Title: Go Lay Down

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: A light little fic that takes place after 13.12 "Various & Sundry Villains". Sam is getting sick, Dean tries to look after him.

"Hey!"

"Huh? What?"

"You. Sam. I've been talkin' to you for five minutes, man. You're all spaced out. And you've been starin' at that same page forever. What's goin' on with you?"

"Hmm? Sorry. I think I'm getting sick."

"Something serious?"

"Dunno. Probably not. It's nothing. I'm okay."

"Wrong. You already admitted it. Can't take it back, dude. Go lay down. Things are quiet out there right now. We can pick up the hunt for Mom and Jack when you're better."

"Dean…"

"A day or two won't make a difference, Sam. I know you're strugglin' right now, so just take some time. I'll take over your research chores while you're down."

"You?"

"I'm not Sam Freakin' Winchester, but I've got my skills. I promise I won't even lose your place in this...1200 page…damn. Seriously? 1200 pages? No wonder you're feelin' like crap. Go on. Lay down. I'll let you know if anything pops. No, wrong direction, Sam. The kitchen is not your room. Tell me what you need, I'll bring it to you."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Smoothie?"

"Smoothie. Figures. Fine, but not if it involves pulverizing a bag of tasteless green weeds."

"Just something with fruit."

"Fruit I can do, Sammy. On it. Go."

"Almond milk."

"Yes, yes. You and your milk-from-nuts weirdness. How they hell do they squeeze milk of almonds anyway? Never mind. Please go lay down. Don't make me say it again. You look like hell."

"Thanks."

"Welcome. Watch out for the…chair. Dude. You are so not well."

"I told you I was getting sick."

"Or beaten down. Just as bad. Or worse."

"Got a headache too. Dean, can you…"

"Pain meds and a smoothie coming up. But only if you...Go. Lay. Down. NOW."

"What time is it anyway?"

"Damn it, Sam."

"Sorry. Guess I feel worse than I thought. Standing up didn't help."

"Dizzy or lightheaded?"

"Lightheaded."

"Right. And that's something that oh I don't know…LAYING DOWN might help."

"Maybe I should just sit for a few minutes. It might go away."

"You've been sitting down for eight hours staring at that book. Enough. Do you need me to drag your ass to your room? Because I will. You may be 8 feet tall, but I can take you out if necessary."

"I'd rather you just make me a smoothie."

"Tryin' here, Sam. Really tryin'. Okay, we'll go at this from a different direction. Remember when we were kids…You have until the count of five to leave the kitchen and go to your bedroom. One."

"Dean."

"Two"

"Dean, I'm not a kid anymore."

"You are sick. Three."

"I don't need you to mother me."

"You do, because you aren't lookin' after yourself. Four."

"Dean…"

"Sam, if I say five and still see your sad puppy eyes and moppy-ass hair staring at me…"

"Okay! I'm going. Just, don't be long."

"I've got things under control, Sam. I can handle Tylenol and liquified fruit. I just need you to rest. That's your one job for the next couple days."

"You know, I don't remember ever doing what you said when you got to five. When we were kids."

"Most of the time you didn't get to five. I got conned by those pleading eyes of yours. Always with that soapy 'I promise I'll never do it again' look. Damn, I was sucker big brother."

"You took care of me though. No matter what I'd done wrong or gotten into."

"I did. Just like I'm tryin' to do now. Bedroom. Now. Go lay down. Rest. I'll be there in a few minutes with your drink and meds."

"Yeah, okay. I'm going. Oh, and hey, don't forget to add the Greek yogurt and..."

"I'm gonna Greek yogurt your ass if you don't go lay the hell down, damn it!"

"I'm gone!"

The end