This is a prompt fill for RadientFall, who requested a drunk!fic but then thankfully changed it into a sick!fic. This is probably not what you wanted but that's the way the story decided to go and I went with the flow. All three chapters belong together and every time someone else is ill. Hope you still like it. [Sorry for the buggy second half. Fixed it now.]

Roman
November 2013

Neither of them has said a word ever since they left the arena mere hours ago. Dean is busy watching whatever in the darkness outside, Rome's driving and Seth tries to find some sleep on the backseat. It's kinda fruitless though, since this car is barely bigger than an elephant skate.

He's only resting on the backseat because Dean and Roman are too tall to fit in here. Sometimes it really sucks being the youngest and smallest one.

When Rome clears his throat the sound practically cuts the silence in half, making him flinch violently. He got so used to the steady drum of the engine and the evenly breathing of his brothers that it was almost enough to lull him to sleep.

'I think I'm coming down with something.' Roman did mention an aching throat and paranasal sinuses yesterday already, directly after waking up, and he does sound a bit croaky too. Crap. Whenever someone says these words, it means that whatever illness it is, it'll spread like wildfire. First between them and then the entire roster. But this time he wants to be smarter.

Seth sits up, or at least he tries to, since all their hand luggage is stuffed in the footwell and he has to put his legs on the seat, announcing proudly, 'Good thing I'm prepared for everything ever since then.' He's a walking, talking medicine cabinet thanks to one fateful night in February, where he fell ill himself and no one of them was prepared for it.

Dean scoffs, his hot breath clouding up the window and Seth watches the circle getting smaller and smaller until his brother says, 'You were the only one making a fuss.' Oh, excuse him. He was in a great deal of, well, it wasn't exactly pain, since it only had been the flu, but his family didn't really help him back then.

'Because he filled me up with booze,' he complains, jabbing an accusing finger into Roman's shoulder blade. His big brother chuckles, still satisfied with his actions of that night. 'It did make you feel better.'

Alcohol is never the answer. To absolutely nothing.

'Not only was I sick, I also had the worst hangover ever.' Not to mention the embarrassing things he did and said to Dean. The one night he wishes booze would erase out of his mind has proven to be very resilient. No matter what he does, it stays in his memories, clinging to his brain with tiny, mean hooks.

But that doesn't matter now, since he can't change the past anymore and Dean has more or less forgiven him – at least for the minor things. Seth rummages through his backpack, drawing forth two small bottles and a pack of pills. He uncaps the first vial and pours thirty drops into the cap to hand it over to Roman, who drinks the medicine for his sore throat.

'Was pretty funny though,' his brother snickers before he falls into a fit of coughing and Dean casually grips the steering wheel with his left hand to steady the car as if he's intending to snatch an apple in the supermarket. Once they're driving normally again, Dean looks over to Roman and raises his eyebrows.

'We clearly aren't talking about the same night then. You gave him alcohol, he tried to serenade his love for me–' 'Did, not tried,' Roman interjects, making Seth blush and hide behind his big friend's body, while Dean continues completely unperturbed. '–and refused to let go of me while you were laughing your ass off.'

And that had been the good stuff. 'No, same night. I had a great time.' If Seth wouldn't be so worried about their health, he'd love to get some payback for that, but he's a good person and an even better little brother, so he prepares another set of drops for his sick friend, all the while sulking in the backseat. 'Dean wouldn't sleep in the same room as me for a whole month.'

Roman swerves the car a bit, probably to change the lane, but it makes Seth lose count of the drops he already had in the lid. Without further ado, he swallows the medicine himself – can never hurt, right? – and pours out a new set.

'Not my fault your feelings for Dean oozed out of you before you barfed all over him.' Oh God, no. Could they please stop talking about this? 'I was aiming for a kiss,' he moans, cheeks suddenly very hot and he's never been so glad that they use to travel during nighttime.

Rome coughs again and this time he manages to not drive the car dangerously close to the guardrail while Seth is able to balance the almost full cup in his hands until his brother is ready to take it. 'Ugh,' he complains after swallowing it and instinctively bats Seth's fingers away when he tries to feel his forehead. That one moment was enough though, and he stares at his hand for a while, still able to feel the heat and slight sheen of sweat on his brother's skin.

This calls for more drastic medicine, so he buries his head in his daybag to search for all the pills he possesses. Ah, there they are. A secretolytic, something for convulsive coughing and an antifebrile. Hopefully it's not too late for that one.

'Well, you failed miserably. That was everything, but not a kiss. Huh, Dee?' Dean holds up his hands, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 'I have no recollection whatsoever of those events.' That's not true. Seth knows that Dean just pretends like nothing happened because it's still a miracle to him how he managed to not hurl after Seth redecorated his face.

'Good times,' Rome croaks out, clearing his throat several times, but it seems like the frog in his throat won't disappear, snuffling against his better knowledge that that doesn't help at all. Dean shoots his best friend a death glare before he pulls out his phone to play on it, content with spending the rest of the drive in silence again.

It's quiet in the car after that, which gives Seth a chance to mentally go through the list of things he'll have to do once Roman is tucked in bed. Like find some ice to make a cold pack for Rome's congested sinuses, order some extra pillows to help him breathe better and somewhere in his suitcase he thinks he has a small tube of eucalyptus salve left.

'We should switch. I'm starting to feel a bit light-headed. You wanna go, Seth?' his big brother asks after a while and Seth looks out the window to see the median strip next to him go in and out of his line of vision. Oh. He really should stop driving, but Seth surely won't be the one bringing them home.

If Dean sits behind the wheel, they'll be at the motel in no time. 'No way, big boy, I need to take care of you.' Not that he can do much penned in this hellhole of a car, but he's not keen on driving.

'It's just a cold,' Roman groans exasperated, sounding as if Seth treats him like a child. But who's gonna watch out for his family if not him? Those two Neanderthals still have the mentality that they just need to wait long enough and then the sickness will go away on its own. Which, yeah, does fit for most illnesses, but why suffer for days on end if you can take a short cut?

'And we'll get it under control before we're all sick,' Seth emphasizes. 'I'm on a lucky streak so far this year, so don't you dare break it.' He hasn't been ill ever since that dreadful night in February and he doesn't plan on catching whatever Rome's carrying with him.

Dean puts his phone away again, motioning for his friend to park the car on the side stripe. 'He just likes to play nurse.' That was one time. He'll never hear the end of this either, will he? 'I know,' Roman shudders, turning off the engine to unbuckle himself. 'I've seenit.'

Oh, right. Seth had already forgotten that, too preoccupied with annihilating their little roleplay session out of his mind. But Roman walked in on them – he tends to do that, which is not really surprising but funny every time –, bearing witness to Seth in a tight nurse outfit that'll haunt him in his dreams forever.

They swap seats and Dean drives the rest of the way, speeding like Seth had assumed he would, having as much fun as one can have while riding on an entirely empty highway.

Roman's head rests against the cool window and Seth covers him with one of Dean's hoodies, so he'll stay nicely warm throughout the rest of the trip. By accident, he also find two packages of hot lemonade powder on the bottom of his rucksack.

He doesn't have any hot water, but cold one temporarily does the trick too. He'll use the first packet now and ask for some boiled water in the motel later for the second one. 'Drink this. It'll calm your throat,' he murmurs softly to Roman, who takes the bottle and sips at it before he closes his eyes.

Seth carefully puts his fingers on his brother's forehead, not wanting to disturb his efforts to probably fall asleep. He draws his hand back and awkwardly gets on his knees to whisper into Dean's left ear – yes, he even squeezed his head through the car body and backrest, so Rome won't hear. 'We need to stop; he's burning up.'

Dean hums quietly, answering in an equally hushed tone, 'I thought he was coming down with something. Not that he already has it.' 'Seems like he thought it was nothing, ignored it because that's what we do and now it's biting him in the ass. He has a really high fever. We have to get him out of the cold.'

Though fevers generally are a good sign; it means that Rome's immune system is trying to battle the illness by creating a hotter than typical environment. But this doesn't feel like a normal physical reaction anymore. His big brother is emanating so much warmth that Seth would love to ask Dean to turn down the heating.

They arrive at the motel after just fifteen minutes and Seth leaves Roman to his friend while he organizes all the things their brother needs to have a halfway comfortable night. He gets the extra pillow and even some hot water, for which he is very thankful for. It'll help Rome's sore throat and this stuff tastes really nice too.

When he enters their room, he can already feel that Dean cranked up the radiator. The more Roman sweats, the better. It'll suck for them, but sometimes they just have to bite the bullet. Their brother would do the same for them. Or, he would now, after the realized that booze isn't a cure.

Sometimes, Seth wouldn't believe that Rome and Dean are actually older than him – even if it's not much.

While he wraps some ice cubes in a towel, Dean checks their friend's forehead again, cocking his eyebrows when he withdraws his hand. Seth can read it in the irritated expression that he too thinks that maybe they should just go see a doctor.

It's really unfortunate that he apparently has lost his medical thermometer. He was so sure he packed it last time he stopped by at his home.

Roman doesn't even try to fight against them mollycoddling him, just wordlessly accepts every medicine and treatment they give him, a warm and thankful spark lighting up his dark eyes. Dean and Seth act like a well-oiled machine, their minds one, which gives their friend the silence he needs to fall asleep.

Seth never has to give his middle brother an order, Dean just does everything he expects him to do as if he can read his thoughts. Actually, it seems like he has taken care of someone more times than he wants people to know.

He probably looked after his mother every night, no matter how much he despised her lifestyle or how badly he wanted to get away from her.

Around two, his brother has settled himself in an armchair to his left while Seth rests on one directly next to the bed. Roman is tossing and turning way too much for them to find any rest in there with him. At some point during the night, their big brother starts dry coughing, the harsh noise bouncing off the walls of their tiny room, making it sound like ten people expectorate.

It's not like he assumed he'd get a lot of sleep tonight, but Rome constantly moving, the coughing and his fever keep him on his toes so badly that his restlessness makes even Dean's body hum with excess energy.

At four it's driving him insane that Dean keeps tapping his fingers on his legs or starts whistling every time Roman just closed his eyes or polishes his damn US title with his sleeve, which is why he urges his friend to take a nap because they need someone capable of driving them to the arena in a few hours before he tries to kill him with Roman's hair – so there won't be a murder weapon anyone can find.

Just because Rome's sick doesn't mean they get the day off. Survivor Series and their huge traditional tag team elimination match are just around the corner. They need all three members of The Shield at their best, and sadly also alive.

Every now and then Seth nods off for a few seconds, only to jerk awake again, so he can prepare a new set of medicine for Roman to take. He also changes the cold packs when the ice cubes have melted away and helps his brother gulp down some water whenever his throat feels as dry as the desert.

He's gotten so used to the quiet that he cringes when a raspy voice thanks him for his effort and a warm, clammy hand wraps itself around his wrist. He smiles at his brother, bragging, 'I always wanted to be a doctor.'

'Really?' Roman asks a bit surprised and Seth immediately shakes his head. 'God no.' He doesn't really like people – only a few managed to win over his heart, to be honest – and working with them, sick people at that, always makes him shudder every time he thinks about that profession.

He has so much respect for people who dedicate their whole life to help others in need but he's more than just glad he stumbled over wrestling when he was a teenager. Seth can't imagine himself sitting behind a desk day in, day out or living just a single second without his brothers.

Roman smiles back at him before he coughs violently, sounding as if he's not able to squeeze enough air into his lungs, and Dean stirs in the chair next to him, but thankfully doesn't wake up. How he was able to fall asleep, curled up into the tiniest ball of human body Seth has ever seen, will forever be a mystery to him.

If he wouldn't feel compelled to look after Rome all the time, he'd watch Dean napping; simply because it's such a cute picture. Only in his slumber, his brother looks like a little boy again – innocent and still full of hope, not tainted by anything.

But, to be honest, he loves the cocky, self-confident man that emerges out of this child every time he wakes up even more.

'How do you feel?' he whispers, trying – and failing – very hard to smother a yawn. The sun's not yet up but the sky is already getting brighter, which means he most likely won't get any shuteye until Smackdown is over, wedged in yet another car.

No one can even begin to understand how much he looks forward to the holidays next month, because then he'll be able to sleep in his own bed for a change. Preferably with Dean by his side, but right now he really wouldn't mind either way.

'Like someone set me on fire,' Rome answers equally sleepy, rubbing over his eyes while discreetly clearing his throat. Seth's arm shoots out to touch his friend's forehead and cheeks and he bites on his lip when the temperature is still higher than he likes it to be.

He hums thoughtfully, wiping away a tear that rolled down his cheek after gaping heartily, inquiring, 'You want us to drive you to the emergency ward?' Because Seth sure is at the end of his rope, he's not a magician nor very good at playing nurse – even though he loves taking care of his family.

Roman waves his concern off, squeezing his hand once in reassurance, murmuring, 'I'll be fine. Thanks for looking after me.' Now it's his time to shrug it off, because it really is nothing. Being there for his brothers is very important to him.

'Don't mention it. And as soon as you're back to a hundred percent, you'll be in charge again.' Though he has to admit that it was really nice calling the shots for one night. Even Dean listened to him and when does that ever happen? Roman readjusts the pillows under his neck and closes his eyes in the hopes of getting some rest. ''m fine with you playing doctor.'

And Seth is okay with nursing them as long as they don't have anything icky.

'At least he's good for one thing then. If he can talk that much, he can shut up and sleep too,' Dean suddenly mumbles sleepily and it's only now that he realizes that the light snoring had been missing for a couple of minutes already. What, he doesn't wake up during Roman's coughing fits but the moment Seth starts talking – in a quiet whisper at that – he find his way back to reality?

Nice.

Rome looks at him again and points suggestively towards Dean's chair. Oh, sure, he can do that. Actually, it'll be his pleasure. He nods and throws himself with a delighted yelp at the little curled up ball that is his boyfriend. He hears his big brother snicker at that, while Dean grunts angrily and untangles his limbs, so Seth can properly sit down on his lap.

'You guys are insufferable,' his brother complains half-heartedly, unable to stay mad at them for more than two seconds; at least outside of the ring. 'I have to sleep on you so Rome won't infect us.' That doesn't make a lick of sense and everyone on the room knows it. The huge grin plastered on his face doesn't help his case either.

Dean doesn't answer at first, hugging him close to get more comfy with the extra weight on his legs, muttering mockingly, 'You're lucky you're so cute. Now shut up and sleep. Both of you.'

He doesn't even have to look back at Roman to know he's thinking the exact same thing. It's warming his heart when the two of them chuckle in unison, 'Love you too.'