Tears spring to Sam’s eyes as he coughs again, breath hitching as he tries to get control of his stomach. He hangs tightly onto Dean, legs feeling wobbly, his hair falling into his eyes in the night’s cool breeze.
“There you go…it’s alright, dude...” Dean murmurs, brushing Sam’s hair back from his forehead. “You wanna sit?” he asks.
Sam nods, and with Dean’s help, manages to stagger back to the car, landing heavily on the passenger seat. He leans forward, head nearly between his knees as he gasps for breath, the nausea starting to ease to a dull ache. Dean reaches forward and rubs his back, and Sam sighs gratefully.
“How ‘bout I find a motel nearby, huh?” Dean asks. “You think you could handle the car again?”
Carefully, Sam nods, letting out a slow breath. “Yeah…”
* * *
As Dean opens the door to the motel room, Sam staggers in after him, making a beeline for the first bed and gingerly sitting down on the side of it, curling his legs up and easing himself down to the pillow until he’s horizontal, lying motionless on top of the blankets. He sighs in relief, because even if the bed is lumpy and uncomfortable, it’s still worlds better than being upright.
“God, you look pathetic,” Dean comments, dumping their bags on top of the low dresser. “How’re you feeling?”
Sam hums a wordless sound, closing his eyes. Now that he’s lying down, exhaustion is quickly sweeping over him, and his whole body feels heavy. “Mmm’tired...” he mumbles.
“How’s your stomach?”
Sam considers the question for a moment, then peers up at Dean, blinking slowly. “Still a little wonky…”
“Better than it was, though?”
“Yeah, think so,” Sam replies as he watches Dean move to the foot of Sam’s bed. He leans foward, untying Sam’s shoelaces and gently pulling them off his brother’s feet, tossing them into the corner. “Thanks,” Sam murmurs.
Dean ambles across the room, grabbing the trashcan from the bathroom and carrying it over to Sam, placing it on the floor near the head of his bed. “Just in case,” Dean explains.
Sam closes his eyes, breathing out carefully. “I’m never doing that again,” Sam mumbles.
Dean chuckles softly. “Yeah, me neither,” he says, and Sam quirks an eyebrow in confusion. “I learned my lesson. Next time I’m getting you a hot dog.”
Sam groans, pressing his face into the bed. “Ugh, Dean…” he grumbles. He reaches blindly out behind him until his hand closes on the extra pillow and tosses it in the general direction of his brother’s face.
He hears Dean swat the pillow away, and it lands on the ground with a soft thump, but now that he’s closed his eyes, it’s almost impossible to open them again. “I’mma get some sleep…” he mumbles into his one remaining pillow.
“You do that, Sammy,” Dean responds. There’s a rustling noise, and then Sam feels the blanket being pulled up over his still fully-clothed body, tucked over his chest and around his legs. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”
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carisma_sensei
RE: Fill: Processed (3/3)
Date: 2019-11-04 03:43 am (UTC)“There you go…it’s alright, dude...” Dean murmurs, brushing Sam’s hair back from his forehead. “You wanna sit?” he asks.
Sam nods, and with Dean’s help, manages to stagger back to the car, landing heavily on the passenger seat. He leans forward, head nearly between his knees as he gasps for breath, the nausea starting to ease to a dull ache. Dean reaches forward and rubs his back, and Sam sighs gratefully.
“How ‘bout I find a motel nearby, huh?” Dean asks. “You think you could handle the car again?”
Carefully, Sam nods, letting out a slow breath. “Yeah…”
* * *
As Dean opens the door to the motel room, Sam staggers in after him, making a beeline for the first bed and gingerly sitting down on the side of it, curling his legs up and easing himself down to the pillow until he’s horizontal, lying motionless on top of the blankets. He sighs in relief, because even if the bed is lumpy and uncomfortable, it’s still worlds better than being upright.
“God, you look pathetic,” Dean comments, dumping their bags on top of the low dresser. “How’re you feeling?”
Sam hums a wordless sound, closing his eyes. Now that he’s lying down, exhaustion is quickly sweeping over him, and his whole body feels heavy. “Mmm’tired...” he mumbles.
“How’s your stomach?”
Sam considers the question for a moment, then peers up at Dean, blinking slowly. “Still a little wonky…”
“Better than it was, though?”
“Yeah, think so,” Sam replies as he watches Dean move to the foot of Sam’s bed. He leans foward, untying Sam’s shoelaces and gently pulling them off his brother’s feet, tossing them into the corner. “Thanks,” Sam murmurs.
Dean ambles across the room, grabbing the trashcan from the bathroom and carrying it over to Sam, placing it on the floor near the head of his bed. “Just in case,” Dean explains.
Sam closes his eyes, breathing out carefully. “I’m never doing that again,” Sam mumbles.
Dean chuckles softly. “Yeah, me neither,” he says, and Sam quirks an eyebrow in confusion. “I learned my lesson. Next time I’m getting you a hot dog.”
Sam groans, pressing his face into the bed. “Ugh, Dean…” he grumbles. He reaches blindly out behind him until his hand closes on the extra pillow and tosses it in the general direction of his brother’s face.
He hears Dean swat the pillow away, and it lands on the ground with a soft thump, but now that he’s closed his eyes, it’s almost impossible to open them again. “I’mma get some sleep…” he mumbles into his one remaining pillow.
“You do that, Sammy,” Dean responds. There’s a rustling noise, and then Sam feels the blanket being pulled up over his still fully-clothed body, tucked over his chest and around his legs. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”