Title: The Collection
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Disclaimer: Not my boys or world. Not at all.

Prompt: Sneezekink Sam starts collecting handkerchiefs, without even really realizing that he's doing it. A pack at a Walmart, a bandana at a truck stop, and then one day he realizes he's got a huge stash of hankies in his duffel.



The Collection


Sam slid a couple packs of beef jerky off the rack. He surveyed his basket carefully. Energy drinks. Power bars. Enough fuel to get them through a three day trip across the country.




Sam froze in place on aisle three. Though the sound of the sneeze had taken him off guard, it had been a lovely surprise. Perky, feminine, cute. It reminded him a bit of the way Jess had sneezed. He'd loved lying in bed next to her in the mornings before she took her allergy pill, listening to her gentle, hitching breaths as they built to those perfect, almost musical sneezes. The sound had hit him right in the gut each and every time, making it flip with excitement. He'd never told her how much it had turned him on, but she must have known, because she always let him reach past her for the tissues then tend to her nose for her. And she always let him make love to her before she even mentioned getting up to take a pill.


ehh-Chii! EhhChoo!


Sam steadied himself by holding onto a nearby shelf. His heart raced. His body throbbed. The first one had taken him by surprise, but he'd been hoping for more. And he'd gotten them. He thought about strolling in the direction of the sneezes, to see who it might be. But after a few seconds, he realized he'd missed his chance. He closed his eyes, listening closely for more. But there weren't any.


So Sam found himself walking through the Walmart unconsciously, with no set destination in mind. He couldn't go out to the car feeling like this, so giddy and horny and out of breath; Dean would tease him to no end. So he quickly hid himself in the men's clothing section, using the racks for cover as he composed himself again.  Dean was out in the car, sleeping while Sam stocked up. So he wouldn't know if Sam took a few extra minutes for himself.


But, as he stared at the rows and rows of cheap, discount clothes, his eyes traveled onward to one display. “Oh God yes,” Sam whispered. And, just like that, he was tossing a three-pack of white cloth handkerchiefs into his basket. He'd bag them up separately at the self-checkout then sneak them into his duffel. Dean would never notice them.




While Dean went to use the gas station bathroom, Sam decided to stretch his legs. What he needed was a strong cup of coffee. The back roads in this county were like a maze and Dean was going to rely on his navigational skills. So Sam headed into the convenient store and looked around. He grabbed a pack of peanut M&Ms for Dean,  an updated road map, and coffees for both of them, loading his pocket up with sugar packets and creamer cups. Sam was about to pay for it all when something else caught his eye.


Nestled in-between souvenir baseball caps and a notice about fishing licenses was a box of bandannas. Each was folded into a perfect square of solid color offset by white paisley patterns. Sam felt something in him stir. He thought of Dean the last time they'd interviewed someone with cats. He remembered the way Dean buried his nose in the folds of his bandanna, not lifting it once as the sneezes came again and again. Sam had done his best to distance himself from his emotions then so that he could get through the interview, but now the memory rushed back, vivid and powerful and, fuck, he had to have one of those.


He plucked one out of the display, a navy blue one, and worked the material between his fingers as he walked to the cash register. His fantasies were already working overtime now as he imagined it catching big, strong, wet sneezes. He could hear them in his head, a fit so uncontrollable that this bandanna was the only thing that could contain it even a little. Nonstop sneezing. A constantly running, maybe even dripping, nose. And soft, dark cloth containing it all.


“Anything else?” the guy at the cash register asked as Sam set the items down.


Sam couldn't actually purchase the one thing he wanted to go with this, so he shook his head and immediately stuffed the bandanna into his pocket along with the sugar and creamer.




During the last fight, a demon had tore right through Dean's suit jacket. It now sat in pieces in a motel trash bin in Tulsa. And though Dean had another suit, he had only the one. In the span of a month, he'd gone through four suits. If he'd had to actually pay to replace them all, they really would have had to get real jobs. Instead, Sam found himself picking the lock to a tailor shop at three in the morning.


There was no alarm system and no security camera; they'd verified that earlier in the day.  So they were free and clear to break in and take what they needed. Once upon a time, Sam would have felt guilt over this. And, truthfully, there was something still deep down inside him that said they really should leave some money for the guy who owned the shop. But as soon as they started charging for saving people from demons or for saving the world, they could afford to pay $800 for new suits they could use to pretend they were federal agents. Life as a hunter was full of crazy gives and takes like these.


After so many years at this, Sam and Dean knew their sizes and styles well enough. Dean went straight for a black blazer and used his flashlight in the dressing room to make sure it fit. Sam picked up a new navy blue suit for himself, but then something else caught his eye. Most suits had fake pockets or had pocket squares sewn in permanently for dramatic effect. But right here in the store was a display of fine, expensive handkerchiefs. Sam's heart beat just a little faster as he approached them. And the familiar twinge in his stomach as he picked up one of the handkerchiefs convinced him that he was leaving there with one of them tonight.


The floral embroidery work on one of the cotton handkerchiefs was exquisite; it had to have been sewn by hand. It was much too nice to sneeze into, though. Another had embroidered edges, curving beautifully like waves on every side. Still another had faint gray pinstripes and must have been a blend because it was so soft to the touch, Sam wasn't even sure he had something between his thumb and forefinger when he touched it.


“I like this one,” Dean said, voice muffled through the curtains.


For a moment, Sam thought he was talking about the handkerchiefs, but then Sam realized Dean meant his suit. “Great,” Sam said, trying to sound like he cared. Dean could take the entire inventory at this point and Sam probably wouldn't notice.


His sights were set on a shiny, pale green, satin handkerchief. With one glance toward the dressing room to make sure Dean wasn't coming out, Sam pocketed the handkerchief.




This one was plaid. A bold, blue and green tartan on thick, soft cotton. Just looking at it, Sam could imagine how good it would feel to bury his nose into it and have it smother his sneezes. He could imagine fingering it in his pocket every time he heard someone sneeze. He could even imagine offering it over to Dean the next time Dean felt super sneezy. Uncontrollably sneezy. The kind of sneezy where he was desperate for help. And Sam would give him this hanky. Or, better, Sam would press it to Dean's nose for him. Fuck. Sam would feel the heat of Dean's face through the cloth. He would feel the force of the sneezes as he caught them.


Sam nearly hyperventilated with excitement as he crumpled the receipt into his pocket and carried his purchase to the car. Dean was back at the motel, catching a few hours of well-deserved sleep, and Sam had meant to go out and grab them some dinner. But he'd found himself window shopping in the quaint little town instead. And now he was so glad he had.


Not wanting to show off his erection. Sam found a drive-through. But he set the handkerchief on his thigh so he could look down at it. He couldn't get it out of his mind.


He imagined Dean lying in bed, sniffling and miserable, and Sam crawling in behind him with the handkerchief. He imagined drying Dean's eyes with it after an especially strong sneeze made them water. He imagined wiping Dean's nose when it was all red from so much sneezing into boring, rough, motel room tissues. He imagined holding Dean's nose through the handkerchief, feeling his nostrils trying to flare but not being able to, feeling an especially strong sneeze back off because of what Sam had done to help.


Sam moaned with wanting and tried to get the images out of his head as he grabbed the dinner and carried it into the motel room.


Dean was dead asleep, passed out, face-down on the bed. He didn't even stir when Sam shut and locked the door behind or when Sam set the dinner down a little too loudly on the motel room table. Glancing warily over at him, Sam made his way over to his duffel bag and unzipped it. He lovingly added his new acquisition, meaning to tuck it into one side of his bag. But that side of his bag was oddly full. There was a stack of handkerchiefs there already. There were some in the middle of the bag as well. And on the other side. Sam unzipped it all the way, opening the bag's mouth wide to he could look inside.


“Oh shit,” Sam laughed, clapping his hand over his mouth. His duffel was filled with handkerchiefs. Yeah, some of his clothes were in there of course. There were a couple books. And his doc kit with shaving supplies and  other toiletries was there as well. But there were so many handkerchiefs—more than he remembered buying, but he must have. He remembered getting each and every one of them. And he loved them all. He just hadn't realized there were so many.




At the sound of Dean's groggy voice, Sam zipped up his duffel. “Hey. Ready for some dinner?”


“Mmm,” Dean nodded, scrubbing his hand at his face. “What'd you get?”


Sam kept himself from looking at his duffel, from even thinking about what was in his duffel.




Sam didn't need more handkerchiefs. He was already a bit embarrassed by the size of the collection he hadn't meant to even have. It was just so easy to pick one up here and another there. And he loved each one of them. But this one... this one was a wonderful, beige linen with clean lines. It wouldn't show its wrinkles, even after a hundred fierce sneezes.


Sam had to have it. So what if that meant returning to the store later without Dean? So what if that meant another handkerchief he didn't need that he would never actually use? He'd still think about them when he came in the shower. Or finger one in his pocket when he heard someone sneeze across a crowded restaurant. Or feel that rush when he opened up his duffel. God, he was going to have to start hustling pool just to support this habbit.


“What's so funny?”


Sam stifled his laughter. “Nothing. Let's go.” But he'd he back. As soon as he could.






Sam shifted in the passenger seat, trying his trick of distancing himself mentally and emotionally but not being able to. Dean's sneezes were perfection; he'd be replaying them all in his head later, he was sure. But it was a kind of torture, sitting so close and listening and not being able to do anything about it. His whole body was on fire as he watched Dean sniffle into the side of his hand. Sam had to clear his throat before speaking. “You okay?”


Dean shook his head. “I thidk it's official. I thidk I've got the bother of all head colds.”


Sam tried to be sympathetic. “Sorry.” But he wasn't sorry, really. He loved hearing Dean talk when he was all stuffed-up like this. He loved watching Dean take his hand off the wheel to rub at his nose. He especially loved hearing Dean sniffle and sneeze as they drove down the highway. And he, oh God, Dean was going to sneeze again right now.


hahshihhh! Hahh-IHShhuhh!


A double. They were amazing. This cold was amazing. Dean was amazing. And Sam was horny. Rock hard. Officially and apologetically turned on.


Dean sniffled and leaned slightly to the side to gain access to his pocket around the seat belt. Dean pulled out his bandanna and turned it over in his hand a few times. “Dab it.” Dean took a deep breath and blew his nose into the bandanna. He winced as he pulled his nose back out again. “This thidg's had it.” He sniffed again. “Hey, Sabby, get be ode of yours.”


Sam froze. Chills literally raced up and down his body. For a moment, he forgot how to do everything. He couldn't reply. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even feel his heart beating anymore. Then it all started again, with a soft gasp. And he managed a quick, confused, “Um, what?”


“Ode of your hadkies. You have a thousad. I just deed ode. Hah... oh... hahschhhhhh!” He tried to rub his nose again with his bandanna and winced. “Actually, I'b bretty sdeezy. Baybe I could use two. Or three. God, by dose....”


God, his nose. Sam shook the idea out of his head, or tried to at least. It was hard to get that unstuck, that idea of Dean all sneezy and sniffly and actually using one of Sam's hankies.




Even the way Dean said his name got to him now , the congestion changing his voice, making it just a little deeper, and turning some of his letters wrong in this unbelievably sexy but unintentional way. Dean had no idea, really no idea at all, how hot he was like this, how hot he made Sam.


“Sab? Hello?” He sniffed again. “Hey, are you okay?” He scrubbed his nose into his sleeve. “Dot gettid sick too, are you? That's all we deed, both of us with colds, sdeezig our heads off.” He laughed and coughed. “Sab?”


“What were you doing in my duffel?” he blurted out. They were always together. They shared everything, including a bed. Dean even used his laptop. Their duffel bags were the only private things they had left.


Dean looked confused at first. Neither of them had expected Sam to blurt that out. “You'd stashed the dife id there. You told be to get it. Rebeber?”


Shit. Sam remembered. They'd been tracking a shifter, and they'd had such a bad track record with those. They'd needed all the the firepower they had. They'd tracked it to a warehouse; why were there so many abandoned warehouses all over the place anyway? Sam had been loading the ammunition into guns and hadn't even thought twice when Dean had asked where the knife was. They'd taken out the shifter, in the end, of course. But it had been months ago. Months and months. Several handkerchiefs had even been added since. Months... and Dean hadn't said anything.


“Sab?” That was the tone of voice Dean used when he wanted Sam to look at him.


But Sam couldn't turn his head. His cheeks burned, and his eyes were permanently fixed on the window and the blurring scenery outside passing by in greens and yellows and grays and blues and whites and


hahh-Ahshihhh! HihShuhhhh!


Sam felt his eyes tearing up.  He couldn't enjoy the sneezes, but they still got to him.


Sniff! Sniff! Sab... Sabby... it's dot like I did't dow before that. I've dowd forever.”


Sam swallowed hard and shut his eyes. The car needed to stop. He needed out. Forever. How fast were they going? Could he live if he threw himself out now?


“It's a little weird, but who ab I to criticize? I just wadt to take advadtage. I deed to blow by dose add you have hadkies. Sniff! Blease, Sabby?”


Sam's heart was beating so hard he thought it might actually explode.


“You cad... you cad choose which ode.”


Sam turned back, eyes wide.


“You sniff, sniff, you cad eved hold it for be if you wa--”


“Stop the car.”




“Stop the fucking car. Now!”


Dean pulled over and Sam threw open his door. But he didn't get out. He meant to. He had planned to. But something kept him there.


hahh-IHTchhhoo! Ihschhuhh! Hah-hah-Ehstchahh!


It didn't take one guess to figure out what that something was. “Dean...”


Dean snuffled into his sleeve and blinked at Sam. “I really do deed to blow by dose.”


Shit. Sam got out of the car, but just to get to his bag in the backseat. He couldn't choose. God, he couldn't choose. So he just thrust his hand into the bag and pulled one out. It turned out to be a white one with subtle little colored dots like confetti. He reached over the seat and handed over the handkerchief at once. As Dean blew his nose, Sam climbed back into the passenger seat. He couldn't help but watch. Dean pressed the hankie to his face with both palms steepled against his nose. And when he blew, the hankie fluttered slightly. Sam saw his eyes squinting closed. The lines of his brow. The rise and fall of his chest. And the sound of Dean getting a little relief finally.


It was hot watching him. So incredibly hot. But it was even hotter knowing that Dean knew he was watching this time.


When Dean finished, he folded the handkerchief and pressed it to his nose again. “hah-Uhmmchhh!” He gave his nose a strong wipe, the tip of his nose bending toward Sam as he did. Then he sniffed and lowered the handkerchief.


Sam whispered, his mouth dry, “Better?”


“Better,” Dean agreed. Then he reached over, hand on Sam's thigh. “How about you?”


Sam's breath raced. His skin tingled. His whole body was alight with desire. “Somewhere....” He cleared his throat. “I'm somewhere between wanting to die and wanting to come.”


Dean chuckled. “You dow, I was thidkig we could pull off idto ode of these towds, fide a roob, add hole ub for a week.” He coughed and sniffed. “I'b dot goidg to be too useful od a hudt adyway.” Dean wiped his nose again. “Of course, it beads you'd be stuck id a roob with be sdeezig dodstob for days. Thidk you cad hadle that, Sabby?”


Sam nodded, sure any word he tried to get out now would only be a squeak.


Dean put the car back in drive and steered them back onto the highway, driving with one hand and clutching Sam's hankie in his other. “Good. 'Cause I wadt to sdeeze idto every sigle hadkerchief you have id your duffel.” He grinned at Sam. “You... hah... hah--” He brought the hankie up just in time. “Hah-Humphshhh! Sniff! You bight eved have to buy a few bore for your collectiod. This is a very sdeezy cold.”