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Dean pulled out onto the road and was driving for a few minutes before he started coughing again. His voice was rough. Rougher than Sam had ever heard it actually, and he could tell his throat was raw.
“You good, man?”
Dean cleared his throat, a little resigned shake of his head, “I’m beat.”
“Couldn’t have been fun wandering round an abandoned mine in the middle of the night with a raging head cold.”
“Don’t forget the junkless monster fighting,” Dean winked, dissolving off into more coughs.
“Want me to drive?” Sam asked, and to his surprise Dean was already pulling off onto the gravel shoulder.
Dean killed the engine and abruptly got out of the car, walking towards the back, coughing so hard Sam thought he was going to lose a lung, or his lunch.
Sam followed suit, getting out and leaning across the hood, hands folded together, watching his brother catch his breath.
“You need a doctor?” Sam threw out extremely casually.
“I need a bullet,” Dean groaned, walking around to the passenger side of the car and gesturing for Sam to move his ass.
Sam rounded the car and dropped into the driver’s seat, glancing at Dean before starting the engine. His brother was ashen, red around his nose from his constant rubbing, and Sam could swear he could see swelling around his neck from his swollen glands. As well as the rasp, when Dean spoke it sounded like he had a lump in the back of his throat, which Sam was worried was a big set of inflamed tonsils.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have taken a case right now,” Sam said out loud, and he wished that it had been an inside thought.
“Maybe if you hadn’t forced us to.”
“Maybe if you actually slept at night.”
“Maybe if you’d shut up,” Dean started coughing again and Sam furrowed his brow, “ugh. Thanks for making me raise my voice, Sam.”
“My bad.”
Dean faced the window, struggling to get a handle on the coughing fit.
“We need to get you some medicine.”
“I need to drink till I pass out.”
“Dean,” Sam gripped the steering wheel and he knew his brother was just trying to get on his nerves. He was doing this deliberately because he felt crappy, his way of tipping the balance back in his favour.
Dean coughed again, trying actively to take some slower breaths to quell the fit, “Alright,” he rasped, panting, “Medicine.”
“Actual medicine?” Sam quirked an eyebrow.
“Yeah, actual medicine. Feel like I’m creating my own weather system over here,” Dean struggled out of his jacket and collapsed back against the seat, exhausted.
“How in the world did you hunt like this, dude?”
“Hey, I get the job done. You know me.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Dean shuddered like he was cold now, after only just taking his jacket off.
“Okay, I’ll stop at a drugstore. Is there anything else we need to do? It’s a 9 hour drive. You gonna make it or should we stop somewhere?”
“I just wanna get home to my own bed.”
“When was the last time you actually slept?”
“Too long. I get it.”
“If you don’t take time to rest, your body’s gonna force it on you, man. That’s what this is… we lost Cas and - “
“Yeah, I get it,” Dean cut him off, fingers pressing into his forehead, “Guess I got a one track mind lately.”
“It’s okay. Just get yourself right first. You can’t help anyone if you can’t walk straight… or, you know, breathe and talk at the same time.”
Dean didn’t miss a beat swiftly punching Sam in the arm, all while coughing once again, struggling to maintain composure.
“Here’s a drugstore,” Sam said, pulling the impala into the parking lot.
Dean dragged a hand down his face and sniffed thickly.
“You don’t have to come in with me.”
“Good, ‘cause I don’t think I can get up.”
Sam laughed but quickly and cautiously scanned his brother. Dean was feverish and dog tired, but he didn’t need a hospital. He just needed a good brother and some sleep.
“Any requests? And before you ask, they won’t have pie.”
“I don’t even think I could stomach pie right now,” Dean admitted, looking disappointed with himself.
“You are sick. You wanna lay down in the back?”
Dean thought for a second, “Nah, Sammy. I’m good.”
Sam looked down, fiddling with the keys in his hand, “You think we should have told them… about the darkness?”
Dean cleared his throat hard and winced, “No,” he said finally, “We’ll handle it,” his gaze met Sam’s, “We always do.”
Sam smirked knowingly, “Well, we can handle it once you’re back on your feet. Deal?”
Dean cleared his poor throat again and slunk down in the seat, arms folded, resting his head back and closing his eyes, “Deal.”
End.