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10. “Stop getting out of bed!”
“Stop getting out of bed!” Bobby yelled from the kitchen. He could hear the pitter patter of little feet moving around upstairs and Dean and Sam were supposed to be resting. The Singer-Winchester household had been hit with the back-to-school cold and the boys had been running on fumes all week. Now that it was the weekend, Bobby was determined to make them rest so they could recover.
Bobby filled two water bottles in the sink and tucked them under one arm, using his hands to carry cold medicine up the stairs. “Who was up?”
Dean and Sam were sitting on Dean’s bed, action figures spread between them in an imaginary war, and they looked guiltily at each other.
“I needed to get my GI Joe,” Sam admitted.
Bobby sighed. He handed over the water bottles and poured out a dose of the cold medicine. “Take this.”
Dean swallowed the nasty red liquid first and then Bobby poured a second dose for Sam.
“Why can’t we go outside to play?” Sam whined, handing the cap back to Bobby and picking up his action figure.
“You both need to rest so that your colds go away.” Bobby capped the medicine bottle and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell you what. If you lie down and take a nap, you can play outside this afternoon when it warms up. How’s that sound?”
Dean and Sam both nodded vigorously.
“Okay. Now put the toys away and go to sleep.” Bobby waited until the action figures were unceremoniously pushed to the floor and both boys were tucked into Dean’s bed. He kissed each boy on the forehead and made sure the blankets were snuggly under their chins. “I’ll check on you in a little bit.”
An hour later Bobby heard someone’s feet on the stairs. “Who’s out of bed?” Bobby asked from his desk in the living room.
Sam’s head peeked around the corner. “I couldn’t fall asleep,” he said quietly.
Bobby motioned for the boy to come over to his desk and pulled him up onto his lap. “You laid there quiet for a while. It’s okay that you couldn’t’ fall asleep.” Bobby felt his forehead, not liking the way Sam had color high on his cheeks. “How’re ya feelin’?”
Sam shrugged, leaning back against Bobby’s chest. “What are you reading about?”
Bobby raised an eyebrow at Sam’s avoidance of the question and figured that that was an answer in and of itself. “Well, this is a research paper…” Bobby spoke quietly and felt Sam’s little body melt into him, heavy with sleep.
Sam grew warmer and warmer as he slept. Bobby could feel the heat seeping through his pajamas and wondered if he should wake him to go get the thermometer. Before he had a chance to ponder for very long, Sam startled awake.
“Don’t let it get Dad!” Sam screamed, his voice cracking as he sat bolt upright in Bobby’s lap.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay. It was just a bad dream,” Bobby hushed as he wrapped his arms around the boy. “I’m here.”
Sam struggled for a moment before collapsing back into Bobby, sobs wracking his little body. “Don’t let it get Daddy,” he cried into Bobby’s shirt. “Don’t let it.”
Bobby rocked Sam back and forth, shushing him and cradling him to his chest. “It’s okay, it was just a bad dream.” Once Sam had calmed down a little Bobby picked him up and carried him to the kitchen, settling the boy on his hip. “Let me see what your temperature is.” Bobby took the thermometer out of the kitchen cabinet and stuck it under Sam’s tongue.
Sam rested his head in the nook of Bobby’s neck and sniffled, tears still rolling down his cheeks.
“Not feelin’ too good, are ya?” Bobby asked once the thermometer had a reading. He’d been the guardian of Sam and Dean long enough to know that fevers spiked fast, and broke just as quickly, so he wasn’t overly worried, but he hated that Sam was hurting. He nestled Sam closer to him and rocked him back and forth, trying to lull the boy back to sleep. “How about I read you some of that research paper I was tellin’ ya about?” He felt Sam nod into his neck and went back to the living room to get the book he’d been reading before settling in on the couch. He lie flat with Sam draped over him, and pulled a throw blanket over the two of them, reading softly until he felt Sam fall back asleep.
“Uncle Bobby?” Dean whispered, not wanting to wake Sam. He shook Bobby’s arm a little. “I’m hungry.”
Bobby grunted and opened his eyes, surprised to see Dean right in his face. “You’re hungry?” He looked at his watch and saw that it was nearing supper time. They’d all slept through lunch.
Dean nodded and backed up to give Bobby space to stand. Sam slid off Bobby’s chest and curled up on the couch, blinking sleepily. “Me too.”
Bobby felt Sam’s forehead, pleased that the fever seemed to have dissipated. “Well, let’s get you boys some food then.” He heard the pitter patter of little feet following him to the kitchen, ensembled by sniffles and coughs. “How about grilled cheese?”