Nine Times Dean needed Sam… Part Four
Happy birthday Mad!!! Luv ya.
Dean sniffed loudly, the mucus climbing up his throat and pooling in his mouth. He spit it into the sink of the dingy bathroom sink before heading back in to the diner.
The last thing he needed was Sam all over him because he was sick, and he would be all over him if Dean was hacking up a lung at the booth.
Not that Dean would mind a little TLC right now. He felt about as crappy as he could ever remember. He knew he had a fever because he felt the sweat running down his back in tiny rivulets, even though he was chilled to his very core.
His joints ached worse than they did after a grave digging and his head throbbed in time to the bass on the crappy jukebox song.
He slunk down into the booth of the diner, red-rimmed eyes looking anywhere but across the table. He felt it though; all six foot five of menacing little brother staring at him. Wondering.
"You Ok Dean?"
No Sam, I'm not. I'm sicker than a sick dog. I feel like I got knocked down, run over, showered in cold water and set out to dry in a snowstorm. My head feels like a brass band took up residence and I can't smell a damn thing.
"I'm fine. Let's go."
As they walked to the Impala though, Sam noticed that Dean was a step behind, no bitching and moaning, no commenting on the hot waitresses, no patting the belly after a good meal.
Something was definitely wrong.
Back at the motel Dean's silence continued. Except for the hacking cough he tired and failed to cover up by running the shower, he was as silent as Sam had ever seen him.
When he came out of the bathroom, Dean had on only his boxers and a tee shirt.
"I'm tired Sammy, goin' to bed."
He climbed under the covers of the bed closest to the door and tried to take a deep breath in.
No sooner did he, than the mucus buildup in his lungs invaded his esophagus and he began to cough uncontrollably.
He bolted upright in the bed, face red from exertion and head pounding with every cough he forced out.
Sam was there like a lightening bolt though, bottle of water and trash can at the ready…just in case.
He thumped Dean on the back, forcefully yet gentle, just the way Dean would do it to him when he was sick.
"S..sorry Sammy. Do…don't feel so good."
Dean grabbed the trash can from his brother and coughed into it, spitting out the icky green saliva he just coughed up.
"Thank you Captain Obvious. I just don't get why you didn't tell me sooner Dean."
"Not… that bad. Didn't… want you to worry. Didn't... need you…."
"Well bang up job on that Dean, cos I am worried, I have been since you didn't hit on Shelley at the diner."
"Who the hell is Shelley?"
"She was our waitress Dean, our hot, young waitress, and you never said one word."
Dean just sighed and leaned back into his pillows.
Sam covered him up, laid a cool hand on his forehead and felt the shiver run down Dean's body.
"I'm gonna get you some medicine, and you'll be fine in no time."
Dean coughed.
"And just because I'm the younger brother," Sam stammered... doesn't mean you can't need me too."