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)

8. A Before

You can’t hustle at pool if there isn’t a pool hall or bar within 200 miles. You can’t pay for a motel room with a fraudulent card that’s been shut down by the card company. And you can’t buy a box of tissues when you only have a dollar-fifty in cash.

Sam breathes heavily through his mouth as he presses the cuff of his sleeve to his nose, grateful for the fabric that hid his twitching, flaring nostrils. His nose feels so runny, so damn tickly all the time. And in a perfect world, he’d wipe it or blow his nose, or he’d lie in bed and sneeze with his nose sandwiched between layers of Kleenex. But tissues are a luxury they can’t afford and Sam doesn’t want Dean to realize he needs some.

His brother has always been so good at looking after him; Sam can’t imagine how bad he’d feel if he realized Sam had a cold that made him resort to spending the quick stops at the gas stations blowing his nose into toilet paper in shady bathrooms or sneezing freely while pumping gas while Dean was inside the store. And even though Sam feels perfectly miserable, this isn’t a bad cold, as far as his colds go. It’s mostly just the sniffles, really, and he can handle that much. He can hide that much, too.

The motel room had come with a tissue box fitted into the sink that Sam had made quick work of during what he hoped had looked to Dean like casual trips to the bathroom. He’s alternating between books and the internet, desperately trying to come up with something in his research that will help. The sooner they gank this thing, the sooner they can leave and find a place to get some money, run some scam, do whatever it took.

“M’goin’ out for a bit,” Dean says, grabbing his jacket and heading out into the autumn night.

Sam waits a few moments then wipes his nose along the length of his sleeve. He saves his place in the book and heads back to the bathroom to help himself to another handful of toilet paper just in time. “huhh-UHTshooo!” He’s had this cold for an afternoon and already his nose sports a red hue. He’s not going to be able to hide this from Dean for very much longer. He’s kind of surprised he’s managed so far, muffling and stifling sneezes into his shoulder during the drive. Pinching his nose as he reads at the little table in the motel room with his back to Dean.

By the time he’s got his nose somewhat in check, Sam hears Dean’s key card slide in the door lock. He clears his throat, splashes water on his face, and emerges from the bathroom with a smile. Then he stops short.

Dean stands just inside with two fat boxes of Kleenex in his arms.

“You bought these with the last of the bodey?”

Dean shakes his head, tosses Sam a box. “I charmed these out of the girl working the night shift at the front desk. I bought this with the last of the money.” He holds up a small pocket-sized pack of tissues. “While I was helping myself to this.” From under his jacket, he pulled a bottle of bright orange DayQuil.

So grateful, Sam doesn’t even say a word about the shoplifting. “By h-hero.” Not a moment too soon, Sam rips open the box of tissues and collapses onto the bed. “Uh-huh-KITChhhhhhh!”