starryfif2: (Dean's Hotness)
[personal profile] starryfif2
Title: Denial
Pairing: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,080
: Dean refuses to admit he's coming down with a cold. Sam's an expert at waiting Dean out.
Warnings: Some swearing, unbeta'd.

Written for the [ profile] hoodie_time tags challenge. I chose to fill common cold. I really wanted to do 'mental breakdown', but the fic just wasn't cooperating. And since I badly wanted to participate in this challenge, I went for the easier fill. Oh well.

Dean figured he should be used to life screwing him over at the most inopportune times. He and Sammy were in Kentucky, researching a possible woman in white. Or, at least, Sammy was. Dean was too busy smothering a sneeze into his shirt sleeve.

Dean looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, and winced at what he saw. His eyes were red and slightly puffy, and his face was paler than usual. Dean's nose twitched, and he pinched it, irritated. A sneeze, sudden and loud, burst out.

Dean swore. Sam knocking on the bathroom door had Dean swearing again.

“Dean?” Sam said. “Are you okay?”

Dean scowled at his reflection in the mirror, and wiped at his dripping nose. Another knock had Dean rushing to answer before his pain in the ass brother picked the lock and started trying to feel his forehead, or feed him medicine.

“Yeah, Sammy, I'm fine.” Dean said. Dean knew his brother was rolling his eyes, even though he couldn't see Sam.

“Sure,” Sam said. Dean picked up his brother's sarcasm, loud and clear.


“You're sick.” Sam said, out of the blue, later that night at a small mom and pop diner. He stabbed viciously at a tomato in his salad. Dean watched, fascinated, as his brother pressed the tomato against the side of the plate, and the juice dribbled out of the tomato like blood. Dean looked away and swallowed.

And then promptly coughed, long and hard, into his hand. He glared at his brother, but the sniffle he couldn't conceal was all the ammunition his little brother needed.

“You are.” Sam said.

“Am not.” Dean instantly denied. His nose twitched, and Dean quickly stuck his finger under his nose to stopper any sneeze that might try and break free.

“You are.” Sam repeated. He dug his fork unnecessarily into the already mashed tomato. “Don't you even try and deny it.”

Dean, of course, was going to deny any sickness to his brother. Because he wasn't sick, dammit. “I have the sniffles.” Dean protested. “It's allergies, if that.”

Sam's look was pure exasperation. “I heard you sneeze earlier, in the bathroom.”

Dean scoffed. “I heard you sneeze this morning. Twice!” He pointed accusingly at his brother. “Maybe you're sick.”

Sam continued speaking, as if Dean wasn't trying to argue. “I know your tells, Dean, and you're sick.” He kicked Dean's leg, hard, and ignored Dean's indignant squawk. “Or, at least, you're coming down with something.”

Dean kicked Sam back, and smiled when Sam swore. “You're wrong.”

“I'm not, Dean.” Sam said. He shook his head when Dean sneezed again, and turned his attention back to his salad. Dean wiped his nose on his hand, because that always annoyed Sam, and went back to his greasy burger and too salty fries.

Sam was wrong. Dean just knew it.


Sam, of course, was not wrong.

Dean woke up a little after 6 A.M. with a stuffy nose and a sore throat. His head was pounding like someone was hitting it like it was a drum, and his nose was dripping snot, which was just gross. Dean wiped his nose, and tried to cough quietly into his hand. He mostly succeeded.

He yawned so hard his jaw cracked, which seemed to dislodge a sneeze. His eyes watered from the force of the sneeze, and then sneezed two more times for good measure. Dean swore and stumbled into the bathroom.

He took a quick shower. The steam made his nose run even more, and by the time he'd dried off, Dean had no choice but to use toilet paper to wipe it. He couldn't stop a sneeze or four from escaping as he dressed, and his throat hurt even more after he coughed, long and painful, into his hand.

Sam, miracle of miracles, didn't say anything to Dean as he gathered his clothes and made his way into the bathroom to shower. Dean gritted his teeth, and grabbed his car keys so he could go and wrangle up some breakfast.


Sam was dressed and at his laptop when Dean came back with coffee and some doughnuts. He swore when a violent sneeze made the coffee splash over his hand and burned his skin. Sam eyed him but still didn't say anything, only grabbed the other coffee and a doughnut.

“Am I getting the silent treatment, princess?” Dean asked a few minutes later, both his coffee and doughnut finished.

Sam shook his head. “I'm just researching who we should interview for the case.”

Dean sneezed again, and fished around for his wad of toilet paper. He found it, stuffed in his jean pocket. Sam was looking at him again, and Dean turned away. He sneezed and finally turned back to Sam.

“I'm still not sick.” Dean rasped, after he'd finished coughing. To Dean's ears, Sam's typing sounded accusing. Whatever. Bitch.


“You're burning up, Dean,” Sam groused.

“Am not.” Dean protested. He sniffled and rubbed at his aching head, the skin clammy with sweat.

Sam spoke as he pulled on his jacket fifteen minutes later. “I'm going out for dinner. If you let me get you some cold medicine, I'll get you whatever you want to eat.” Sam grinned suddenly. “I'll even get you some pie!”

Dean sat forward, interested despite himself. “I'm not four years old, you can't tempt me with food. Even pie, as tasty as it is.” Even to Dean's ears, he sounded congested and hoarse. It didn't help that he'd spent most of today coughing up a lung.

“I'm sure the diner down the street has cherry pie. I could even get some ice cream on top. I know you love that.” Sam sighed. His eyes were soft as they gazed at Dean. “Please, Dean, just let me get you some medicine. I want you to feel better. I hate to see you sick.”

Dean shuddered and finally caved and grabbed the bed's blanket, and wrapped himself in it. Sam's hands twitched, like he wanted to start feeling Dean's forehead, and that was it. He couldn't take it anymore.

“Fine, Sammy, get me the damn medicine.” He pointed at Sam. “And there better be at least two scoops of ice cream on my pie.”

Sam's smile was blinding, and took Dean completely by surprise. For the first time today, Dean felt like he'd done something right. And all he had to do was let his little brother take care of him for once. Imagine that.

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