Title: You’ll Thank Me
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13 (for language and snuggles)
Disclaimer: Not my boys!
Written for my own SPN comment meme, but 5 pages is too long to fit in the comments.

Prompt: Sam has a bad cold and his nose is sooo chapped and sore from all the tissues. Dean rubs moisturiser on it for him.


You’ll Thank Me


On the first day, Sam feels sneezy and shivery and does some serious damage to every napkin in the car until Dean finally gets him tissues.


ihhh-IHShuhh!” Sam rubs his nose into the tissue and winces. That’s beginning to hurt.


“Bless you. Hey, you okay?” Dean asks, sliding into the driver’s seat.


Sam nods, buckles himself in, and shivers violently. “Cad you turd ub the heat?”


Dean considers this as he turns the key in the ignition. “The Impala gets better gas mileage if you don’t turn it on until the engine’s warm.”


“Oh.” Sam rubs his nose again. The tickling is awful. “ihhhh...ihhh-HITSCH!” As another shiver runs through him, he glances back over his shoulder. His duffle bag isn’t far and he’s got his Stanford sweatshirt in there.


“This better?” Dean cranks the heat up.


It’s lukewarm at first, just blowing air. But a few seconds later it’s warmer.”Thadk you.”  Sam practically basks in it. And Dean looks amused that it’s so easy.




On the second day, Sam decides that if he’s asleep, he won’t sneeze so much. It works for a while, but Dean keeps waking him up.


This time, it’s for lunch. “You want fries with that, Sleeping Beauty?”


Sam blinks tiredly at the drive through menu and shakes his head. He’s not hungry, but even if it were, he wouldn’t wan stale potatoes fried in lard and drenched in salt. “Oradge juice?” he requests. “Two of theb?”


Dean sighs and places the order.



After he hands over Sam’s juice and salad in a shaker, Dean turns the radio back on. The music is so loud, base thumping, that it feels like each beat hits him right in the head. “Cad you turd dowd the busic?”


For a moment, Dean looks shocked at the very thought.


ehhhh… oh God… ihhhhh-Hihhhh…” Sam buries his face into a tissue. “EhPITSChhhh!” He moans a little, clamping a hand to his forehead as pain shoots through. Before he’s even done blowing his dripping nose, Dean turns the volume down to almost nothing.


Sam closes his eyes and relaxes in the seat. He mumbles an impossibly sleepy “thadk you” and falls asleep in a minute.




On the third day, Sam just wants it to be over already.


Sam’s blow is long and wet, gurgling endlessly into the tissue. He’d convinced Dean to stop for tissues when he’d started feeling sick, and Dean had bought him a box. But the gas station had only had small square boxes and he is starting to run low already. “Dean’d… ihhh…” He already asked for the heat to be turned up and the radio to be turned down. He’s not sure how much more he can ask for. “You said… ehhhh… bore tissues?”


Dean checks the time. “Two days you’ve had this cold. I can’t believe you’re still this sneezy. We’re stopping in an hour. Can you make it?”


ihh… I… I… ihhh-eh-EH-EHTISHooo! Guh… yeah…” He takes another tissue and blows. When he’s done with a blow, he folds the tissue into fourths and wipes at his nostrils with one side, then flips it over and does the same. He uses every bit of the rough tissue he can before tossing it into plastic grocery bag from the gas station one state away. His nose is tender every time he touches it, especially with the slightly damp portions of the tissues. But leaving it wet after a sneeze or letting it run hurts as well. He just can’t win.


Sam tries to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the passenger side window, but there’s nothing there but snow-covered fields. So he sits up straight in the passenger seat, reaches over, and commandeers the rear view mirror.


“Hey!” Dean shoots him a quick look. Maybe Sam’s pushing his luck again, but his nose is killing him and he’s got to see.


Sam angles it and finally sees himself. “Holy shit.”


Dean glances over again, concern in his eyes now. “What?”


“I look horrible.”


A smile twitches on Dean’s face. Kind of half a smile, but it extends to his eyes. “Oh yeah,” Dean agrees. “Yeah, you do.”


Sam pouts. “Oh thadks for that.”


“But you’ve looked worse.”


It’s little comfort, as Sam inspects the raw, red flush of his chapped nostrils. The area all around his nose is red as well; no wonder it hurts when he blows and rubs and… and sneezes. “Oh doe. Godda…” He pulls another tissue out of the box. Now he doesn’t want to use it, but spraying the dashboard isn’t much of an alternative. “ihh… yihh-GETSHUHH! EPTishh! Uhhh…” He folds the tissue in half, picks a mostly-dry spot, takes a deep breath, and starts all over again.




That night, Dean finds them a motel that’s right across the street from a Walgreens, and Sam could kiss him for it. Sam sticks to Dean’s side in the drug store, feeling particularly needy and not wanting to be left alone if he gets especially sneezy. Dean lets him pick out whatever he wants. Though he rolls his eyes at the tissues Sam wants. “You sure, kid?”


Sam sniffles, trying to keep from rubbing his nose as much as possible, and nods. They’re the only extra soft kind on the shelves; not his fault that they’re also pink. “Those. Ihhhh…” He raises his arm and buries his nose in the crook. “ihhh-KFShhhh! Blease? Ihhh-KITSchh!” It’s only mildly messy and he keeps his nose there while he sniffles, looking longingly at the box on the shelf.


Dean rolls his eyes and slides two boxes off the shelf into his shopping basket so fast Sam almost doesn’t see. But two boxes… Sam is overjoyed at the thought and squeezes Dean in an excited hug. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome. Just try not to sneeze on me, wouldya? Bad enough I have to buy those things. I wouldn’t want to have to use them.”


By the time they get to the motel room, Sam needs badly to blow his nose. He rips into the tissue box and the second one of the soft tissues touches his nose, he can tell the difference. The problem is, his nose it too far gone already. He blows his nose, wincing in pain, and dabs at it to keep it from dripping for a few minutes at least. Then he tosses the tissue without having to use it up completely.


“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so miserable.”


Sam turns to Dean, looking incredulous.


Dean smiles again. “Just kidding. C’mon, Sammy. It’s just a nose, right?”


Sam hesitates then nods. He’s sure Dean wouldn’t be saying that if it were his nose that felt so perpetually sneezy and hurt every single time he sneezed or blew or touched it.


Dean leans close, whispering, “I can fix it.”


His words are gentle. Too gentle. Dean’s warm breath touches his face and it’s too much for Sam. A sudden sneeze springs up, and Sam presses his nose to Dean’s shirt at the collarbone just in time. “hehITCHufffff!” He sniffs hard and whimpers as his nose brushes the fabric. It’s so tender, any second now, it might be rubbed so raw it would bleed.


“Whoa there.” Dean strokes the back of Sam’s head, pulls him close. “I gotcha. And when I’m done, you’re going to thank me. Okay?”


Desperate for anything that will help even a little, Sam can only nod.


Dean is cryptic about his plan, but he winds up on the bed with the grocery bag at his side and Sam’s head in his warm lap. Sam’s breath is already catching, and he tries to hold back his sneezes long enough for Dean to do whatever the heck Dean is going to do. “I… I ihhhh…


Dean dips his finger into a container and pulls it out with a glob of lotion on it. The second he touches the moistness to Sam’s nose, his brother’s nose wrinkles. And twitches. And fucking quivers with the need to sneeze. He rubs the lotion in just a little, applying a bit of pressure, then pressing his fingers to Sam’s nose to calm it. But even that touch makes Sam’s nose tickle like mad.


Sam fists the covers of the bed, tensing, toes curling. “Dean’d? I’b… I’b godda… sdeh…”


I know. S’all right.” Dean has a half dozen of the extra soft tissues bunched up in his hand. Sam doesn’t remember when Dean’s hand was even near the box and the moment his nose is buried amidst the tissues, he doesn’t care. “Sneeze all you need to, Sammy.”


ih-ih-ihhh-IK-HIH-IHPTShhhhh! Ysha-HERSChhhh! Eh-heh-hept’CHUSHHH! Oh… oh god…” His nose needs a blow so badly, but that will hurt like hell, so he settles for some nuzzling and sniffling into the tissues.


When Dean pulls the tissues back, Sam’s nose feels runny and tickly, but all right until Dean applies a bit more lotion. Gently, he spreads it around the tip of Sam’s nose before concentrating on each chapped nostril, following the curves.


The touch is torturous and Sam’s nose can’t keep still as Dean touches it. “Stob. Dot godda… ehhhh… work.”


“Yes it will.” He leans over, kissing Sam’s forehead.


Sam’s sore nose flares wildly with the desperate need to sneeze. It crinkles and scrunches and Sam pitches upward, practically bouncing on the bed. But there are tissues at his nose before Sam can slap his hand against the soft bedcovers in warning. “YETSchuhh! Heyikshhh! Ehtchuhh!” This time, when Dean wipes his nose for him, it doesn’t hurt quite so much.


Dean resumes, rubbing tiny dollops of the lotion on the area under Dean’s nose, the chapped curves suddenly feeling soothed. “What’s this called again?”




Dean kisses his forehead again. “No. This bit of you. There’s a name for it, isn’t there?” He rubs a more generous amount there. But his fingertips brush Sam’s nostrils, and all is lost.


Eh-HIPTSchhh! Hihshhh! Iptshhh! Eh-ehh-EHSchhh!


“Bless you.” Dean wipes the soft tissues at Sam’s nose.




“Bless you again.”


“No, that’s what it’s call… called… ehhhh-HITSChhhhhh!” The sneeze takes them both by surprise, but Dean still has the tissues there in time, like he’s psychic.

Dean puts more on, rubbing it in, until Sam sighs and closes his eyes. “That’s it,” he murmurs. Dean’s fingertips slip fluidly against his nose now. It feels good, almost sensual. He sniffs and when Dean wipes his nose with a tissue, it doesn’t really hurt at all. And there’s so much lotion, not much comes off on the tissue.


Happily, Sam turns his head and nuzzles into Dean’s crotch. There’s heat and hardness and Dean gives a bit of a growl. “Sammy… what do you think you’re doing?”


“You said I’d thadk you whed you were dode. I’b thadkig you.” His teeth tug at Dean’s zipper.