Oddity's short story thread (SPN)

[SexualOddity]

Another meme fic. Probably you can assume all of mine will be forever tbh. Definitely hooked for life!

--

“Hih…HuhKHISHUuu!”

Dean grits his teeth and prays to the God of ghost-hunting road trips for co-operative witnesses, badly concealed clues and a spirit that actually dies when you salt and burn its bones, because damnit, they have a long day ahead and Sam, God bless his heart, is definitely not well.

It’s just a cold, to be fair, maybe the beginnings of flu (Dean hopes not) but, holy crap the kid’s got it bad. They haven’t spoken about it. There doesn’t seem a lot of point really because there’s not a lot they can do about it. They both know they have to finish this hunt, and Dean would have to practically chain Sam to the bed to keep him in the motel room. Apart from the fact that he always has been a bitch about being left out of things, Dean is already limping from a mystery injury that Dean is hoping will go away on his own and Sam is watching like a hawk, and Sam would go crazy knowing he was out there without back up.

His cold’s getting worse though. It was there first thing, but Sam was just groggy, sneezing, his nose running. Somewhere between then and now the thing has hit him like a ton of bricks and he looks drawn, pale, his eyes heavy as if his head is throbbing.

Sam sniffs and crinkles up his nose. “What were you sayindg?”

He’s trying. God bless him. Probably thinks if he makes too big a deal he’ll make Dean feel bad for his leg forcing Sam to be out in the cold. Dean doesn’t feel bad. But only because he knows that Sam would have refused to stay home anyway.

Sam turns away, fumbling in the Kleenex box.

“God. Bless you kid.”

Sam manages a nod before turning in towards the passenger door. “IHSHHyew! IHSHHyew! ISSHyew! Huh-IhSSHHHyew!”

Dean’s eyes narrow as he looks across at Sam. And yeah… yeah… that would be shivering. He plants a hand on his brother’s forehead. Hot.

It’s the most obvious acknowledgement of it that either of them have made so far of the way Sam’s feeling. And Sam coughs and shifts awkwardly behind Dean’s hand, so Dean backs off. Sammy is an adult now, Dean has to remind himself. He lived for two years without Dean looking after him. And he did not die.

Dean doesn’t think Sam has taken anything. He wonders whether he can slip for cold meds into his coffee.

“Hiisshhyew! HISSHyew! HAHTisshhyew!”

“How you doing for tissues, Sam?” Dean asks, spotting a sign up ahead.

Sam tips the box and frowns into it. “Gondda ndeed sombe bore soond.”

“Gotcha.” He takes the next turning to a gas station.

***

Dean can see Sam raising an eyebrow as he nears the car with two bags of shopping along with a paper cup.

“Hokay,” he announces, after wrenching open the door. He plucks a box from one of the carriers. “Firstly. I did not buy you more coffee. Tea,” he announces as he passes the cup across to Sammy “Another two hours of driving ahead,” Dean adds when Sam opens up his mouth to protest. “You don’t have anything to stay awake for right now.”

“Plus,” he continuous, “Crappy girly lotion tissues…” he tosses a box at Sam before brandishing another from the bag. “Two for one.”

Sam catches the second box, but his brow furrows suspiciously.

“And… Honey. We can put it into your tea. Tasty. And cool.” Dean digs in the bag again. “And…” he tugs out a corner of fabric, “blanket.”

“Whadt the hell kindd of gas stationd is this?”

“Warm. Soft” Dean demonstrates by stroking it. “All of the comfort, none of the dust.”

“Are you a fuckindg infobercial?”

Dean cuts him off, holding up a finger “And…” he pulls a bottle from one of the bags. “Tylenol.”

“Dean…”

“You have a fever, Sammy, headache too, I think.”

Sam doesn’t answer.

“And best of all,” Dean continues unperturbed, pulling the last item from his bag. “Lucky Charms,” he holds them up triumphantly and gives the box a shake to stress his point. “Awesome, huh? I’ll let you pick out all the marshmallows.”

Sam is staring. “Deand, you do kndow I’bm twendty two, right?”

Dean holds up a finger and shoots Sam an authoritative look. “Hey, now, Sam. You’re never too old for Lucky Charms”

Sam frowns, but he rips open the new tissue box and pulls one out to blow his nose, apparently deciding it’s not worth the effort to argue. He reaches for the cereal box though, about five minutes into his drive. Dean doesn’t meet his eyes, but he does allow himself a private grin.

***

Sam is trying to sleep. Really he is, but he’s not having a lot of luck. He barely manages to make it five minutes lying there still, head up against the window, before he’s either reaching for another handful of tissues to wipe his nose, or else he’s sneezing.

Dean bites on his lip and frowns in sympathy at his brother shuffling restlessly. The final track on the album comes to the end and the drawer of the tape player automatically clicks open. Dean rustles his brother by the shoulder.

Sam grunts in response, and looks up at Dean, eyebrows raised. Dean holds a box out in front of him.

“Your pick.”

Sam’s brows are furrowed, but there’s a gleam of amusement in his eye. He thumbs through the cassette tapes and hands one back to Dean before sneezing and snuggling back up against the window.

Dean laughs when he reads the label. Houses of the Holy. Exactly what Dean always plays after the tap that’s just finished. He choses to take it as a sign that the kid has taste.

--

The prompt (from 27_jaredjensen) :Gen sick Sam

like they wake up and both immediately know Sam is sick, and Dean is all we have to carry on with our day and hunt shit but here are some things to make you feel a little better, I know this because I have taken care of you always little bro

[glaciosity]

adorable.

[TwitchNose]

Strangely I have never seen even one episode of this show and yet I have loved every story on this site about these two brothers. Keep up the great work!

[Zwee]

Ohhh goodness. She's back and-- Oh holy Jesus, does she like what she finds? Yep. (That's not even a question) These are SO cute. You write Sam ridiculously well, and even better, you write the early seasons impossibly well! Those are my favorite ones anyway. Thanks so many times! *love*

[SexualOddity]

Hee! Thank you guys. And TwitchNose, I had never watched SPN before coming here either. Totally converted by sneezefic on here.

[27jj]

OMG PRETTY MUCH THE GREATEST THREAD EVER

wow, you write so many of my prompts

time to write oddity something...

[SexualOddity]

What? What was that? *Ears prick up*

[swann_ee_song]

God only knows why I've never been in here before but I'm certainly coming back!!

[SexualOddity]

Another meme one.

--

Dean had long ago decided that Sammy was fucking weird. Funny. But weird. There were about a million and one justifications for this from 1. Sam can eat a cooked breakfast and his favourite thing will be the fucking tomatoes to 13,456. Sam knows every single damn word to ‘A Lack of Colour’ by Death Cab for Cutie but still mixes up the words to ‘Laugh, I Nearly Died’ despite having spent twenty years listening to it in the car. Reason number 556 is this goddamn weird thing he has about light. Sunny days make him sneeze. He’s such a freak. And it’s not that it’s hayfever or something vaguely legitimate, it’s the actual light. Sam insists that it’s a real thing, that it’s some kind of reflex, but Dean hasn’t heard of it before and he’s convinced that if there is a God then someone jostled his arm when he was working on Sam’s brain and he messed up the wiring. It would explain a few other things, actually.

But there’s been Stanford and it’s been a while and it must have slipped Dean’s mind, because it takes him by surprise when it’s their first sunny day back on the hunt together and Sam is bursting into fits each time they come out of witnesses’ houses on their interview run.

“AhhHATCHyew!” Sam explodes for the millionth time that day.

Dean frowns at him, “Seriously? Again?”

“CHUH! CHUH! HehtCHUH! UhHEHTCHUSHyew!”

“You coming down with something Sammy?” Dean asks, trailing his brother as they head towards the car.

Sam sniffles and mumbles, “It’s the light.”

Realisation dawns. “Oh fuck yeah, the light.” Sammy is already climbing into the Impala, Dean rushes to the driver’s side and hops in himself. “I totally forgot about your weird sun-allergy thing.”

“It’s not an allergy,” Sam mutters.

“What is it then?”

“It’s a reflex.”

“It’s weird is what it is.” Dean studies Sam as he slips the car into gear. “I mean, come on, you hunt monsters. For a living. All the goodamn disgusting shit you’ve seen, and what freaks your body out? A bit of light? It’s so weird. Mind you, I guess, the clown thing…”

Sam shoots him a look of utter contempt. It might go so far as to actually worry Dean if he didn’t know Sammy. It’s another thing that Dean enjoys about this random Samism, Sam gets frustrated as hell with himself on days like this, and generally spends the day remarkably grumpy and just so easy for Dean to mess with. Right now, Dean leans across to the passenger seat and pinches Sam on the cheek.

“You are so damn cute when you’re angry.”

There’s a stream of light as they turn the corner and Sam snaps away from Dean.

“HehKHUSHyew! KUSHYEW! HETchusshyew!” He sniffles and rubs the back of his hand against his nose. “Don’t you fucking say a word.”

--

When they get up out of the car Dean looks across at Sam, “Atchoo,” he mocks, right before Sam doubles over sneezing.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asks him wearily when he straightens.

“I’m good at predicting things.” And he grins. Because it’s true.

--

His powers, apparently, do not diminish as the day goes on, and later when the old lady they’re talking to starts to fiddle with the curtains, he leans in towards Sam and whispers, “Atishoo”

“USHH! USHH! USSHH! HEHTisshyew! Bite me, Dean.”

--

By nightfall obviously the potential for laughing at Sammy has considerably died down and things have gotten pretty dull. They’re scoping out a factory that they both know is abandoned. Dean’s night does pick up a little though, when he turns to answer Sam’s question and Sam immediately wrenches to one side, arm flung up against his face.

“HuhIHTTSH! HTTSHYEW! TCHYEW! HnHPTCHYEW!”

He’s trying to hold them back, but he’s got no chance. It’s funny actually because when Sam’s a cold sneezing is a frigging saga. He can sit there for ten minutes, nose wriggling and breaths shallowing and it’ll build up and up and up, and then disappear, over and over again until Sam finally gets annoyed and goes wandering around looking for a light source to stare at. But with this weird reflex thing they’re urgent, just so fast and strong.

’SHYEW! ‘SHYEW! HUHISSSHHYEW!” Sam rubs his nose and looks at the ground as Dean responds.

And maybe Dean ever so slightly tilts his flashlight so that it’s back in Sammy’s face. And maybe he enjoys the power just a little bit.

“T’ISHHYEW! HehtCHYEW! CHYEW! ISHHYEW! HehUhISSHYEW! Will you watch it with that flashlight?” Sam straightens, sniffing. “You’re making me sneeze.”

“Oh yeah, sure, I’m sorry.” Dean stumbles over one of the many boxes lining the floor and maybe it knocks his hand a little. Or something.

“IHHTtchyew! TCHyew! HuhIHSHHyew! Dean!” Sam snaps in a whisper. “Has it occurred to you that getting me to sneeze when we’re trespassing on someone’s property may not be the most sensible idea?”

“No,” Dean smirks, “because you know as well as I do that the owners are mad if they didn’t cut and run. Besides,” he laughs, shaking the flashlight around a little, "this is suprisingly fun."

“Tchhhyew! Tchyew! Tchhh! HAHTissshyew! Quit it Dean!” He shields his face with his hand as he straightens. “I’m not looking at you.”

Dean eyes him, but he makes his way to the end of the first room, Sam following behind, an arm still across his eyes. Dean’s bored and daydreaming when he hears a crash.

Sam… has apparently tripped over one of the boxes and flat on his face. He’s groaning and struggling to his feet as Dean nears and has a look over him.

“T’chhhYEW! TCHYEW! HUHIHSHYEW! HuhISHHH!” Sam blinks into the torchlight, still plonked on wooden floors. “ISHHH! ISSHH! HEHTisshyew!”

“You’re such a goddamned jerk.”

--

Prompt was "Sam has a photic sneeze reflex. Dean finds it hilarious."

N.B. I've never known a photic sneezer who sneezed in fits, but Wikipaedia says it's possible and that's good enough for me, lol!

[SexualOddity]

“Sam.”

God, the kid is a state. He looks up at Dean questioningly, with a twitching nose and eyes that are red where they are supposed to be white. Dean tosses him a bandana.

“What’s this?” Sam sniffles.

“I don’t have Kleenex.”

Sam cheeks redden on his already splotchy face, but he mumbles his thanks and blows his nose. It actually makes Dean a little sad. Sam is so fucking damaged.

Sam is a goddamn born hunter. Always has been. Dean could see it right from his first training gig as a teenager. He’d always been wiry, but still pretty strong from hours of training they put in whenever Dad was without a hunt. Above all, though, he was fast. Fast and really damn aware of his surroundings. Like, he knew where Dean and Dad were, where the monster was, and what exactly they were all doing. Sam put it down to years of playing soccer. Dean put it down to genetics.

It had always bothered their Dad though, Sam’s dust allergy. And rightly so, really, for them something like that was life or death. And Dad had to train Sam to manage these things if he wanted him to be safe.

But maybe he’s been trained a little too hard because right now he’s brushing tears from his face with the back of his sleeve and rubbing viciously at his nose until it’s sore and red.

He’s always been like this, he’d come away from a hunt dripping and sniffly and irritated but he would not sneeze. Not in front of Dean and Dad. If it was light enough, he’d go off for a walk and turn up at the motel room half an hour later, eyes and nose swollen and raw. If it wasn’t, he’d hide in the bathroom and try to have an allergy attack quietly. It was never very effective because Sam didn’t sneeze quietly at the best of times, never mind after an hour in a dusty library, or some basement or an abandoned building.

“KHUTchyew! HUHTishhHHYew!”

The light obviously gets to him, because as they step out into the daylight , Sam twists away, unable to keep from sneezing into the crumpled up bandana.

“Bless you.”

Sam mumbles a, “thank you”, but he doesn’t meet Dean’s eyes. He blows his nose again. “Okay, I think I’m gonna take a walk.”

Dean studies him for a moment, eye brow raised. “Seriously? You’re doing this with me?”

Sam looks genuinely confused. “Doing what with you?”

“Sam, I’m not Dad. We won, okay? We ganked the ghost already. If you need to have an allergy attack, have a fucking allergy attack.”

Sam just rubs again at his nose. “You know I don’t like to…”

“Why the hell not?” He opens up the car. “C’mon. Get in. I’m taking you to the drugstore.”

Sam looks for a moment as if he’s about to protest, but, probably deciding that arguing isn’t worth the effort, he does slide into the passenger seat.

Dean leans across Sam to fish in the glove box. “Now I think… Aha! Jackpot.” He drops a box of tissues on his brother’s lap. “Had a cold a few weeks back.”

--

Dean buys antihistamines and decongestants and extra tissues, just in case the half box he’s already given him isn’t enough. It reminds him of being nine years old, not long after their Dad had begun to trust Dean to look after them both for the occasional night in a motel room. They’d never seen Sam have an allergy attack before. He’d sometimes gotten a little sneezy at Bobby’s, but Bobby had soon picked up the hint and aired out the rooms before they came around. Then suddenly they were in a motel room that looked as though it had never been touched with a duster and Sam’s eyes were swollen and streaming and he was sneezing so much that Dean was worried that he couldn’t breathe.

After a nervous conversation with their Dad and a trip to the pharmacy, Sam had gotten through it with allergy meds, cold flannels that Dean pressed against his face and most of the night spent in the bathroom. Then Dad had come back the next day and set about teaching Sam to squash down his symptoms.

When Dean leaves the drugstore, he shoots a glance to Sam through the Impala windscreen, he’s bent over, sneezing repeatedly, tissue cupped to his face. He looks up when he has recovered, and catching sight of Dean, blushes and sniffles and shoves the Kleenex in his pocket. Dean rolls his eyes.

--

As soon as he’s in the Impala, Dean fishes in the bag for some allergy meds and a bottle of water. “Right. Okay. Box says two, but you should prob’ly take three of these. They don’t account for Sasquatch.”

Sam hesitates. He doesn’t take antihistamines these days. He says they make him dopey. Even the non-drowsy kinds, a little. That’s a ridiculous argument though, because the hunt is over, there’s nothing to say sharp for. Dean tells him so. And then force-feeds him tablets.

“What are you doing this for?”

Dean shrugs. “You’re clearly not even a little bit comfortable. And this ‘Thou shalt not have allergies ‘ thing is stupid. You get through hunts no problem now, it’s fucking impressive actually.” Dean lifts the open box of tissues from Sam’s lap and holds them out in front of him. “Sneeze, seriously,” Dean coaxes. “You’ll feel better.”

Sam uncertainly pulls a Kleenex from the box and turns towards the passenger window, tissue pressed over his nose.

“Hehh… HehKHISHyew! HuhHITchyew!”

“Atta boy.” Dean reaches across and rubs Sam on his back before starting up the car. “Let’s get you back to the motel room. We’ll get some water on your face.”

--

Prompt by UntilUntilUntil: Season 1. Sam is so very allergic to dust. SO VERY. John was a hardass and would make him keep his shit together, obviously. Now Dean and Sam are hunting alone and, uh, dude? You know it's okay if you're a sneezy mess after a hunt, right? You don't have to be all nervous about it.

[BlueRandom]

How have I only just seen these??? They're amazing - your writing is so good! (Plus there's a ton of Sam love here ...)

I think my favourite is the photic one; it's so incredibly cute!

Seriously.

[Zwee]

Awwww... Dean is SO sweet to him. I love it. I adore your writing ever so much! Thanks for all of these perfect stories. They literally never fail to make my night. Over and over and over again. You're perfect!

[SexualOddity]

Hee!

BlueRandow: *Shares ALL the SamLove with you*

Zwee: I don't even a little bit deserve that praise but MAN your comments make me happy! Thank you!

--

This is a meme one again (Tarotgal's meme this time) and I will share the prompt cos it was from 27_JJ and it was a good one but I did a bad job of following it so please don't get your hopes too high. :/

--

Sam sniffles into his sleeve as they watch their Dad’s truck pull away. He’s got a horrible cold, and it’s been getting worse all day. Dad noticed and he’s been looking out for him, picking up tissues and painkillers and tea for Sam each time he went for a coffee run. It was very Dad-like caretaking but Dean could tell Sam was grateful. And neither he nor Dad had even complained about the crumpled up tissues slowly colonizing the back seat of the Implala. Dean considers that pretty damn heroic.

He’s starting to worry now though. Sam’s seemed a lot worse since they met up again, quiet and shivery and much too pale. Dad most likely put it down to Vision recovery, but Dean’s seen that a few times already and if that is what this is then it’s slow. And Sam’s not showing any signs of getting better.

“It’s worse, huh?”

Sam shrugs and makes for the Impala. “Guess idt’s godt to gedt worse before idt gedts bedtter.”

“I have a thermometer in the car. You gonna let me take your temperature?”

Sam looks across at Dean from outside the passenger door. “Dno.”

“Great.” Dean grimaces as he opens up the car. “That’s very reassuring.”

--

As the little family are clearing up after dinner, Sam is shuffling and trying to stretch out in the back seat.

“You achy?”

Sam looks across at Dean, incredulous. “Dude I’bm six foot four and I spend my life ridindg around in a passendger seadt. I’bm always achy.”

Sam’s voice is going.

“HuHDtchusshyew!” Sam’s nose wrinkles. It makes him look mildly disgusted, but Dean recognises it as Sam trying to work out whether he needs to sneeze again. He does. Dean could tell him that. Sam always sneezes twice in a row.

“Ha-uhhhh…” Sam grimaces and reaches for another tissue. “HuhTCHyusshAh! Hard to believe we’re finddally here.”

“Bless you.” Dean’s seen Sam full of cold a hundred times, and he still can’t shake the feeling that this is something worse , and, like it or not, this Demon’s making an appearance in the next couple of hours. “You well enough for this Sammy?”

Sam looks up from behind his tissue as he blows his nose. “I guess we’ll see.”

Dean beats Sam to the binoculars as they both reach for the dashboard. He holds them hostage on his lap while he eyes his brother.

“Nope. Not a good enough answer.”

“What do you wandt fromb mbe Deand? Wandt mbe to tell you I’bm feelindg crappy? I amb.”

“I want you to tell me whether you can fight. Sammy, you look terrible. You remind me of when you had the flu.”

“I rembember havindg the flu. I probably wouldnd’t be ubp and in this car.”

Dean reaches a hand to Sam’s forehead. Sam ducks out of the way.

“Fuck this, Sam. Talk to me or I swear I’m driving you back to the motel.

Sam just opens up his door and wanders behind the hedges surrounding their house. He sneezes a couple of times into his thumb and finger as Dean approaches him from behind. He places a hand firmly on Sam’s upper arm.

“Sam, it’s the fucking yellow-eyed demon.”

“Exactly. What do you wandt bme to do Deand? Say, we’ve beend hundtindg this thindg for twendty years budt hell, I’d better throw this chandce cos I’bm a little bidt sndotty.”

“I want to not get us killed Sammy. This thing’s a fucking bastard even if you’re firing on all cylinders.”

“So… you’re habppy jusdt to ledt it go?” Sam asks, incredulously.

“It’ll be back again, Sammy! And we know what we’re looking for now.”

“So ind the mbeandtimbe we just stand by and let idt kill the Bmomb, screw over the kidd…”

There’s a noise from inside, and Sam and Dean only need to catch each other’s eyes for a second before they’re tearing in the direction of the house.

--

It’s not long before Dean’s coughing, stumbling out of a burning building with a six month old in his arms. And damnit it’s a little on the fucking nose.

Sam is coughing as well, behind him, as he hands the kid over. He sounds awful. Sam wheezes through a gasp as Dean turns around, Sam's voice is fucking scraping against his throat. “It’s still ind there!.”

Dean’s got Sam by the shoulders in an instant, and he’s got all his weight against Sam’s to keep him from charging at the house. For all that the kid looked sick, he doesn’t seem to have lost anything in brute strength.

“It’s burning to the ground Sam. It’s suicide!” He yells.

“I don’t care.”

That’s it for Dean. That fucking, fucking demon. He was done with letting it rip through his family. “I do!”

The shove must have been damn hard, because Sam is sprawling back on to the ground. Dean’s heart sinks as Sam’s eyes widen and then glaze and Dean barely has a moment to register the disappearance of the demon before he’s startled by a round of ugly hacking.

Sam’s curled up on the grass. Helplessly coughing and gasping and gripping at his chest. It’s seconds before Dean is kneeling at his side, the backs of his fingers pressing against his brother’s forehead. It’s worse than he’d thought.

--

Sam’s having a sneezing fit. It’s not at all like when Sam used to get hayfever as a kid. It’s not quick and harsh and desperate. It’s these slow shallow breaths that whistle painfully in and out of Sam’s chest, it’s these shaky little gasps and this big shuddering sneeze before the whole damn thing starts all over again. Dean doesn’t like to listen to it. He snaps his phone shut after it clicks on to voicemail for the fifty-millionth time.

“Something’s wrong Sammy.”

There’s not a sound from under Sam’s duvet.

Dean pulls the covers back from the bed. “Alright, this is our Dad, Sam. You wanna deal with whatever the hell you got against me and help me find him?”

Sam’s voice is muffled against the bedsheet. “If you had just ledt mbe go back ind there I could have ended all this. HuhKHTTshyew!”

Dean takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and rubs a hand against Sam’s back. “Bless you.” He bites at his lip. “You know, Sam, if you had’ve gone back in there you wouldn’t have finished this.”

Sam creases up, coughing. He wheezes and spits before he’s able to talk again. “You dond’t kndow thadt,” he manages, eventually. “HahKHUSsshYew!”

“Okay. So you’re willing to sacrifice yourself, that it?”

Sam looks up at him with drawn and hazy eyes. “Yeah.”

Dean sucks at his teeth and turns his back on Sam. “Yeah, well, that’s never gonna happen.”

There’s shuffling as Sam raises himself to a sitting position. He’s stopped shivering at last. And to be honest, it’s about time, with a fever of 104.

“HaKnnkh! HAKnnkh! KnkkTchhh! So whend does it becobme worth it for you, Deand? Heh… Kthyew! TCHyew!” he sniffs determinedly and wipes his sleeve against his nose. “It killed Jess, Deand. It killed Bmomb.”

Dean gives a long sigh. “Yeah, Sammy, and I’m not about to lose anyone else… God, Sam, sometimes I’m barely holding it together. Without you or Dad…”

Sam sniffs and looks up at Dean. “Idt’s beend too londg Deand. Try Dad againd.”

[SexualOddity]

Oh damn, the prompt. Sorry, I'm bad at this:

Sam bad-asses his way through a hunt. Like, he's totally on his game, saving the day, etc. Soon as the monster is killed, though, he just lets himself be sick/allergic and maybe Dean has to help him back to the Impala.

[Zwee]

Oh, hush, that was brilliant and you know it. Seriously. God, and your spellingssss... especially that last bit, I could totally picture him all helpless and sneezy and pathetic and adorable and wanting to sacrifice himself to kill the yellow-eyed demon. You're amazing. I like that this was set in the first season. And I like that John was at least being nice. Because as much as I love to hate him when the boys do, I also love to love him, because he's so nice and happy-looking with his cute daddy-smile. This was so great, thank you TONS.

[SexualOddity]

Hee! Thanks Zwee.

I feel bad for John. I feel like they kind of retconned (is that the right use of the word? I learnt it very recently on the internet. *is neither technologicaly aware nor down with the youth*) his as a bad Dad. I'm not sure that's really what he was in the first couple of seasons. Anyway, Johnrant over.

--

It starts the minute they’re in the field. It’s seconds before his fists are balled and rubbing at his eyes and not long after that before he’s bent double sneezing into his hands.

“HEHKkkyew! Tchhhyew! Tchhhyew! HUHTCHyew!” He presses his nose into the crook of his arm to free up a hand to fumble in his pocket for some balled up tissue. “Hahkktchyew! TCHyew! TCHyew! Tchhhh! T’uhUHSHhhyew!”

“Jesus Sam. You taken your meds?”

“Tchhhh! Tchhhh! HuhISHHHhhyah! Uh huh.” He pulls a few Kleenex from the bundle and smoothes them out before blowing his nose.

“They in date?”

Sam laughs and pulls away another wad of tissues. “HehhTuhUSHhh! HuhUSHhh! Yeah, pollend coundt’s just really badd.”

“You sure you still wanna do this?”

“Yeah!” Sam retorts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He shifts the bag from his back before pulling out a soccer ball and a roll of toilet paper. “It’s beend way too londg.”

“When it’s my birthday we’re gonna do something manly. Like, I dunno… shoot things.”

“HUSSSHhhhah! CHHHish! HEHPTttCHhisshyew!” He sniffs, “Dude, we shoot thidngs all the tibme.”

“Which is why I’m so manly.”

But Sam’s already running into the distance. He pulls off his jacket and positions it on the grass, opposite the bag that he’s thrown on the ground. He’s sneezing and grinning when he jogs back over. “HEHTussshhah! I dneed your jacket.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but he does take it off and place it where Sam shows him. Sam is looking around at their stuff for inspiration. In the end, he just shrugs and reaches for the toilet roll.

“Er… Sam, I think you’re probably gonna be needing that. You really wanna put it in the mud?”

Sam considers this before he shrugs and tears off a couple of pieces of toilet paper on the ground under the roll.

“Huh-ehTisshyew! TISHhhyew! Huh-ISHyew!”

“Oh yeah, that’s great, until we kick it away.”

Sam sniffs. “This’ll be bmy goal. You wond’t have to combe up here.”

“Hey.” Dean dives at Sam and the ball but he’s already on the way up the field, only slowing down a little for all the sneezing.

--

Prompt by Untiluntiluntil: Sam has a really bad hayfever and is in a really good mood and he and Dean have a nice day despite lots and lots of sneezing, obviously.

[BlueRandom]

“HuHDtchusshyew!” Sam’s nose wrinkles. It makes him look mildly disgusted, but Dean recognises it as Sam trying to work out whether he needs to sneeze again. He does. Dean could tell him that. Sam always sneezes twice in a row.

Umm. This. Adorable.

These last two were awesome. I'm not usually a fan of the allergy-fics, just 'cos I can't imagine them in character as easily, but your last one was great!

[SexualOddity]

I'm not usually a fan of the allergy-fics, just 'cos I can't imagine them in character as easily, but your last one was great!

Hee hee! I'm such an allergy fan, so I like that it subverted expectations. *Waves allergy banner in the hope of eventual conversion*

--

Sam takes a breath as he pushes from his shoulder to get an extra quarter inch. It fucking hurts but it’s enough to let him curl his fingertips around the top of his sleeve. He pinches the fabric tightly before to keep in from slipping away from him as he breathes out.

“How’s it looking kiddo?” Dean’s voice is close by in the darkness.

“I think… uh… probably.”

“Oh thank God. Way to go Sammy.”

Sam wrinkles his nose and sniffs hard before trying to inch closer to the pin in his cuff. He’s had this irritating tingle in his nose and at the back of his throat since he woke up, the beginnings of a cold that he’s unhelpfully coming down with, but since he came to in the cell it’s been considerably worse and he wishes he could wrench a hand free to give his nose a good rub.

He’s just beginning to stretch his fingers down his sleeve when the tickle that had been hanging around his sinuses immediately concentrates under the bridge of his nose. His fingers slip from the fabric and it’s all he can do to twist as far away from Dean as his restraints will let him. “HEHKHSHHuh!”

There’s a little uncomfortable noise from Dean that makes Sam’s cheeks heat up, but otherwise both of them are silent, listening, praying that they won’t hear any signs of movement.

A few moments pass and there’s nothing. Sam lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“Yeah, not helpful Sammy.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

There’s a pause.

“Dean?”

“Mmm?”

“Did I get you?”

Sam can hear a sigh.

“It’s fine.”

It isn’t though. Because Dean’s barely recovering from a beating he wouldn’t have taken if Sam had have looked in the right place for remains, and he’s still nursing a couple of broken ribs. The last thing he needs is to catch Sam’s cold.

That could be a problem though because the cell or whatever they’re in must be pretty cramped because Dean’s within touching distance, or would be if Sam could free an arm to touch him, and whatever was bugging Sam’s nose hasn’t let up, in fact its spread right across his nostrils as little prickles of irritation. Like a horribly itchy version of pins and needles.

Sam holds his breath and screws up his nose tight. It’s making little difference though, and he finds he’s having to wiggle his nose to squash down what feels like it’s threatening to be a string of sneezes.

“How you doing with that lockpick?”

“Uhhhh...” Sam groans in discomfort and tries to twist away again. “HhhNdgjhuh! HuhNdjghuh! HEHPdjuh! Shit. I’m sorry.”

His nose is dripping now, he’s been wiping at it and sniffling all day to keep it from running, and these sudden sneezes aren’t helping, especially with his hands clamped to the ceiling. He wouldn’t mind but he can feel his bundle of tissues in his damned pocket. He sniffs hard and it’s loud and ugly and Sam is embarrassed, even in front of Dean.

“Jesus. You’re sounding worse. Damp in here getting to you?”

Sam sniffs again and considers this. There is a kind of a wet cold to the air, thick enough that it’s making his shirt stick awkwardly to his chest. It’s maybe enough to kick up his symptoms a few notches, except that he’s not just sniffly, it’s this still irresistible itching, and not just in his nose either: it’s in his throat, his eyes…

“Shit.”

“What?”

“It’s probably mouldy in here.”

Dean gives an exasperated sigh. “You gonna have an allergy attack?”

Already the itching is moving insistently towards the centre of his nose. He takes an involuntary gasp.

“Okay gotcha.”

“HehNGGH! HEHPTdjchyew! HehMMnPTchyew!” Sam groans, exhausted. “Huhh…hhh…Hhhh! HEHNmhtchyew!”

“Just sneeze Sammy.”

“Hhhuh…uhh… Huh?”

“I know what you’re like. You don’t stop when you try to hold them back. And you’re lousy at it anyway.”

“HEHPpphtchyew!”

“Sammy…”

“HuhUHTCHYEW!” Sam sniffs, hard.

“See, that’s helping.”

But the air is making his eyes and nose tingle. “God Dean, I don’t wanna sneeze on you.”

“I don’t care as long as you get us out of here.”

So Sam pushes on to his tiptoes, bony ankles butting uncomfortably against the restrains at his feet, and stretches once again from the shoulders. As his fingers close around the cuff of his shirt for a second time, he has to screw up his nose in order to pinch at the itch that concentrating again just below the bridge. He’s inched the fabric up over his hand and is taking the pin between his thumb and forefinger before the tickling in his nose has sharpened to the point that he can’t supress it any longer. This time, though, he closes his grip tight on the lockpick and doesn’t let go, even as the force of a set of stifled sneezes wrenches him forward, sending a shooting pain from his shoulder.

“Sammy, I told you…”

“HEHPTchNGH! HEHPTNGch! HEHnngh! HehUhnptCHHH! HEHptCHHH!”

“Sam!”

“UHhTCHhhyew! Tchhhhyew! HehTchUSHHyew! Shit! Shit, I’bm sorry!”

With a tug he frees the pin from the fabric in his sleeve and gives his shoulder an uncomfortable roll before starting in at the lock.

“It’s fine,” Dean insists. “I told you to. Otherwise you would never have stopped.”

“I don’t wanna get you sick!”

Dean chuckles. “I think the ship’s probably sailed on that one bro.”

Sam groans.

“It’s okay. You can make me soup and we’ll be even.”

“I will make you soup. And bring you asprin.”

“It’s a deal. How you doing with that lock?”

Sam gives a long sniff. It makes his nose itch more, but it’s all he can do to keep it from dripping. “Uh, dnearly got it.”

There’s a click and the cuffs spring open. Sam doesn’t have time to even register the thought before he’s diving into his pocket for his balled up tissue.

“HuhESHHhyew! ESHHHyew! HuhESSSHhhUH!”

There isn’t nearly enough, but he cleans himself up and uses what’s left to have two attempts at blowing his nose.

Dean’s laughing when Sam finishes. “Any time you wanna help out Sammy…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m coming.”

At a much more comfortable angle, Sam is far faster at freeing himself from his leg restraints. He’s about to take a look, or rather a grope in the dark, at Dean’s cuffs when he finds himself having to twist away.

“HEHTCHhhhih! UHPTchhhYEW! UhIHTChyew! UHTchhhyew! HUHTchhhyew! EHTchhhhyew! ehTCHhhhyew! Uhh..UHTchhhyew!”

“Jesus!”

Sam presses the now-barely-useful tissue against his face and sniffs. “I’bm sorry. It’s just cos I was holding thebm back before.” His voice is starting to sound strained.

“Geez. That was you holding them back?”

Sam sniffs and gives a half smile that Dean won’t be able to see. “Mbould,” he shrugs, “it’s ndot by favourite.” After another almighty sniff and an optimistic rub at his nose with the damp tissue, he sets to work on freeing Dean’s arms.

“Sammy…” Dean begins as Sam works at the lock. “Are you shivering?”

“Uh… I guess souhhh… oh fuck… AhhISHhhyew! IhtshhUH! IsssSHTyew!” He tries to catch his breath, only to double over once again, coughing this time. It kinda echoes around in his chest more than it had that morning.

“Fuck Sam, you sound awful.” He jangles on his chains. “C’mon. Just get me out of these kiddo, and we’ll get you warm and dry.”

“Huhh… Hold ohhh EHPTSHhhuh! EHTshHHhuh! HuhEHTsshhh! EHTshhhh! HEHTchhhh!”

“C’mon Sammy, lock picking time.”

“I don’t think I’m douhh… hhhuh… hihhh… UhEHTshyew! HUHTchhhyew!”

“Doesn’t matter. Eyes on the prize, okay?”

Sam is shaking his head. “Nuhhhuh… noHahISHHH! I got you hurt. I’bm dnot gettindg you sick as well.”

“What are you even..?”

“Tccchhyew! Tchhhyew! HUHTchhyew!”

“Okay. Hey, Sammy.” Dean pulls on his chains to get his brother’s attention. “I don’t know what the hell is going through your germ-infested brain but you’re the one who’s sick.”

“HuHTSSHHHyew!”

“C’mon let me go. Then I can get you blankets and antihistamines.”

“And… UhhISHHhhyew!” Sam sniffs, “And tissues.”

“Yep. Lots of tissues. Sounds good, right?”

“Mmmm… Tissues.”

“Hey Sam?”

“Yuhh… HuhHUHISHHH ISHHH! Yeah?”

“You getting a fever?”

Sam considers this. “Mmmm… I dunno.”

“Okay, come on. You’re gonna pick this lock while you’re still together enough to hold the pin.”

“Tuh’shhhYEW! HuHTCHyew! HaISSHHhhyah!”

“Sammy!”

Obediently Sam closes up to Dean and reaches for his restraints, fiddling in the lock with the pick. His nose is still itching. He shuts his eyes as there’s a shallow breath through his nose that he wasn’t intending. “HahK’ISHHyew! ISHHyew! HuhASHH! Oh shit Dean!”

“Just pick the lock Sam.”

“I’m gonna huhhh… I’m gonna make you sick…”

“Lock.”

“KuSSSHHH! KUSHHH! HttSHHHyew!” Sam sniffs and pushes at the edge of the lock with his pin. There’s a click and a sigh of relief from Dean, and then Dean’s availing Sam of the pick just in time for him to burst into sneezes.

He’s not even finished before Dean is at his side, arm around his shoulder.

Sam sniffs. “I keep messing up.”

There’s a moment where neither of them says anything before there’s Dean’s hand on his scalp, rubbing roughly against his head.

“You are so sick and stupid. You saved us. Both times.”

“ISHHHH! ISHHHH! HuhIhtSHUH! …I saved us?”

Dean chuckles. “And apparently it took it out of you. C’mon. Blankets, antihistamines and tissues, remember?”

“Mmmm… blankets, antihistamines and tuhhh… HuhEHSHhhyew! Tissues. Yeah.”

--

Prompt by 27_JaredJensen: Sam and Dean get tied up (probably face to face) in a dark, damp, scary basement. Not only is Sam coming down with something, but he's also allergic to the mold and shit down there

[EmeraldThread]

I love this thread! I don't even watch the show or know the characters very well beyond what I've read in the fics on here, but you write so well! Love the scenario, Sam's sneezing, just everything. Looking forward to the next one!

[crazy_cat_girl]

“I don’t wanna get you sick!” Dean chuckles. “I think the ship’s probably sailed on that one bro.” Sam groans. “It’s okay. You can make me soup and we’ll be even.”

I am usually a Dean girl when it comes to sneezes but contagion gets me everytime and this line made me all warm and fuzzy. I love how especially guilty Sam feels about it and how awesome Dean is about getting sneezed on.

You're awesome!

[Zwee]

Dear lord. Madam, that was SO sexy. Words can't even describe... You make my Sam-love multiply by thousands. I could totally see this happening in my mind. I loved Sam getting so distracted over his worry about getting Dean sick and sneezing on him, and Dean's just like, "Pick the friggin' lock already so I can take care of you." He sneezed SO many times. I nearly died of love. And I loved how exhausted he was at the end, and probably the cutest line ever: "I keep messing up." I could see him being all puppy and cute and disappointed in himself, and Dean being like, "What... just... no."

Oh! And maybe the sexiest part was when Dean was making Sam not try and hold them back because he just wanted him to stop so they could get out of there. I enjoyed that.

Thank you so much!

[SexualOddity]

You make my Sam-love multiply by thousands.

Mission accomplished!

--

Sam’s shivering. God, Dean feels awful. Sam’s wrapped in two blankets and two towels and he’s wearing Dean’s hoodie under his own. He’s still shivering. It’s hard to tell through the windshield but Dean thinks he can even see his teeth chattering. God.

He wrenches open the driver side door.

“No vacancies, Sammy.”

Sam just murmurs. He’s really not up to a night in the Impala.

“You hear me kiddo? I don’t think there’s another motel in town.”

“Huuuh…uhh…HuhAHhTCHhhyew!”

Sam has buried himself deeper into the blankets to smother the sneeze against the fabric. Dean sighs and reaches for the box of tissues on the dashboard.

“Bless you. You got arms under there?”

There’s a bit of struggling, but Sam manages to free a hand and forearm from inside his cocoon. Apparently too tired to blow his nose, he takes a tissue to crumple against his face and sniffles.

“HuhUHtchyew! HuTchhhyew! H’USHhhhh!”

Sam’s been sniffly and sneezing for the past couple of days, but it’s not unheard of for him to get a bit of hayfever depending on where they are during any given Spring. Neither of them had thought too much of it until they’d wrapped up the hunt and set off out of town. Since then it has become quickly apparent that Sam was not only coming down with something but had probably only been fighting it off that far with sheer adrenaline. He roused Dean’s concern about half an hour out of town, when he dragged a hoodie out of their bag, asking if Dean thought it was cold in the car. Dean did not: it was North Carolina in Spring. Following that he’d performed a spectacular health nosedive in which symptoms had progressed from a runny nose to whatever mess of ailments had left him bundled in the passenger seat, pale as all hell, dark around the eyes and shivering ridiculously, even buried in the half dozen layers that Dean has managed to bundle together.

“HuhUHTchhhyew!”

“Bless you.”

Sam sniffs. “So fuckindg cold.”

“I know Sammy, I know.”

Dean fiddles with the heater, checking it’s on full. Of course it’s on full. That was the first thing he did when Sam started shivering. He sighs and reaches a hand across to his brother’s forehead. It’s definitely hotter than the last time he checked.

He sighs and starts the car. It’s looking like a drive through the night before they can get to another motel. Sam’s teeth are chattering. Dean can hear them now they’re sat in the car together.

“God, Sam. You want me to try pilling the rest of the clothes on you, see if that helps?”

“I’m finde,” Sam croaks.

Dean piles them on top anyway. They don’t stop Sam from shivering and Dean’s running out of ideas.

There’s shuffling in the mound of fabric on the passenger seat.

“Huuh…Uhh…KhhHATchhhyew! Tchhhyew! TsCHhhhyew! HahTCHhhisshhyew!”

Dean reaches for the box of tissues. He’s thankful that they bought them earlier in the week, assuming that Sam’s allergies were picking up, but what’s left isn’t gonna last if they have to drive through the night.

“Here,” he offers, pressing the box into a hand that Sam has wrested from the blanket. “Think we gotta find a convenience store before we get out of here.”

The box of tissues disappears into the heap of blankets. “EhhTUSssshhhh! KuhHISHhhhhyew!”

“Bless you kiddo.”

**

Sam’s asleep by the time that Dean gets back to the car after his trip to the convenience store. He’ s excited and almost tempted to jostle Sam awake, but for all it’s a restless and a fitful sleep, it’s his brother’s first in a while, so he just turns the car around and heads back up the road. Sam moans and shuffles but he doesn’t wake.

By the time Sam actually does wake up, Dean has gathered a collection of firewood that he’s at least reasonably happy with. He’d have liked to have gotten more, but he’s not crazy about leaving his brother in the car when he’s not sure he’s altogether lucid, and it’s the most he could find within a five minute radius.

Dean doesn’t notice Sam’s up until he the engine shuts off and there’s a click from the passenger door. Sam is ridiculous, eyes bleary and hair upright at various angles, still wrapped up in the blanket.

“He wakes!”

Sam flashes his palm in a lacklustre greeting and tightens the blanket around him.

“Okay Sammy, back in the car, and we’ll get the heating back on. You’re shivering like crazy out here.”

“Where are we?” Sam murmurs.

Dean opens up the Impala and reaches over the passenger seat to start up the engine before guiding Sam towards the car. “Motel room had no space, remember? But I had another idea.” He pats Sam on the shoulder when he’s got him back into his spot. “Now try sleep a little more, okay? I’m nearly done.”

--

When Dean gets back to the car with a last armful of firewood, Sam is blinking sleepily out of the window. Dean chuckles and drops the wood on the pile before opening up the door.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping!”

“Are we having a fire?” Sam’s throat sounds sore.

“Yep.” Dean is round at the trunk, pulling out a can of petrol. “You are a very hard person to warm up. You still got that newspaper?”

Sam sniffs and pulls it from the glove compartment.

“Thanks.”

Dean douses the wood in gas and drops a strip of lighted newspaper on to the pile. Dean pokes at the wood with a stick until it starts to take.

“Alright shivery, c’mon.” He pulls a hoodie from Sam’s lap and lays it flat on the ground, before dragging his brother over to the spot and tucking his blankets in around him. “I am gonna make you warm if it kills me.”

Sam sniffs and looks up at Dean. “Thandkyou.”

Dean grins and heads back over to the trunk of the car. Sam frowns, confused as Dean brandishes a grocery bag with triumph.

He reaches into the bag and pulls out marshmellows, crackers and a block of chocolate. Sam laughs.

“You’re awesombe.”

“I am aren’t I?” He jogs across to a nearby tree and returns with two sticks. Perching on a log he pulls out a knife and starts whittling one of the sticks. Sam reaches over, hand outstretched and Dean gives him the other one. He plants the back of his fingers against Sam’s forehead before he pulls away.

“Jesus, Sam. Maybe I shouldn’t be trying to heat you up.”

Sam looks almost affronted. “Dno, I like idt” He burrows down a little into the blankets. “Huhh…UhnghtttTChyew!”

“Oh okay hold up.” Dean springs to his feet and fishes in the car for Sam’s box of tissues. It’s battered and there are only a couple remaining so he takes the new box from the boot as well.”

“HuhKhISHhhyew! TCHyeww! Huh-HUTchhhyew! Ugh!”

“Bless you Sammy.”

He sits himself down next to Sam on the ground.

“ISHHyew! Huh’ISHHyew! K’ISSHAahh!”

“Jesus.” Dean hands Sam the old box before tearing into the new one. “Smoke getting to you?”

“Dno,” Sam gasps before twisting over his shoulder, coughing.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yep,” Sam manages, as the attack starts to slow. “Jusdt sick.”

“I’ll say. You got pretty bad pretty quick there kiddo. You worry me.”

Sam blows his nose. “Yeah, I kndow, I’bm sorry. Jusdt kindda cambe over mbe whend we stopped.”

“Don’t apologise. Hey, pass me the bag?”

Sam does as he’s told and Dean rips open the bag of marshmellows and sticks one on the end of his now pointy twig. While it’s roasting on the fire he fumbles one handed with the chocolate and crackers before pulling the gooey mess from the stick with chocolate and crackers pinched between his fingers. He grins and holds it out for Sam.

Sam gives a shake of his head and a wave of his hand.

“Oh no. Not allowed Sammy. Never in the history of all illness has anyone ever been too sick to eat s’mores. They’re like the ultimate sick food. All of the taste and none of the chewing.”

Relenting, Sam takes it from Dean. He takes a tiny little bite and then thinks Dean doesn’t see as he sets the rest down beside him. He fishes in the marshmellow packet for one for his own twig though, and sets it burning in the fire.

“You decided you’re hungry now.”

Sam shakes his head as he pulls the sticky marshmellow from his twig. “For you.”

“Thanks buddy.”

When Dean has taken it, Sam sprawls himself out on the ground, heaving the blankets over him.

“Hey Sammy?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve stopped shivering.”

“Huh. Yeah. Idt’s a good fire Deand.”

“Yeah, it is.”

This time when Sam drifts off it’s a peaceful sleep.

--

This was the prompt, from Annonwrite on LJ:

They're driving through the night. Sam has a cold and a fever. It's a warm night, and they have the heat up in the Impala and all the blankets on him but he just CANNOT get warm. They pull over and make a bonfire. And maybe there's a convenience store somewhere nearby. Maybe they go on a quick supply run before they build the fire. Maybe they make s'mores.

[ID2006]

You are amazing

[SexualOddity]

Hey Ickydog! I didn't know you were on here!

[ID2006]

Lol, I've been on here since 2005, although I havent been on much lately since my laptop is down. Madserver read one of my fics once in here and invited me to one of the spn memes a while back. Now that I'm done with my threadjack keep up the good work. Your fics make me all mushy inside.