Disclaimer: The Winchesters are no-ot mine.
A/N: This was written in response to a prompt over at hoodietime. Thought I would post here as well, it contains excessive amounts of brotherly schmoop and angst. As always, be 'ware of lurking typos that snuck past my mediocre editing skills. LOL Happy reading.
"YOU BLEED, I'LL SNEEZE."
The first time it happened, Dean was alone in the Impala driving back to the motel from a breakfast run. He started coughing, just hacking really, but when the coughing didn't let up, he became a little anxious. The coughing continued, becoming harsher, until he lost his breath and had to swerve blindly over onto the shoulder of the road. As soon as the car rocked to a halt, he carelessly shoved the gear shift up into park and stumbled out into the open air. Reasoning, that leaving the confines of the Impala would help get more oxygen into his heaving lungs. Landing with bruising force on his knees, one hand gripping the door and the other hand grappling at the collar of his shirt, Dean tried to ease the tight band of constriction that was suffocating him.
He kept hearing a faint whistling sound that was driving him crazy. It startled him, when he realized that sound was coming from him every time he struggled to inhale a deeper breath. Fear was rearing its ugly head as he felt his lungs seize. He really needed to get a good breath of oxygen into his starving lungs. Little bursts of sparkling light began to flash before his eyes and he knew that if he didn't get his panicky breathing under control in the next few seconds, he was going to pass out there on the side of the highway.
Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he forced himself to concentrate on calming down his sawing pants. He tried to channel John Winchester at his sternest, demanding gruffly. "Boy suck it up. You do not get to wimp out." Dean did his best to follow the remembered orders. Taking small sips of air, he worked to hold them for a count of four and then exhaling slowly and repeating the two steps. He concentrated on his father's rough voice, that he could hear in his head, counting for him.
Finally after what felt like an eternity, but was probably less than ten minutes, his breathing was close to normal again. Dean sagged wearily against the door for a few minutes before dragging himself back into his baby and pulling the door shut behind him. He let his head rest against the back of the seat for a brief moment and then sat up and gripped the steering wheel tightly. It was freaking him out, wondering what that whole "not able to breathe thing" had been. He took stock of himself. He didn't feel sick per say, just shaky, his breath still shuddering slightly and his heart was still pounding like he had run one of his dad's punishment/training sessions. Shifting the car into drive, he pulled carefully back onto the highway. If he drove slower than normal, well, that was nobody's business but his own.
By the time he reached the motel parking lot, he had, in true Dean Winchester fashion, convinced himself that he was fine. The shakiness had let up and his heart was back to its normal rhythm. He decided that Sam, of course, did not need to hear about this latest development, which was probably just some sort of a one time panic attack or something. So, like the awesome big brother that he was, he kept it to himself. He tended to do that with most things these days, because he wanted to avoid causing Sam any extra worry.
The second time it happened, much to Dean's dismay, Sam was witness to the entire thing. It had been almost two weeks since that first time. Dean was completely convinced that it had been an aberration and was feeling justified in keeping it to himself. They were on a hunt in the southern part of Louisiana, which had turned out to be a bust. The night was hot, sticky and so still, you couldn't buy a breeze. It was like being in a giant sauna, except with clothes on, which of course made it even more miserable. The three miles into the swampy woods hadn't seemed so bad, but the return trek was beyond awful.
Dean felt like he was trying to breathe through pudding and he just wanted to be back with the Impala, the sooner, the better. "Sam, let's never come here again. Stupid swamp." He muttered around a dry cough.
Sam glanced back at him and frowned. "I didn't want to be here in the first place. This was all your brilliant idea." Pointing a finger at his brother, he mimicked in a high voice. "Let's bag us a Bigfoot Sammy." His voice came back down to his normal range and Dean could swear he saw him stomp his foot like a toddler pitching a fit, as he finished his tirade. "When we both know they're not real." He turned back, without waiting for Dean's rebuttal and resumed his determined trudging.
Dean scowled in annoyance. "They could be real Sam. There's lots of sightings. Just because you went to Stanford doesn't mean you know everything." He spoke louder, since Sam had turned his back and was getting ahead of him. "I'm gonna be the hunter that finally ganks one. When I do, I'm gonna do a happy dance and sing I told you so..." The yelling caused him to choke on the humid air. He ended up coughing and gasping out the last few words. "...until you admit you were wrong."
Sam, in the mean time, ignored him and kept moving.
Dean couldn't get his lungs to work right and finally had to stop walking and just concentrate on breathing instead of berating his brother. The coughing turned into harsh pants and then he started doing a surprisingly realistic impression of a balloon, one of those giant weather balloons, leaking air in a hissing, squeaking and very irritating fashion. Right in the middle of his whistling, wheezing fit, Dean felt his ginormous little brother grab his biceps, and then he was leaning down to look him right in the face. It was stupid that Sam had to lean down to look his big brother in the eye. With a mental head shake, Dean decided he should really keep focused on the one problem at a time. He could hear Sam's voice over his ragged breaths, speaking in that "trying not to freak out" voice of his.
"Dean, calm down. You've got to calm down. Do you hear me?" He punctuated this question with a slight shaking of the older hunter.
Dean wanted to smack the back of his stupid head, of course he could hear him. It was his lungs, not his ears, that were acting up. Sagging in his brother's solid hold, Dean could feel his heart pounding at a frantic pace against his ribs and his head was beginning to feel light and wobbly. Using every ounce of strength he had left, Dean concentrated with fierce determination on the steady cadence of Sammy's voice. It worked even better than his father's voice, at keeping his attention centered. At last, the tightness eased up and he was able to sort of catch his breath and the wobbliness faded, at least enough that he could stand on his own. He pulled away from his brother's support, backing up a step.
Sam stared at him wild eyed. "What was that Dean? Are you sick or..." He trailed off reaching out a tentative hand as though seeking the answer through touch.
Dean batted the outstretched hand away and attempted to look hale and hearty, when he in fact was still wheezing, albeit less loudly, with every other breath. " 'm fine Sam. Just a cold or something." He stated firmly as he made to walk past him, still a little unsteady, but more anxious than ever to get back to his baby.
A long arm caught him across the chest, bringing him to an unexpected halt. "Dean that does not sound like a cold." Sam ran a trembling hand through his hair in nervous agitation, adding softly. "You couldn't breathe."
Dean gave him a stubborn glare that conveyed his annoyance with, what he felt was, his brother's unnecessary concern. "Just got choked, I guess. This air is thick or something."
Sam gave Dean a flinty eyed glower, the fear of moments before replaced by frustration. "Sure. I hate breathing thick air."
Dean's eyes narrowed at his brother's disparaging tone. "Whatever Sam. Let's just get back to the car okay?"
With a huff, Sam acquiesced, whirling and setting off at a fast clip, leaving Dean to follow.
They hiked the remaining mile and a half in tense silence, which was only broken by the occasional wheezes that Dean believed were stealthily executed and Sam pretended to be ignorant of. It was a little unnerving when the intermittent wheezes didn't go away as fast as they had the first time, but instead lasted through the night and into the morning. They finally petered off and disappeared completely after breakfast.
Dean was beyond grumpy after putting up with his little brother's "I'm really worried but I'm keeping quiet" looks, offset with the standard sad puppy dog eyes that he kept catching his little brother giving him. Dean returned them with the "I'm your big brother and I'm always right" look and added an "I will punch you in the face" glare for good measure. Neither worked. The "looks" continued for the next few days. Dean's lungs were doing fine, but now he had a constant headache. Sam was louder than anyone Dean knew, without saying a word. Dean had come to the realization that whoever had coined the phrase, "Silence speaks louder than words." must have had a Sammy of their own for inspiration. When a few weeks had passed without further incidence, the "looks" and the headache faded and things returned to normal, well as normal as it ever gets for Winchesters. Dean did find it curious, that most of their hunts now took them out to the midwest. It seemed, supernatural happenings had dried up in the deep south.
A month later, it happened a third time. This time Dean not only had Sam as a witness to his rendition of, a gasping beached whale sounding like a dying moose episode, but he was trapped in an exam room with three healthcare professionals. These "professionals" would not take no for an answer when Dean refused their help either. And if the coughing wasn't bad enough, attention drawing sneezes had been added to the repertoire.
He had been fighting off a cold for the past few days and really wasn't making much headway. The cold on the other hand, had laid siege and seemed to be entrenched for the long haul, if the sneezes were anything to go by. These sneezes kept exploding out of him when he least expected them, as was evidenced by their current predicament. In the middle of taking care of an amped up poltergeist, the sneezing, wheezing thing had hit with a vengeance and Dean hadn't even been aware of what was going on, until Sam came stumbling back in from the yard, bleeding and yelling. Sam, apparently, had been pulled through a window, managing to obtain a nasty gash not only on his head, but also an equally nasty one across his back from the broken glass.
Since they happened to be in a semi obscure, little no-name town and Dean felt so guilty for not having his brother's back, he had decided to reward Sammy with real doctors and nurses and a hypodermic filled with the good stuff. By the time they arrived though, it felt like more of an emergency and less like a treat. Sam was bleeding profusely and acting rather dazed and Dean had started up with the cannon loud sneezes again. The amount of effort Dean was having to exert to keep his stumbling sasquatch-like brother upright, was causing panic to settle somewhere in the vicinity of his chest, at about the same time that they cleared the double doors to the clinic.
The massive splotches of bright blood smeared over both of them, not to mention their near catastrophic collapses every time Dean paused to sneeze, guaranteed them quick access to an empty exam room and helpful staff hurrying to assist. Turned out it wasn't as bad as it appeared. The nasty gash across Sammy's back was shallow and only needed a few stitches, and the one on his head ended up being non life-threatening as well. They were reminded that head wounds sometimes put on quite a show and could bleed substantially. It was also discovered that the reason for the dazedness Sam had been displaying earlier, was due to a knot on his head and not blood loss after all. The nice doctor had Sam pain free, sutured and ready to go home before Dean was able to calm himself down.
He could see that Sam was gonna be fine, that there was really nothing to worry about; but he just couldn't seem to take a decent breath. "aaaahee-ychoo!" The quick sneeze caught Dean off guard. Taking a step back from Sam's side, he tried to act nonchalant as that now familiar tightness began banding his chest and clogging his lungs.
The cute nurse glanced Dean's way.
He gave her a half smile, before another much louder sneeze caught him, once again, unawares. "HETCHH-YEEE!" With a last ditch effort to make himself less noticeable, he backed into the farthest corner and fought to suppress the wheezing that was becoming more intense by the minute. Two more trumpeting sneezes got by his defenses. "YAAASHUUNG-HUH! ECHHH-TYOOFFUH!" When he tried to suck in a deep breath to quench his urgent need for oxygen, he choked, and then it was all downhill from there.
The coughs this elicited, were harsh and breath stealing, but coupled with the veritable foghorn sneezing, Dean felt like he was trying to get air in through one of those tiny, coffee-stirring straws. His vision began to grey out at the edges and darken in the center. This felt so much worse than the other two times and it seemed like there wasn't any air getting in or out, but at least the sneezing seemed to be taking a break. Before Dean could enjoy that tiny reprieve; there were hands everywhere, all at once, pushing and pulling at him, and panic enveloped him.
He stubbornly resisted the help that was being forced upon him until he felt the familiarness of Sam's arms wrap around him and manhandle him onto the recently occupied exam table. That was a good thing, because Dean lost track of which way was up and then he lost his grip on consciousness as the voices and noisiness faded along with breathing. When he came back to himself, he was lying on an uncomfortable bed with a hissing, plastic mask strapped on his face, and an IV in his left hand which also sported a pulse/oximeter clipped on his index finger. His breathing, at least, was a little easier. Turning his head, Dean spied his little brother, still pale, but blood-free and dressed now in a pair of clean, blue scrubs. He sat, crammed into a too small hospital issue chair scooted up close to Dean's bedside. Dean grimaced at how difficult it was for him to raise the arm nearest his brother in order to get his attention.
Sam jerked at the light touch, as though he was a floppy puppet and someone had pulled his strings. Sitting up with a grimace, he gave Dean a look that was equal parts worried and angry. No puppy dog eyes were involved this time, it was all grownup Sam's "I'm in charge now" glare.
Dean could feel himself cringing back a little. He would never admit that his little brother could scare him sometimes. Not gonna happen, so squaring his proverbial shoulders, he reached up a shaky hand to remove the annoying mask. He was surprised to find his hand stayed, gently but firmly, by Sammy's larger, steadier one.
A raised brow, met his irritated gaze. "Leave that alone Dean." Sam commanded sternly, seeming to look right through him. Then relented, asking in a softer tone. "You want to know what's wrong with you?"
Dean nodded.
Sam's anger seemed to fade as he explained in a careful tone. "You have adult onset asthma." He spoke over the incredulous head shaking that Dean was doing. Grabbing his chin and forcing Dean to meet his gaze, he continued. "Apparently it's pretty common. We just have to figure out your triggers, which seem to be extreme heat, having a cold, and stress... so far. Then, the doctor wants to get you started on some preventative meds and a prescription for a rescue inhaler to carry with you." Sam released his chin and tapped the mask. "Right now they're giving you a breathing treatment. When that finishes, they'll check your oxygen levels and maybe turn that nebulizer off. That's what's making that hissing noise. But, hey... um good news. Coffee can help with the wheezing, so... you get to drink more coffee. Who knew?" His voice trailed off and he studied his brother all pitiful and worn out looking.
Dean gave Sam his patented, one eyebrow raise, but a sneaky sneeze that was barely louder than the hissing mask, ruined its effectiveness. "happ-shooogg!"
"Bless you." Sam replied automatically, then complained with a weary sigh. "Jeeez Dean. You gotta stop with the sneezes already."
Dean's "no duh" look caused Sam to choke on a chuckle. Hanging his head, he scrubbed his hands down his face, trying to rub away the awfulness of the day. After a a few seconds, he leaned closer to the bed and looked back up wearing a small smile, his dimples playing peek-a-boo. "Sorry." He offered apologetically. "It's been a really long day."
Dean reached over and patted clumsily at his arm. "You 'kay Sammy? Should be in bed."
Sam could always count on his brother to offer him comfort when he had had enough. He answered softly. "Yeah. The Doctor gave me another shot for the pain, just a little while ago. I'm all right, just tired and goofy looking in these." He gave the scrubs a tug and shared a look with Dean, then gave Dean's hand a quick squeeze, before he could pull back. "Anyway, the doctor said if you respond well to the treatment, then he will release you in the morning."
Dean gave a vigorously, negative head shake and crossed his arms in the classic Dean Winchester, "not gonna do it" pose.
To which Sam countered by adopting his grown-up "I'm in charge" voice again. "You are staying until they say you can go." He then scrunched his face up into a sad little boy frown, "You scared me Dean. You... your lips were blue." ,then he mumbled hoarsely into the bedsheets, burying his head against Dean's hip like he used to do when he was younger. Whenever he had gotten frightened, he would try to snuggle as close to Dean as he could get. This routine used to also include, crawling into bed with his big brother in the middle of the night, but Sammy was a tad to big to pull that off now, even if he wanted to.
Giving in to his brother's need of some reassurance, Dean settled one hand in the tangled mop, palming the bent head. He spoke soothingly. " 's okay Sammy. I'm fine. Jus' like always." He felt the stiff shoulders ease, as Sam let out a long sigh and made himself comfortable. He twitched and wiggled until he amazingly found a way to snuggle up to Dean. After he had forced his big brother to move over or be smothered, Sam wedged his upper -half on the bed, while the rest of him sprawled on the chair that didn't seem to be able to contain the massiveness that was Dean's baby brother. With a sentimental smirk, Dean surrendered. Sometimes they just needed to know that the other one was close and tonight was one of those times.
Nurse Lindsey, came in towards the end of her shift to check on her patients and smiled at the picture the two huge men made, cuddled close together like they were. The bigger one had been offered a bed, when it was clear that they weren't going to be able budge him from his brother's side, but he had refused; claiming he was fine. Dr. Smythson had, however, been able to persuade him to accept a second shot of Demerol for the pain. It had taken five of them to get these two treated and calmed down and it was the most excitement they had seen in their small clinic in ages. Lindsey, had to admit though, it gave her a warm fuzzy feeling to see two brothers care so much about one another, even if they were hard headed in the process and didn't listen to reason.
Shaking her head, she quietly fetched one of the pre-warmed blankets they kept on hand and carefully draped it over Sam's lanky form. He wiggled a little without opening his eyes and pulled the cover under his chin. She smiled, and then just as carefully tended her other patient. Efficiently checking Dean's oxygen levels, she was pleased with his readings. As she was tucking his blankets a little more snugly around him.
A soft, "ehshuh" caused her to pause in her ministrations. His head had tilted sideways from the sneeze, so she nudged him back more fully onto his pillow, worried that she might wake him.
He snuffled restlessly, still sounding congested, then knocked his mask askew, trying to rub his nose.
She caught his hand, placed it securely back under the covers, and readjusted the now silent mask. If his readings kept increasing, he might not need to have another breathing treatment. That was sure to get a smile out him, at least she hoped it would. She really wanted to see him smile. She bet his smile was lethal.
He let out another sleep sneeze."haaf-chu." Interrupting her wandering thoughts.
This time, the larger man, reached out slowly and placed a protective hand on the smaller brother's chest, then snorted and pushed his head more snugly against his brother's side. They both seemed to sigh, their breathing sounding in tandem, as they settled deeper into sleep.
With a sappy smile at the adorableness of it all, she straightened the covers on both of them again and then left the room as silently as she had entered. The Winchester brothers, safe for the time being, slept on.
~The End - Thank you for reading and reviewing, if you have a moment. It is very appreciated.