Hey guys! Here's a little sick Sammy. Sorry it's so short, but don't worry, more is coming soon! :)
Sam rolled over on his side, trying not to wake Dean with his labored breathing. He'd seen this coming; the young boy had been feeling crappy all week. At first it had started with faint headaches that he brushed off as sleep deprivation, but when did the Winchesters ever suffer from that on a physical level? Then came the fever. It wasn't high at first, and that was why neither Dean nor his father had noticed. And then his father had left on a job, leaving Sam and his brother alone as he usually did. That was one less body to worry about. He didn't want to make his family sick too.
Sam knew he could take care of himself. He was sixteen, practically an adult, but as he lay delirious with fever, he wished he'd told his older brother. His stomach rolled and he clamped his mouth shut, hoping he could hold the nausea. It passed; Sam knew how to hold his vomit down. They had to be good at that in his kind of work.
Suddenly, Sam's dinner rose painfully in his throat. No longer caring if he woke Dean, Sam bounded into the bathroom and slammed himself down by the toilet. His dinner rolled out of his mouth and he clutched the porcelain with a white knuckled grip.
"Aw, Sammy." Dean's groggy voice came from behind him as he dropped onto his knees next to his younger brother. His hand rested on Sam's lower back comfortingly while his other held Sam's too long, shaggy bangs out of his face. Sam continued to heave until he couldn't breathe, and then he collapsed shakily into Dean's chest. Dean frowned, raking his fingers through Sam's sweaty hair. There was no point in leaving the bathroom; Sam would continue to get sick all night. So instead, Dean leaned back against the wall behind him with his arms wrapped loosely around Sam's middle. He pulled his lanky brother back with him, stretching his legs out so that Sammy was sitting in between them with his back resting against Dean's chest. His younger brother's head lolled back, resting on Dean's shoulder as his eyes slid shut with exhaustion. He hated being sick.
Neither of them got very much sleep that night. Sam continued to heave every half hour or so, and Dean's back was starting to hurt, but he wouldn't let Sammy suffer alone in the tiny bathroom all night. No, Dean was going to take care of his little brother because not only was it his job, but also because he loved Sammy. He didn't even mind when he was in the same exact position that Sam had been, puking his guts out while Sam tried desperately to take care of him. He was glad that he had helped to ease some of Sam's pain. He would always be there to ease Sam's pain.
