Don't Own anything

After a few minutes of sitting on the cold bathroom floor I feel well enough to go back to bed, I am exhausted from getting sick and all I wanna do now is sleep. Sleep till I feel better… or I die whichever comes first. I stand up brush my teeth then shuffle back to the room. Ugh, my head hurts, everything hurts I feel like I got hit by a truck. Dean is sprawled across his bed, his breathing deep and slow he was out. Normally he wakes up if I stay still for too long so the fact that he didn't even stir when I left the room is a testament to how tired he must be. I glance at the clock on my end table three am; dad would be up in a couple hours, if I can hold out till then dad could take me into town pick up some cold and flu meds try and tackle this beast before it got too bad. But damn I feel sick. "Dean?" I croak and I hear Dean shift but there was no response so I try again, "Dean?"

I hear him roll over and sigh, "What Sam?" he mumbled his voice stifled by the sheets.

"I don't feel good." I moan leaning against the door frame, wrapping an arm around my stomach which was making itself known again.

Dean groaned before pushing himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Seriously dude, its three am you couldn't wait a few more hours," he groused, standing up and stumbling over to me. He gently lays his hand on my forehead before frowning. "Sam you're burning up. How long have you felt sick?"

"I don't know, I felt off before I went to bed, but it wasn't anything like this." My stomach cramped and I gasp, "I'm gonna puke," before scrambling to the bathroom I hear Dean's heavy foot steps behind me. I double over the toilet and start spewing. Definitely not one of my finer moments, Dean eases me down so that I'm now kneeling while paying homage to the porcelain god, I'm in between bouts when I hear dad's quiet rumble, gravely with sleep.

"He okay?" he asks.

I cough harshly before forcing out, "I'm fine dinner," I gag and cough again, "dinner just didn't agree with me." from my position in front of the bowl.

Dean scoffs, "Bullshit, he's burning up, dad." I begin to tell him to go screw himself when a rush of vomit came up without any warning. Unfortunately I was leaning away from the commode and proceeded to throw up all over myself. "Damnit Sam," cursed Dean as he quickly guides me back to hover over the toilet.

I can feel dad's presence behind me, his rough hand rubbing my back as it arches with each heave. "Okay, you're fine. You're gonna be okay." Dad murmurs squeezing the back of my neck as my breathing slows and my stomach begins to settle. I don't know what I was thinking earlier the instant dad comes in the small cramped bathroom I'm on edge.

I take a deep breath as Dean flushes the toilet, "Ya done?" I sigh before conceding that for the moment I wasn't going to vomit again. "Alright let's get cleaned up." He suggests grabbing me under the arms and heaving me up.

"Oh not so fast." I groan as I grab Dean's arm to steady myself as a wave of dizziness washes over me.

"Steady." Dean mutters as he reaches out to balance my wavering form, "Dad can you get the first aid kit from the kitchen?" Dean asks as he turns on the shower, still acting as a brace so I wouldn't fall flat on my face. As soon as dad leaves I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Dad and I, we just don't mesh well.

I give Dean a small smile, "Thanks," I sigh as I look down at my ruined shirt. Dean follows my gaze and squeezes my shoulder, "Don't even worry about it, let's just get you well. We'll deal with the rest later." His voice calm and reassuring, I could feel a blush creep across my face and I duck my head.

Dad appears in the doorway kit in hand, "I'm gonna head into town try and pick up some supplies, do you have this?" he asks Dean, to which Dean doesn't even reply, dad shuffles out in that way he has, leaving dean to do his thing, what Dean's best at, Being the parent when dad can't.

TBC