I was led to an article on LiveJournal called "64 Damn Prompts for Every Fandom" and decided to use some of them! Enjoy! This prompt was "2 A.M"
Sam scrunched his eyes shut against Dean's shuffles of discomfort and slight hitched breaths that he tried so hard to hide. It was probably somewhere around 2 in the morning, and Sam wished for sleep to steal him away. But his brother's labored breathing kept him awake, unfortunately. Sam hated sick Dean. It meant that both boys lay awake in the small motel room, which produced two cranky Winchester boys. And the only thing worse than a sick Dean was a sick and cranky Dean.
Sam tossed to his side, slamming a pillow over his head as Dean shot like a bullet out of bed and rushed himself into the bathroom, and winced as his older brother let out an ungodly noise that resembled a gag and a gurgle at the same time.
"Why did you let me eat the pie?" Dean grunted. Sam opened his eyes against the fluorescent light that spilled onto the grimy carpet from the small bathroom. He sat up, knowing there was no way he was getting to sleep now, and swung his lanky legs over the side of the bed.
"Because I rock." Sam replied, stepping into the bathroom where Dean had his cheek resting on the toilet seat. His eyes were closed and sweat made his skin shiny. He was flushed and Sam could hear that he was panting from the effort of unloading his dinner. The younger man reached down, resting the back of his hand on Dean's forehead.
"Shaddup." Dean batted his hand away, hating when Sam babied him. It was just wrong. He didn't mind being babied by the likes of Missouri Moseley, or his mother, but it went against everything Dean had been taught when Sam treated him like he was the younger brother. No, it was Dean's job to care for Sam, not the other way around.
"Dude, stop being such a little bitch and let me take care of you." Sam huffed in irritation. Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, closing his eyes against the cool porcelain of his best friend for the night.
"No way man. You're no hot nurse." Dean replied half-heartedly. Sam could see that the conversation was making him weary, but that didn't stop him from poking at Dean until he finally agreed to let Sam take care of him.
"If you don't let me help you, both of us are going to lay awake all night. I have a hard enough time getting to sleep as it is." Sam reminded his older brother, not missing the wince that Dean gave. Of course he should have thought of it. Sam was the worst insomniac, and the few times he did get to sleep, he was usually plagued with nightmares that woke him up even as Dean slept through them.
"Yeah, you're right." Dean replied, but showed no signs of caving. No way in hell was he going to let Sam care for him. Nuh uh, Dean was independent and well over twenty five. He knew damn well how to take care of himself.
"Come on man, stop being so stubborn." Sam complained, his voice almost turning into a whine.
"No. Go to bed, Sammy." Dean replied, clamping his mouth shut as his stomach rolled again. He took a few deep breaths, hoping it would pass. He had no such luck as he lurched forward, practically shoving his head into the toilet water as every last piece of food he'd eaten in the past week came up his throat.
"You're so prideful." Sam sighed and dropped to his knees next to his older brother, pressing a wet washrag to Dean's forehead. "Its gonna be your downfall one of these days. You could be dying and you'd still refuse to let me help you." Dean wanted to deny it, but the last round with the toilet had left his throat and nose burning. "Here." Sam shoved a glass of water into his hand, patting the side of his neck briefly before standing back up. "When you're done in here, let's get you to bed. The only thing you're gonna do to yourself by staying in here all night is give yourself even more back problems than you've already got." Sam couldn't help but to ad, "Old man." To the end of his sentence.
"Shaddup." Dean snapped in reply, taking a swig of the water and spewing it into the toilet bowl. He quickly flushed the toilet and wiped his mouth with the wet rag before stumbling past Sam, who was standing just outside the door. "Stop hovering." He mumbled, falling into his bed and dragging the sheets up to his chin. Sam smirked, rolling his eyes.
"I'm not hovering." He replied, snapping off the harsh bathroom light and crawling into his bed. He straightened his rumpled sheets over his large body and turned off the lamp on the table between their beds. He then rolled over, turning his back to Dean and burying his head in the pillows. "Now let me get some sleep, would you? Or else you're gonna have to deal with me in the morning." Sam muttered grumpily. Dean snorted at that, lying on his back and staring up into the darkness.
"I have to deal with you anyway, man." Dean reminded him with a jokingly irate tone. Sam let out a small 'hmph' in response, making Dean chuckle almost silently.
"Night Dean." Sam's voice came a few seconds later, laced with sleepiness and fond frustration.
"Night Sammy." Dean replied, smirking and rolling onto his side, his eyes finally sliding shut.