Author's Note: When Dean said that he hates shots, this triggered an idea for a wee!chesters story. Enjoy! :)
"Dean, you need to have this buddy, it's gonna' make you feel better."
Dean, sat with his legs hanging over the side of the bed in one of the hospital rooms, looked at his father. He was offering a soft, gentle smile of reassurance to his nine year old son who was currently trying to hold back tears at the prospect of having to have a shot.
He'd been sick for a while now, most medication either not working at all, or simply being thrown back up. The doctors had told John that shots were probably going to be the best solution, but knowing his son's fear of shots, he had talked the doctor into trying the other possible solutions first. Now however, they had no choice.
"Now, Dean..." The doctor began. A man in his late sixties with prickly white stubble under his chin, and a pair of golden framed, round glasses hanging from a black cord. "...you will only feel a little prick, there's nothing to be worried about."
"No..." Dean whimpered quietly, feeling pathetic for doing so.
"Dean..." John out on his son's shoulder.
"No..." He shook his head. "Please..."
"Dean, you will only feel it for a second and then it's all over." John attempted to reassure, but Dean was too scared to be listening.
The pitter patter of small feet could be heard before Sam burst into the room, Bobby rushing in behind with an expression which apologised for the little kid managing to get away from him.
"Dean!" Sam beamed upon seeing his brother.
John watched as Dean's tears dried up instantly, his boy immediately putting his shield up against emotion for his little brother. Apparently Dean still believed that he couldn't be weak in front of Sam.
Sam titled his head to the side as he looked up at his brother. "Are you upset?" The kid had a sixth sense when it came to his brother. Dean wasn't the only protective one.
"No." Dean shook his head. "I'm fine, Sammy."
Sam then noticed the doctor with the syringe. "Is that gonna' make Dean better?" He asked in his childlike tone.
"Yes." The doctor nodded.
He then turned to their Dad. "If Dean gets better, can I play with him again?"
And right there, Dean knew what he had to do...or allow them to do. The expression on his little brother's face was so hopeful at the thought of having his big brother back. Because Dean had been absent the past few weeks, sleeping through most days, and generally not being strong enough to even walk around, so it was understandable why Sam was so eager to have him back. Sam himself had been banned from bothering his brother, which he had respected, despite John's concerns. Bobby had however come to stay with them after he received a call from a tearful Sam telling asking him how to make Dean better. Sam had been so lonely, and Dean felt guilty as hell about it.
"I'll do it." Dean stated, turning to the doctor.
The doctor smiled before grabbing an antiseptic wipe and dabbing it on Dean's arm.
Dean tensed in fear, his stomach churning. And then he felt a small hand lightly grasp his.
Sam looked up at his brother, offering a toothy smile.
Dean smiled back. He then felt the prick in his arm before the cool sensation ended.
"Is he better now?" Sam asked, in his childish tone.
John smirked. "Not yet, Sammy, it needs time to work, but he will be soon."
"Yay!" Sam grinned.
Dean hopped down from the bed and lifted his little brother into his arms.
"I've missed you, Dean."
"I've missed you too, Sammy."
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