Chapter Text
It was cold and only getting colder. It was the dead winter in North Dakota and sitting outside was less than ideal. However, it was the only option as Dean and Sam waited for their father to come and pick them up from outside the apartment that they had been saying at for the past month. It was only because John had decided to go on a hunt without Dean that they were staying there, leaving his eldest to care for Sam, even though Sam was eighteen years old and was getting ready to graduate. Sam had argued with John about needing to stay behind to pass some big test and Dean hadn't been interested enough to listen. All he knew was that he had to watch his brother when it was clear that Sam was able to watch himself. Still, Dean didn't argue and gladly stayed behind to make sure that his brother was safe.
Harsh, barking coughs pulled Dean from his thoughts from the past few days. He craned his head to the side, watching Sam cough into the crook of his raised arm.
Dean scooted closer to his brother on the cold bench, feeling the metal under him send shivers through his entire body. They had been waiting outside for their father for the better half of an hour after they had been kicked out of the apartment they had been staying at for the past month. Dean had argued for them to stay, pointing to the state of his fever-stricken brother. The landlord hadn't been overly sympathetic and claimed that if they couldn't pay for another month, then they would be removed, whether on their own accord or through the police. Dean didn't need another tangle with the law and had reluctantly drug his brother and their things out to wait for their Dad at the end of the street.
"That cough is sounding bad again, Sammy," Dean sympathized, taking a bottle of water from his duffle and extending it toward Sam.
Sam glanced at it and turned his nose at the mere thought. "Hurts to swallow," he choked out with wetness showing in his eyes from the force of the coughs.
Dean didn't like the sound of that revelation. He reached up and felt on either side of Sam's throat where his lymph nodes were nestled.
Sam jumped back, hissing in surprise. "Your hands are cold," he complained.
Dean began to wring his hands together to force warmth back into them. He could tell that his hands were ice cold and he was sure that Sam's fever was making him even more sensitive to it. "Sorry, sorry. Now can I at least check how swollen you are," he asked, fingers sprawled in front of him.
Sam thought for a moment with eyes narrowed. He tried to snort back congestion only for it to backfire and it send him on another hacking fit. This time he leaned forward with his hands on his knees while he fought for breath. The cold air did nothing but make things worse, settling like a stone in Sam’s chest and making each cough become accompanied by a deep, foreboding ache.
Each choked out cough made Dean's stomach coil in knots. Sam had been sounding worse and worse every day and being out in the cold wasn't exactly helping matters. What Sam needed was a bowl of warm soup, some Vics vapor rub, a large bottle of neon cold medicine, a warm bed, and a shot of whisky. Well.....maybe the whiskey was more for Dean than Sam.
Dean began to hit strategically against Sam's back, knowing exactly where he should strike to help break up some of that thick congestion. He didn't like how mucus filled Sam's coughing had become. It had been dry a couple days ago and hadn't been as worrisome. Now Dean recognized the signs of something a little more sinister than just a typical cold.
"That's starting to sound like bronchitis," Dean murmured, half to himself.
Sam continued to cough, unable to answer. He tried to compose himself only for his lungs to spasm and chest to convulse into another string of congested coughs. They left a sweet taste in the back of his throat that had his stomach flopping. Sam willed himself not to gag, fearing that he would bring up what precious little amount of food that Dean had forced into him at lunch.
"Shhh, shhh. That's it. Just calm down and breathe through it." Dean turned from pounding to rubbing. He was unsure whether Sam could actually feel it thanks to the sweatshirt that he wore, but that didn't stop Dean from trying.
Sam eventually was able to stop coughing long enough to straighten back up. He let out a gasp, breath billowing in a small cloud in front of him. Coughing was painful enough.....coughing in the cold was ten times worse if not more so. It had his entire body shaking and made him wince in pain. He tried to hold it back as much as possible, but he was unable to do so despite his best attempts. He wasn't as embarrassed to show emotion or pain in front of Dean as he was his father, since he knew that his brother wouldn't judge him for him, but it still wasn’t ideal.
"That hurt?"
Sam shrugged. "A little."
Dean brought up his hand again and hoped that it was warmer as he pressed his palm against Sam's forehead. "You're pretty warm, kiddo."
Sam pressed into Dean's touch and sniffled. "M'cold."
The last thing that Sam needed was to be here clustered on a bench in the middle of winter in North Dakota, waiting for their father. Dean could only do so much, but he would do everything he possibly could to at least make waiting more bearable for the time being.
Dean shrugged his way out of his jacket—formally his father's jacket—and threw it around Sam's shoulders. "Arms." Sam forced his arms forward and Dean threaded them into the sleeves. He was quick to turn Sam to face him so that he could zip him up, patting his chest when he finished. "There. That a little warmer?"
Sam gave a tiny nod. The jacket was still filled with Dean's warmth. It also smelled faintly of his brother's aftershave that Sam could still detect even with his stuffed up nose. Sam could pick up that smell anywhere and it would always calm him in a way that nothing else ever could.
"Do you know when Dad is going to be here," Sam broke in with another gagging cough.
Dean pursed his lips together as his gaze scorched the quiet street in front of them. All that he could see was a post office on the corner and he could hear nothing other than owls hooting and the breeze through the trees. He would be able to hear the Impala coming from a mile away and he heard no sign that the car was anywhere near them.
“He didn't give me a time, but it'll be soon."
Sam didn't appear to believe him. He opened his mouth to speak, the words suddenly stollen by desperately panting breaths. His chest trembled with each in an out breath, the vein on his right temple bulging. Nostrils flaring, tears threatening to slide from the corner of his feverish eyes, Sam struggled with the tickle that lodged somewhere deep in his sinuses, teasing and tickling him in a way that Sam couldn't possibly force away.
Dean watched more intrigued than anything. Sam wasn't usually one for large buildups, but this illness had been unlike anything he had ever experienced before. That was what Dean would chalk this up to.
Another sharp inhale had Sam ripping over his shoulder to pull himself as far from his brother as possible. "Hih'TrhcsHsew! Hih'TrhcshHShew! Hih'TchrSHShew!" Sam took in another almost panicked breath and waited for the feeling to climax again. "Hih'trchsSHew! Hih'TrhcSHShew! Hih'TrhcShew!"
Dean waited for Sam to finish before responding. "Geez, that was intense."
Sam turned back to Dean. His already runny nose was now practically dripping no matter how many times Sam tried to sniff it back. It turned into an awful snort that made it difficult for Sam to swallow.
"I don't think so." Dean found himself speaking to Sam as if he was a little kid and he couldn't help it. "Do you want to make your cough worse by swallowing all that shit?"
Sam looked down shyly, unable to meet his brother's gaze, fearful of the disappoint he may see in there. "Dond't habe adybore tissues."
Dean winced at the obvious congestion in Sam's voice. Combined with the raspiness it made Sam sound like he was seconds away from loosing his voice. That was not okay on Dean's watch.
"Well, good thing that you have an awesome big brother that can remember these things for you." Dean dug into his pocket and pulled out a travel pack of tissues. He pressed them into the center of Sam's hands, tips of his fingers crazing Sam's fingers and felt the frigid temperature of them. "I have a lot more where these came from. I'm actually kind of surprised you didn't need them until now."
Sam pulled out three tissues and folded them each time, bringing them to his nose. He began to blow his nose delicately so not to attract too much attention. However, the feeling was intoxicating and he turned the tissues over to give a more powerful blow to clear out the congestion. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing.
"Id's too cold to sneeze," Sam commented, scrubbing the remaining dry sections against the cracked outer curves of his nostrils.
Dean couldn't help but laugh, noticing his breath puffing out in front of him. "I think that I may be inclined to agree with you even if your nose doesn't."
"I hadte sneezing."
"I don't think anyone likes it."
"Yeah, budt I really dond't like id." Sam raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, rubbing roughly. "Idtches righdt there."
Dean pursed his cry lips together in concentration. That was certainly something new. Dean didn't even know that one could have pain and congestion up there. Although, Dean was unsure whether or not this was more fever or actually whatever bug or virus had taken his little brother down.
"Think blowing your nose again may help with it," Dean offered lamely.
Sam only took a moment to debate it before shaking his head. "Naw, I'd rather leave it."
"At least I can understand you a little bit better. Although, I don't think that's going to be the case if we stay out here much longer." The shortness was apparent in Dean's words as he shook out his hands against the cold as if that would make warmth flood back into his digits.
Sam didn't chime in, not knowing what he could possibly say to make any of this better. Instead he hunkered down even further, short coughs leaving his lungs sporadically.
"C'mere," whispered Dean as he wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and pulled him closer.
Sam resisted for a moment only to realize that he was going to loose that battle every time. He instinctively allowed himself to press against his brother while Dean hooked his arm around him. Both brothers were used to colder temperatures, but that didn't mean that they were exactly thrilled to be waiting like this.
"Dad better get here soon." Dean gritted his teeth in agitation. He was all for listening to their father, just not when it came to Sam's health. That was one time when he would always put his foot down to care for his little brother, or to make things as easy for Sam as possible.
Sam rubbed the corner of his wrist against his nose. It was running freely and Sam wasn't keen for Dean to witness it. "Not awful."
Dean snorted in amusement. "Exactly how is this not awful?"
"I'm with you." Sam's mouth opened wide in a yawn. "Better than being here by myself. Been there.....done that."
Dean fought the desire to ask what Sam meant. He knew that if he went down that road, then he would only be disappointed by the answer, or even hurt. He had prided himself to take care of Sam and whenever he heard things like this because Dad had dragged him on a hunt, it made his heart ache and blood boil. They shouldn't have had to go through this, and they had, all for something that Dean wanted to fight for, yet didn't at the same time.
"Try to stay awake, Sammy. Talk to me," Dean instructed, rubbing firmly against Sam's bicep. It wasn't quite uncomfortable, more-so distracting. They were used to sleeping in less than idea locations and Sam could usually fall asleep just by feeling Dean beside him. This was one of those times that Dean hoped that wasn't the case.
Sam yawned once more. "Hmm, I don't feel well."
"I know, kiddo. I know."