Dr Dean returns
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
This chapter is for FLD, who wanted Sick!Sam & Worried!Dean.
Sam's sick with a cold, Dr Dean's back to the rescue.
Almost a week later, Dean woke up first, and looked down at a sleeping Sam, frowning when he saw his pale face. "Sammy?" he whispered in a trembling voice, shaking his brother's shoulder. It took a couple of minutes, but Sam finally opened his eyes and looked up into Dean's concerned ones.
"Hey Dean," Sam croaked, before coughing.
"What matter, Sammy? You's cown," said the little boy, pointing to Sam's white face, and red nose.
Sam shivered. "Don't say that, kiddo. I hate clowns."
"Why? Dey funny."
"No, they're not. They're creepy, and evil and... Weird."
Dean put his hand on his brother's face. "Hot Sammy," he whispered, eyes filling with tears. "Pees not die."
"I'm not going to die, you big silly" Sam whispered, taking the little hand in his. "It's just a cold, okay?"
Dean's eyes widened when Sam sneezed three times in a row. "Oh no. You atchoo'd."
Sam wiped away Dean's tears as he got upset. "Hey, come on. There's no need to cry. It's only a little cold, I promise."
"Wook after you, Sammy? Docor Dean to wescoo."
"Aw. You don't have to, kiddo. It's my job to look after you."
Dean sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Me's Docor Dean. Make better... pees Sammy?"
Sam rolled his eyes, and coughed. "Okay then. Just this once, okay? As long as you don't threaten to knock me out again."
"YAY!" cheered Dean, before pointing a finger at him. "You's bed."
"Yes sir," joked Sam with a little salute, making Dean giggle.
An hour later, Bobby came in, worried why his two boys weren't downstairs yet. "Are ya both okay?" he asked, looking at his little family. "Sam, are ya alright? Ya look like crap."
Sam nodded, wiping his nose with the tissue Dean had got from the bathroom. "Yeah, I've got a cold. Dr Dean's back to take care of me, and I have to stay in bed."
"Hey little man, do ya want to come downstairs with me, and get some breakfast?"
Dean shook his head, and moved closer to his sick brother. "Noooo. Wook after Sammy. He die," he whispered, looking at Sam sadly.
Bobby frowned, and sat beside Dean, wrapping his arm around the little shoulders. "Hey, Sam's going to be okay. He won't die from a little cold."
"He's right, Dean," Sam told Dean, holding his hand. He looked over at Bobby. "I've already told him that, but..."
"Okay, then. How about I take Zeppelin down with me? I'll bring ya both breakfast up here, so ya can look after Sam."
"'Kay, Unca Bee-bee. Mr Wiggles?"
Bobby looked at the jar on the bedside table. "He can stay up here with ya. I'll come up and check on ya every hour or two, okay?"
"Awight. Juice pees, Unca Bee-bee?"
Bobby smiled, and picked Zeppelin up. "Of course ya can. I'll make ya both some toast, how's that?"
"'Kay, Unca Bee-bee. Me's say bye bye Zeppin?"
"Sure, little man." Bobby sat down beside Dean, and gave Zeppelin to him for a minute.
"Bye bye, Zeppin. Me's wook after Sammy." He kissed the little dog on his fluffy head, giggling when Zeppelin climbed up his chest and licked him back.
"I'll be back in five minutes with breakfast," Bobby told them, picking the dog back up, and walking out of the room.
"You's 'kay, Sammy?"
"Yeah, you're doing..." Sam broke off coughing. "Doing great, kiddo."
Bobby came back a few minutes later with a tray of toast and two cups of orange juice.
"Fank you," smiled Dean, drinking his juice.
"Yer welcome, little man. Need anything else before I go?"
Dean shook his head. "No, unca Bee-bee."
Bobby smiled, and ruffled Dean's messy hair. "Shout me if ya need me."
A couple of hours later, Dean was getting bored and decided to do something. "Me's wead stowy, Sammy?"
Sam sneezed, and smiled. "Dean, you're three years old. You can't read yet."
"Me do, Sammy," said Dean, climbing down to pick up one of his books. "Wook, Catpiar." He held up the book he chose, which was one of his favourites- 'The very hungry caterpillar'. The tiny Winchester climbed back up onto the bed, and opened the book to look at the pictures. "One a time... erm... dere Catpiar." He turned the book, so Sam could see the pictures. "See him, Sammy?"
Sam wiped his nose, and nodded.
"Erm... den Catpiar eated one dem... appa." Dean turned the book again, and pointed to the apple. "Den eated one... two dem. Dunno Sammy, sowwy."
Sam looked at what Dean was pointing at. "They're pears, kiddo."
"'Kay. Catpiar eated one... two... fee dem." He turned the book, and pointed at the three plums. "Den, he eated one... two... fee... four dem fingys." He showed Sam, and pointed at another picture.
"Shhhh. Me's wead stowy, Sammy. 'Kay, den erm... he eated one... two... fee... five ongies." He pointed at the oranges, then turned the page. "Wow. Catpiar eated dem." He turned the book to show Sam the page. "He piggy, in't he Sammy?"
"Yeah, he is," agreed Sam, coughing again. He reached over and picked up the glass of water from the bedside table and sipped a mouthful to soothe his sore throat. "Okay then, finish the story."
"'Kay den. Erm... Catpiar eated weaf, wook." Dean pointed at the leaf, and showed Sam. "See? Wow. He wight big, Sammy wook. Den go dat dere." He showed Sam again, then turned to the last page. "Woooow. Sammy, butfy. Bootful... in't he, Sammy?" he asked, showing him the butterfly.
"Yeah. That was great," praised Sam, smiling when Dean blushed.
"Fank you. Better Sammy?" asked the little boy, laying down with his brother.
"Hey, you're going to get sick too."
"Not care. Woves you, Sammy," he whispered, kissing Sam on the cheek.
Sam blinked back tears, and tightened his hold on the little boy. "I love you too. I've got the best little Doctor to look after me, I already feel a bit better. I'll be fully better in a few days, I promise."
Sam's promise was kept as just a couple of days later, he was fully recovered with the help of Dr Dean.
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