Supernatural Sick Dean Fic - (14 Parts)

[scarlett_ohara2]

The fact that Dean has a cold isn’t exactly an emergency, but Sam doesn’t like how quickly he’s getting worse, how worn out he’s becoming. So Sam drives much faster than the speed limit, which would make Dean proud. If Dean were awake, that is.

Uh, even if it wasn't an 'emergency', I'd get all decked out in (slutty firefighter outfit)... um, a nurse's hat and stethoscope to take care of him. And I love the description of their driving habits!

Dean fell asleep the minute they switched spots, and now Sam has Dean’s loud snoring to keep him company until he reaches the motel. It’s better than Dean’s music, at least.

Oh, Sam.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Sam jokes, noting how terrible Dean looks. He’s pale, his face a whitish-grayish except for his nose, which he continues to rub at. There are dark circles under his eyes, and if the snoring is any indication, he can’t breathe through his nose.

Is it really horrid of me to LOVE Dean like this?? (But your sick!Dean is so yummy, how could I not?)

[27jj]

This fic makes me so happy. SO HAPPY.

And it's long.

I can have you a firstborn ready in nine months. I also make an awesome peach coffee cake, if that's more your thing.

Haha, you totally just made my day:) I'm really glad you enjoyed it...I also really love peach coffee cake...

Thanks so much!!

Ggghhgh.

The loud messy sneeze-in-his-sleep... the sneezing after having gone through all the tissues... the bite of the rough paper towel... the fact that Sam HAD paper towels for him... the pale face and red nose... this is so excellent.

Yay, glad you're still enjoying! Thank you:)

Omg, awesome chapter! I am in love with caregiver!Sam, he's so adorable.

Thanks! Caregiver!Sam is lots of fun.

The fact that Dean has a cold isn’t exactly an emergency, but Sam doesn’t like how quickly he’s getting worse, how worn out he’s becoming. So Sam drives much faster than the speed limit, which would make Dean proud. If Dean were awake, that is.

Uh, even if it wasn't an 'emergency', I'd get all decked out in (slutty firefighter outfit)... um, a nurse's hat and stethoscope to take care of him. And I love the description of their driving habits!

Dean fell asleep the minute they switched spots, and now Sam has Dean’s loud snoring to keep him company until he reaches the motel. It’s better than Dean’s music, at least.

Oh, Sam.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Sam jokes, noting how terrible Dean looks. He’s pale, his face a whitish-grayish except for his nose, which he continues to rub at. There are dark circles under his eyes, and if the snoring is any indication, he can’t breathe through his nose.

Is it really horrid of me to LOVE Dean like this?? (But your sick!Dean is so yummy, how could I not?)

Hehe, you can totally take care of him:) And no, you're absolutely not horrid at all!

Thanks, I'm glad you liked it!

[27jj]

The next morning Sam’s up before Dean, which doesn’t happen often. Dean is lying face down on the bed, still bundled tightly under the covers. His right arm is tucked up under his pillow, his left down at his side, and he’s clutching a Kleenex lightly in his hand.

Sam takes the Kleenex from Dean’s grip between his thumb and index finger and drops it into the trash can before checking that the box on the nightstand is still full. Dean went through about half of the box last night with his constant sneezing and nose blowing, which is why Sam is still exhausted.

He rubs tiredly at his eyes and decides he’ll take a shower and grab some coffee before Dean wakes up. When Sam steps out of the bathroom ten minutes later, Dean’s still oblivious to the world.

He pulls on his boots and turns the heat on before he leaves, seeing that Dean’s completely buried under the covers.

Dean is just getting out of bed when Sam returns with breakfast and coffee.

“Where’d you go?” He asks groggily, rubbing at his eyes and nose with the back of his hand in a way that makes him look much younger than he is. His nose still had that Rudolph look to it, but his face has gained back some color.

Dean sniffles, looking pointedly at Sam in a way that says, Quit staring at me and tell me where the hell you were.

Sam holds up the coffee and the bag of greasy food that Dean will undoubtedly scarf down in a matter of minutes.

“Coffee run,” Sam supplies when Dean still appears confused. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly up at Sam

“I got you breakfast.”

Dean turns his head slightly away, and at first Sam thinks he’s rejecting the food, until he fumbles for the box of Kleenex. Sam sighs and sets the food on the table, shrugging out of his jacket as Dean’s breath hitches.

“Hertch-uh.”

A loud trumpeting blow follows. Dean completely ignores the food Sam’s unwrapping and heads straight for the shower.

“Don’t drink my coffee!” He calls out to Sam before shutting the door.

***

“So who’s this guy we’re talking to?” Dean asks as they drive to the other side of town.

“Jerry Thomas. He grew up here. The back of his house faces the river.”

“And he saw a mahh… he saw a monster?” Dean’s got that look of concentration on his face that Sam knows is the anticipation of a sneeze. Dean had been doing it the entire morning, and it seemed as though the sneezing wasn’t going to let up any time soon.

Sam is about to search his pockets for a Kleenex or something, but Dean beats him to it and pulls out a handful from his jacket, sneezing messily into them.

“Hahh...hatcheshh. Ehhtchshoo!”

“He said it resembled a human, but it was transparent and had sharp teeth.”

The noise that Dean makes at that is a mix between a stifled sneeze and a snort.

“Sam, do you realize he could be making this whole thing up?”

“He could, Dean. Or maybe he’s telling the truth.”

“And what kind of fugly is a ghost with sharp teeth?”

“I don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with here, but a missing persons report showed up this morning. An eight year old girl went missing from her home sometime two days ago, and it could be what Jerry saw.”

“Okay, what kind of ghost takes little kids?”

“Dean, I don’t know!” Sam throws his hands into the air dramatically. “Can you just wait until we talk to the guy?”

“Hih’ehhh…okay, s-sorry, we cah-ahhtsheh! Damn-itchshuh! Damnit!”

Dean blows his nose loudly, and they ride the rest of the way in silence.

***

Jerry Thomas is an older man, somewhere in his late fifties. He opens the door warily, but lets them in and leads them to the kitchen table after they introduce themselves.

“You fellas want a beer?” Dean begins to answer, but Sam cuts him off.

“No thanks.” Jerry pulls a bottle out of the fridge for himself anyway and positions himself across the table from them, leaning forward as Dean jumps straight into the interrogation.

“Jerry, can you tell us exactly what you saw?” Sam shoots him a sharp glance, and turns to Jerry with a smile.

“We’re reporters, and we’d like to get your take on this story. You said you saw a girl getting pulled into the river by something?”

Jerry nods, growing paler. Before he can begin, though, Dean gasps like he’s surprised and pitches forward with a tremendous sneeze, barely directed into his arm on time.

“Excuse be,” he apologizes, reddening at the surprised looks on both Jerry and Sam’s faces.

“Gesundheit,” Jerry grunts as Dean pulls out a Kleenex and swipes at his nose, eyes on the table.

Jerry tells them his account of the story, confirming that the little girl in the picture Sam offers is the victim he saw being dragged into the lake.

While Jerry talks, Sam takes notes in his journal. Dean doesn’t seem to be much help as he sits, trying to listen and stem his suddenly runny nose without much luck. He pulls Kleenex after

Kleenex from numerous pockets, and Sam starts to wonder if there’s a never-ending box in there somewhere.

After awhile, Jerry’s phone rings. He excuses himself to answer it, and once Jerry’s gone, Dean leans over, looking somewhat desperate.

“Hey, Sam, do you have any Kleenex on you?” He’s pressing his knuckles against his nose.

Sam looks over distractedly, still taking notes in his journal.

“Huh? No, man, sor-”

“Hetchngh.”

Dean’s sneeze interrupts him, and its followed by several others.

“Hatchshuh! Ahhtchshoo. HetshCHOO!” Dean sniffs hard and stands, nearly tripping over his chair, and makes his way down the hall.

In the silence, Sam can hear the faint sounds of Dean blowing his nose in the bathroom. He closes his journal and turns to Jerry, who’s coming back into the kitchen.

“Thank you for your time. I think that’s everything.”

[Lady Blessington]

*flails*

The blushing... and the massive amounts of nose-blowing and amazingly-spelled sneezes... just...

*flails more*

*re-reads*

*comes back*

And also the Kleenex clutched in sleeping-Dean's hand... and the sneezing interrupting Sam and then even interrupting Dean's own attempt to swear about the sneezing... and the smishable smishability of Sam making sure sleeping-Dean has enough Kleenex left in his box... and the desperation in Dean when he leans over at the interview to ask for Kleenex when the guy's left the room, their having a huddle about it... aghgh.

[ooo]

Ahh, two parts and so many things to love!

Dean sitting with the paper towels "ready", Dean blushing when Sam tells him not to use them all up, him having used up all the tissues in the first place and being all caught out...so much lovely Dean interrupting himself with hitched breathing and sneezing and yummm. Especially him interrupting himself swearing. And him saying excuse me and being all embarrassed, because, I don't even know why that's as hot as it is. AND and and, him having to sneeze and desperately asking Sam for kleenex. GGHHGHH.

[27jj]

*flails*

The blushing... and the massive amounts of nose-blowing and amazingly-spelled sneezes... just...

*flails more*

*re-reads*

*comes back*

And also the Kleenex clutched in sleeping-Dean's hand... and the sneezing interrupting Sam and then even interrupting Dean's own attempt to swear about the sneezing... and the smishable smishability of Sam making sure sleeping-Dean has enough Kleenex left in his box... and the desperation in Dean when he leans over at the interview to ask for Kleenex when the guy's left the room, their having a huddle about it... aghgh.

You re-read? You're too kind:) I'm so glad that you like this! And your specific feedback is awesome. Maybe I should write sick Dean more often? You are certainly encouraging me to write fast, so more soon:)

Ahh, two parts and so many things to love!

Dean sitting with the paper towels "ready", Dean blushing when Sam tells him not to use them all up, him having used up all the tissues in the first place and being all caught out...so much lovely Dean interrupting himself with hitched breathing and sneezing and yummm. Especially him interrupting himself swearing. And him saying excuse me and being all embarrassed, because, I don't even know why that's as hot as it is. AND and and, him having to sneeze and desperately asking Sam for kleenex. GGHHGHH.

Making him interrupt himself with a sneeze is one of my favorites. Thanks so much for your lovely feedback!! It means a lot:)

[crazy_cat_girl]

Gosh, I just love how Sam had to take the Kleenex from sleeping Dean's hand. I just want to hug that image forever. :-)

And I love how Dean pulls tissues from every pocket...so prepared!

[27jj]

Gosh, I just love how Sam had to take the Kleenex from sleeping Dean's hand. I just want to hug that image forever. :-)

And I love how Dean pulls tissues from every pocket...so prepared!

Awww, thanks so much! Yep, its good to be prepared:) Thank you for reading!

[27jj]

They leave Jerry’s house, and it seems that Dean’s been holding back. As soon as he’s settled in the passenger seat, he’s lifting the collar of his jacket to his face and letting loose with a series of sneezes that send his body further forward each time, until his elbows are resting on his knees.

“Heshtshchoo. Ehnghshuh! Eh-hehtchsh-eh!”

Since Dean has already used up his stash of Kleenex, Sam checks every place he can think of for something Dean can use-- the glove box, under the seats, in the trunk—but he comes up empty every time.

“I think we’re going to have to stop by a store for some stuff. A few boxes of Kleenex for sure.” Sam mentally prepares a checklist in his head while Dean uses the sleeve of his jacket. Sam tries not to make a face.

“Dabbit! I thingk I pulled sobething.” Dean wraps his arms around his middle and gives a congested, gurgling sniff, breathing heavily through his mouth.

“Or it could be that bruised rib there. You gonna make it back to the motel?”

“I thought we were goigg to the store.”

“I’m going to the store. You are going back to the motel.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Sam supplies, but doesn’t really finish his answer.

“Sab, just drive to the dab store.”

Sam takes one look at Dean, who’s still leaning his elbows against his knees, head bobbing as his breath begins to hitch again and his flushed nostrils twitch, and drives to the store.

***

Sam pulls into the parking lot and contemplates making Dean stay in the car, but before he can say anything Dean’s unbuckling and stepping out onto the pavement.

Inside, Sam grabs a shopping basket and makes his way down the aisles, putting various boxes and bottles into the basket. He finds the Kleenex and adds two boxes to the growing pile of supplies before Dean finally catches up.

Dean grabs three more boxes and tosses them into the basket. When Sam pulls a bitchface, he pointedly rubs at his nose with the back of his hand and sniffs, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

They’re both a little startled when a sudden cough bursts out of Dean, and Sam frowns.

“We need cough syrup too,” Sam says, walking further down the aisle and pulling a bottle from the shelf.

“I dond’t wandt cherry, Sab. Cherry tastes like ass.”

“Okay, Dean, what flavor do you want?”

Dean carefully considers his options before selecting one.

“Grape. You always liked grape whed you were a kid, Sa-atchshuh!” A sneeze catches him off guard, and he wrenches his head to the side, away from Sam, a hand cupped around his mouth and nose.

“Okay, Dean,” Sam talks slowly, the way he would with a child. “First of all, I’m not a kid. Second of all, this isn’t for me. It’s for you.”

Dean rolls his eyes, and the grape-flavored cough syrup joins the pile.

Back at the motel, Sam administers the medicine to Dean, who grumbles and complains but complies all the same.

Then Dean sheds his boots and strips down to his boxer shorts and climbs under the covers, settling back with the TV remote, and Sam takes his opportunity.

“I’m going to go grab some dinner, and no, you can’t come with me.” Sam grabs the keys and is out the door lighting fast, before Dean even has a chance to respond.

The restaurant Sam finds is crowded, and it’s an hour before he finally returns to the motel.

***

“Two bore kids are missigg.”

Sam pauses from where he’s at in the doorway, balancing food bags and paper cups in his hands.

“What?”

“Two bore kids disappeared today. You thingk it’s related?” Dean gestures to the TV, where the news is on. Sam comes to stand in front of it, watching intently.

“You bake a better door thad a widow, Sab.” Sam glares but moves to the side, bags still gripped tightly in his hands.

“What did you bring me? I’m stahh-starving,” Dean barely manages to get out the last part of his sentence before his face goes slack and his head pumps forward.

“Hetchughn-uh. Ugh.” He pulls out a Kleenex from the box that’s perched on his lap and folds it carefully in half before he brings it to his nose to gingerly blow. Sam absently hands him the food, eyes still glued to the TV, a look of concentration on his face.

“Grilled cheese sadwiches?” A wide grin breaks out on Dean’s face, but Sam’s too preoccupied to notice. Dean doesn’t seem to care.

“I used to bake grilled cheese sadwiches when you were sigck, Sabby,” Dean says.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I know. Listen, I’m going to go call Bobby, see what he can make of this. Leave me something to eat.” Sam disappears out the door, phone already to his ear as Dean leans back contentedly into the bed and takes a bite of his grilled cheese sandwich.

[shygreeneyes]

Sick Sam over at ff.net and sick Dean here? In one day? How do you DO it?

[27jj]

Sick Sam over at ff.net and sick Dean here? In one day? How do you DO it?

I've had the past three days off.

Thanks for reading!!

[crazy_cat_girl]

Awwwww! Dear dear Dean.

“I used to bake grilled cheese sadwiches when you were sigck, Sabby,” Dean says.

[Lady Blessington]

Sam takes one look at Dean, who’s still leaning his elbows against his knees, head bobbing as his breath begins to hitch again and his flushed nostrils twitch, and drives to the store.

Heat waaaave!

The hotness of that line was OUT OF CONTROL. I love the way you brought back in the hurt rib, too, and Dean anticipating going through FIVE BOXES (good lord ) and letting Sam feed him various medicines back at the motel, and caring which flavour Sam gets him. Of course he would be a pain about the flavour. Oh Dean.

Ummmm OBVIOUSLY you should write sick Dean more often, if you know, it turns your crank and everything OR EVEN IF IT DOESN'T.

[obsessed]

Ooh, I'm glad I get to see where this one goes!

I think you can also update the parts if you join writer's group. (:

[27jj]

Awwwww! Dear dear Dean.

“I used to bake grilled cheese sadwiches when you were sigck, Sabby,” Dean says.

Heee:) Thanks so much!

Sam takes one look at Dean, who’s still leaning his elbows against his knees, head bobbing as his breath begins to hitch again and his flushed nostrils twitch, and drives to the store.

Heat waaaave!

The hotness of that line was OUT OF CONTROL. I love the way you brought back in the hurt rib, too, and Dean anticipating going through FIVE BOXES (good lord ) and letting Sam feed him various medicines back at the motel, and caring which flavour Sam gets him. Of course he would be a pain about the flavour. Oh Dean.

Ummmm OBVIOUSLY you should write sick Dean more often, if you know, it turns your crank and everything OR EVEN IF IT DOESN'T.

So, about the hurt rib...I kinda forgot about it there in the last part so I thought I should probably sneak it back in there...don't know if its a good or bad thing that you noticed that:)

Oh Dean. So true. Thank you for your awesome feedback!

And I'm having so much fun with this, I'll probably be writing more. But another Sammy story is coming first. *sigh* I gotta get my Sam fix somehow…But after that, I promise.

Ooh, I'm glad I get to see where this one goes!

I think you can also update the parts if you join writer's group. (:

Thanks for reading:) And I hadn't even thought of that! Silly me.

Okay, more is coming tonight, but right now I'm off to work. Later gaters.

[ooo]

Aghhhh...Dean holding back his sneezes and then having to release them all into the collar of his jacket...him needing five (!!) boxes of tissues...him just managing to get his sentence out before he has to sneeze...uhh. You kill me.

[27jj]

Aghhhh...Dean holding back his sneezes and then having to release them all into the collar of his jacket...him needing five (!!) boxes of tissues...him just managing to get his sentence out before he has to sneeze...uhh. You kill me.

(: Thank so much! Yeah, looking back I'm not sure if the whole FIVE boxes of tissues was overkill...Anywho I'm really glad you liked it. Thanks for awesome feedback!

Okie dokie, part SIX:

(I think maybe one day I might be able to update the parts? I know I haven't been labeling them but maybe I'll start, and I'm gonna join the writer's group hopefully, and you don't care but yeah:) )

Dean has fallen asleep, mouth wide open and one hand squished under his cheek, by the time Sam comes back inside. Sam is just getting off the phone with Bobby, and, not realizing Dean is sleeping, lets the door fall shut with a loud crash.

Dean wakes up with a start, his eyes unfocused, and he starts to throw the covers off of himself. He’s halfway out of the bed before he realizes that it’s just Sam. As he fumbles with the covers in an attempt to get back under them, one foot planted on the floor, he wrenches to the side with a sudden sneeze that throws his body sideways.

“Ehhshoo! Dabbit!” Dean lands on the floor with a thump.

Sam laughs. “If someone breaks in, I’m going to let you take care of it.”

“Shuddup,” Dean growls from the floor as he leans his head sideways into the bed. “Damnit, that hur-heshtchoo!”

“Yeah, nice reflexes there.”

“Sab, I’b godda kigck y-your hehh…your ass if you dond’t hehh-hetch-uh! Ehnghshuh. Ahtshchoo!”

“Okay, you definitely need some decongestants. Did we get any?”

“Hetchngh.”

Sam digs through the various boxes and holds one up. Dean glances unfocusedly up at him, palm pressed to his nose, attempting to hold back any more sneezes. He’s not quite successful.

“Ahhchshuh! Hertshchuh. Hehh…”

Sam finds the box of Kleenex that Dean had been using earlier on the ground. He picks it up and hands it down to Dean, who takes it gratefully. Dean quickly clamps a handful of Kleenex to his nose, blowing into them with a sigh of relief.

“Alright, sneezy. There are the decongestants.” Dean reaches out a hand and Sam places the pills into his outstretched palm.

Sam takes out another bottle of medicine and pours out a dose. Still on the floor, blankets pooled around him, Dean takes the cup from Sam and swallows down the contents. He makes a disgusted face at the taste.

“I thought I said dot to get the disgustigg flavor.”

“That wasn’t the cough syrup. It was Nyquil. Now let’s get you back into the bed.”

“You trigcked be!”

Sam leans down and easily lifts Dean back onto the bed.

“Get your giandt paws off be, Sab. I dond’t wadda take dyquil. Bakes be feel fuddy.”

“Too late, you already took it. I talked to Bobby.”

“Did you fide out what it bight be?” Dean asks, suddenly more alert.

“It’s some kind of water creature, that’s for sure. This one is taking children. Bobby is saying it’s some type of water demon, like a Kappa.” Sam leans forward, head in his hands.

“We deed to figure out why its takigg the kids, thed,” Dean says, still resettling himself under the covers.

“And where it’s taking them. According to the news, the police have already searched all along the river. There haven’t been any signs of anything, no bodies found.”

Sam stands, moves to sit on the edge of the bed opposite from Dean. His long legs stretch out in front of him, nearly touching Dean’s bed. Sam’s face is hard to read, but Dean knows what he’s thinking.

“You thingk they’re still alive?” His voice is quiet, and his question is met with silence.

Dean studies Sam, who’s sitting solemnly across from him, and suddenly has the urge to comfort his little brother.

“We’ll fide theb, Sab. I probise.” Dean reaches down, finds Sam’s foot on the ground, and gives it a gentle squeeze. Sam grunts in surprise.

“What are you doing? Dude, let go of my foot.” Dean sluggishly pulls his arm back onto the bed.

“You usually like that emotional crap, Sabby.”

“Yeah, but you don’t. I think you’re worse off than I thought.”

“I’b just fide-hehh-” Dean clamps a hand to his nose, cutting off a sneeze.

“Don’t hurt yourself there,” Sam says, watching with an amused expression. Dean yawns in response, and Sam stands, pulling off his shirt.

“I’m going to go talk to the other two families tomorrow. I’ll see if I can get any more information.”

“We’re going.”

“Huh?”

“You beand, we’re goigg to go talk to the other two fabilies toborrow.” Dean yawns again.

“No, Dean. I meant I’m going. As in, alone. You’re staying here.”

“I’b dot goigg to stay here.” Dean’s protest is half-hearted, and he’s already drifting off to sleep before Sam even turns out the lights.

[ooo]

Dean squeezing Sam's foot!

I can never, ever get enough of Dean interrupting his sentences by sneezing and you write it soo...err, hotly. Is that a word? It is now. And I love Sam tricking Dean into taking his medicine and Dean protesting all pathetically. And him trying to be all determined to go with Sam and just falling asleep instead, poor poppet.

Also:

Yeah, looking back I'm not sure if the whole FIVE boxes of tissues was overkill...

Uh, overkill? Of sneezy-Dean-ness? What is this concept you speak of?

[Lady Blessington]

So hot. I just. So HOT. And funny and CUTE. Sam teasing Dean about his reflexes and calling him "Sneezy" and feeding him medicine and putting him to bed... sooooooo cuuuuuuute. And Dean in his warm little bed when it's not bed time... agh. And fixe boxes was THE PERFECT NUMBER.

And I was totally kidding about writing more sneezy Dean if it doesn't do things for you. Your sneezy Dean does lots and lots of things to me and I'll take whatever there is greedily and happily, but for real, if it doesn't make you happy like Sam does then yeah, I definitely get it and will just be really really happy that this experiment happened in the first place.

[obsessed]

Awww. C:

I'll update parts for now - lemme know when you get into writer's. (:

[telltale]

Aw, I just got back from a mini-hiatus and found all this sneezy!Dean goodness waiting for me. ::LOVES:: This is great, and dopey, medicated Dean all cuddled up in bed is adooorable.

[27jj]

Dean squeezing Sam's foot!

I can never, ever get enough of Dean interrupting his sentences by sneezing and you write it soo...err, hotly. Is that a word? It is now. And I love Sam tricking Dean into taking his medicine and Dean protesting all pathetically. And him trying to be all determined to go with Sam and just falling asleep instead, poor poppet.

Also:

Yeah, looking back I'm not sure if the whole FIVE boxes of tissues was overkill...

Uh, overkill? Of sneezy-Dean-ness? What is this concept you speak of?

Thanks!! Glad the foot thing worked out ok, cause I liked writing that:) And hotly is a word!

Yeah, I guess there can never be too much sneezy-Dean-ness (now that is most definately a word!) Thanks for your awesome feedback!!

So hot. I just. So HOT. And funny and CUTE. Sam teasing Dean about his reflexes and calling him "Sneezy" and feeding him medicine and putting him to bed... sooooooo cuuuuuuute. And Dean in his warm little bed when it's not bed time... agh. And fixe boxes was THE PERFECT NUMBER. :heart:

And I was totally kidding about writing more sneezy Dean if it doesn't do things for you. Your sneezy Dean does lots and lots of things to me and I'll take whatever there is greedily and happily, but for real, if it doesn't make you happy like Sam does then yeah, I definitely get it and will just be really really happy that this experiment happened in the first place.

You make me so happy and warm with your comments:) Thank you for reading!!

Hey, I was just joking too:) I’ve discovered that I really enjoy torturing Dean! Sam will always be first though:) But once I start the sneezy Dean, I couldn't stop, so I really hope you aren't joking when you said you're excited that its going to be long. It seriously just keeps coming!

Awww. C:

I'll update parts for now - lemme know when you get into writer's. (:

Thanks!! Hopefully soon:)

Aw, I just got back from a mini-hiatus and found all this sneezy!Dean goodness waiting for me. ::LOVES:: This is great, and dopey, medicated Dean all cuddled up in bed is adooorable.

Yay, glad you're back! Thanks so much for reading:)

[27jj]

Hehe I responded to reviews and then didn't post the next chapter- Part 7:

The next morning when Sam wakes up, and the first thing he sees is Dean’s empty bed. He sits up quickly and is surprised to see Dean sitting at the table across the room, back to him. He’s reading a newspaper, two cups of coffee and a box of Kleenex at his elbow.

As Sam gets out of bed, Dean turns in his chair. His nose is still a comical shade of red, and he looks extremely tired, but Sam can see he’s trying hard to look like he isn’t.

“Got you sobe coffee, prindcess.”

“Thanks.” Sam accepts the coffee and takes a seat next to Dean, a little suspicious.

“Dean-”

“Told you I’b cobing with you, Sab.”

“That’s not what I was going to say, but fine.” Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You feel any better?”

“Yep,” Dean says, too quickly. Sam sighs again and pushes back from the table.

“How about your rib?”

“Fide. Odly hurts a little whed I sdeeze.” Sam raises his eyebrows at the admission.

“Okay. I’m gonna grab a quick shower and then we can head out.”

Dean nods his head, coughing lightly into a fist.

Just as Sam turns on the water, he’s sure he can hear the muffled sound of a sneeze.

***

When they pull up in front of the first house, Sam lingers in the passenger seat.

“What, Sab?” Dean already knows what’s coming.

“I don’t think that it’s a good idea for you to go in.”

“Sab, I’b dot sittigg out here in the car while you go talk to theb. Stop worryigg. I’b fide.”

As he says this, he’s patting through his pockets in a frantic search for something. Sam rolls his eyes but reaches under the seat and comes up with a box of Kleenex.

Dean yanks a few out and presses them to his face, waiting.

“Huhh…”

Sam leans back in his seat and waits, but Dean is far from relief. His breath hitches spastically for several seconds, then slows. Dean blows out an exasperated breath but keeps the Kleenex against his nose, eyes closed, his jaw slack.

A few more seconds pass, and then Dean sucks in a gasping breath, his head tilted back.

“Heh-ihhh…Ehhshngh!” His head snaps forward with the sneeze. He scrubs at his nose with the Kleenex and then takes a couple more to blow into. When he looks up, eyes watering, Sam looks pointedly at him.

“You’re fine?”

“Yes, Sab, I ab fide.”

Dean grabs another Kleenex for good measure and climbs out the car, slamming the door and striding purposefully down the long driveway toward the house. Sam has to jog to catch up. Dean is already knocking on the door by the time he does. A young woman answers the door.

“Are you Laurie Bell?”

When she nods hesitantly, Sam takes the lead, introducing himself and Dean to her and explaining why they’re there. He stomps on Dean’s foot when he reaches out a hand to shake, hissing something about spreading germs under his breath as Laurie leads them to the living room, to where her husband is sitting.

She remains standing while they sit, and Dean brings an arm to his face with a sudden coughing fit as he settles onto the couch.

“Oh, honey, that cough doesn’t sound good. I’ve got some tea in the kitchen. Why don’t I go get you some?” Laurie gestures in the general direction of the kitchen. “You two can chat with Bill for a second.”

She leaves the room, and Bill looks over at them apologetically.

“That’s how Laurie deals with things. She helps other people. She’s hardly stopped to rest once since…” Bill trails off and swallows hard, looking away.

“What’s your daughter’s name?” Sam asks softly while Dean coughs again, longer this time into his sleeve.

Bill stares down at his hands as he wrings them together, and then reaches into his pocket.

“Her name is Katie,” he tells them, showing Sam a picture from his wallet. “She’s only seven years old.”

“Does she play down by the river?”

“Yes, she’s down there all the time. Why? Is that important?”

“It bight be,” Dean says, his voice hoarse. “We just deed to dow everythigg.”

Bill nods, and Laurie returns from the kitchen with a tray. She hands a cup to Dean first, then one to Sam.

“It has honey in it. I always gave…give it to Katie when she’s sick.” There’s a pause, and then Laurie bursts into tears.

Dean pulls a Kleenex from his pocket and hands it up to her and she takes it, dabs at her eyes before she finally stops pacing to sit down on the couch next to her husband.

“Please tell me you’ll find my Katie.”

It’s Dean who leans forward, looks them both in the eyes.

“We probise, we will fide your daughter.”

***

Sam drives over to the river, parking in a somewhat secluded spot where no one will see the Impala and be suspicious. He’s careful not to wake Dean, who has just fallen asleep beside him, hand nestled between his cheek and the window.

He’s not careful enough. Just as Sam is closing the trunk, armed with various weapons, the passenger door creaks open and Dean’s head appears over the top of the car.

“Sab?”

“Wait in the car. I’ll be right back.”

Dean looks for a minute as if he’s going to protest, but to Sam’s relief he ducks back into the car a few seconds later.

Sam makes his way to the river bank. It’s deeper than he expects, though he can hardly see the bottom through the murky water. Looking upstream, he can see fields and more trees, but nothing more. Downstream there are houses, about a half a mile away from the river, and more trees. Sam heads in the direction of the houses, knowing that any kids living there would be easy targets.

He’s been walking for only a few minutes when there’s a sudden rustle near him, and he freezes, instantly alert. Behind him, he’s sure he can hear the soft sounds of footsteps, slowly drawing nearer. He slowly draws his gun from the waistband of his jeans.

“Ahhchshuh!” A loud sneeze erupts directly behind Sam, causing him to jump in surprise and spin around quickly. He comes face to face with a red nosed, sniffling Dean, who’s apparently oblivious to the fact that Sam was about to shoot him.

“Holy shit, Dean! You could’ve said something!”

“Said sobething about what?”

“Do you always have to walk so damn quietly? God.” Sam huffs and puts his gun away, turning to continue up the river bank.

Dean rubs at his nose with a confused look on his face and hurries after him. It’s silent for a while, until they hear a faint wailing noise that lasts about three seconds. They both stop short when they hear it, Sam drawing his gun once again.

Sam scans the surrounding area, unsure of exactly where the sound came from. He’s straining to listen when Dean’s breath begins to hitch with loud, gasping breaths. After a few seconds, his breathing evens out and he rubs at the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Dabbit.”

“Shhh,” Sam warns.

The noise comes again, closer, and Sam turns slowly where he’s standing, straining to see through the trees that have grown thicker. Beside him, Dean leans forward slightly and sniffs a few times, hand hovering in front of his face in anticipation of the lingering sneeze.

“HitchshCHOO!”

“Dean, be quiet!” Sam hisses, his eyes wide.

“I c-can’t…just…ehh-etchshuh!”

“This is why I told you to wait in the car, Dean. Now everyone knows that we’re out here. C’mon, let’s get back to the Impala.” Sam hurries back to the car, Dean not so quickly following. He waits until Dean is in the passenger seat beside him before starting the car.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Where are we goigg?”

“Back to the motel. And you are going to stay there.”

[obsessed]

Oh snap! I can't wait to see what happens next.

*ahem* not to Dean.

[iluvsneezes]

I'm dying, this is SO good! I just love your writing, it's the best