Title: Advent Treasures 4/25: Holiday Chill.

Author: Deathangelgw

Author email: deathangelgw@gmail.com

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. All of them are owned by meanie people...wah!

Warnings: AU, fluff, sap, humor, cussing.

Pairings: none outside of brotherly love!

Rating: PG for language!

Summary: Dean’s sick and Sam’s taking care of him. Let the fun commence!

Beta: nadda

Timeline: HA! Who needs a timeline!

A/N: Every year, I do ficlets for Advent up until and including Christmas. To me, they are a symbol of the best things and the not so great things for Christmas. Enjoy and please review!

'thoughts'

“The soup’s too cold, man...couldn’t you heat it up?”

Sam rubbed his forehead for what seemed like the millionth time before he turned towards the invalid who had just added another notch to his need to kill the sickly. Dean was bundled up in two sweaters and a blanket on the hotel bed, nose red and chapped from blowing and dripping, lips also chapped from licking and having to breathe through his mouth, eyes red with lack of sleep since he was also throwing up here and there, and face pale from being sick. However, said red eyes were also sparkling with mischief amidst the fever hue that was coloring them and Sam knew he had somehow pissed off some demigod or something because Dean sick was also Dean milking it for all it was worth.

Dean of course claimed it was for all the times he’d had to change Sam’s diapers and wipe his runny nose when he was sick, but Sam had a funny feeling it was just Dean being a huge *brat*. “How can it be cold, Dean? It just came off of the stove,” he asked patiently as he walked over to his brother.

“Don’ know but it is. Maybe your heavy breathin’ cooled it off,” Dean cracked before coughing into his blanket and sniffling ineffectually against the drippage.

Sighing heavily, Sam touched the soup and found it was warm, but indeed not hot. Dean did need the heat even though he was feverish. “Man, next time don’t go trampin’ through the snowy forest with only a light coat,” he had muttered when Dean had first complained. Now it was ‘Man, I wish I had a shot gun that wasn’t rock salt,’ as he tramped over to the microwave and popped in the generic chicken noodle soup into it before setting it for a minute and a half. When it was done, he brought it over and grabbed the empty box of Kleenexes to throw and replace with another of the ones they’d snitched from the cleaning lady’s cart earlier.

Dean’s slurps floated into the air and Sam was tempted to pull out his hair. It had been this way for the past two days and he was at his wits’ end. He considered the Nyquil that he’d bought and noted that it was only a fourth down. That meant that Dean hadn’t taken anymore. “Dean, take your meds when you’re done,” he ordered as he went into the bathroom.

“Nah...that shit’s not even alcohol loaded anymore. Doesn’t do shit,” Dean growled out before coughing again and glaring at the evil green monster that claimed to be Nyquil.

“Oh...um, ok, well I can get somethin’ else then,” Sam muttered, surprised. When had that old standby change? He pulled on his jacket and rubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly. He’d been sleeping very little because of Dean’s flu, but he had promised to take care of his brother. He went out and bought some Tylenol Cold and Flu meds and hoped that it would work better than the other. He returned to the hotel and went inside where he offered his brother the medicine after hanging up his coat. He went into the bathroom with the dirty dishes and cleaned them up, letting them dry so that the next batch of soup would be in clean dishes. He then returned to the main room and smiled as he saw his brother laying down, still sniffling, yet seeming to relax.

Going over to the bundled up form, Sam tucked his brother in and checked his brother’s fever. He blinked as Dean’s hand came up and laced with his own before sleepy eyes locked with his own. He smiled reassuringly. “Go to sleep, bro,” he whispered soothingly as he rubbed his brother’s cheek.

Smiling back slightly, Dean nuzzled the touch sleepily. “Don’ worry...it’s just a holiday chill, Sammy,” he mumbled before passing out finally.

Blinking again, Sam smiled and shook his head as he remembered that from when they were kids. Dean’d always say that to him when he got sick at the holidays. He sat down on the bed and watched his brother rest. “You’re right, Dean. It’s just a holiday chill and I’ll make sure you don’t suffer too long,” he murmured before laying his head down onto Dean’s pillow, falling asleep as well in exhaustion. He would watch over his brother just as he’d been watched over.

The End!

<home>   <Previous   Next>