growing continually more intense. Dean spots his little brother out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey, you doin’ okay?” He asks, taking quick glances over at Sam.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a headache.” He replies, rubbing his temples in a circular motion.

“I saw a sign a few miles back for a gas station. We’re probably about 15 minutes out. We can stop there and see if they have any aspirin, cause I’m pretty sure we used up all the pain meds after that ghoul hunt last week,” Dean explains.

Over the course of the next 15 minutes, the pain in his head grows from a dull ache to a sharp stabbing pain. His vision is distorted and blurry, and the movement of the car is making him nauseous. When they pull up to the gas station, Dean hops out of the Impala and goes to fill up the tank.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Sam mumbles as he slowly makes his way around the side of the building. The bathroom was filthy, with trash and various liquids covering the broken tiles on the floor. Sam bends over the sink and splashes cool water on his face, hoping to quell his upset stomach from rebelling. There’s a knock at the door.

“Sammy, you in there?” Dean asks. C’mon we gotta go, we’re losing daylight!” When he doesn’t respond, he tries the doorknob. Sam hadn’t even bothered to lock it. He finds his little brother hunching over the sink with water dripping from his hair. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel so good,” he replies, his mouth filling with saliva.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, trying to figure out what’s bothering him.

“My head’s killing me” he explains, letting out a sickly burp. “I feel like I might puke.” Dean walks over and places a comforting hand on his back.

“Just take some deep breaths,” He instructs. “Can I get you anything?” Sam shakes his head, trying to focus on keeping the food in his stomach. He can feel the bile rising in the back of his throat, hoping this nausea will pass without ending in actual vomiting. Seconds later, another belch erupts and pushes his stomach contents up and into the sink. When he pauses to take a breath, Dean tries to lead him over to the toilet. He makes it just in time before he starts to gag and another mouthful of bile spews into the bowl.

Dean glances over at his little brother, trying to gauge whether he is actually done or not. After a particularly loud gurgle from Sam’s stomach, the man shakes his head slightly.

“Give me a minute,” he whimpers.

“Take your time. I'm not going anywhere,” he says reassuringly. After a few more minutes of dry heaving, he turns to Dean.

“I think I’m done,” he says, grabbing a piece of toilet paper to wipe his nose and mouth.

“Let’s get you back to the car,” he says, holding Sam’s shoulders. At this point, the pain in his head is excruciating. They manage to make it out the bathroom door when the vertigo hits and the world starts to spin beneath his feet. Sam collapses to the ground. “What’s wrong, Sammy?”

“Ever’thin…spinning,” he mutters, pushing his head down between his knees and shutting his eyes tight. Dean kneels down next to him and rubs his back.

“Okay. I’m gonna go see if they have anything here to help,” he tells him. “I’ll be right back.”

Dean returns with a bottle of water, excedrin, and a plastic bucket. He’s seen his brother like this before, when he used to get migraines as a teenager, but it’s never been this bad. After swallowing two of the white tablets, they sit in the parking lot for another ten minutes until the vertigo lessens. Dean helps his brother to his feet and practically drags him back to the Impala. Sam crawls into the back seat so he can lay down, while Dean retrieves a pillow from the trunk to help make him more comfortable. He places the bucket next to Sam’s head.

“Try not to puke on Baby, okay? Just aim for the bucket,” he says, climbing into the driver's seat. “The gas station attendant said there’s a motel not far from here. We’ll stop there so you can get some rest.”

A few minutes into the ride and Sam’s stomach is already churning. To Dean’s delight, he manages to make it into the bucket.

After what feels like hours to Sam, they reach the motel. It’s definitely not the worst they’ve stayed in, but still pretty outdated. When they reach their room, Sam collapses onto the bed, burying his face into the musty pillow. Dean grabs one of the hand towels from the bathroom and runs it under cold water before placing it on the back of Sam’s neck.

“Thanks,” he whispers, the cool rag soothing the pain in his neck and head. Eventually, he drifts off to sleep for a few hours.

When he wakes, the migraine is still present and his vision distorted. He can hear the shower running in the bathroom. Sam attempts to sit up in bed, triggering a vertigo spell and causing his stomach to roll. He tries to get up and go to the bathroom, but he doesn’t make it in time and spews bile onto the matted maroon carpet. He leans against the end of the bed, coughing and trying to catch his breath as the bile burns his nose throat.

Shortly after, Dean appears in the bathroom doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Shit, Sammy!” He calls out, rushing to his side.

“M’ sorry. I tried to make it to the bathroom,” he admits, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it. Are you done or do you need me to help you to the bathroom?” He asks. Sam can’t help but feel embarrassed, like he’s a child who wet the bed and his brother is there to witness it. He’s getting so dizzy he can barely think straight. He tries to form words, but all that comes out is an incoherent mumbling. The concern on Dean’s face grows as he wraps his arms around his brother's torso and lifts him back onto the bed. Dean places another cold washcloth on Sam’s forehead.

“Just stay still and keep your eyes closed, it’ll be over soon,” he reassures him before spending the next ten minutes cleaning vomit out of the carpet.

Six hours later, a groggy Sam sits up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Dean is hunched over the small wooden desk across from him, his laptop screen the only source of light in the room.

“What time is it?” He asks, fumbling with the mess of sheets on the bed.

“A little after midnight,” Dean replies, taking a swig of his beer as he turns around to face his brother. “Glad to see you’re awake. Feeling any better?” Sam takes a moment to reply, trying to access the current state of his body.

“Mhm,” he hums. “Headache is almost completely gone…stomach is still a bit sore.”

“All that puking will do that to ya,” Dean chuckles. “Seriously though, you had me worried man. I don’t remember the last time I had to clean puke out of a carpet.” Sam grimaces and looks down at the floor.

“Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

“Eh, you’ll pay me back one of these days,” he says. “If you’re feeling up to it, we should hit the road soon.”

“Yeah, okay. Lemme just take a quick shower and we can head out,” Sam replies, to which Dean just nods. He feels guilty, knowing that he’s the reason they had to stop and delay a lead on a potential case. He sends up a prayer that they get to their destination in time before another girl goes missing.

[trektraveler]

My Hero

Summary: Doctor Sam WInchester had fallen hard for the woman living just down the hall. She was easily the most adorable and the most accident-prone creature he had ever met! Yet for all the times he came to her rescue, he was too shy to make a move. Maybe he could work up his courage, if he got just one more chance...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Sam x Reader, Doctor!Sam Winchester x You

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Garth, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, fluff

One Shot

Word Count: 3700

Author’s Notes: I swear, every time I get sick all I want is a Winchester to come and take care of me. Is that really so much to ask?? I think not! This is my very first Sam x Reader fic! I have a few more ideas rattling around for the youngest Winchester brother, but this is decent practice. For now. Enjoy!

     Bang.  Bang.  Bang.

     “Coming, coming!”  Sam pulled t-shirt over his head as he trotted to the front door.  He’d been getting ready for bed when the insistent knocking started.

     The door swung open to a very nervous young man in a Wong’s delivery uniform.  Sam recognized him from the few times he ordered from them. 

     “Hey, its Garth, right?”

     “Yeah,” he shifted on his feet, his eyes round with worry, “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

     Sam’s instantly shifted into his professional mode.  He was currently an attending at Lawrence General Hospital, having just moved back a year ago from L.A.  It had been an adjustment, but a welcome one.  Big city life didn’t suit Sam at all. 

     “I am.  What’s going on?’

     “I was dropping off an order down the hall to the lady in 302 and I heard this thud behind the door and now I can’t get her to answer.  I think something’s wrong.”

     Sam was already grabbing his medical bag, “Show me.”

     302.  He knew the woman who lived there.  More or less.  They kept running into each other.  He first discovered her fighting with the soap dispenser in the laundry room.  Then again when she locked herself out of the building during a thunderstorm.  And then last week when the elevator got stuck between floors.  He always seemed to be wandering by when she needed a rescue.  She was funny, smart, accident prone, and completely adorable. 

     Sam had been working up the courage to ask her out, but something always seemed to crop up.  An extra shift at the hospital or a birthday party for a colleague.  He knew it was an excuse.  For all of his professional success, Sam was, and always had been, extremely shy.

     “Y/N?”  He knocked loudly on the closed door, then tried the handle and found it locked. 

     “Alright, stand back,” he said to Garth.  In one powerful move, Sam kicked the door in, the heel of his foot landing in just the right spot to splinter the doorjamb. 

     “Damn,” Garth blew out an impressed breath, “You aren’t even wearing shoes.”

     You were laying in the foyer.  Curled on your side with your hair spread out like a halo.  A wallet sat a few inches away from outstretched fingers. 

     Sam was at your side in an instant, gingerly turning you over and searching for a pulse, “Y/N?  Can you hear me?”

     Garth hovered nearby, nerves in his voice, “Is she okay?”

     Sam ran a hand over your forehead, “She’s burning up.  Go see if you can find a washcloth and a glass of water.”

     His worry only grew when he carried you to the couch and you still didn’t come to.  He held your limp body up with one hand while he worked your hoodie off with the other, leaving you in a tank top and yoga pants.  He’d strip that off you too, if he had to.  Every inch of bare skin he touched felt like it was on fire! 

     “Why isn’t she waking up?”  Garth asked handing Sam a kitchen towel.

     “Dehydration.  With a fever this high, it can happen quick.”  Sam dipped the towel in the water filled coffee mug and bathed your face and neck.  Sure enough, his efforts were rewarded.

     You groaned, even that soft sound reverberated through your pounding head.  Everything hurt and all you wanted was to slip back into the blankness of sleep.   But it was so noisy!  Someone kept talking, like the parents in a Snoopy cartoon.  Unintelligible, insistent, and so annoying!

     Sam gently tapped your cheeks, “Y/N.  Come on, darlin.  Open your eyes for me.”

     With a bit of coaxing, you did as he asked.  Everything around you swirled and slowly came into focus.  Your head felt heavy and fell to the side, Sam was there and smiled down at you.  As a reflex, you smiled back before your fevered brain could catch up and tell you who you were looking at.

     “Hey… it’s my hero.”

     Sam chuckled in relief, “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

     “You’re here.  That’s so nice… why are you here?”

     “You passed out,” he replied, pressing the cool cloth to your brow.  “Do you remember what happened?”

     You tried to search your memory, but everything was so fuzzy!  “Um, I came home from work… I was sick.  Felt really bad.  Everything hurt.  Achy and cold.  Headache.  Then I ordered soup from the place down on Main Street.  I dunno…I feel a little out of it.”

     There was a blood pressure cuff wrapped around your bicep that was inflating.  Where did that come from?  Sam was doing that doctor thing where they listen to you talk while taking vitals at the same time.   

     How did doctors do that?  Did they teach that in med school?  It seemed especially confusing to you as your thoughts kept skipping away and going down rabbit holes.

     Cool fingers felt under your jaw, pressing against swollen lymph nodes.  He always had such a gentleness about him.  Such grace.  Surprising for a man of his size, but he seemed to take such care with you.  Like you were the most rare, delicate creature in the world.

     Last week when you found yourself stuck in the elevator, it was Sam who answered your call.  He muscled open the doors single handed and lifted you up though the opening without breaking a sweat.  You were more than a little awe struck by his display of strength and chivalry.  If you’d had half a brain, you’d have invited him for coffee as a thank you.  As it was, you were preoccupied with being late to work.  A sadly missed opportunity with your handsome neighbor.

     “You came home from work, was that last night?”

     “Um, yeah.  Yes.  As if Mondays aren’t sucky enough.”

     Sam’s eyebrows rose, “That was two days ago.”

     “What?”

     “Today’s Wednesday.”

     That information had you on the move.  You sat straight up and instantly went white.  The room titled and if it weren’t for Sam’s hands steadying your shoulders, you probably would have slid right off the couch.

     “Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Not so fast,” Sam advised, forcing you to recline.

     “I gotta go call work… or… somebody.”

     “The only place you are going is to the E.R.”

     “No, I can’t go to the hospital.”

     “Y/N, listen to me.  You’re dehydrated to the point that you fainted.  Your fever is 103, that’s dangerous territory.” 

     Sam tried to be stern, but he just didn’t have it in him.  You looked so pitiful with your hair sticking to the sweat slick skin and the dark smudges under your eyes.  You were desperately sick and he wasn’t going to simply leave you without treatment.

     “I know a lot of people are scared of the doctor, but I promise I’ll be right there with you.”

     You swallowed, wincing at the feeling of knives in your throat.  “I’m not scared, I’m uninsured.  My job is new, benefits don’t kick in for thirty days.”

     Garth piped up, “You’re a doctor, can’t you just prescribe something and treat her here?”

     “It’s not that simple.  She needs to be admitted so they can get an I.V. going and get some fluids into her system.  And bring that fever under control.”

     He felt your head loll against him.  He looked down in alarm and found you’d lost consciousness again. 

     “Y/N?  Wake up, Y/N!” 

     This time no amount of effort would bring you around. 

     “Damn it,” Sam growled as he got to his feet.  He grabbed a notepad from your entry table and scribbled a list down.  “Do you know that walk-in clinic on 42nd street?”

     Garth followed him, “Yeah, I pass it on my way to work.”

     “Great.  My brother is on call there tonight, go in and ask for Dean.  Tell him it’s for me, he’ll help you.”  Sam tore off the list and thrust it into Garth’s hand, “Get everything and hurry!”

     Garth shoved the paper in his pocket, “What if they don’t believe me?  That clinic isn’t in the best part of town, junkies hassle them all the time.”

     “Dean will believe you but in case he doesn’t say Poughkeepsie.  It’s our go word, means drop everything.”

     “A secret code word, you guys must be brothers,” Garth muttered on his way out the door.

     You woke feeling warm.  Bundled up in something soft and secure.  Your eyes stayed closed as you enjoyed the luxurious feeling.  Most mornings you woke up stiff with your muscles complaining about the ancient futon you had yet to replace.  It was left over from college and the wood slats dug into your hips, but moving to a new town was expensive!  Anything like a proper mattress would have to wait until you had a few more paychecks under your belt.

     You stretched a bit, content to roll over and fall back into your dreams, but something tugged on your hand and pinched.  You frowned and tried again; it was like you were caught in a fishing net. 

     “What the hell…?”  You grumbled unhappily, determined to keep your eyes closed out of stubbornness.  You blindly felt around and found a tube and tape attached to your right hand.

     Your eyes popped open.  An I.V.?

     You weren’t in your bed.  You weren’t in your room!  Where the hell were you? 

     The dimensions matched your bedroom, but it wasn’t bare bones like yours.  This one was painted a lovely smoke grey.  Bookshelves lined one wall and a mahogany dresser matched it on the other.  The bed was the biggest you’d ever seen.  The headboard was massive and intricately carved.  The mattress was firm but yielding. 

     The bedside table housed bottles of medication, a stethoscope, a digital thermometer, and a glass of water.  You remembered being sick.  Sicker than you’d ever felt.  You remembered your boss sending you home then… nothing.  Just a blur. 

     You sat up slowly.  When the room didn’t spin, you decided to press your luck.  You pulled back the covers enough to dangle your feet over the edge.  Your toes found plush carpet.  You felt weak, but not dizzy.  And you were cold without the blankets.  Looking down you found bare legs.  You were wearing only your tank top and Wonder Woman underwear. 

     Fuck.  Where the hell are my clothes?!

     With a quick yank, you pulled the I.V. out and headed for the door. 

     “Yeah, Dean I know.  If I promise to wash and wax your car, will you get off my case?”

     “No way in hell you are waxing my Baby, do I need to remind you about Liza Raffaella in the eighth grade?”

     “Please don’t,” Sam groaned into the phone. 

     “It’s wax on, wax off.  Not wax on, go chat up a nerd girl for three hours while the wax bakes on in the sun!”

     “Sam?”

     Sam spun at the raspy voice behind him.  You were standing in the hall, your hand braced against the wall for balance.  You looked a little wobbly, but far better than you had in hours.

     “I gotta go,” he told his brother before ending the call.  “Y/N, hey.  How you feeling?”

     “Confused.  How did I get here and where are my clothes?”

     “Oh!”  Sam’s cheeks colored instantly as he grabbed a soft, woven throw from the back of an over-sized chair.  He draped it over your shoulders and ushered you to the sofa.

     “Sorry about that, your fever was sky high.  Needed to bring it down in a hurry.  Here, sit.”

     You sank down onto a couch that was just as comfortable as the bed you’d woken up in.  Sam disappeared into the kitchen then returned with a glass of ginger ale and some crackers.  He was rattling off something about Chinese takeout and your pants being in the laundry.  All the while he was fussing over you.  His long fingers found the pulse point on your wrist, and he produced a pen light from somewhere to check your pupils.

     After a few minutes, he realized you were staring at him, “Y/N?”

     “Sam, grateful that I am for your hospitality and bedside manner… I still don’t understand why I’m here.” 

     “Well, I figured it would be a better place for you to recover… with all the construction.”

     Now you were really confused, “Construction?”

     Sam rubbed the back of his neck and embarrassment turned his ears pink, “Yeah.  I ah… I kinda broke down your door.”

     “What?!”

     “You weren’t answering!  I just had a really bad feeling, and I would never have forgiven myself if something happened to you.”

     His gaze traveled your face then locked on your eyes.  “I was worried about you.”

     You looked at him, really looked.  He was beautiful, as he always was, but there was an edge of exhaustion to his features.  His five o’clock shadow was darker than you’d ever seen it.  The fine lines around his eyes and lips were etched deeper and his hazel eyes were slightly red.  Even his enviable hair was disheveled. 

     “So, you committed destruction of property to save my life?”

     “I did.”  He gave a nod, his tone teasing, “You gonna turn me in?”

     A small smile played around your lips, “Nah.  I might need your services again.  I have a habit of getting into trouble.  Nice to know I’ve got my own personal hero on call.”

     “You call, I’ll come running.”

Two Years Later:

     “That was not our first date!”

     “We spent the entire weekend curled up in my bed, it counts.”

     “I was unconscious!”

     “Not the whole time,” Sam countered, threading his fingers through yours, “Sometimes you’d wake up.  Of course, you were delirious.  You did have some of the most creative fever dreams… what was that one about the Catholic church hiding the existence of extra-terrestrials by dressing them up like the clergy?”

     “They were hiding dinosaurs, not aliens.  Tiny dinosaurs under their creepy old lady robes.  And still, not a date.  I think you’ll find most dating experts would agree with me on this.”

    “Dating experts?”

     “Your brother.”

     Sam huffed out a laugh, “Don’t be fooled by the rumors, he’s not the Casanova everyone thinks he is.”

     “I dunno, guy gets a lot of dates.”

     “First dates.  Ask him about his batting average for second dates.”

     “Oh yeah?  Got him beat, do you?”

     “Hands down.”

     Sam curled a finger under your chin and brought his lips down to meet yours.  You hummed happily as an electric spark zinged all the way down to your toes.  It was crazy that even after two years he still managed to excite you with just a touch, or a look.  You never had to doubt his feelings for you, he wore them openly and proudly.  He never missed the opportunity to hold your hand in the grocery store or to wrap his arm around your shoulders at the movies.   A kiss to the temple, a hand at the small of your back.  Every touch was filled with the warmth of the sun on a summer’s day.  Every night was filled with the heat and passion of desire that could never be sated. 

     You leaned into Sam’s side as he guided the two of you down the winding path that cut through the willows.  “So, tell me Doctor Winchester, why haven’t I been to your family’s estate before?”

     “I wouldn’t call it an estate, it’s just a few acres.”

     “I don’t care if it’s a patch of dead grass… you have horses!  Horses, Sam!  I’ve wanted to go horseback riding since I was ten.”

     “We might be able to squeeze in a lesson for you before we head home.”

     “Really?!”

     “I’ll bet you’re a natural, you’re already an expert with a riding crop,” he whispered in your ear.

     “Sam!”  You admonished him, instantly turning red, “That was a one time!”

     “Best birthday ever.  And to answer your question; you haven’t been here before because I was waiting.”

     The path curved and opened up to a decent sized pond.  A dock jutted out onto the clear, still waters and ended in an elaborate gazebo.  Painted a picturesque white and topped with a copper finial, hundreds of tiny fairy lights hung from the rafters glittering with magic and romance. 

     “Oh wow,” you breathed, following Sam down the planks.  “This is like something out of a book.  God, it’s beautiful!”

     “My parents built this place from the ground up.  Mom had this vision in her head about a pond where she could come and watch ducks.  Teach her kids to swim and fish.  So, one summer, Dad started digging.  I don’t think he even had a plan, all the neighbors thought he was crazy!  But he was stubborn and determined.  And he loved my mom more than anything.”

     You walked out to the end of the platform and leaned out on the railing.  Dragonflies danced along the surface of the water as the sun began to set and the crickets started to sing.  “He did a great job.  Did he build the gazebo too?”

     “Anniversary present,” he confirmed, joining you by the railing.  “This was my favorite spot when I was a kid.  Dean loved the garage, hanging with Dad and tearing apart trucks with the radio blasting.  I couldn’t stand the noise, so I’d come out here.  Even in the winter.”

     Suddenly, a swan flew down and landed in the middle of the water.  Graceful and noble, it glided across the water sending the slightest of ripples out in its wake.  As it turned, you could see a single black feather against the white of its tail. 

     “Oh!  I’ve never seen a swan with one black feather.”

     “He’s always had it, never could figure out why.  He showed up when I was ten and just never left.  I call him Solomon.”

     “Is it just him?  I thought swans always paired up?”  

     “Well, that’s the thing, they do have mates for life, but he showed up alone.  And I know it sounds silly, but he was mopey.  He didn’t take a lot of interest in anything; he didn’t interact with the ducks or even pay any attention to me when I tried to feed him.  He was sad.  Some animals grieve and I think he was grieving for his lost mate.”

     “Poor guy,” you murmured, watching as Sam took a packet of birdseed from his pocket and tossed a bit out on the water. 

     “When I left for college, Solomon migrated and didn’t come back in the spring.  I thought I’d seen the last of him, but then I got a call from Mom this past summer.  He was back and he brought someone with him.”

     As if on cue, a second swan swooped down and landed beside Solomon.  Pure white and just as lovely.  They looked like a postcard, gliding on the sunlit water.

     “You’re kidding!  He found another mate?  I didn’t know swans would do that!”

     “Some do, special cases.  And Solomon’s no fool, he might have been content to be alone forever, but when that right one came along, he snapped her up.”

     “That’s amazing!”  You turned to Sam with a beaming grin, but stopped short when you realized he wasn’t standing there beside you.  He was kneeling. 

     “Sam.”

     He took both of your hands in his, tipping his face back to gaze up at you with such tenderness and devotion it made your breath catch.

     “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time.  I knew what I wanted to do and how I wanted it to look, but the words never came.  Everything I wrote seemed inadequate.  Even the word love falls short.  It’s not enough, it’s not big enough.  Being with you is a revelation, Y/N.  You call me your hero, but baby… it’s the other way around.  You rescued me.”

     Tears had already gathered in your eyes when he pulled out a blue velvet box.  A diamond solitaire sparkled inside like a star in the sky. 

     “I don’t know if I’ll ever have the words, but I swear to show you.  To treasure you, to make your happiness my mission.  To answer your call and to love you for all my days.”

     You dropped down to your knees and tackled him.  Your arms flung around his neck, nearly knocking him over in your enthusiasm.   He caught you with a laugh and kept the two of you from tumbling off into the water.  You kissed every square inch of the face you’d loved since he first rescued you.  And you laughed.  Joy bubbled up from your heart like effervescent Champagne.

     “You astonishing,” Kiss. “Brilliant,” kiss. “Romantic,” kiss, kiss. “Beautiful,” kiss, kiss, kiss.

     “Y/N… baby…”

     “Yes?” Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.

     His hands wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back slightly so he could look into your eyes.  He traced the curve of your face, fondly tucking your hair behind your ear.  You were always moving, always racing towards everything in life.  It was something he loved about you, your exuberance.  Your passion!  You burned so bright, his light even on the darkest days. 

     “Will you marry me?”

     Your brow creased in confusion before you realized, he didn’t actually say the words a moment ago.  You been so excited that he never got the chance. 

     “Yes,” you nodded, your forehead coming to rest against his. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

     Sam slipped the ring onto your finger, “Will you look at that?  Perfect fit.”

     “Guess that means you’re stuck with me now.”  You shifted so that you were sitting in his lap, your hand cupped his jaw, “I should tell you up front that I tend to get into trouble, there’s a good chance that you’ll be required to rescue me from time to time.”

     “Good thing rescuing you is my second favorite activity.”

     “Second favorite?”

     “Yeah,” he murmured against the curve of your neck, “Let me show you the front runner.”

     Before long, Sam had swept you away in a haze with his deft fingers and clever tongue.  The title of Hero that you bestowed on him became a running joke through the years and then a loving nickname.  But that didn’t make it any less true.  He’d always been a hero, and now he was yours. TAGLIST @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsurdity @starryeyeseunbyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetryy @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witchly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @panicking-outside-the-disco @haylie-spnfam4evr @lauraashley93 @foxyjwls007 @bluedragonflylady @foxyjwls007

[supernaturalkickparty]

Bestie @fandom-hoarder has been sick and since I physically can't be there to make them chicken caldo since we live so far away I figured a sick sammy fic was the next best thing 🖤

[warmasf]

hii, i saw ur requests are open! would u be willing to write spn snz, anything with sam usually always stifling but eventually needing to just sneeze normally and dean realizes how bad he must actually be feeling if he's not stifling anymore :,) i’m a sucker for sick sam lol

if u choose to fill this thank u sm!! <3

I love this! I imagined this to be set in season 1, right around when Sam started having visions and getting more angst as a character, but also when the brothers relationship was at their cutest (in my opinion.) NOT WINCEST!!

Dean turned to the hotel bed next to his for what seemed like the 80th time in the last ten minutes. Sam laid motionless, cheeks flushed and hair mussed from the pillows and sweat. Although he didn’t look comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, he seemed content to be sleeping. Dean let his worry go and continued searching the journals and newspapers in his lap, desperate for a case. They had stopped to let Sam nurse his increasingly bothersome head cold, much to Sam’s own dismay.

“Dean, combe ond, it’s just a cold. We deed to stay ond the road,” he had choked out as they pulled into the motel parking lot, teetering on the edge of a sneeze. Finally, after rubbing his nose boyishly, he let out a stifled “ngtx, ha-gxsh, n-txsh,” fingers clamped torturously against his nostrils. Dean handed him a tissue and rolled his eyes, ignoring his brothers protests.

“I know it is, but let’s keep it ‘just a cold’ and hole up for the night, get some research done to find a case,” Dean stated, jaw unwavering. But Sam continued to whine about it, which Dean considered a win. At least his brother wasn’t unwell enough to let his guard down quite yet. Another string of harsh stifles came from the passages seat. ‘Or sick enough to let his body fuckin sneeze like a normal person,’ Dean added mentally.

Deans focus was roused yet again by a sleepy groan and a loud sniffle, more of a congested snort, to be frank. Sam was rubbing his eyes with one hand and thrashing the sheets off his body with the other, his cheeks now a scarlet pink. He coughed chestily and sniffled again.

“Mornin’ to you too,” Dean greeted playfully. “Feeling any better there snotty?”

Sam stared towards his brother blearily, seemingly lost in his own world. He felt hot, sticky. Before he had time to process Dean’s question, he felt a prickle in the back of his nose. He rubbed it uncoordinatedly to no avail, and allowed his hands to drop and his lips to part as he tilted his head back.

“Ha-ESHOO, H-ESCHiew, H’iESHOO, AH-HEPshiew!” He sneezed loudly and openly before muffling more coughs into the comforter.

Deans eyes widened at the sudden noise. Sam never sneezed unrestrained, he always stifled and blew his nose obsessively to avoid more sneezing than he needed. He hated letting go of control, admitting weakness. Those sneezes, coupled with the flushed, watery eyes stare Sam was rocking, meant that he was feeling much worse than he would ever admit.

“Hey, bless you kiddo,” murmured Dean, hopping off his own bed and hurrying to his brother. He placed a palm on his forehead and sighed at the sweaty heat that it emitted.

“You’re burning up buddy, lay back down and I’ll get you some water, okay Sammy?”

Damnit, the nicknames always came in strong when Sammy wasn’t feeling good. Sam nodded tiredly, letting his head fall back onto the pillows. Before he could close his eyes, his nose twitched and he sniffled liquidly. He sneezed twice, a loud, “HA-HEtchyew, Ah-HA-pe’choo!”

“Bless you Sammy,” Dean responded softly, stroking his brother’s bangs back and feeling his forehead again, moving his hands down to Sam’s flushed cheeks and neck. Sam smiled, his first true smile in months, and leaned into deans hand before sniffling and sneezing loudly once again.

“I know, I know. You’re not feeling good, but now that I know, I’ll take good care of you Sammy.”

[mikiemcsmitty]

Fictober Day 10

prompt: "Is this normal?"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Jack Kline, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Rating: General

Summary:

Jack’s POV: Jack is experiencing weird human things (a common cold) for the first time and he goes to Sam for help

Sam was sitting in the library reading a large ancient book on demons. Jack nervously walked into the room to talk to him but changed his mind and walked back to his room.

A few minutes later he returned to the library before chickening out again and retreating to his room.

The third time he walked into the library Sam finally said something before he could walk away. “Do you need something, kid?” he asks.

Jack hesitated. “I think I'm having a problem…” he said cryptically.

“What kind of problem?”

“A human one… I think.”

“Come sit,” Sam instructed. “What's going on?” 

“I’m experiencing… pain,” he said as if it were a question and not a statement. “In my head… and all over– but mostly in my head. And it's not my thoughts its like my brain itself is hurting.”

“Huh,” Sam said as he put the pieces together that Jack was probably just experiencing his first headache. 

“There is also a discomfort on the inside of my esophagus and inside of my nose. Is this normal? Am I dying?” 

Sam chuckles slightly at the questions. “No, you're gonna be fine. Sounds like you just have a cold or something. Don’t worry it’s normal for humans to get colds, they go away with time and rest.” 

“Rest?” 

“Yeah. Why don't you go back to your room and lie down? I'll come take your temperature and bring you some medicine in a bit.”

“And I’ll be okay?”

“Of course,” Sam reassured him. “I’ll take good care of you.” 

Jack went back to his room glad he was able to ask Sam about his ailments but still troubled by them. He was still so new to life that all of it was just as stressful as it would be for any newborn baby but Jack was actually old enough to be worried. 

Cas had a very limited knowledge of what was normal for humans since his experience as a human only lasted for a few months and Jack found it hard to ask Dean anything. Sam was the only one he could go to for things like this. 

When Sam came back to Jack’s room he had Cas in tow. 

“Sam told me you might have the flu,” Cas said as he sat on the edge of Jack’s bed. “May I?” he asks as he holds his hand up to Jack’s head.

Jack nods and Cas places his fingers on his forehead to check the state of his immune system on a molecular level. 

“Just as Sam suspected it’s an upper respiratory tract infection,” Cas said.

“Which is a clinical way of saying common cold,” Sam added as he poured 20 ml of Tylenol into a tiny cup. He had run up the street to pick it up because he didn’t want to have to try to teach Jack how to swallow a pill while he was already stressed. “Here drink this and then some water,” he said handing him the medicine and a water bottle. 

Jack did as instructed and then set the water on his nightstand. “So is that going to make this feeling go away?”

“Not immediately,” Sam said. “It'll take a bit to kick in and even after it does your symptoms overall might get worse before they get better but it'll all be over in a few days.”

“Ok,” Jack said finally calming down a bit.

“I brought you a box of tissues in case your nose starts running, cold drops if your throat is still bothering you, and a trash can in case you get nauseous.”

“And I can stay to watch over you,” Cas added.

“Now get some sleep and we'll all be right here if you need us.”

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

My Hero

Summary: Doctor Sam WInchester had fallen hard for the woman living just down the hall. She was easily the most adorable and the most accident-prone creature he had ever met! Yet for all the times he came to her rescue, he was too shy to make a move. Maybe he could work up his courage, if he got just one more chance...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Sam x Reader, Doctor!Sam Winchester x You

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Garth, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, fluff

One Shot

Word Count: 3700

Author’s Notes: I swear, every time I get sick all I want is a Winchester to come and take care of me. Is that really so much to ask?? I think not! This is my very first Sam x Reader fic! I have a few more ideas rattling around for the youngest Winchester brother, but this is decent practice. For now. Enjoy!

Bang.  Bang.  Bang.

     “Coming, coming!”  Sam pulled t-shirt over his head as he trotted to the front door.  He’d been getting ready for bed when the insistent knocking started.

     The door swung open to a very nervous young man in a Wong’s delivery uniform.  Sam recognized him from the few times he ordered from them.��

     “Hey, its Garth, right?”

     “Yeah,” he shifted on his feet, his eyes round with worry, “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

     Sam’s instantly shifted into his professional mode.  He was currently an attending at Lawrence General Hospital, having just moved back a year ago from L.A.  It had been an adjustment, but a welcome one.  Big city life didn’t suit Sam at all. 

     “I am.  What’s going on?’

     “I was dropping off an order down the hall to the lady in 302 and I heard this thud behind the door and now I can’t get her to answer.  I think something’s wrong.”

     Sam was already grabbing his medical bag, “Show me.”

     302.  He knew the woman who lived there.  More or less.  They kept running into each other.  He first discovered her fighting with the soap dispenser in the laundry room.  Then again when she locked herself out of the building during a thunderstorm.  And then last week when the elevator got stuck between floors.  He always seemed to be wandering by when she needed a rescue.  She was funny, smart, accident prone, and completely adorable. 

     Sam had been working up the courage to ask her out, but something always seemed to crop up.  An extra shift at the hospital or a birthday party for a colleague.  He knew it was an excuse.  For all of his professional success, Sam was, and always had been, extremely shy.

     “Y/N?”  He knocked loudly on the closed door, then tried the handle and found it locked. 

     “Alright, stand back,” he said to Garth.  In one powerful move, Sam kicked the door in, the heel of his foot landing in just the right spot to splinter the doorjamb. 

     “Damn,” Garth blew out an impressed breath, “You aren’t even wearing shoes.”

     You were laying in the foyer.  Curled on your side with your hair spread out like a halo.  A wallet sat a few inches away from outstretched fingers. 

     Sam was at your side in an instant, gingerly turning you over and searching for a pulse, “Y/N?  Can you hear me?”

     Garth hovered nearby, nerves in his voice, “Is she okay?”

     Sam ran a hand over your forehead, “She’s burning up.  Go see if you can find a washcloth and a glass of water.”

     His worry only grew when he carried you to the couch and you still didn’t come to.  He held your limp body up with one hand while he worked your hoodie off with the other, leaving you in a tank top and yoga pants.  He’d strip that off you too, if he had to.  Every inch of bare skin he touched felt like it was on fire! 

     “Why isn’t she waking up?”  Garth asked handing Sam a kitchen towel.

     “Dehydration.  With a fever this high, it can happen quick.”  Sam dipped the towel in the water filled coffee mug and bathed your face and neck.  Sure enough, his efforts were rewarded.

     You groaned, even that soft sound reverberated through your pounding head.  Everything hurt and all you wanted was to slip back into the blankness of sleep.   But it was so noisy!  Someone kept talking, like the parents in a Snoopy cartoon.  Unintelligible, insistent, and so annoying!

     Sam gently tapped your cheeks, “Y/N.  Come on, darlin.  Open your eyes for me.”

     With a bit of coaxing, you did as he asked.  Everything around you swirled and slowly came into focus.  Your head felt heavy and fell to the side, Sam was there and smiled down at you.  As a reflex, you smiled back before your fevered brain could catch up and tell you who you were looking at.

     “Hey… it’s my hero.”

     Sam chuckled in relief, “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

     “You’re here.  That’s so nice… why are you here?”

     “You passed out,” he replied, pressing the cool cloth to your brow.  “Do you remember what happened?”

     You tried to search your memory, but everything was so fuzzy!  “Um, I came home from work… I was sick.  Felt really bad.  Everything hurt.  Achy and cold.  Headache.  Then I ordered soup from the place down on Main Street.  I dunno…I feel a little out of it.”

     There was a blood pressure cuff wrapped around your bicep that was inflating.  Where did that come from?  Sam was doing that doctor thing where they listen to you talk while taking vitals at the same time.   

     How did doctors do that?  Did they teach that in med school?  It seemed especially confusing to you as your thoughts kept skipping away and going down rabbit holes.

     Cool fingers felt under your jaw, pressing against swollen lymph nodes.  He always had such a gentleness about him.  Such grace.  Surprising for a man of his size, but he seemed to take such care with you.  Like you were the most rare, delicate creature in the world.

     Last week when you found yourself stuck in the elevator, it was Sam who answered your call.  He muscled open the doors single handed and lifted you up though the opening without breaking a sweat.  You were more than a little awe struck by his display of strength and chivalry.  If you’d had half a brain, you’d have invited him for coffee as a thank you.  As it was, you were preoccupied with being late to work.  A sadly missed opportunity with your handsome neighbor.

     “You came home from work, was that last night?”

     “Um, yeah.  Yes.  As if Mondays aren’t sucky enough.”

     Sam’s eyebrows rose, “That was two days ago.”

     “What?”

     “Today’s Wednesday.”

     That information had you on the move.  You sat straight up and instantly went white.  The room titled and if it weren’t for Sam’s hands steadying your shoulders, you probably would have slid right off the couch.

     “Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Not so fast,” Sam advised, forcing you to recline.

     “I gotta go call work… or… somebody.”

     “The only place you are going is to the E.R.”

     “No, I can’t go to the hospital.”

     “Y/N, listen to me.  You’re dehydrated to the point that you fainted.  Your fever is 103, that’s dangerous territory.” 

     Sam tried to be stern, but he just didn’t have it in him.  You looked so pitiful with your hair sticking to the sweat slick skin and the dark smudges under your eyes.  You were desperately sick and he wasn’t going to simply leave you without treatment.

     “I know a lot of people are scared of the doctor, but I promise I’ll be right there with you.”

     You swallowed, wincing at the feeling of knives in your throat.  “I’m not scared, I’m uninsured.  My job is new, benefits don’t kick in for thirty days.”

     Garth piped up, “You’re a doctor, can’t you just prescribe something and treat her here?”

     “It’s not that simple.  She needs to be admitted so they can get an I.V. going and get some fluids into her system.  And bring that fever under control.”

     He felt your head loll against him.  He looked down in alarm and found you’d lost consciousness again. 

     “Y/N?  Wake up, Y/N!” 

     This time no amount of effort would bring you around. 

     “Damn it,” Sam growled as he got to his feet.  He grabbed a notepad from your entry table and scribbled a list down.  “Do you know that walk-in clinic on 42nd street?”

     Garth followed him, “Yeah, I pass it on my way to work.”

     “Great.  My brother is on call there tonight, go in and ask for Dean.  Tell him it’s for me, he’ll help you.”  Sam tore off the list and thrust it into Garth’s hand, “Get everything and hurry!”

     Garth shoved the paper in his pocket, “What if they don’t believe me?  That clinic isn’t in the best part of town, junkies hassle them all the time.”

     “Dean will believe you but in case he doesn’t say Poughkeepsie.  It’s our go word, means drop everything.”

     “A secret code word, you guys must be brothers,” Garth muttered on his way out the door.

     You woke feeling warm.  Bundled up in something soft and secure.  Your eyes stayed closed as you enjoyed the luxurious feeling.  Most mornings you woke up stiff with your muscles complaining about the ancient futon you had yet to replace.  It was left over from college and the wood slats dug into your hips, but moving to a new town was expensive!  Anything like a proper mattress would have to wait until you had a few more paychecks under your belt.

     You stretched a bit, content to roll over and fall back into your dreams, but something tugged on your hand and pinched.  You frowned and tried again; it was like you were caught in a fishing net. 

     “What the hell…?”  You grumbled unhappily, determined to keep your eyes closed out of stubbornness.  You blindly felt around and found a tube and tape attached to your right hand.

     Your eyes popped open.  An I.V.?

     You weren’t in your bed.  You weren’t in your room!  Where the hell were you? 

     The dimensions matched your bedroom, but it wasn’t bare bones like yours.  This one was painted a lovely smoke grey.  Bookshelves lined one wall and a mahogany dresser matched it on the other.  The bed was the biggest you’d ever seen.  The headboard was massive and intricately carved.  The mattress was firm but yielding. 

     The bedside table housed bottles of medication, a stethoscope, a digital thermometer, and a glass of water.  You remembered being sick.  Sicker than you’d ever felt.  You remembered your boss sending you home then… nothing.  Just a blur. 

     You sat up slowly.  When the room didn’t spin, you decided to press your luck.  You pulled back the covers enough to dangle your feet over the edge.  Your toes found plush carpet.  You felt weak, but not dizzy.  And you were cold without the blankets.  Looking down you found bare legs.  You were wearing only your tank top and Wonder Woman underwear. 

     Fuck.  Where the hell are my clothes?!

     With a quick yank, you pulled the I.V. out and headed for the door. 

     “Yeah, Dean I know.  If I promise to wash and wax your car, will you get off my case?”

     “No way in hell you are waxing my Baby, do I need to remind you about Liza Raffaella in the eighth grade?”

     “Please don’t,” Sam groaned into the phone. 

     “It’s wax on, wax off.  Not wax on, go chat up a nerd girl for three hours while the wax bakes on in the sun!”

     “Sam?”

     Sam spun at the raspy voice behind him.  You were standing in the hall, your hand braced against the wall for balance.  You looked a little wobbly, but far better than you had in hours.

     “I gotta go,” he told his brother before ending the call.  “Y/N, hey.  How you feeling?”

     “Confused.  How did I get here and where are my clothes?”

     “Oh!”  Sam’s cheeks colored instantly as he grabbed a soft, woven throw from the back of an over-sized chair.  He draped it over your shoulders and ushered you to the sofa.

     “Sorry about that, your fever was sky high.  Needed to bring it down in a hurry.  Here, sit.”

     You sank down onto a couch that was just as comfortable as the bed you’d woken up in.  Sam disappeared into the kitchen then returned with a glass of ginger ale and some crackers.  He was rattling off something about Chinese takeout and your pants being in the laundry.  All the while he was fussing over you.  His long fingers found the pulse point on your wrist, and he produced a pen light from somewhere to check your pupils.

     After a few minutes, he realized you were staring at him, “Y/N?”

     “Sam, grateful that I am for your hospitality and bedside manner… I still don’t understand why I’m here.” 

     “Well, I figured it would be a better place for you to recover… with all the construction.”

     Now you were really confused, “Construction?”

     Sam rubbed the back of his neck and embarrassment turned his ears pink, “Yeah.  I ah… I kinda broke down your door.”

     “What?!”

     “You weren’t answering!  I just had a really bad feeling, and I would never have forgiven myself if something happened to you.”

     His gaze traveled your face then locked on your eyes.  “I was worried about you.”

     You looked at him, really looked.  He was beautiful, as he always was, but there was an edge of exhaustion to his features.  His five o’clock shadow was darker than you’d ever seen it.  The fine lines around his eyes and lips were etched deeper and his hazel eyes were slightly red.  Even his enviable hair was disheveled. 

     “So, you committed destruction of property to save my life?”

     “I did.”  He gave a nod, his tone teasing, “You gonna turn me in?”

     A small smile played around your lips, “Nah.  I might need your services again.  I have a habit of getting into trouble.  Nice to know I’ve got my own personal hero on call.”

     “You call, I’ll come running.”

Two Years Later:

     “That was not our first date!”

     “We spent the entire weekend curled up in my bed, it counts.”

     “I was unconscious!”

     “Not the whole time,” Sam countered, threading his fingers through yours, “Sometimes you’d wake up.  Of course, you were delirious.  You did have some of the most creative fever dreams… what was that one about the Catholic church hiding the existence of extra-terrestrials by dressing them up like the clergy?”

     “They were hiding dinosaurs, not aliens.  Tiny dinosaurs under their creepy old lady robes.  And still, not a date.  I think you’ll find most dating experts would agree with me on this.”

    “Dating experts?”

     “Your brother.”

     Sam huffed out a laugh, “Don’t be fooled by the rumors, he’s not the Casanova everyone thinks he is.”

     “I dunno, guy gets a lot of dates.”

     “First dates.  Ask him about his batting average for second dates.”

     “Oh yeah?  Got him beat, do you?”

     “Hands down.”

     Sam curled a finger under your chin and brought his lips down to meet yours.  You hummed happily as an electric spark zinged all the way down to your toes.  It was crazy that even after two years he still managed to excite you with just a touch, or a look.  You never had to doubt his feelings for you, he wore them openly and proudly.  He never missed the opportunity to hold your hand in the grocery store or to wrap his arm around your shoulders at the movies.   A kiss to the temple, a hand at the small of your back.  Every touch was filled with the warmth of the sun on a summer’s day.  Every night was filled with the heat and passion of desire that could never be sated. 

     You leaned into Sam’s side as he guided the two of you down the winding path that cut through the willows.  “So, tell me Doctor Winchester, why haven’t I been to your family’s estate before?”

     “I wouldn’t call it an estate, it’s just a few acres.”

     “I don’t care if it’s a patch of dead grass… you have horses!  Horses, Sam!  I’ve wanted to go horseback riding since I was ten.”

     “We might be able to squeeze in a lesson for you before we head home.”

     “Really?!”

     “I’ll bet you’re a natural, you’re already an expert with a riding crop,” he whispered in your ear.

     “Sam!”  You admonished him, instantly turning red, “That was a one time!”

     “Best birthday ever.  And to answer your question; you haven’t been here before because I was waiting.”

     The path curved and opened up to a decent sized pond.  A dock jutted out onto the clear, still waters and ended in an elaborate gazebo.  Painted a picturesque white and topped with a copper finial, hundreds of tiny fairy lights hung from the rafters glittering with magic and romance. 

     “Oh wow,” you breathed, following Sam down the planks.  “This is like something out of a book.  God, it’s beautiful!”

     “My parents built this place from the ground up.  Mom had this vision in her head about a pond where she could come and watch ducks.  Teach her kids to swim and fish.  So, one summer, Dad started digging.  I don’t think he even had a plan, all the neighbors thought he was crazy!  But he was stubborn and determined.  And he loved my mom more than anything.”

     You walked out to the end of the platform and leaned out on the railing.  Dragonflies danced along the surface of the water as the sun began to set and the crickets started to sing.  “He did a great job.  Did he build the gazebo too?”

     “Anniversary present,” he confirmed, joining you by the railing.  “This was my favorite spot when I was a kid.  Dean loved the garage, hanging with Dad and tearing apart trucks with the radio blasting.  I couldn’t stand the noise, so I’d come out here.  Even in the winter.”

     Suddenly, a swan flew down and landed in the middle of the water.  Graceful and noble, it glided across the water sending the slightest of ripples out in its wake.  As it turned, you could see a single black feather against the white of its tail. 

     “Oh!  I’ve never seen a swan with one black feather.”

     “He’s always had it, never could figure out why.  He showed up when I was ten and just never left.  I call him Solomon.”

     “Is it just him?  I thought swans always paired up?”  

     “Well, that’s the thing, they do have mates for life, but he showed up alone.  And I know it sounds silly, but he was mopey.  He didn’t take a lot of interest in anything; he didn’t interact with the ducks or even pay any attention to me when I tried to feed him.  He was sad.  Some animals grieve and I think he was grieving for his lost mate.”

     “Poor guy,” you murmured, watching as Sam took a packet of birdseed from his pocket and tossed a bit out on the water. 

     “When I left for college, Solomon migrated and didn’t come back in the spring.  I thought I’d seen the last of him, but then I got a call from Mom this past summer.  He was back and he brought someone with him.”

     As if on cue, a second swan swooped down and landed beside Solomon.  Pure white and just as lovely.  They looked like a postcard, gliding on the sunlit water.

     “You’re kidding!  He found another mate?  I didn’t know swans would do that!”

     “Some do, special cases.  And Solomon’s no fool, he might have been content to be alone forever, but when that right one came along, he snapped her up.”

     “That’s amazing!”  You turned to Sam with a beaming grin, but stopped short when you realized he wasn’t standing there beside you.  He was kneeling. 

     “Sam.”

     He took both of your hands in his, tipping his face back to gaze up at you with such tenderness and devotion it made your breath catch.

     “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time.  I knew what I wanted to do and how I wanted it to look, but the words never came.  Everything I wrote seemed inadequate.  Even the word love falls short.  It’s not enough, it’s not big enough.  Being with you is a revelation, Y/N.  You call me your hero, but baby… it’s the other way around.  You rescued me.”

     Tears had already gathered in your eyes when he pulled out a blue velvet box.  A diamond solitaire sparkled inside like a star in the sky. 

     “I don’t know if I’ll ever have the words, but I swear to show you.  To treasure you, to make your happiness my mission.  To answer your call and to love you for all my days.”

     You dropped down to your knees and tackled him.  Your arms flung around his neck, nearly knocking him over in your enthusiasm.   He caught you with a laugh and kept the two of you from tumbling off into the water.  You kissed every square inch of the face you’d loved since he first rescued you.  And you laughed.  Joy bubbled up from your heart like effervescent Champagne.

     “You astonishing,” Kiss. “Brilliant,” kiss. “Romantic,” kiss, kiss. “Beautiful,” kiss, kiss, kiss.

     “Y/N… baby…”

     “Yes?” Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.

     His hands wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back slightly so he could look into your eyes.  He traced the curve of your face, fondly tucking your hair behind your ear.  You were always moving, always racing towards everything in life.  It was something he loved about you, your exuberance.  Your passion!  You burned so bright, his light even on the darkest days. 

     “Will you marry me?”

     Your brow creased in confusion before you realized, he didn’t actually say the words a moment ago.  You been so excited that he never got the chance. 

     “Yes,” you nodded, your forehead coming to rest against his. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

     Sam slipped the ring onto your finger, “Will you look at that?  Perfect fit.”

     “Guess that means you’re stuck with me now.”  You shifted so that you were sitting in his lap, your hand cupped his jaw, “I should tell you up front that I tend to get into trouble, there’s a good chance that you’ll be required to rescue me from time to time.”

     “Good thing rescuing you is my second favorite activity.”

     “Second favorite?”

     “Yeah,” he murmured against the curve of your neck, “Let me show you the front runner.”

     Before long, Sam had swept you away in a haze with his deft fingers and clever tongue.  The title of Hero that you bestowed on him became a running joke through the years and then a loving nickname.  But that didn’t make it any less true.  He’d always been a hero, and now he was yours. TAGLIST @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsurdity @starryeyeseunbyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetryy @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witchly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @panicking-outside-the-disco @haylie-spnfam4evr @lauraashley93 @foxyjwls007 @bluedragonflylady @foxyjwls007

[glamlet69]

Unfortunately, I am sick

BUT that does give me time to relax where I don't feel like I need to do anything. I just have one more day of work to get through tomorrow and then I get two days to rot.

That being said, because I will be in bed rotting I will also hopefully be in bed writing the rest of my Supernatural one-shot! So be on the lookout for that!

That is all.

[supernatural-sophia]

I’ve been working on a lot of different fics but i finally got one done! Hope you all enjoy it! 

[z-ppy]

Whumptober Day the First

Skipped prompt #1, reposting this because I wasn't satisfied with the last draft.

Prompt #2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don’t care about you.”

Jack has a fever, and everything Michael said to him is coming back.

___

“Jack… Jack.” 

Jack looks up, startled. Across the kitchen, Sam’s holding up two packages of deli meat. Various condiments, a bag of bread, and a ball of lettuce are spread out on the counter in front of him. 

“Hm?” Jack shifts in his seat at the table. He feels odd, like his skin doesn’t fit over his bones right.

“I asked what you want on your sandwich.” 

“Oh–” 

“Ham ‘n’ cheese, please,” Dean says, coming through the doorway and plopping down at the table next to Jack.

“You can make your own sandwich, Dean.” 

Dean jabs a thumb in Jack’s direction. “So can he.” 

Sam sighs and ignores him. “What kind of meat, Jack?” 

“Um, turkey?” Jack squints at the options. His vision is weird – he can see fine, but his brain isn’t processing the images. 

Sam looks puzzled. “Ham or roast beef is what we’ve got. Dean only bought red meat at the store this time.” He glares at his brother. 

“Oh, uh, I guess…” There’s too much going on. He’s trying to follow Sam and Dean’s casual bickering and understand what Sam wants from him at the same time. He remembers his glass of water, and takes a sip. It’s cool against his hot throat. 

Sam’s waiting, eyebrows traveling further and further up his forehead. 

The water is good. He takes another sip, but chokes this time. The harsh coughs scrape past his throat. Dean thumps him hard on the back. 

“I think I’m… I’m not hungry,” he croaks. Dean, hand still resting between Jack’s shoulder blades, makes eye contact with Sam. Dean mouths something. Sam nods his head in Jack’s direction. Jack’s trying to figure out what’s going on when he feels Dean’s palm against his forehead, then the backs of his fingers on his cheek. 

“Yep, he’s running a temperature.” 

“No, I–” Oh. That would explain why his clothes were scratchy against his skin, and why he’d been feeling strangely chilly all morning. Had he been more lucid, he might have noticed how often he was shedding his sweatshirt only to put it back on minutes later, and how he needed to clear his throat before he spoke. 

Sam sighs, setting the deli meat down. “I’ll go find a thermometer. Make your own sandwich, Dean.” 

Sam heads off to hunt down a thermometer and some ibuprofen, and Dean gets to work on his sandwich, any concern for Jack obviously not getting in the way of his lunch. Jack watches from the table. At some point, his head sinks down onto folded arms and he lets his burning eyes slip closed. 

__

“Jack, hey.” Sam’s hovering close, holding out a thermometer. “You have a fever, so we need to measure it by taking your temperature. Your fever’s why you’re feeling bad right now.” 

“I know what a fever is,” Jack grumps. 

Sam smiles, embarrassed. “Sorry. Just put this under your tongue for me, okay?” He presses the button and hands it over. Jack takes the offered thermometer and tucks it under his tongue, cringing at the way the slick plastic feels in his overheated mouth. All his nerve endings are buzzing, sensitive and prickly. He shudders and squirms. 

“This sucks, I know.” Sam rubs his arm. The soft touch is painful against his aching skin and muscles, and Jack pulls away. Sam looks hurt, but then the thermometer beeps and he takes it back. Dean waits to hear, chewing a huge bite of sandwich. “102.2” Sam announces. “That’s a pretty decent fever.” He frowns down at Jack. “Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well?”

Jack shrugs. He honestly doesn’t know. Being human is weird and it’s hard to tell the difference between being tired, hungry, nauseous, or just overwhelmed. Sometimes his skin feels this way, prickly and tight and squirmy, when too much is happening and he needs a break. He takes a deep breath and pulls the collar of his sweatshirt over his mouth to cough. It’s deep and barky, and it hurts.

“That doesn’t sound like it feels very good,” Sam says sympathetically. Jack tries hard not to scowl. Sam is trying to be considerate and gentle, but it’s coming off as patronizing. His indignation fades as Sam puts a cool hand on his cheek. “What hurts?” 

Jack clears his throat with a short cough. “My throat, head, and, um, skin?” He looks up, expecting Sam to laugh at him, but he only takes his hand away from his face and nods. 

“I bet.”

___

He didn’t want the weird blue liquid cold medicine, and he tried but couldn’t swallow the pills. Dean got frustrated and took his sandwich to the library, but Sam did his best to reason with him.

“It feels weird,” Jack tried to explain. “The cold medicine tastes like a warm gooey popsicle. It’s wrong.” He could see that Sam didn’t get why he couldn’t just hold his nose and take it like a shot, but when Jack choked twice trying to swallow the pills instead, Sam gave up, and suggested they try again later.

__

Jack really wishes he could have managed the medicine. He’s curled up in bed, shivering. His phone tells him it’s 7:06pm. He can faintly hear Sam and Dean clamoring around in the kitchen, arguing about what to order for dinner.

He should have been able to take the medicine they tried to give him. He shudders, and curls into a tighter ball. His weighted blanket doesn’t touch the deep ache in his bones. They tried to help him. They tried very hard. He felt like he was making things unnecessarily complicated. Dean said so, sometimes, when he got frustrated with him. 

Sam did his best to understand, but he still looked at it like it was developmental– that Jack was only technically a few years old, so of course the sensory stuff could get overwhelming and he needed to approach problems step-by-step. He threw around phrases like “overstimulation” and “demand avoidance” and did his best to be consistent. Even though it pissed Jack off that Sam treated him like a sensitive little kid, it was better than Dean, who just tried to make him push through it. He didn’t understand at all. 

But… Why should he have to put up with it? Michael’s –Dean’s– voice rings in his head. 

You’re a new burden that he was handed… a weak fragile thing…

The mattress dips. Jack cracks open his sore eyes to see Michael’s face hovering above him, lit by the hallway light coming through the open door. He tries to scream. 

“Hey! Kid, it’s okay.” Dean grabs his arm. Jack whimpers in pain and Dean instantly releases his grip. He places the gentle, unobtrusive backs of his fingers against Jack’s cheek. “Geez, you’re burning up.” Through the dim light, Jack can see that he looks sad. “I know you didn’t do so well with the medicine earlier, but uh, this might help your fever for now.” Dean’s holding a damp washcloth in his hand. He starts to place it on Jack’s forehead, but stops. “I’m uh, going to put it on your forehead. It’s cold and wet – is… is that okay?” He’s awkward about it, and if Jack was feeling better he would have laughed at him. 

“It’s okay,” Jack croaks softly. Dean lays the washcloth over his hot forehead and Jack sighs in relief. 

“Good, huh?” Dean says, a smile in his voice. “Get some rest, there’s water on your nightstand.” He pats the mattress twice and gets to his feet. “Door open or closed?”

“Cracked, please,” Jack says. Dean leaves a crack large enough for a sliver of light to slip through. Jack listens to his heavy footfalls fade up the hall. 

Dean kind of likes burdens, he thinks. It won’t make sense in the morning, when his fever breaks, but for now it’s a comforting thought. 

FIN

[hexedwinchester]

Sickfic anon here! I personally consider anything with a fever a sickfic, but I'm partial to Sam being down with a full-blown head/chest cold especially while he's injured. And a fever on top of it would add to the misery beautifully~

Hi sickfic noni!

Ahhh I see! Okay we are good then... Sam has fever episodes in my fics.. so you should be good!!

Fever promised in SPN x F13 fic too 😉

Thanks for replying to my ask!

[starlight-and-whiskey]

Prompts

Love 'em. Happy to write majority of RDR2 fics or SPN pre-S7. OFC only with detailed descriptions on appearance and mannerisms as I'd hate to get it wrong. 18+ is cool so long as I can give warnings.

Personal preference: Love sick fics - vulnerability is a big win for me. Happy to do M/M as long as background is given (not my given preference so wouldn't like to get it wrong).

Hurt/comfort and angst is my jam. Hit me up and stretch my creative muscles!