Sneezy Dean Variety Pack (Supernatural, M)

[Lady Blessington]

Foggy day.

"D-Did your husband have any unusual... hih..."

He's young, this agent. Wet hair, chattering teeth.

"Any unusual h-ahh... habits? Possibly concerning oatmeal? Hih-KKHKGHHFF-hh!"

He's sneezed into his tea, spilled it over his wrists, down his pants. Hissing, he passes the mug back and forth, shaking droplets off his fingers.

"I'b sorry." He snuffles, starts to wipe his nose on his sleeve, seems to think better of it.

She moves in with tissues, a towel. Waits while he blows his nose with flaming hands. Wonders how he knew about the oatmeal.

"My husband's gone. Come back when you're well."

(100)

[W.I.N.]

Aww, that's a lovely little drabble. Dean is ADORABLE!

~W.I.N.

[obsessed]

Ooooh, nice plot developed in 100 words and cute Dean sneeziness.

[crazy_cat_girl]

I read this on ff.net, but I just wanted to let you know you rule!

Your drabbles are sooooooo good!

[Lady Blessington]

Yay! Thanks guys!

[Tari]

Guh... sneezy Dean is just.... adorable! *melts into puddle*

[telltale]

Oh my god, I just melted into a big puddle, I swear. Deeeeeeean, let me get you a blanket!

[Lady Blessington]

The sickness has made him capricious. He demands snuggles to go with his blanket. Snuggles and extra-soft kleenex.

*sops you up with a blanket and hangs you in Dean's room to dry*

Thank you!

I guess I should have said "Drabbles," plural. Here's another one - the prompt was "space." You probably could find these on ff.net, but this way I get closer to being validated here and getting to use a shiny icon.

Sam's got a thread loose, dangling from his second button. The pores in his chin are pulsing in time to Dean's heart: big-small, big-small, big-small.

"Dean."

There's sand clinging to Dean's boots. He wants to play with it.

"So what do you think?"

Sam's eyebrows are scrunched up tight, every dark hair crowding its neighbor.

"Caterpillars. Defidditly caterpillars."

Sam stares, then shakes his head, erupts in laughs. Dean watches them puff from his mouth and scatter around the room.

"I love you on Nyquil."

"Hih-hih-HATCHOOO!"

There's cool fabric on his forehead. Someone's humming Star Trek. Dean drifts up into space.

[mr.moosey]

So adorable! I love Dean on Nyquil too!!

[Lady Blessington]

Thank you! Delirious!Dean makes me happy, as long as somebody's got his back and he's OK in the end.

[telltale]

These are so adorable I can't even handle it.

I love me some Caretaker!Sammy, and it's nice to read about him laughing. These boys don't get to smile enough lately!

[Lady Blessington]

Hee!! Thanks! It's true - laughing Winchesters are all too rare, and all too great.

[W.I.N.]

Aww! Delirious!Dean. Too cute for words!

I'm so glad you're writing more of these!

~W.I.N.

I guess I should have said "Drabbles," plural. Here's another one - the prompt was "space." You probably could find these on ff.net, but this way I get closer to being validated here and getting to use a shiny icon.

Sam's got a thread loose, dangling from his second button. The pores in his chin are pulsing in time to Dean's heart: big-small, big-small, big-small.

"Dean."

There's sand clinging to Dean's boots. He wants to play with it.

"So what do you think?"

Sam's eyebrows are scrunched up tight, every dark hair crowding its neighbor.

"Caterpillars. Defidditly caterpillars."

Sam stares, then shakes his head, erupts in laughs. Dean watches them puff from his mouth and scatter around the room.

"I love you on Nyquil."

"Hih-hih-HATCHOOO!"

There's cool fabric on his forehead. Someone's humming Star Trek. Dean drifts up into space.

[Lady Blessington]

Thank you! Delirious Dean is one of my very favourite Deans. Right up there with dizzy!fainting!Dean. Gnnh.

[mr.moosey]

Squee! Caterpillars...so classic!

[Lady Blessington]

Sam and those eyebrows. Gotta love 'em.

Thanks!

[LOSTfreak]

*sighs happily* I love your drabbles so much. Whenever I see that you've updated, it always makes my day.

[Lady Blessington]

*feels special*

Thank you!

[sneezedreamer]

EEEE! This is great, I'm so glad you decided to put your drabbles on here! I especially loved the first one, Dean is so pathetic and adorable. Dean sneezing into his tea, and then apologizing and stopping himself from wiping his nose on his sleeve??? Just...I have no words. You broke me, in the best possible way.

[W.I.N.]

I gotta say, I totally agree with this sentiment. I approve. Any chance we'll see more of that? *bats eyelashes hopefully*

~W.I.N.

Thank you! Delirious Dean is one of my very favourite Deans. Right up there with dizzy!fainting!Dean. Gnnh.

[Lady Blessington]

*beams*

He just is endlessly fun to torture with sneeziness.

Thank you!

And a half.

[Lady Blessington]

Have another drabble, if you feel so inclined. I pictured this as part of 5.09, but it could fit a lot of places.

"TCHHCHCH!"

Dean straightens up, snuffling into his sleeve.

"Not sick my ass."

"I said I was fide."

"You also said there was kryptonite in green Life Savers."

Dean scowls. "Hih... HISSHHSHSHUH! Dabbit." He sniffles again, fingering his red nostrils. "You got a dapkid?"

"Try the john, Sneezy."

"Dod't eevedd, badd. Just gibbe a freakid' dap add I'll be good to go." But he stifles two more sneezes into his wrist as he turns, surveys the lobby.

Later Sam finds him white-faced in the bathroom, one hand gripping the sink, the other pinching tissues around his nose.

"Sucks beigg sick."

"Yeah."

---

end

[Tari]

Awwww!! Can I keep him, please?? I promise I'll take good care of him, feed him tea and soup and hand him tissues and cuddle him and everything!! Pretty please!?!?

[W.I.N.]

Have another drabble, if you feel so inclined.

I am indeed inclined!

AWWWWWWWW!

*smothers Dean in schnoogles*

...

*cough*

Erm, yeah. I might be a hopeless case?

Thank you!

~W.I.N.

[Lady Blessington]

So as to contain myself and not make too many threads I'll just post this other sneezy!Dean fic over here, like so. S4... and I'm fuzzy on my S4 and can't remember if we got a scene like this with Bobby or not, this conversation I mean, but, hey, if we did, Dean definitely didn't have a cold in it.

"Dean. Gimme a hand with something."

Dean's on his feet, pale and creaky. "What's up?"

"We need firewood."

"Oh." Dean glances at the crackling fire, at Sam still slouched into the couch, texting. "Yeah."

"I'll be in the truck."

---

Dean stifles a sneeze into his sleeve as he crosses the yard, fumbling with his jacket zipper. He opens the passenger door, stumbles and catches himself on the truck bed. He's panting out white puffs Bobby can see.

"Been drinkin'?"

Dean shoots him a warning look from darkly smudge eyes. He climbs into the cab. "Couldd't sleep. UH-TSHH! HIIIH-IIISHHH! ETCHCCHHH-uhh!"

"Damn, boy." Dean's straightening up, honking into a handful of tissues. "You know what's good for you, you'll head straight to bed when we get back."

"Add biss Y&R?"

Bobby starts the engine.

---

"How's it going with Sam?"

Dean doesn't look up, keeps arranging wood in the flat bed. "How do you bead?"

"He's different from how he used to be. Don't tell me you ain't noticed. That summer you were gone... it changed him."

Dean snuffles, tugs at his work gloves. "So he grew up a little. So what?"

"He dunn't need you the same way he did before."

Dean's jaw works. A fluffy snowflake lands on his shoulder and slides off. "Well, thagks. HAH-KRRRSHH-uh!"

Bobby watches him scrub his pink nose. "But you listen to me, kid. You're a fool if you think he dunn't still need you."

In the back of the truck Dean shudders, crosses his arms tight. His tone's neutral. "How so?"

"He loves you, Dean. He near went crazy when you were gone. He needs you to be there, with him. That's all."

Dean kicks a log thoughtfully.

"I know you went through a lot, son. I don't know details but I do know hell's not one of my top five vacation spots. And lord knows I've crawled into my share of bottles, but you've gotta see that drinking's not helping Sam, and it's not helping you."

Dean's hot-cheeked, glitter-eyed.

"Look at you. You're running yourself down. Not sleepin', makin' yourself sick. I care about you, you big dumbass. And I know you're hurtin', but you've gotta find another way to deal with what's eatin' you."

Dean sniffs, looks at the sky. "Are we fiddished?"

Bobby gives the words a moment to sink in. "Come on down."

---

Sam's in the kitchen when they get back, frying up some eggs.

"Hey," he greets them, taking a pull on his beer. "Who wants scrambled."

Bobby watches Dean shrug out of his coat and sneeze hard into his armpit. He grimaces, palms his stomach. "Just sleep for bee."

Sam frowns at him, then glances at Bobby.

"I'll have his," Bobby says as Dean retreats toward the stairs, sniffling into his hands. "Fresh air always gives me an appetite."