Oddity's short story thread (SPN)

[SexualOddity]

Haha! You guys are awesome! *Grins* Have another one!

--

Sam generally knows a break when he feels one, so Dean was expecting a couple of hours of watching muted daytime TV in the ER waiting room while Sam got cast in plaster. What he wasn’t anticipating was a whole string of other words that he can’t really remember (displaced? Cartilage-damage? Unstable?) that basically mean a plate, three screws and a couple of hours under the knife. So yeah, well done Sammy, why make things simple when you can make them complicated?

They have to hang around in Illinois for a couple of days until they can get Sam in for an operation, and in the hospital Sam gets a fancy-pants bed even though they’re only staying for a day. Apparently it's so that nurses can hang around him and take his temperature and blood pressure fifty-thousand times before he goes under. It’s not a bad life. Some of the nurses are relatively hot, and Sam says the bed is comfier than what they have at the motel. Shame it’s most likely an outpatient procedure, really. An old lady across the other side of the room even lets Dean eat her grapes and chocolate. None for Sam though cos he has this sign over his bed saying ‘Nil by mouth’. Dean doesn’t feel guilty though. It’s Sam’s own fault for going and getting his bones broken by zombie women.

It’s not quite so much fun after they take Sammy down to OR, which is stupid cos the whole thing is fucking routine, plus Sam gets himself into more dangerous places than an operating table most days before breakfast. But… whatever, Dean’s getting soft in his old age or the nursing staff are not of high enough calibre to be sufficiently distracting or something. Either way, thinks are a little bit more settled in Dean’s stomach when they wheel Sam back in and he looks up at him with his big dopey face

Sam blinks slowly.

“Dean.”

It’s got a definitive tone to it. It reminds Dean of when Sam was three years old and naming things.

“Got it in one buddy.”

“I’m awake now.”

“Again. Two for two. I always wondered where you got your brains from.”

Sam just rolls over heavily onto his stomach and buries his head into the pillow.

“You sleepy kiddo?”

Sam murmurs and lays still for a while, and Dean has settled back down onto the seat next to the bed before Sam suddenly pushes up onto his elbows.

“I have a sneeze,” he announces.

“You what?”

“I have a sneeze,” he tells Dean, seriously. “Right here.”

He prods himself on the bridge of his nose and then immediately screws it up and rubs at it vigorously, as if in evidence.

“Ah fuck, okay.”

Dean had meant to ask a nurse to keep some allergy meds ready for Sam when the family of the sleeping guy in the next bed over had trooped into the ward with a hundred bunches of flowers. He hadn't seen anyone to ask since then though, not until the guy who wheeled Sam in, and he just signed his initials on a clipboard and wandered off while Dean and Sam were talking.

“Argh.” Sam pushes his pillow out of the way and rubs his nose hard against the mattress. “So… many… sneezes…”

“Hey, yeah, you’re okay buddy. I’m gonna get you some medicine.”

Sam grunts and rubs at his nostrils with his good hand. “HuhKHSHHshuh! HUHTsschYah! HSssshHAH!”

“Bless you.”

There still doesn’t seem to be anyone around to ask for meds, but Dean does manage to find half a pack of tissues in his jacket pocket. He’s a good big brother.

Sam takes a Kleenex when Dean prompts him and rolls back over onto his back, nose twitching. He bursts into another fit, sneezing openly at his chest, tissue forgotten between his fingers. Dean pulls another one out of the packet in the end and presses it against Sam’s nose on his behalf.

"HuhhTushhhyew! HuhTSHHHSHyew! HehTSHH'yew! HEH'TSHHH-YEW!"

Sam pulls away finally and he’s gasping at the air, eyes watering and mouth hanging open.

“Huhhhh… Uhhh… Hhhhh… Hhhhh… Hhhh!”

He frowns and scrubs at his nose for a minute, before settling back down against the bed. He fixes Dean with a stare.

“Is this driving you crazy?”

Dean’s face flushes immediately and for a moment he wonders whether Sam is messing with him. But then Sam grins listlessly and then cocks his head in confusion as his breath begins to shudder again.

“Hhhh’huhhh-uhhh’hhh…Huhhh’Ahhhh’Hahh…”

Sam’s shoulders slump.

“It’s shy.”

“Yeah, Sammy.”

Sam licks his lips. “I’m not shy.”

“Oh God Sam,” Dean snaps in an urgent whisper. “You’re in a fucking hospital. There’s pins in your arm.”

“Hehhh… HUHK’TCHhYew! TCHhyew! HuhHISHHHuh! HUHTtchyew!”

Reluctantly, Dean presses another tissue to Sam’s face and waves in desperation at a passing orderly.

“Hey, hey! Uh… nurse! Over here! Yeah, antihistamines would be pretty good right about now.”

Oh - Oops! Prompt for this one:

Sam is feverish/delirious/loopy on painkillers/something, being silly or miserable or whatever, and then BAM allergies attack and he gets all itchy and sneezy and is maybe a little confused.

by 27_JaredJensen. Sorry JJ!

[27jj]

Sorry JJ!

Uhhhh yeah you BETTER be sorry for KILLING ME omgggggggggggggggg

[SexualOddity]

Furniture polish. Another one to add to the list. Sam sneezes into the crook of his arm and wonders idly whether they actually need furniture polish. What happens to furniture that goes unpolished? He’s not even sure that he knows anyone to ask.

“HehUSHHhhuh! N’GhhUShhuh! H’AHTCHhuh!”

He wanders into the living room to find kleenex, and frowns at Dean sprawled out in front of the telly.

“HahISHHuh! ISHHH! T’CHUH!” He clasps a tissue to his nose and pulls the remote from his brother’s grasp. “HahttTISHHhUH! USHHHuh! Ugh. No news. I’ve told you about that.” He clicks up a channel. It’s some sort of crappy quiz show. It’ll do. “UhhIShhhtyew! Ishhhyew!”

Dean frowns up at him.

“You okay?”

“Furniture polish,” Sam explains, pulling more tissues from the box. “It’s deadly stuff. Move over.”

Responding to Sam’s prod, Dean shifts, swinging his legs off the sofa.

“Hehh…USHHhhyew! Uuuu-Use a footrest. Better for you. HuhISHHHyew! ISHHHhyew! HuhhISHHyew!”

He pushes it over in Dean’s direction. Dean stiffens and winces with the movement, but he manages to hoist his legs up onto the cushion. Sam sinks into the space that Dean has left and blows his nose.

“Your allergies are crappy lately.”

Sam laughs and reaches for extra tissues. “It’s normal living man. I’d forgotten, but I was kinda the same at Stanford. Cut grass, cleaning products, pet hair… I think I’m allergic to domesticity.” He rubs a knuckle under his nose as the tickling starts up again.

“That’s what you get from growing up in motel rooms and diners.”

“I guess so. Put us in an actual house and I start sneezing every two minutes and you have to be put on a current affairs embargo to keep you from punching through the walls.”

Dean scowls, but he doesn’t argue. There’s not a lot of point really. There’s already a hole in the plaster round about waist height and Dean’s suddenly wearing a band aid across his hand.

“You know, just ‘cause I see something doesn’t mean I’m gonna go out after it. I could just pass on the intel.”

“Dean, if it’s on the news I’d say there’s a pretty good chance someone’s picked it up already. HuhhTschhyew! Oh thank God,” He palms his hand against the bridge of his nose. “That was really bugging me.”

When he looks back across at Dean his arms are still folded.

“Hey relax. We’ll get used to it. You’ll get a hobby, I’ll get allergy shots, probably some kind of wall filler…” He sniffs and takes a fresh tissue to blow his nose. “Okay. I got work to do. If you want you can turn it back in twenty minutes and watch the forecast.” He stops short as he’s standing up from the sofa, a thought surfacing. “No recording weather patterns, alright?”

[Sawyer]

Ohmygod ohmygod the domesticity thing makes so much SENSE.

"Your allergies are crappy lately." <--- hnnnggg I just love that line I don't know why just Dean observing and acknowledging them so cute so wonderful please Sam go polish every piece of furniture you own

EDIT: By the way I have read ALL OF THESE and they are BEAUTIFUL and PERFECT and so damn hot and you are one of my favorite people.

[Zwee]

I missed the hospital one somehow! I giggled! So so much! Because Sam was trying to be all hot, but also he's just so drugged up and adorable and sneezy and I died. It literally made me giggle out loud. Why do these things not happen in the show??

Ahhh, Sam allergic to domesticity. I like it. It's so cute, somehow. And them just living normally and watching TV and Dean punching stuff cause he's so sick of it. It sucks but I also love it a lot.

THANK YOU for more little stories. They are always the best things ever.

[27jj]

did i already say how much i love this one? hound you for more? if not, allow me to do it now:

OMG I LOVE THIS SO FUCKING MUCH MORE PLEASE MOREEEEEEEEEE

for reals, i love reading these SO MUCH

[SexualOddity]

So... I don't have a fic for you (I'm sorry) although I am linking my LJ so I guess there are a ton of fics there as long as you're careful of adult-content notices and stuffs.

But... um... I think I might be running a meme from this Sunday. And I'm nervous and not entirely sure how it's going to go, so if it's something you want to be involved in then please let me know what you'd like from it, here:

http://sexualoddity.livejournal.com/9472.html?view=59392#t59392

Oddity x

[SexualOddity]

Just a little silly one

--

Sam rubs the heel of his hand across his face, and into his eye and at first Dean thinks he’s just tired, but then he goes back to it with a thumb and digs right into the corners.

“Quit that,” Dean insists. “What’s up?”

Sam sniffs. “I’m a little itchy. It’s early, but I dunno, maybe ragweed?”

“Wanna stop by a town and buy some meds?”

Sam sniffs again and shrugs. “Nah, I’ll last out until we get there.” He pulls the map from the dashboard and studies the page, elbow propped up against the window. Dean scowls when he sinks a knuckle into his eye.

--

They’re about forty minutes down the road when Sam’s nose starts to run more insistently. He holds up a sleeve under his nose, and fishes in the glove compartment, most likely hoping to find a napkin or something similar. He freezes when his breath catches and snaps his head over his shoulder.

“Huh… HuhTSHHHhhhYew!” The sneeze is sudden and it’s forceful and it makes Dean jump a little. He frowns straight after though, when Sam gives a hum of discomfort and presses his fingers into his neck.

“You give yourself whiplash there kid?”

Sam groans and kneads at his muscle. “Ugh. Not just now.” He winces and wrinkles up his nose. His breaths are suddenly shaky and shallow, and Dean knows that he’s fighting off a fit.

“I didn’t know you were hurt?”

“Yeah, maybe I forgot to tell you,” Sam retorts, “I was recently in a c-hhuhh…” He brings a fist up under his nose and gives a long sniff until he steadies, “in a car accident.”

Sam scrunches up his face and bites his lip and Dean tenses in sympathy.

“Ehh…HuhhTSHHHh! TSHHHhh! TSHHH! Huh-UHH-TSHHH!” Abandoning all attempts to cover up his face, Sam claps a second hand around his neck, presumably in a struggle to steady himself. “Heh-RUhhUSHHYuh! Jesus.”

Sam is crunched over in his seat, eyes squeezed shut in discomfort.

“Did you tell them at the hospital about your neck?”

Sam sniffles and wipes his nose again on his sleeve. “Yeah, sure Dean. You and Dad were unconscious and that was absolutely the first thing on my mind.”

“Should have gotten checked out…”

“What they gonna do Dean?” He rubs the palm of his hand in circles against his nose. “Give me asprin? I had that already.” He winces as he squeezes at the muscles of his neck. “Ugh. I’m gonna need some antihistamines.”

“Yeah I know.” Dean tosses him the road map. “Wanna find us a turn off?”

Sam murmurs his assent.

“It’s gonna be an uncomfortable allergy season,” he mutters.

--

Dean offers to go in and buy supplies while Sam fills up the car. He hasn’t found any napkins, or managed to bring the fabric of his hoodie away from his face.

“Buy tissues.” Sam insists.

“Dude, come on, I know.”

--

It’s with relief that Sam tucks into the paper bag, ripping open the tissue box. He frowns when it’s fuller than he expected and he tilts it in his direction to get a better look. Nestled next to the tissues and antihistamines is some muscle rub and heavy duty painkillers. Sam rolls his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.”`

“You’re welcome,” Dean answers, and the smile that Sam returns is sincere. “Gotta have you in top shape to go up against those evil clowns.”

Dean ducks just in time as the tissue box whizzes past his ear.

[27jj]

hahaha, i just opened this in two places at one and it was GLORIOUS

hnghhhh now i'm imagining sammy trying to hold back lots of sneezing so his neck wont hurt

[Zwee]

AW aw aw aw aw...... Allergic hurt Sam in Everybody Loves a Clown??? After their accident? That's so cute. I really liked that episode, and this was so so cute! Dean is an awesome brother. We know this. You make Dean an awesome brother. It's... perfect.

[SexualOddity]

Late, late, late fill on my LJ meme

--

All diner food is terrible. Actually a complete myth. There’s an art to diner food in the way that there’s an art to a decent bandana-bandage or to daytime TV. It’s not gonna win any prizes for prettiness, but you sure as hell can do it well.

That said: ‘Al’s Place: Indiana’, does not do diner food well.

The menu said cheeseburger, but what Dean is eating is definitely some kind of mess of cardboard and plastic with a remarkable ability to grow in volume and diminish in favour with every attempted bite.

“How’s the chicken salad?” Dean asks around the vaguely-burger-flavoured clay sticking to the roof of his mouth. Sam’s expression gives him the impression that the quality of their chicken salad is pretty much on a par with that of their burgers.

It kind of sucks actually, since this is actually a dinner of triumph, even though they’re not making much of a deal out of it just yet. Just a food run, that’s all. Less pressure that way. But still, this is the first time Sam’s been out of the motel room in almost a week. He’s pale, and still tired-looking even after several straight days’ worth of sleep, but he’s conscious and talking and moving about a little easier. Better yet, in almost a week, no spacing out, no panic attacks, no talking to the walls… and Dean’s not saying anything, because God knows when he does the whole thing’s gonna disappear. Still he’s wondering, for the first time in months, whether the quiet, shuffling, mumbling thing in front of him is gonna turn back into his little brother.

It’s just a shame that they’ve come to a place that has yet to grasp the art of a decent burger.

Dean fishes in his pocket, but there’s not really enough to head out and try somewhere else. He’d maxed out the cards that they were using on Sam’s health care, and with everything he’d not really thought about drawing together any more funds. He’ll have to write out some credit applications in the afternoon and then head down to the bar if they’re gonna have enough to pay up for their room before they leave.

He sighs, and stands, and goes to see what he can find to rectify the situation. The countertop has a group of squeezy tubes with long nozzles that offer the flavours red, yellow and white. Dean gathers the whole bunch including the salt and pepper cellars from the table and sets to experimentation. He’s liberally seasoning his food, working on the principle that this is not a time for delicacy because there isn’t really a flavour there to ruin, when Sam interrupts.

“Dean, do you mind… uh…”

Sam trails off and Dean looks across at him questioningly. When no answer is forthcoming Dean holds up the canister of pepper.

“You want some?”

Without waiting for an answer he shakes pepper over Sam’s plate, hoping it’ll go some way to reviving his salad.

“Ehh…Hhhuh… HHHuhRhhUTCHhhYew!”

Dean looks up, surprised. The fingers Sam is curling around his chest give Dean the impression that much as he’s moving more smoothly there’s a way to go before he’s healed up.

“…bless you.”

“HkkKkTCHYEW! TSHHshUH! HuhUHSHuh! God! Dean I… ASHHhh!”

“What?”

“I fucking told you to... HuhhISHHHhhyew!”

“You did?”

“ESHhHuh! ESHHHuh! HuhhhhESHHH! Urgh, God. I told you not to.”

Dean searches his memory but can’t quite seem to make this stick. He raises an eyebrow at his brother.

“I can’t believe you’re so sensitive. You know you look like a cartoon right now?”

Sam turns his back “HuhhhISHHHyuh! ISHHuh! H’ISHHYAH!”

“Oooooh evil burger.” Dean lifts the plate and wafts it in Sam’s direction.

“HuhhhESHHHyuh! ESHHhuh! Bite me,” Sam spits, but his eyes are twinkling.

“Alright Drama queen, let me grab you some napkins.”

When he turns back to Sam, he’s scowling, but Dean isn’t in the mood to be mad. It’s been a long time, but he’s pretty sure that his brother is back.

--

Prompt: By 27_JaredJensen:

Dean is like shake shake shake this pepper all over my food la la la

And Sam is like OMG DEAN stop that! All that pepper is going to make me…make me…

And Dean is like, make you what, want pepper on YOUR food? Sure yeah here let me help you with that little bro

Oh no! poor Sam’s twitching itching pepper-sensitive little beautiful nose

[Zwee]

So cute so hot so cute so cute. I love your writing. SO much.

TO THE MEME!

[SexualOddity]

Hey all.  So... for various reasons I've had a hard time writing lately, but I'm starting to feel like I want to get back to it, so I thought I'd start with something light and easy for this long-abandoned thread.

 

Basically, I was intrigued and confused by what was going on in the Bunker scene at the start of 'Beyond the Mat'.  Seriously?  What does Dean throw to Sam?  Is it tub of pills?  Why?  Are they sick?  Anyway, it left me with several unanswered questions, and there's only one response to unanswered questions...

 

--

 

It might surprise you, given the ridiculous gigantor body, but Sam actually doesn’t mess around when it comes to stealth.  He can cross fifty feet of creaky floorboards and stick a knife in the back of a demon before it’s even stopped to look around.  Still, the past few weeks, Dean has generally had a fair idea of when he’s nearby.

 

 

 

“HhHHNgTchuh... HHHmMptchuh... Hhh’HSHHshyew!”

 

 

 

The sneezes echo against the walls of the bunker, gruff and congested and out of time with the heavy thunk of Sam’s boots against the corridor floor.  Dean reaches for the tissue box before Sam even appears in the doorway.

 

 

 

“Have you seen the... uh... the...”  Sam stutters, face twisting with the approach of another sneeze.  Dean tosses the box in his direction.

 

 

 

“AhUSHHAH!”  Sam catches it one-handed, twisting away to bury a sneeze in the crook of his other arm. “AhhHASHHAH!”

 

 

 

Dean gives him a sympathetic wince.  They gave up on blessing one another over a week ago, but Sam has a tendency for these sneezing fits that sound exhausting enough to require some kind of response.  Sam has barely finished blowing his nose before a hot itch pierces through Dean’s sinuses that has him waving to Sam to hand the box back over. 

 

 

 

“Hh...Hh’GhhUH!  Ugh.  Damnit.”

 

 

 

They’ve had colds ever since the Hand of God and all the crap with Cas hitting the fan.  Sam blames it on stress.  For the record, Dean blames it on snotty little brothers who can’t keep their germs to themselves, but what’s not in dispute is the fact that neither one of them is shaking this off properly.  The bitchy coughs and sneezes that should have been the last throes of the virus have been kicking around for days.  Dean has a sneaking suspicion that the four walls of the Bunker and their days of entirely profitless research aren’t exactly helping.

 

 

 

“What’s with the bag?”  Sam asks, slumping down heavily into a chair and massaging his temples.

 

 

 

Dean glances down at the carryall by his side.  He’s already gathered together a few bits and pieces for an overnight trip.  A proper trip as well.  There’s not a gun or a lore book in sight.  Sure, they’ll be taking the car with its trunk-load of weapons, but that’s just good sense.

 

 

 

Dean coughs to clear his throat, sick of the sticky-ass crap coating the entire inside of his head and neck.

 

 

 

“You remember Top Notch wrestling?”

 

 

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

 

 

“’Came across an obituary last night.”  Dean spins the laptop round so that Sam can see the screen.  He presses the back of his wrist against his nose as the itching re-emerges right above his septum. “Uh...HhGgHCHUH! Sniff! Turns out Larry ‘the Hangman’ Lee died.”

 

 

 

“You’re kidding me?”

 

 

 

“Nope.” He looks across at Sam, sipping on his coffee, all pale-faced and dark-eyed. “Listen, the funeral is less than a day’s drive away.  I think we should go pay our respects.”

 

 

 

Sam raises an eyebrow, but he twists in his seat, fist pressed to his chest as he coughs into the back of his arm.  “You don’t think our plates are a little full right now?” he manages to croak, once he’s recovered his breath.

 

 

 

“Ugh Sammy,” Dean leans back in his chair and pressed a palm to his head.  “We’ve been trawling the books for weeks now and we’ve pulled out less than squat.  In the meantime, my head is pounding, I can barely take a breath without hacking up a lung, and...”

 

 

 

Eyes shutting, and the heel of his hand pressed against his nose, Sam beckons to Dean for the tissue box.

 

 

 

“Again?  Seriously?”

 

 

 

Sam nods through a shuddering breath.

 

 

 

“Jesus.  Yeah, well, case in point.”  Dean tells him, passing the Kleenex. 

 

 

 

“HuhhUShhhUh!”

 

 

 

“We need a break.”

[estrelleta]

Omg a new story from Sexual Oddity? Must be my lucky night...I'm so overexcited xD

I'm such a sucker for fitting colds into the real episodes and you do it so beautifully.

Sorry to hear you haven't been able to write much recently, for whatever reason. Just wanted to know I'm huge fan of your style – you're one of my favourite ever writers on the forum!

In fact, I've been struggling with some SPN ramblings of my own and you've inspired me to try to finish them off (if only as plotless drabbles) and share them.

E x

 

 

 

 

[SexualOddity]

5 hours ago, estrelleta said:

O

In fact, I've been struggling with some SPN ramblings of my own and you've inspired me to try to finish them off (if only as plotless drabbles) and share them.

E x

 

Oh that's fantastic!  Drop me a line when you do share them (especially if they're in the Drabbles section, I'm not very good at checking it regularly), I'd like to read them,  Love me some Supernatural ramblings

 

Thank you for such a lovely comment, it really made me feel positive about catching up with some writing x

 

[Sneezy123]

You're extremely talented. Your writing is amazing. Keep it up

[gingerdean]

 Ah, this was adorable. I love when both boys are sick, and I looove how you wrote it into this episode.  

I love Sammy and his sneezy ninja moves in this part:

On ‎5‎/‎1‎/‎2016 at 5:41 PM, SexualOddity said:

 

“Have you seen the... uh... the...”  Sam stutters, face twisting with the approach of another sneeze.  Dean tosses the box in his direction.

“AhUSHHAH!”  Sam catches it one-handed, twisting away to bury a sneeze in the crook of his other arm. “AhhHASHHAH!”

A great visual, that was.   This was delightful, I'm so glad you decided to write it!  

[SexualOddity]

Well... hello, it's been rather a long time.  I have a little fic to share though from tarotgal's meme, so I thought I'd revive this old, old thread.  Don't have all that much time to spend on writing these days, but hopefully you'll accept this as a quick pass.  No spoilers, but you kind of have to have seen It's a Terrible Life  to make any sense of it.

 

Prompt by the amazingly-talented Sierraplaid: Sam Wesson’s caught the office crud that’s going around. Dean Smith couldn’t explain why, but all he knows is he just wants to help make him feel better.

 

--

 

Oh God.

 

Dean sneaks an optimistic second look, but it’s definitely him.  Damnit.  The weirdo-Ghost guy from yesterday.  Hovering by the elevator doors as most of his sales team troop out onto their floor, leaving Dean entirely on his own with the whackjob.  Again.  Fan-tastic.  He should have listened to Men’s Health and Fitness when it told him to take the stairs.

 

At least this time the guy has enough social comprehension to avoid eye contact as he reaches across to hit the button for his floor.  Dean was about to grit his teeth and settle down to a few long moments of awkward silence, when his elevator-buddy pinches at the bridge of his nose and curses under his breath.

 

“Uhh... AhhhISHHhhew! HAH-ISHHhhew! HuhhHUSHHShyew! Ugh.”

 

Dean catches himself looking at the guy straight on.  “Are you sick?”

 

Tech guy, already frowning in a vague way at the ceiling, somehow manages to force an entire roll of toilet paper from the pocket of his slacks. (Doesn’t he know that he’ll ruin the line of the trousers?)

 

“Uh... huh,” Tech Guy affirms, rocking back onto his heels, his eyes closing slowly, before he launches forward with a mighty, “H’RRRRRRASHHhhEWwww! H’ASHHHhhEW!  H’RASHHHAH!” 

 

He slumps after, and gives a feeble nose-blow and a sigh that causes a strange tug at Dean’s stomach.

 

“You know you should-”

 

“Keep it to byself?” Tech guy sniffs unproductively and massages his sinuses.  “Yeah, people’ve been tellidg be that all day.  Bight help if the Compaddy idvested a little id sick pay for those of us od the groud.”  He coughs – it sounds painful.  “Keep us frob codstandtly idfectidg each other.”  He coughs again, one pressing hand flat against his chest.

 

“I really-”

 

“I dow, I dow, you don’t wadda hear it.  I god the bessage yesterday.”  He looks across at Dean, eyebrows raised.  His eyes are glassy.  Maybe he has a fever.

 

Tech guy clears his throat, pointedly.

 

“What?”

 

“Your stop, dude.”

 

Flustered, Dean gives a murmur of agreement and hurries toward the door, adjusting his blazer with his free hand. He pauses as he leaves and almost tells the guy he hopes he feels better soon, but then he remembers that it is definitely not a good idea to encourage interaction.  He keeps on walking.

 

--

 

Dean pulls back his (Egyptian cotton) sheets and drops his copy of Busty Asian Beauties to the floor. 

 

Nope.  Definitely not gay.

 

So why has he spent the whole night thinking about the psycho tech guy from the elevator?  Sure, the guy was more than a little odd, but Dean has bigger fish to fry.  He should be worrying about KPIs, actionable analytics, greasing the wheels for his next big promotion.  And it’s not even the guy’s paranormal obsession that’s really bothering him (although that was pretty weird).  Doesn’t he know that that toilet paper is gonna basically take a whole layer of skin off his upper lip?  Dean’s all for exfoliating but there is a limit...  You can get these 3ply facial tissues made from 100% virgin plantation fibre and infused with Shea butter...

 

Why is he even thinking about this?

 

The guy’s nose was already starting to look sore.  No wonder really.  Although it must have hit him like a freight train.  He seemed perfectly healthy yesterday when he was bothering Dean with his freak-show questions.  Hard to believe his symptoms had developed so quickly.  Perhaps he isn’t sleeping well.  He did say he was having dreams...

 

Dean doesn’t get much sleep that night himself.

 

--

 

Dean tugs at his tie as he eases through the door of the tech support department.  There is an irritating hum of droning voices and clacking computer keyboards, punctuated now and then with coughs and sneezes.  The guy in the nearest cubicle scrambles to his feet, knocking over his chair in the process.

 

“Morning Sir.  Are you here to see me Mr- uh..?”  

 

“Smith.”

 

The yellow-shirt cringes as he looks over his shoulder.  “I’m so sorry about the chair Sir.  I didn’t mean to damage Company property.”

 

“That’s okay buddy.  I’m sure it isn’t-”

 

“Did you have concerns about my productivity? Because I’ve been trying my best to maximise output.  I even cut down on a hundred percent of bathroom breaks.  I have this bottle...”

 

“Um – That’s...” Dean nods slowly, and almost trips over the fallen chair as he backs away.  “I...”  He gingerly pats the guy on the shoulder.  “Keep up the good work.”

 

Sheesh.  Maybe all the tech support guys are the same.

 

He finds the Tech-Guy he’s looking for a few cubicles down, hunched over his desk.  He looks up with a start when Dean deposits a large paper bag down in front of him, causing a glass bottle inside to clink against the painted chipboard.

 

“Whoa!”  Upon recognising Dean, he doesn’t even try to conceal a groan.  “Whad did I do dow?”  He sounds exhausted, and his voice cracks as he speaks.  Hardly surprising, Dean had thought yesterday that that cough seemed to be raking at his throat.

 

“Little gift for you...” Dean announces, pulling items from the bag one at a time and squeezing them onto the narrow workspace.  “Decongestants – one every twelve hours. Tylenol – once every six hours. Cough syrup – every four hours.  Throat lozenges – use as required. And for God’s sake use these.”  Dean thrusts a box of luxury Kleenex into the Tech guy’s arms as he watches on, bemused.  “Throw that damn toilet paper in the trash.   Looks like it doesn’t even belong in your bathroom.”

 

“Uh... thanks?”

 

Dean hesitates, his hand on a tin can inside the bag.  He doesn’t even know why he bought this. It was just there at the gas station when he stopped to fill up (premium unleaded, naturally).  Somehow it just found its way into Dean’s basket.  Well, he figures the situation is wacky enough as it is.  He hands it to Tech Guy – a can of cheap-ass tomato rice soup. 

 

“There’s also this.  Just figured you’d want it for some reason.”

 

Tech guy blinks at it, but he thanks Dean. “Uh... does this bean thad you’ve thoughd aboud whad I said, about the uhhh... the HuHhhh...” he rips into his new box of tissues. “the dreabs-HhhHUHHSHHEW!”

 

“Look,” Dean checks the name plate on Tech Guy’s partition.  “Sam.”

 

Sam, huh?  Suits him.

 

“I hope you get well and all.  I really do.  But let’s just take this,” he gestures vaguely at the various boxes and bottles, “as advance payment for never darkening my door with any of that Ghost crap again.  Okay?  Okay.”

 

He feels good.  Lighter.  And weird as that whole thing was, at least now he can get back to analysing deal flow and NSAs.  He’s got deadlines to hit and those spreadsheets aren’t going to interrogate themselves.   That’s it, he decides:  no more distractions.  For the rest of this week, noting is gonna come between him and some good old fashioned number crunching.

 

That (other) weird yellow-shirt frets and wrings his hands at the computer as Dean heads out of the door.

 

[AngelEyes]

That was Adorable!

[Seeker]

I really liked it  soooo sweet!

Alt U Dean still feels the need to care for sick Sammy 

[sneezy_frnk]

Awww I really love this! <3 <3

[Wolfwings22]

So sweet and cute. That episode has always been on of my favorites. Thanks for sharing this! Job well done! 

[Shamaël]

Wow, this thread is... awsome. I'm so glad you updated it recently, which brought it to my attention... Your spellings are to die for and the characretization is great. I know that you wrote some of those a long time ago, but I especially loved the short story where Sam and a sick Dean are playing a "drinking game" together with orange juice and medicine. It was... irresistible. Thank you so much for sharing those stories with us!

[LostGirl2.0]

Ack!! Sorry I'm so late with this!! But I was over the moon to see something from you again.  Loved it so much!!! Thank you thank you thank you!