So, once again, Dean has been spectactularly unsuccessful and hiding the fact he's ill. Guess what, it's Sammy to the rescue …
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own perverted mind!
In Sickness and in Stealth - Chapter 2
Sam gaped in shock at the crumpled body in the corner of the shower stall, still being battered by the rapidly cooling jet of water; quickly switching it off, he stepped into the shower and crouched down next to his brother. He wiped Dean's soaked hair back off his face.
"Wha'dya mean you can't stand up - what happened?" he asked, fingers working their way down to the back of Dean's neck.
"legs went wobbly" Dean replied economically, looking up at Sam, relishing the feel of Sam's strong palm against his neck, "slipped - now I can't get up. Dizzy".
"Did you hit your head?" asked Sam.
"No" replied Dean, hazily, "fell on my ass".
Sam smiled. Well, maybe I won't kiss it better then!" Then his expression turned serious; "have you hurt your back?" He couldn't help but notice how Dean was sinking heavily into the strong, kneading fingers working the nape of his neck.
Dean stared vacantly at Sam for the longest time, as if the question was difficult to process.
"Don' think so; back ached anyway". Sam did a quick visual scan of his brother's body to check for any grazes or reddening bruises, but saw nothing to cause alarm.
Noticing that Dean was shivering, Sam reached back out of the shower stall for a towel; his long arms came in handy time and time again. He managed to catch the edge of a large threadbare towel in an indeterminate shade of grey, and wrapped it over his brother's huddled body. This satisfied the twin purposes of giving his brother a little warmth, and affording him a small amount of dignity.
"Do you ache anywhere else?" asked Sam, still massaging the back of Dean's neck - the motion was clearly having a soporific effect on his brother, and Sam knew he had to get the elder Winchester into bed. "Legs" slurred Dean, leaning heavier and heavier into Sam's strong fingers, "chest, shoulders, er, neck, head, jaw, - and - um - feet, hands …", "OK dude, I get the picture," Sam interrupted. "Anywhere that doesn't ache?"
Dean thought hard, his brow furrowing; "hair?" he answered eventually.
"Right, Dean, let's get you up and dried off."
Without word, he pulled the towel away, and slid his arms under Dean's armpits, pulling him tight to his chest and linking his hands over his brother's back. Dean yelped indignantly at this invasion of his privacy, but, allowed himself to be hoisted upwards into a standing position, as Sam rose to his feet.
Sam manoeuvred Dean around until he appeared to be standing under his own steam, then loosened his grip, guiding his brother to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. Grabbing another lavishly unattractive towel, Sam began to dry his brother off, starting at his dripping wet hair.
When Sam removed the towel, Dean looked like a small spiky animal had taken up residence on top of his head. Sam stifled a laugh, then continued to work his way down the wet, shaking body.
The vigorous rubbing of the towel appeared to wake Dean up a little; this had the unlovely effect of causing him to become his usual charming sick self while Sam was drying him off. When Sam worked across his chest; it hurt. Down his sides; it tickled. At his hips; Sam was enjoying this altogether way too much which proved beyond all reasonable doubt that Sam was, in fact, a woman.
Sam endured his brother's snarking with a smile and good grace; he was used to it; he was concentrating more on using the towelling exercise to try to ascertain a better idea of his brother's state of health.
Dean was cool and clammy, trembling continuously, but had felt unusually hot in the bed this morning; the trouble was, he had just come out of a hot shower which had been in the process of turning cold, and now he had been sitting in a steamy bathroom, so his temperature would be out of kilter at the moment, so Sam decided he would leave it a while before he checked.
Sam could hear Dean's breathing, and he didn't like it. It sounded strained and compromised, his chest heaving with each laboured breath and pained cough. He also noticed his brother was suddenly listing sideways, and pressed a hand against his shoulder to gently coax him back up into an upright position.
Dean looked up at him, his tired green eyes teary and unfocussed again, blinking rapidly.
"C'mon dude, lets get you back into bed", Sam fussed cheerily, kneeling down and trying to work a pair of boxers up Dean's still clammy legs.
"Don' need bed" slurred Dean; his whinge-a-thon during Sam's ministrations had clearly wiped him out.
"Sure you don't", smiled Sam, "fancy a nice salt 'n' burn instead?"
Dean looked bemused, eyes huge, "have you found us a job?"
Sam shook his head, smiling at Dean's endearing confusion, "c'mon Champ, sleep time for you".
He heaved his brother into a standing position, arm around his waist, Dean leaned heavily into Sam, his forehead nuzzling into Sam's neck as the younger Winchester led his rubber-legged brother over to the nearest bed and set him down, sitting on the edge.
"Drink and meds" said Sam, holding out a glass of water and two Paracetamol. Dean took the tablets obediently and chased them down with a sip of water. A cough erupted as the tablets went on their way, sending a trickle of water down his chin onto his bare chest.
Sam gently wiped the trickle from Dean's chin with his thumb, and from his chest with the palm of his hand; he took the glass back, placing it on the bedside table.
"It'll be here for you later, bro', when you wake up".
"mmmmmm, sssssammy" came the response. Dean's eyes were closed, and Sam realised he was practically asleep, sitting up.
Sam cradled Dean's head, as he shifted him further onto the bed, and laid him back, piling pillows behind him to elevate his head and chest, and pulling the comforter up to his shoulders.
Sam pulled up a chair and placed it beside Dean's bed. He reached out and slipped his hand under Dean's neck again, and began to gently massage as he had done when he found Dean in the shower. Dean's face softened at the touch.
After a few moments, Dean shifted unconsciously with a sigh and rolled onto his side, trapping Sam's hand under his cheek. His arms fidgeted out from under the comforter and wrapped themselves tightly around Sam's arm at the wrist and elbow, reeling him in. Dean let out a soft huff of contentment across the back of Sam's wrist which indicated he wasn't planning to go anywhere soon.
Sam ran his free hand through his hair and looked down at his sleeping brother with amused concern. It was only 10 am, his coffee was on the other side of the room on the draining board, likewise his laptop was on the table at the foot of the bed and, to cap it all, he needed the bathroom. It was going to be a long day!
There's more to come …