Still Don't Own anything, blast, my kingdom for some sexy Winchester boys.
I'm sitting on the toilet with my head in my hands,thermometer poking out of my mouth, fighting the building nausea, as Dean leaned against the closed door, eyes closed, if I didn't know any better I would say he fell asleep standing up. I swallow jaw tingling, "Dean," I force out.
"Hmm?" Dean murmurs looking up bleary eyes trying to focus. "Are you gonna throw up again?" I groan because honestly I don't know. "Try and hold on a couple more minutes, we almost got a read on your temp." I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow again. "Almost done," he soothes when I begin to get restless. Finally after what seems like hours Dean plucks the thermometer from my mouth. After giving me a once over, while I take deep breaths slowly calming my stomach, he clicks his tongue, "102.4, bud, sure don't do anything half assed do ya?" he chuckles before mussing my hair.
"Dean," I whine, "Really? Don't you're going to mess up my hair."
Dean smirks, "Bitch about it some more, princess, it's not like you don't have a serious case of bed head anyway." He jokes.
"I do not." I grouse trying to flatten the back of my hair that's standing straight up.
Dean smiled and nudged my leg, "Let's go you're wasting time, you're gonna be puking again in a couple hours, get cleaned up dad will probably be back by the time you're done." He stands to give me some privacy, "If you need anything just yell," Dean instructs before he closes the door behind himself, leaving me with a steam filled room, a sick stomach, and vomit stained clothes. I slip out of my dirty shirt and toss it in a heap on the floor where the rest of my clothes joined them. I stand under the warm spray of the shower washing away the last of my puke and sweat. Once I feel sufficiently clean, I turn off the water, and step out of the shower. A chill sets in as I begin to dry off, the sign of a shifting fever. Dean left a clean pair of boxers and a pair of sweats on the sink, both of which I pull on quickly desperate to get warm. When I open the door I can hear dad and Dean downstairs banging around I could smell coffee brewing. The scent making me even more queasy, as I tromp down stairs. Dad and Dean sit the table mugs in hand looking disheveled.
"Hey kiddo how ya feeling?" asks dad rocking back in his chair as he runs a hand over his beard.
"Been better." I mutter flopping down in the empty seat across from Dean, before resting my head on the table. A chair creeks, signaling someone getting up and I feel the coolness of a glass on my arm, I lift my head off the table and look up Dean's measuring out a dose of liquid Tylenol and dad's sitting back down in his seat, "Gatorade gotta keep ya hydrated, if we don't get that fever down we're gonna wind up in the ER, but that's a last resort." Dad explains taking a swig of coffee.
"And something to keep you from roasting alive," Dean hands me a cap full of the medicine.
I take it from his hand and give a weak smile "Bottoms up, huh?" and I drain the little cup. Scrunching my eyes closed I reach out to for the Gatorade to chase away the awful aftertaste all medicines seem to have. Take a few cautious sips and set the glass back down. "I'm tired." I mumble standing up and shuffling for the stairs.
"Sam, you need to drink all of it." Dad reprimands absently, motioning for me to come back over to the table.
"I don't want to dad, I wanna go back to bed." I throw over my shoulder, stopping at the foot of the steps. It was such a long way up.
"I know son, but we need to replace some of those fluids you lost." He stands and hands me the glass, "Small sips," he instructs, I snatch the glass from his hand. And begin cautiously sipping.
"Dad, I can't drink anymore." I whisper, placing a hand on my churning stomach, dropping the half empty glass by my side. Dad sighs and shakes his head clearly not pleased but he'll take what he can get, he takes the glass back and takes it to the sink.
"Alright, let's go little brother, you look like you're about to fall over," Dean sighs coming up behind me and pushing me till we get to our room. "Go to bed Sam." Dean orders.
"Are you going back to bed?" I ask him as I climb under the blankets.
He scoffs and shakes his head "You kidding dad already has books stacked a mile high for me to start looking through, trying to get a lead on this hunt."
My eyes are already getting heavy, "What do you think it is?" I slur not ready to give in to the pull of sleep. Dean begins to ramble on and on about how 'it could be this it could be that, dad thinks this so it could also be that'. Before I knew it Deans voice becomes softer and softer till I was drifting off not able to keep my eyes open any longer.
TBC should I keep going or just let it rest.