This is a oneshot for my friend Jean, who was knocked down by evil bronchitis this week.
The Dr. says, take a dose of sick Dean and call me in the morning.
xoxo
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Sam rolled over and looked at the clock wondering what had woken him at 4:23 in the God forsaken morning.
It didn't take long for him to figure out though, as the wet, hacking, gunk stuck in the lungs cough that blasted out of the bathroom clued him in.
"Shit."
He knew Dean had been acting off all day, but sure as Hell didn't think it was that bad.
He sat up in bed and listened again. The shower was running, but there was no other noise.
Sam wandered over to the door and listened again.
Too quiet.
He knocked twice, "Dean, can I come in?"
"Mmm" was the muffled reply from the other side.
Sam walked in and saw Dean kneeling over the tub, towel draped over his head, hands clasped in front of him.
He knew instantly what Dean was trying to do.
Homemade breathing treatment.
It must be bad then, Sam thought, at the same time preparing himself for denial Winchester style.
"You Ok Dean? Do we need a hospital?"
Dean turned his head around and was about to speak when he suddenly was overcome by a coughing fit.
He gasped as his lungs tried desperately to pull in air causing him to cough sharply, each breath sending shooting fire through his lungs.
He couldn't pull in a stable breath, the mucus and saliva building up in his throat trying to escape but meeting resistance and getting caught in the middle.
All of a sudden a strong arm was pushing him forward and the thump of the other hand was pounding his back steadily and with enough force to help him finally aspirate.
"Breathe in Dean, then try and cough it all out. I'm gonna hit your back some more."
Dean wasn't sure when his little brother had become a doctor in disguise, but right now he was never more grateful for Sam and his one million and one pieces of knowledge in that freaky brain of his.
After about ten more minutes of repeating the process, Dean slumped on the floor thoroughly worn out, his relieved big little brother right by his side propping him up.
"Thanks Sammy. I...I feel...better."
"Hospital?" Sam asked.
"Just m' brother,"came the muffled reply.
Sam just shook his head and looked at Dean.
Denial.
As usual.
He'd never change, he was a Winchester after all, but so was Sam, and at that moment, he was never more glad for it.
