Exhalations
Prompt: Okay, I've been trying to think of a good prompt to post on here in forever, and I finally have an idea. So, my favorite thing about sneezes are the build-up. If we could have a fic (even a little one!) with Dean (and Sneezekink!Sam) where it takes him FOREVER to get his sneezes out, and he just sits there for like an entire minute going "HAH...heh...EH-" kind of thing. With a twitchy nose and watery/squinty eyes. And his sentences keep getting interrupted and everything. And Sam's just like JESUS CHRIST STOP IT I'M GONNA COME IN MY PANTS. Oh god, I would love you forever.
A/N: I re-read the prompt after I'd finished this and had a facepalm moment of, I missed the interrupted talking, so I think we're gonna need another fill on this one. But also here's this! Thank you thank you to twirlycurls, aka Speedy McSpeederton amongst betas.
:::
Soon it'll be too cold to do this, at least here in Minnesota. They'll have to pay for a room, or make their way back down south. Florida. They could sleep in the car year-round in Florida. Sam watches a long, slow breath curl up toward the dark ceiling. Gators, Disney rides. He's surprised there aren't more hauntings down there. Maybe there are. They should really check.
"Hhh..."
Sam goes still. He looks to the space above the front seat.
"Hhhh." Vapors rush up and disperse. It's a flood of air from Dean's lungs. Is he in pain? His arm... Sam's halfway to sitting when he hears a wet sniffle, and freezes.
"HhhHH..."
Sam lowers himself stealthily to the seat, touches his mouth as blood rushes to his groin.
"Eh-HH..."
Dean's trying to be quiet. That's for Sam, because he thinks Sam's asleep. Sam lets the breath drag along the back of his throat, just hard enough to sound like he's deep in dreamland.
He waits.
Finally there's an exhale, strangled by a swallow. Sam watches the mist push up, sees the gap where the swallow broke up the flow.
"HH-ahh..."
Now there's some voice, a hint of exasperation. Sam flashes on Dean dropping their clean laundry bag in the mud last month. His palm finds his crotch and massages.
"G-gahhh..."
It's not that different from a noise Sam heard him make once taking a step on a hurt leg. He pinches a nipple through his shirt.
"Rr-HHH..."
Sam takes a silent, calming breath in through his nose. He smells the leather of the car, the plaster of Dean's cast, the mud drying on their boots, the french-fry scent from the stained paper bag on the floor under the driver's seat.
"HH-HH..."
His lungs are full, like Dean's. Muffled by the glass, he can hear the river outside trickling through the quiet.
"IGH-EHHH..."
Sam's wrist slips under the elastic waistband of his shorts. His other hand knuckles his lips. He holds his breath.
"Hhhhhhhh." It's shaky this time, a desperate puff of air that stretches out into a long, thin stream. It plumes up white and tumbles out across the ceiling.
Sam stops all movement. Cheeks flushed, he knits his brows.
"HHH-HHH-HADGZHZHTT-TCHCH-shoo!"
There's a damp snuffle, then a murmur. "Sab?"
Blushing, Sam sighs explosively and peeks up over the seat back. He gazes down at Dean, at his bound-up arm and his other arm, fingers pressed to a flushed nose. Dean's eyes glitter in the moonlight, breath collecting in little clouds between the fogged windows.
"Sorry."
"For waking me up?" Sam dips into the greasy bag and stretches a clean napkin down to Dean's swollen nose. "Or for not waking me up? 'Cause if you're gonna have a sneezing fit, I expect an invitation."
Dean's eyes crinkle in pleasure. His thumb finds the pulse point in Sam's wrist as he blows. "You're weird," he coughs out as Sam dabs him clean. He sniffles. "Is it me or is it cold?"
"Human blanket, coming up." Sam shimmies over the padding, shifts the broken arm out of the way and settles himself carefully onto Dean. "Better?" He kisses his temple, his warm nose. A tremor runs through the length of his body. "You OK?"
"Yeah." Dean turns his head, gasps and sneezes an enormous sneeze. "AHT-TZISHSHSH-uh!"
Sam groans, absorbing the chain of muscle contractions. He grinds into Dean and nuzzles his neck. "Gnhh. Me too."
Dean winks and squeezes Sam's ass. "Hhhh..."
Sam whimpers and rocks against him. His lips find Dean's hairline, his flaring nostrils.
"HEH-hhh..."
He presses every available inch of himself to Dean.
"KHA-XXTCHCCHHOOOO! HEH-HIXXTSHGK-ih! Hah... hah... HA-DDZHZHHSHSHSHT!"
Twitching with aftershocks, Sam listens to the river, to Dean's steady, congested breathing, to the heartbeat under his ear. His legs are twined around one of Dean's, jammed into the driver's footspace. Half-hearted moonlight glows through the condensation. "You're my favorite," he says, and Dean pats his hip. He peers sleepily at the underside of Dean's chin. "Sorry you're sick."
Dean kisses his forehead. "There are perks."