COLD COMFORT
WOW: Pour. Dean's sick and he's trying to tell Sam something, Sam's not making it easy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except a tiny and very slightly warped mind.
xxxxx
"Hack-hack-ackackack"
A trembling wrist ghosts under a raw, wet nose.
"Sabby?"
"Shhh dude; don't talk, just rest."
"… AACHHTISSCHHAAOOOOOO! …"
*snif*
"feel crap, Sabby."
"Thanks for the heads up Dean; I'd never have guessed."
Looming over his shivering brother, Sam pressed a cool hand across a damp forehead.
"Jeez, man, sweat's pouring off you."
Dean blinks, pallid face glistening in the room's dim light; dewdrop hanging off the end of his red nose.
*snuck*
Reaching out Dean reels Sam in by his shirtfront.
"Sabby?"
"Just rest, take it easy, bro'."
He yelps as Dean blows his nose on his shirt.
"Need tissues, Sabby."
xxxxx
end