Burning Up

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The car's waiting in the parking lot when Sam pushes out the library door. He bounces down the steps, rolls his shoulders in the fresh air.

Dean's stretched out across the front seat, his jacket over his face. Sam knocks on the window but he doesn't stir.

Frowning, Sam pulls the door open and nudges his shoulder. Dean shifts, then teeters up, boots floundering for the floor, coat sliding to his lap. His face is bright red, hair a damp mess. He blinks irritably in the breeze.

"Rough morning?"

Dean snuffles, clears his throat. "Mm?"

"What's with you?"

He picks something out of his eye. "What's with me what?"

"You look at bit. Uh."

Dean gives a violent shiver and pulls the jacket back up to his chin. "Shut up."

Sam presses tentative fingers to his temple, pushes out a breath. "God, Dean, you're burning up!"

Dean wiggles his ass firmly into the passenger seat, slips one hand out from under his cover to blot his pink nose. "So take me home."

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end

Prompt: Gen. Any season. All I want is a fic where Sam says, "God, Dean, you're burning up!"

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Teary

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He sniffles through the library, wipes his eyes with paper towels while he's pumping gas. Their waitress that night gives his shoulder a rub and brings him a cup of camomile tea, on her.

"So you're." Sam watches Dean get tangled in his jacket and give up, sit down on the couch with his arms pinned behind him. "Uh. You feel okay?"

Dean sags into the sofa cushion and blinks up at Sam with puffy eyes.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Dean snuffles and rubs his red nose against the baby blue fabric of the furniture.

"Do you... here." Sam shucks off his own coat and perches beside his brother, reaches for his wrist. Dean tracks his face but stays as still as a beached whale.

"You're all caught up." Sam slides each arm gently from its sleeve, frowns at the heat of his brother's skin. "There. You're free." He smiles, but it doesn't jump across to Dean's face.

Dean uses his new liberty to drag a palm across his damp nose. "Thanks," he breathes.

Sam bobs his head, gives his shoulder a playful sock. "That's what I'm here for."

Dean's brows crunch up and he coughs a crackling cough into the back of the couch.

"Hey, you don't sound so good." Sam leans back into the blue material, tries to catch Dean's eye. "You're gonna cry yourself sick."

Bloodshot eyes trap him in a death glare. "I... d-don't... have a choice."

Sam sighs, pats his leg. "I know, man." He checks his watch. "Three more hours. How you holding up?"

"Stop... ask-king... me... that." His voice is like a creaky door.

"Do you... can I..." Sam covers his mouth, uncovers it. "Should I hug you?"

There's no response, but as soon as Sam's hand touches Dean's overheated back, Dean spills into his chest and starts quaking.

"Whoa. Whoa." Sam drapes a steady arm around him, scoops him even closer. He rubs over all the shakes, feels his shoulder go damp with tears. "You're good." He palms Dean's messy hair, soothes the whole twitching expanse of his back.

When the crying jag subsides, Dean melts into his brother's torso and sleeps hard. Sam doesn't wake him up.

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end

Prompt: Gen. A spell of some sort makes Dean constantly have to cry. At first he tries to stop himself from bursting into tears, but it's no use. He cries so much he becomes exhausted, and there's lots of hugging/comfort from Sam.