((Well, that’s friggin’ adorable.))
They were only supposed to be in Minnesota for a week. A. Week. But then mother nature decided to take a huge friggin’ dump and bury the town of Hallock under five feet of snow then a thick layer of ice. Add to this that Sam wound up sick (he told Sam, told him to bundle up, but did he listen? No. He said he’d be fine and look where that got him).
Dean rolls his eyes at his totally ‘fine’ brother passed out at the table. Sam’s got a blanket pulled around his shoulders, his hair is messy, nose red and runny, breath rattling like there’s something inside him that won’t come out no matter how many times Sam sounds like he’s hacking up a lung. The kid’s been sick for… two days now? And the symptoms haven’t gone away. Dean’s tried everything from this nasty liquid fever reliever to soup to cough drops and a carton of orange juice. They’re out of supplies at this point and Sam is still carrying on like it doesn’t bother him.
Right, not bothering him, that’s why he keeps passing out at all hours of the day. That’s why he keeps tossing and turning at night. That’s why it sounds like he’s got loose parts rattling around in his lungs. Dean rolls his eyes at Sam’s insistence that he’s ok.
"Seriously, I’m f-fine-" Sam’s teeth are chattering even though the fire Dean’s had going for a while has thoroughly warmed the room. He sneezes once, twice, three times, then a fourth that has Sam holding his head and groaning. Dean scrounges around for another blanket in the cabin closets, a coat in their duffle, anything to wrap around Sam, but there’s not much else. They weren’t planning for an extended stay so why lug around what they didn’t think they’d need?
Only now Dean is regretting this decision. Sam is clearly shivering with blue lips and cold skin even though he’s drinking the soup and tea and god only knows what else- Dean’s really just trying to keep something warm in Sam’s stomach until the ice thaws. He thinks he might try braving the icy road, actually has the car keys in his hand, when Sam gets up- yes, he gets up on his already wobbly legs and practically falls toward Dean. The older hunter is just glad he turned around in time. He catches Sam who has his hands fisted in his shirt, pale, sweat soaked face gazing up at him like he’s afraid.
"What the hell, Sam, you can’t be up, you need to lay down otherwise-" And he tries to shuffle Sam backward only he ends up on the bed with Sam. He collapses to him, crushes him; Sam grunts in response but before Dean can reprimand him, he feels the tip of a cold nose against his neck, then a whimpered out ‘Dean' that makes him stop for a moment.
Sam’s frail. Cold. Really cold. Dean wasn’t expecting that. He puts his lips to Sam’s forehead and the younger man nearly cries out.
"Just… need you, ok? You, Dean."
"What you need is medicine-"
"Please-" Sam breathes out in a rush. He looks up at Dean, bangs damp, eyes watering and darkened due to a severe lack of sleep. "Please, stay. Please."
As soon as the words leave his mouth, Dean knows he’s trapped. He can’t resist that face or the way Sam clings to him. It makes his chest clench painfully as he pries himself out of Sam’s grip. The pitiful moan that follows almost makes him resume his position but he needs to at least set this up right. First, he yanks the bed covers down much to Sam’s dismay, then he takes the blankets off of Sam (which he hates to do, hates it because Sam shudders violently and clutches at himself). Finally, Dean lays Sam out, straddles him, and with all of the blankets laid out evenly, pulls the covers up so Sam is under four layers of wool plus Dean.
The older hunter kisses Sam’s eyes, breathes warm to heat the skin, keeps his palms against Sam’s temples, rubs his their legs together to generate sorely needed friction. Sam stops trembling after thirty minutes, his cough is mild, he’s flipped himself so Dean is draped over his back. He takes Dean’s hands and keeps them on his eyes or the nape of his neck (where Dean rubs away some of his headache), only to keep them palm-down on his chest that’s still fairly cool. Dean feels like he’s burning Sam yet he doesn’t seem to mind.
They spend the rest of the day like that both of them going in and out of sleep, Dean spreading small kisses over Sam’s shoulder, and Sam murmuring his name softly as the shivers melt away.