Title: Deeeeean & Sammyyyyyy
Notes: Written for sexualoddity’s Sneezy Supernatural Boys Appreciation Society comment meme

Prompt: The boys are both sick, they can't get a hotel for whatever reason, so they're sleeping in their car and it's cold and there is lots of cuddling and sniffling and runny noses going on.



Deeeeean & Sammyyyyyy

“D-Dean. I’m still cold.” As if worried his brother wouldn’t believe him, Sam shivers violently. His mitten-covered hands grope clumsily at the blanket wrapped around him and pull it tighter.


“I dknow.” Dean sniffles and rubs his runny nose along the end of his own blanket. “Just try to get sub sleeb.”


“Can’t… t-t-too cold.”


A sigh follows this. Then, “I thig there’s adother bladket id the trudk.”


Sam gets this look about him, entirely relaxed, mouth hanging open, tongue falling against his bottom teeth, eyes closed. Then his eyes close tighter and he pulls back to draw a huge breath. “Hah-ERSHahhh.”


Dean winces. The impala just isn’t big enough for them both to have their own space. They’re lying in the front seats, which are tilted back as far as they’ll go. So Dean feels the spray; there’s just no way not to. And there are tissues somewhere between them, but they’re running low and there’s this unspoken rule about not using one unless absolutely necessary. They’re in the middle of nowhere—no store in sight. No motel either.


But they’d been too tired to keep driving. Too tired and too sick. Dean insisted he’d be good to keep going after a few hours of sleep, but Sam maintained it was too cold to sleep. Out had come every hoodie, hat, scarf, and glove in their bags. But apparently it wasn’t enough.


“So cold,” Sam complains, rubbing his mitten under his runny nose, bright red at the tip and around the nostrils. “A blanket in the trunk?”


Nodding, “Yeah. Sniff! Go for it.”


If there were ever a time for Sam’s hurt puppy dog expression, this is it. Sam turns it on and sniffles to add just one extra layer of pathetic. “Get it for me?”


Dean coughs and looks at Sam with an expression that clearly says he thinks his younger brother is insane. “Oh I’b dot goig. It’s cold out there.” Hell, it’s cold inside as well. But out there is a thin layer of snow and powerful wind gusts kicking the powder around. “Good luck with that.”


“Deeeeeean…?” Sam’s teeth chatter and he covers his mouth with his mittens, breathing warm air on them. “I can’t go. I don’t feel good.”


Too tired to laugh, Dean merely snorts. “I’ve got the sabe cold.”


“I know, but… you haven’t had it as long. You haven’t even sneezed in—”


hahh-HURTSchhhhhh!” Dean wipes his nose on his blanket and sniffles. “You were sayig?”


“Bad example.” Sam coughs. “How about a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors for it?” He pulls off his mitten and shivers so violently as cold air hits his warm hand. His teeth chatter and his hand trembles a little as he holds it out.


Dean shakes his head. “You always wid.”


Sam always wins not because he’s lucky, but because Dean always throws scissors. Sam has his rock all ready, too. But Dean’s not buying it. Sam tries again. “You’re older. You’re my big brother. Aren’t you supposed to look after me?”


“Dude, you’re twedty-five. You cad go get your owd bladket.”


“I really can’t. Too cold. And… oh… sniff… oh no… hehhhh… ” He presses a gigantic mitten to his nose and sneezes into it. “heh... hehh-ERSChfffff!” But one sneeze is hardly enough. His body tenses, rocks. “Kixxshhff! eh-HEH-Kerfshhh-uh…” Sam finishes but keeps his eyes closed. “Dean,” he whines. “If you go get the blanket, I’ll let you share it.”


“You add your sharig,” Dean sighs. “That’s how I edded ub like this.”


Whether Sam’s too cold to wait any longer or whether the guilt of giving his cold to Dean gets to him, he finally throws off his blanket, tightens the scarf around his neck, and pushes open the passenger side door.


Dean groans as the cold winter air floods into the car briefly until Sam closes the door behind. Shoes crunch the snow where a layer of ice is forming on top of the powder. It takes far longer than it really should. Sam’s hands slip as metal meets fleece mitten so he can’t open the trunk at first. Then he pulls out the blanket and hugs it to his chest, hunched over so it won’t get as wet.


By the time Sam returns, he is shivering violently and not even Dean can ignore that. “Shit. C’bere,” Dean says, scooting over and drawing Sam close. There’s just enough room to squeeze onto the same seat, even though they’re bulky from coats and sweatshirts and blankets. They each have their own but Dean manages to wrap the thick army blanket from the trunk around them both.


Dean’s runny nose drips on Sam’s scarf, and he shakes his head back and forth, nuzzling against the fabric. Sam couldn’t care less and snuggles as close as he can to Dean’s warm body. Dean rubs circles on Sam’s back. Sam hugs Dean with both arms and a leg. And after a few minutes, his shivers fade away. For the first time all night, he thinks he might actually be able to get some sleep. He’s dizzy with exhaustion and when the soothing blackness of sleep washes over him, he doesn’t fight it.


hahhEHKFSHHAA!” The sneeze is surprising and wet, shaking them both. Dean gasps, snuffles into the scarf, and winds up for another almost immediately. “hahh… hahhh… huh-uh-HEFTChahhh!” His nose is so terribly tickley and runny that no amount of rubbing’s going to help right now. “I ehhhh thidk we deed to fide that… hahhh… Kleedex box.”


“Good luck with that.” Sam’s so sleepy, the words barely make it, though they’re slurred and soft.


Dean whimpers. “Sammyyyyyy…?”