Bulti-Taledted

by Mad Server

:::

"Heh-XXGT!"

Sam freezes, can of soda forgotten halfway to his mouth. He watches Dean rub the towel over his head, scrub down his goosebumped arms. "Mmh. Bless you."

Dean swipes at his nose with the ratty beer ad towel, passes it down along his legs. "Fuck that's cold." He tugs on his jeans, drops onto the brown sand next to Sam. His lips on Sam's drink are purple.

Sam dips his nose to Dean's chilly shoulder, breathes him in. The scent is clean, like cool, fresh weeds. "You smell good." He presses a kiss into his brother's skin.

Dean shivers, plasters himself to Sam's side. His hair drips icy water on Sam's neck. "Ah... hoo. You're warm. Uhh... hh-TCHCH! HIXXSHSHOOO!"

"Whoa." Sam hugs him in tight, soothes the goosebumps on his bare back. "That's not good."

Dean snuffles. "Oh man. I think I just caught a cold."

Sam rests his palm at Dean's belly button, nuzzles his hot nose. "C'mere. I'll make it up to you."

:::

"Subber's a weakass tibe to get sick."

The air conditioner hums in the shadowy corner. Sam leans down beside the couch and lays a damp cloth over Dean's eyes. "I told you you needed a break."

"Why dod't you deed a... ehhh... IGH-KSHH!"

Sam swallows. Dean digs a tissue out from under his pillow and wipes his nose before he remembers with a jerk. "Ow. Sud of a bitch."

"Hey, Rambo. Let me." Sam plucks a new Kleenex from the box by Dean's head, feathers it to his brother's sunburnt nostrils.

Dean stifles a cough and sighs. "Well ared't you bulti-taledted."

:::

He's wrapped up in a blanket in the shade, propped against a tree.

Hunched over a book, Sam murmurs along with the text. "Ego expello vos."

"Whoa, whoa. Sabby."

Sam glances up, sees the flush in his cheeks. "What?"

"Dot out loud."

"It's an exorcism." He watches Dean haul a tissue out of his pocket and cup his nose delicately in a pocket of air. "Nothing bad's gonna happen."

"HH-XXSH-oo!"

"Oh my god, did I just exorcise your snot?"

:::

In the glow of the laptop screen, Dean's peeling belly balloons out with hitching breaths. Sam groans and curls his legs around Dean's thigh.

"You beh... better taaay... take this."

Sam's sucking along his prickly jaw. "Mm-hmm." He takes the computer in one hand, plants it behind him without looking.

"Ihh... hoo."

Sam smothers his flaring nostrils in delicate kisses.

"Oh... goh... GATZZHTCHIT-huh! EH-XXHT!"

The exhale's shaky. Sam gasps against his red skin and strokes him all over.

:::

"You're feeling better."

Dean takes a demonstrative breath through his nostrils, spreads his hands proudly in the residual drift of shower steam. His toes scrunch happily on the carpet. He undoes his towel, steps lean and limber toward Sam. "C'mere. I'll make it up to you."

:::

end

Prompt: It's the first week of summer. Dean gets himself a badly sunburnt nose and a change-of-season cold (or seasonal allergies) to match. Blowing his nose hurts, wiping his nose hurts, rubbing his nose when he has to sneeze hurts. Sam (sneezekink or otherwise, or Cas, or whoever works for you) is around to help and/or tease and/or sympathise.