tarotgal

Summary: Scenes of hurt/comfort from before
Sam figures about about Dean's care-giving kink...
and scenes set afterward.
Pairing: Dean/Sam | Rating: Various (G through NC-17)

6. A Before

Dean risks taking his eyes off the dark and twisting road for a second to glance over at Sam. Not fifteen minutes ago, his brother was curled up on himself in the passenger seat, shivering with cold. He’d cranked up the heat but it hadn’t seemed to help then. But now Sam’s practically panting he’s sweating so much, even with the heater switched off completely. Damn that fever. The pills were supposed to keep it in check.

It’s at least two hours until Dean was planning on stopping. It’s late, but he’s not the least bit tired. He is, however, plenty worried. “Hey, you wanna stop?”

Sam shakes his head. Then he pulls at his seatbelt, keeping the lap belt on but ducking under the shoulder part. He tugs and pulls until his shirt and undershirt are both off. It’s not much of a difference, but he seems to get a little relief from that.

Dean’s breath catches and he forces himself to keep his eyes on the road. Dean manages to focus on the task for all of three minutes, until Sam lifts a head and rubs his own forehead miserably. And then Dean’s done for. He directs the car onto the shoulder and cuts the engine.

Sam sits with his legs spread, arms limp at his sides. He doesn’t move his head, but his eyes met Dean’s and they were full of questions.

“Give me a minute.” Dean gets out of the car and searches around in the back. He finds a stack of old rags and selects the cleanest of them. Then he climbs into the backseat and kneels there while grabbing the cooler. The cooler had been full of ice that morning from the ice machine at the motel, but it had spent its day slowly melting in the cooler while keeping their soda chilled. Now it is mostly cool water and a little slush. He submerges the cloth and gives a little shiver as water rushes over his fingertips.

When Dean opens up the passenger side door, Sam once again doesn’t move, but his eyes meet Dean’s.

“This will help.” Dean wrings the cloth out into the grass by the side of the road. Then he bend over and pressed the cloth to Sam’s forehead. Sam gives a start at the sudden coolness. Then he settles into it, getting comfortable with the temperature difference. And he closes his eyes. Dean’s thrilled at the progress. “See? Now are you glad we stopped?”

Sam smiles weakly, eyes still closed. Dean holds the cloth in place, awkwardly hunched over, leaning in through the door. It’s all right for the moment, but he can’t remain like this indefinitely. “Sammy?” Dean moves the cloth to Sam’s cheek, then the nape of his neck, then his chest.

Sam’s eyes open and he takes the cloth from Dean. He places it against his forehead once more. “Thanks, Dean.”

The fluttering in Dean’s chest is almost impossible to repress. He’s almost giddy as he closes the door and walks back around the car. He climbs into the driver’s seat and they’re on the road in ten seconds.

Not fifteen minutes later, however, Sam lowers the washcloth and turns in his seat. He curls a bit and gives a great shudder. As Dean hears his teeth start to chatter, Dean switches the heat back on.