Writer's Note: Just want to say that this is my first ever work in the supernatural fandom, as I'm usually more of a reader than a writer, so please bear with me.
Also, all of my medical knowledge has be procured from the internet and previous fic's I've read, so please excuse any glaring errors. (That said, if you have any corrections to give me, please feel free)
Dean always worries about Sam when they have to leave him home for a hunt, and not because he's a clumsy and heavy handed 15 year old or because he never knows where the milk's kept - but because chances are, if they were ditching him for a hunt it was because he wasn't up for it, and, well that never really ends too well.
He walks over to the couch where Sam's lying bundled up in scratchy motel blankets that they had to dry-clean three times over so he wouldn't goddamn suffocate to death on the dust and asks "Hey Sammy, you good?" ruffling his hair - Sam likes it when he does that, it makes him feel safe.
Sam wheezes out a sigh and purposefully avoiding the question, replies curtly with "Hey" and wriggles himself deeper into the sofa to wheeze and crackle not-so-discretely.
"Sammy?" Dean says, concern rising in his voice "I asked you a question bud, you okay?" he places a hand on Sam's shoulder and when he feels the heat radiating off it, moves it up to touch his forehead "you're running a bit of a fever there" he furrows his eyebrows and reaches forward to place a hand on Sam's chest.
"Don't," Sam groans, shifting away from his brother, "I'm fine, I promise. I can do the hunt - I'll tell you or dad if i feel bad..." He looks up at Dean, who's shaking his head.
"You know I won't let Dad take you with us if you're having a bad day -"
"Every day is a bad day, Dean" Sam interrupts, putting a fist in the middle of his chest, rubbing small circles and clearing his throat.
Deans sighs inwardly and looks over his shoulder at the bedside table where Sam's medications sit "Have you taken everything then?" Sam waves his hand absently at Dean as if to tell him to 'shut up I'm trying to watch my geeky documentaries' so Dean takes that as a no and brings them over with a glass of water.
"Thanks." Sam mumbles, without looking away from the television.
"Hey, don't worry about the hunt okay? Its nothing more than a salt and burn, you won't be missing out on anything" he motions for Sam to scoot over and sits down next to him on the couch, draping an arm lightly around his brother - He knows he doesn't really like being touched when he's feeling rough.
"M'not sick" Sam mumbles, as if reading Dean's exact thoughts.
Dean puffs out a laugh, and replies "Sure you're not kiddo, that's why you're running a fever and wheezing like there's no tomorrow" and Sam allows himself to smirk a little - He always gets grumpy when he has to skip a hunt, feels like he's missing out on something huge, when really he's just avoiding all the drama of his lungs as good as giving up on him and him passing out in a goddamn grave.
Dean leans over and pecks Sam on the forehead, trying to ignore the fact that he probably felt hotter than he did five minutes ago, brushing it off as paranoia and pushes himself off the couch.
"I'm going to meet Dad at the police station, you call me if you need us to come back, okay? You know the drill.." he trails off when he sees Sam roll his eyes.
"Whatever man, I'm..." He draws in a deep breath and coughs it out, wincing slightly "I'm fine, just try to come back in one piece."
Dean cracks a smile and says "As long as you don't go dying on me, bitch." and walks out the motel room.
"Jerk" Sam replies, even though he knows Dean can't hear him. He creases his eyebrows together and draws in another painful breath as he turns himself away from the television to try and catch up on some sleep.
Sam's awoken from his already disturbed slumber by a cough that racks his body and causes him to gag hard enough for him to stumble into the bathroom and splash water onto his face. He leans over the sink, one hand gripping the side and another in front of his face as he splutters into his sleeve. Groaning, he slowly lowers himself down onto the floor and leans against the bath and lets out a wheezes sigh. He tilts his head back against the bath and squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to catch up with his breaths - which are becoming increasingly frequent.
A moment later, Sam knows that things aren't going to get any better unless he gets to his inhaler, which, conveniently is on the couch - the other side of the room. He coughs once more into his fist, wipes it on his pyjama bottoms and turns around to push himself up on the sink. He gathers himself and begins walking over to get his inhaler when he notices how badly he's shaking.
"Shit" he mutters to himself and rolls his shoulders back - only now noticing how tense they were.
When he finally reaches the sofa he collapses onto it and fumbles for his inhaler and raises it shakily to his mouth, taking a puff and holding it for as long as he can - not long enough it turns out as he breaks into another coughing fit. With the armrest he shifts himself into a sitting position and takes another hit on the inhaler, noticing that his breaths are becoming shallower. It becomes apparent to Sam that it's bad this time and he isn't going to get through it by himself so he reaches for his phone and speed dials Deans number. As it rings, Sam curses himself for being so weak and dependent all the time - why can't his goddamn lungs get their shit together and work normally for once? That's all he asks for.
The phone rings out to voicemail and panic grows inside Sam's chest - almost on cue a cough tickles the back of his throat. He rubs circles in his chest like he always does when it feels this tight and dials John's number as quickly as he can, his head is starting to hurt and his wheeze actually starting to get on his nerves. Oh yeah, and he can't breathe.
The ringing stops and Sam hears the rustling of the phone on Johns end, "Sammy?" Sam wheezes inwards and relaxes slightly against the couch "Sammy?" Johns repeats, worry clearly present in his voice.
Sam goes to reply but his breath gets caught in his throat and hitches, causing him to cough. "D-dad" he manages, taking much more effort than it should have done, "I think- I think you might have to come.. back" he forces out and tries to suck in as deep a breath he can manage. He takes another hit on the inhaler, even though he knows he's pretty much past the point of it doing any good, but he needs some comfort, he needs to feel like he's in control.
"Okay, okay we're coming back. Hang in there bud, we're coming back, okay?" John says down the phone, the panic even clearer now. "Have you used your inhaler?"
Sam groans and John adds "Of course you have, sorry. Of course you have." He can never think straight when Sam's like this - gets too caught up on the fear of loosing him to form a coherent thought. Dean is always the one to place a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder and rub circles on his back and reassure him when it's bad like this.
"C-can you put-" Sam wheezes before continuing, "put Dean on. Please..."
He hears John clear his throat and then say "Yeah... yeah. You're doing great son, we'll be there soon" and he passes over the phone.
Sam hears Dean speaking to John and is able to pick up certain words like 'fucking car' and 'hurry', but he's focusing too much energy on breathing in and out to pay attention. "Hey, Sammy" he hears Deans voice and instantly tries to grasp onto it, his anchor. "You don't sound too good, bud. We're on our way back now - Dad's driving so I can stay on the phone, okay?" he doesn't give Sam a chance to reply and continues with "Going at least double the limit, Jesus, nobody better stop us or we'll drive right over them... Hey, you breathing?"
Sam wheezes and says "Yeah, keep talking" and Dean does - he knows that Sam likes it when he talks to him when he can't breathe, talk about anything and everything as long as he can hear his voice.
"Did you do your neb?" Dean asks, Sam shakily rolls his shoulder back again.
"Can't... too far. Shaking" It feels like it's taking more and more air to speak every time he opens his mouth so he reaches for his inhaler and takes 2 puffs.
"Do you need a hospital? How long has it been like this?"
Sam squints his eyes shut and shakes his head no, even though he knows Dean can't see him. "No- no hospital. Just want you" he coughs again into his sleeve and whimpers quietly when his chest tightens "Hurry" he adds, turning himself around slowly to place his hands on his knees and lean forward.
"Okay Sammy, we're coming. Hang on."
End Note: Okay! that's the first chapter down! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it and PLEASE review. I'll be writing every day so expect an update in about 3 days or so. Feel free to message me if you have any ideas about anything or if you have any recommendations for fics; I would love to read some other work similar to this :)