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In the past two days, Dean has learned that even the Men of Letters can’t ward off the stomach bug and apparently a nephilim isn’t immune to the virus either. Almost twenty-four hours of vomiting and other nasty things have reduced Jack to a snotty, whiny little brat. It was all too much for Dean to handle and he certainly didn’t want the germs anywhere near him so he stayed as far away as possible.
Which gave him the perfect opportunity to watch as his brother stepped in did what Dean couldn’t. It was obvious Sam hadn’t slept much and the crinkles on his forehead gave away the worry that he so easily hid as soon as Jack was looking. It was honestly incredible.
Dean sat at the table, enjoying a bowl of sugary cereal as Sam hustled around the kitchen stirring the pot on the stove while also filling a glass of water and lying some crackers on a plate. As if on cue, Jack shuffled into the kitchen, running the sleeve of his robe under his nose and looking all of three years old, which was rather ironic.
As soon a the kid took a seat, Sam was by his side with a steaming mug, ice cold water and a delicious plate of saltine crackers. Sam placed one hand on Jack’s shoulder and the other to the boys forehead, all while Dean made sure he was as far away as possibly without actually leaving.
“Pretty sure your fever broke,” Sam nudged the plate toward him. “Maybe now you can keep something Down.”
Jack groaned, “Not hungry.”
Instead of getting frustrated, which Dean felt just as a bystander, Sam sat beside Jack and gently ran his hand through the kid’s hair. The small gesture had Jack relaxing instantly and without any further argument, he reached for a cracker.
“Go slow,” Sam warned. “A couple of bites, a few sips. Give your stomach time to adjust.”
Dean was down right amazed. His brother was a natural, born to lead and protect. Sam would have made the perfect father. Hell, he is the perfect father. Dean didn’t say it often, but he was so damn proud of the man Sam had grown into.
He kept quiet as he continued to watch the scene unfold and after a few crackers, accompanied by half of the chicken broth and a few sips of water, Jack was looking a bit more like himself. The kid’s skin had regained just a bit of color and his body didn’t seem to be shaking quite as much.
Jack picked up his dishes and excused himself, but before he could even move an inch, Sam took the plates from him with a smile full of love and pride. The same smile Dean’s had for 35 years.
“So, Sammy, how’s it feel to be a dad?”
“What?” Sam dropped the dishes in the sink and turn toward Dean with shock evident on his face.
“I’m not sure how or when it happened but you, my brother,” Dean’s smile grew impossibly wider, “are one amazing father.”
Sam stared at him with complete astonishment before a smile returned and those damn dimples appeared. He shook his head, slapping Dean on the back as he walked past.
“I learned from the best.”