A/N: Okay, a short little fluffy weechester one shot. This one is a request from ChillyWinterBreeze, who wanted a sick Dean being taken care of by "Doctor" Sam.
Reviews are love, and canon compliant prompts are still accepted. Prompts are worked in order.
As Always,
EverReader
How To Fix A Winchester – Chapter Thirteen
"The Unfortunate Thing About Sick Days"
Dean coughed miserably as he scooted further down into the blankets. He eyed the clock sleepily. It was one o'clock, the school nurse had sent him home half an hour ago, when his fever reached one hundred one degrees. While Dean didn't mind missing school, he needed to set the alarm so he'd wake up in time to get Sammy from preschool...
What felt like only moments later, he cracked his eyes open, sitting up quickly with a gasp when he realized it was dark outside.
Sammy...
Glancing frantically at the clock, he realized it was after five. Winter fell early in the north, and he only hoped Sammy's preschool teacher had let him wait inside, but jeez, Dean was nearly two hours late...
Dean stopped where he was, half-way out of the bed, when he heard a low giggle.
"Sammy?" Dean asked, the question ending on a cough. "Sam?"
The giggle sounded again, and Dean crawled slowly to the end on the bed, staring down on the floor.
Sam was lying on his stomach, giggling as he watched...what was he watching?
"Sammy?" Dean asked in confusion, feeling off center with illness and surprise.
Sam rolled over onto his back, staring up at his brother with an impish smile.
"Hi Dean." He said.
"What are you doing? How did you get here? Oh, Geez, did Dad have to come get you?" Dean rattled the questions off quickly, pulling the blanket up around his shoulders with a shiver.
Sam looked at him with large eyes. "Ants and I walked." He said after a moment.
"You walked with someone's Aunt?" Dean said, trying to make sense of his little brother's chatter.
Sam giggled again. "No, silly. I walked with Tommy's older sister. She helped me cross the street. And I'm watching the ants. Ants are really strong, did you know that Dean? We learned about them at school. What's wrong with you, anyway? You never ever sleep before me. And how come you didn't come get me? I felt like Peter Pan. I started looking for Tinker Bell, but then Tommy's sister Susan said I better walk with them. They only live a couple of streets over and she said I could come and eat with them but I said I always eat with you, so here I am, and I'm hungry."
Dean blinked slowly, trying to make sense of Sam's ramble. He looked down at the carpet.
Okay, one mystery solved.
A trail of ants were marching from the abundance of crumbs beneath Sam's seat at the dining table to a crack in the baseboard near one wall.
He blinked again,
Tommy.
Okay. That made sense too, he supposed. Tommy was the little red-headed kid in Sammy's class. His older sister must have helped Sam get back to the motel.
That wasn't good, Dad always told Dean to keep their home a secret, but he supposed it was better than Sammy trying to cross the busy streets by himself, or waiting outside in the cold until Dean came.
Geez, some creeper could have grabbed him and it would be all Dean's fault for not setting the stupid alarm clock.
"Hey, Dean?" Sam asked, face suddenly only an inch from Dean's own.
"What, Sammy?" Dean asked tiredly. He wished he could go back to sleep, but Sammy was hungry and Dean had already messed up pretty badly. Being sick was no excuse, he knew better, and John would be mad if he found out.
"Are you sick? You look like Jenny before she got sent home yesterday, and she was sick. Her Mom had to come and take her to the doctor." Sam's eyes got big. "Do YOU need to go to the doctor?"
Dean shook his head quickly, trying not to alarm his easily excitable brother. Sam had recently begun asking questions, all sorts of questions, about every little teeny tiny aspect of their life, but one of the re-occurring themes in his questioning was the subject of their mother.
Dean didn't want Sam deciding that Dean was going to die or something just because he and Dean didn't have a mom to take Dean to the doctor.
He forced his legs to stand. "I am a little sick." He admitted, "But only a little. I feel a lot better now that I slept. What do you want for dinner?"
Sam looked at him sceptically. "You don't look better..." He said.
Dean scowled. "Well, I am. So, what do you want?"
Sam chewed his lip. "Chicken and stars?" He asked after a moment.
Dean stopped, examining his brother closely. They always kept a can of chicken and stars on hand for Sam for when he got sick, as it was his favorite.
Dean frowned, reaching out to feel Sam's forehead, but his own body temperature was too high for him to be a good judge.
"Do you feel sick?" He asked Sam.
Sammy shook his head. "No, Dean. It's for you. They make me better. It's the stars..." He added conspiratorially.
Dean just sighed, lacking the energy to argue.
The soup was heated up easily enough, and in less than an hour, the boys were back on the bed, watching TV.
Dean fought to stay awake, it was at least another hour until Sam's bedtime, but his eyelids didn't seem to get the memo...
He jerked awake a moment later when a blindingly bright light shone into his eyes.
"What the heck, Sammy?" He yelled, pulling away from his flashlight wielding little brother.
Sam had donned one of John's white shirts, and it hung past his knees. "Say 'aaahhhhh'" Sam commanded.
"What? No, why?" Dean asked.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Cause I'm the doctor and I said you have too..." He said sternly.
"Jeez, Sammy, no. Enough. I'm sick, I don't want to play!" Dean snapped without meaning to, to tired and too sick for the patience required to deal with Sam in one of his playful moods.
Dean felt bad immediately, as tears welled up in Sam's large hazel eyes, but he didn't say a word, just scooted back to the other end of the couch, pulling his knees up inside the overly large shirt, making him seem even smaller.
Dean sighed. "Hey, Sammy. I'm sorry. You just surprised me. You can't just shine light in someone's eyes..."
Sam sniffed and nodded, avoiding Dean's eyes.
Dean sighed again. Now he was in for it.
"Look, how about you pick what we watch next?" He offered.
Sam shook his head silently, tucking his arms inside the shirt now also, like he was trying to disappear.
"You want me to read to you?" Dean offered desperately. His throat was sore and scratchy, but Sammy Winchester in a bad mood was not one of Dean's favorite things.
Again, Sam shook his head, managing to make himself appear to shrink even further into the shirt, like a turtle under attack.
Dean had an idea. "Hey, Sam, do we have any popsicles left? The doctor's on TV always give the kids popsicles..."
Slowly, large hazel eyes met green, blinking cautiously.
After a moment, Sam shook his head. "That's for stoperations." He said.
"Operations." Dean corrected automatically.
Sam shook his head. "Stoperations. They stop the bad stuff." He insisted. "And first you have to ride in the ambilance..."
Dean chuckled despite how rotten he felt.
"Well, I feel like I had a 'stoperation'. A popsicle might make me feel better, but I guess you'd have to ask a doctor..." Dean added, with a grin.
Sam grinned back. "I can be the doctor?" He said shyly.
Dean nodded, Sam's smile worth the hassle.
Forty five minutes later, Dean stretched happily, feeling warm for the first time all day. Sam was curled up against his side, something that normally would bother Dean a little, since Sam's temperature tended to run hot, but tonight it felt good, so he let him lay where he was. He'd already decided they were both missing school tomorrow.
He felt a little better, but not good enough for the spelling test tomorrow.
And he couldn't exactly get better without his doctor, could he?