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caramelfuzz · 1 year

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Sick S/am W/inch/ester

Hi friends, I’ve finally decided to post one of the S/am fics I’ve been working on. I’m like a decade too late with this fandom, but I can’t help myself lol.

This fic is... it’s weird lol. Pls don’t judge too harshly, I thought up the idea when I was moments from sleep a while ago and have since run with it. This is part 1 because I haven’t quite figured out an ending I’m happy with.

It’s been a hot second since I’ve done any real writing so if anyone has any critiques on the style, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I’ve done a lot of rping recently and I fear my writing style reflects that.

It all happens in a flash, literally. One minute, they’re sitting on their beds bouncing theories off of one another, and the next there’s a blinding light and a force sends Dean sprawling backwards. His first thought is that there was an explosive hidden somewhere, given how far the impact has sent him, he’s clear across the room. He takes stock. Nothing feels broken, but his ears are ringing and he’s sore all over. He pushes himself to his feet and does a double take. The room is gigantic or, rather, he’s small. He looks over to Sam’s bed and sees his brother on his feet. The ringing in his ears clears out and he can hear Sam calling his name frantically and cursing to himself.

“Dean? Damn it, Dean! Where did you go?”

Dean runs over to him, shouting.

“I’m right here, Sam!”

His brother looks around wildly, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from.

Sam’s eyes widen in horror,

“Dean, are you invisible? Are you a ghost? Did something vaporize your body?!”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“Damn it, no Sammy. Look down!”

Sam’s eyes drop to the floor and lock in on Dean, his gigantic younger brother drops to his knees, relief clear on his face.

“Dean? What the hell happened? You’re like four inches tall!”

The laughter that rolls out of him is relieved, though still genuine. If the roles were reversed, Dean would certainly be laughing at Sam.

Dean smacks him on the knee and Sam sobers a little. He lowers an open palm to the floor in front of Dean.

“Sorry, sorry. Here, let me help you onto the bed so we can talk.”

“I don’t need your help to get on the bed, jackass. I’m not a toddler that wants ‘uppies.’”

Sam snorts at this and stands, taking a seat on the edge of the bed again.

“Then be my guest, dude.”

Challenge accepted. Dean starts to scale the comforter and after a few minutes he’s making pretty good progress. That is, until a sudden jerking of the bed threatens to shake his grip loose. He gives a startled yell and looks at Sam accusingly.

“You trying to make me fall and break my neck, bitch?”

Sam looks apologetic, rubbing his nose sheepishly. He looks stricken by the accusation, it’s obvious he didn’t mean to shake the bed like that. Whatever. He focuses on climbing the rest of the way up and sneers at Sam victoriously. His little brother smiles back at him, face genuine. Damn it, Sammy, so damn wholesome.

“So, what the hell happened to me and how do we fix it?” Sam shrugs, reaching a hand up to rub his nose again. Dean’s eyes narrow. He knows what that little twitchy thing his brother’s nose is doing means.

“Hh… Hih’XTSSHh!” Sam holds his nose in a death grip to stifle the force of the sneeze, but the action still makes the bed jerk and knocks Dean off his feet. So that’s what happened while he was climbing.

“Bless you, Sammy.”

Sam brushes off Dean’s concerned tone and sniffles a few times before speaking.

“While you were busy climbigg, I did a little research.”

He motions to the computer perched on his lap. Damn, the explosion must have only affected Dean since the laptop is still in one piece. Maybe it knocked Dean off of the bed because of his decreased size.

“And? Did you find anything?”

Sam shakes his head apologetically.

“Ndo,”

He sniffles and clears his throat, then continues.

“No reported cases of people getting shrunk. This must be special just for us.”

Dean gets the gist.

“A witch, then?”

Sam nods.

“Damn it! Who knows when she planted whatever the hell she planted to cause this? It could be anyone!”

Dean stomps his foot and Sam just nods sadly, then knuckles his nose. It’s getting pinker, and because of his current height, Dean has a good angle to see that Sam’s nostrils are a little damp. Great, just what he needs. He’s been shrunk and Sammy is coming down with something.

Ever since their run in with the striga Sam’s immune system has been shot. He gets sick a lot, to the point that Dean’s banned him from interacting with any children at all and has taken to carrying hand sanitizer and tissues on his person.

He’s gotten a little less strict in the last few months, Sam’s allowed to come with him to interview witnesses again, even shake their hands, as long as he uses a lot of hand sanitizer afterward and doesn’t accept any food or drinks if they’re offered. His brother still gets sick though, even when he wasn’t allowed on interviews he would get sick.

Dean’s made him start taking vitamins, though he hasn’t made much of an effort to change their diet. It’s hard enough to afford vitamins on their “salary,” buying healthy food on a regular basis is next to impossible.

Still, it’s only been a month since Sam’s last cold and now Dean has been shrunk and he knows Sam is going to insist they fix it before he rests.

Dean doesn’t voice his concerns, but he fixes Sam with a worried look.

“So, a witch. Guess we need to figure out who we managed to piss off. Well, who we managed to piss off more than usual I guess.”

Dean nods, trying to think back to their last several hunts. If the witch is smart, she’d hex them in a way that wouldn’t go off immediately, so it really could be anyone. Hell, it could be someone they pissed off months ago.

Sam’s breath hitches and Dean crouches low, gripping onto the blanket as best as he can while he waits for the inevitable. Sam’s a big guy, and his sneezes match his size in their violence no matter how quiet he tries to make them.

“Heh! Heh’ESSCHH! Hih’SHISHhH!”

He tries to keep them contained, he really does, but Dean is still thrown off balance by the force of them.

“Bless you, Sammy.”

Sam fixes him with a weary look.

“Dond’t say it.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything. Why don’t you put that big brain of yours to good use and figure out who the hell did this to me so we can fix it?”

The and I can take care of you is left unsaid, but both brothers know it’s implied. As much as he complains about being smothered, Dean has seen how terrible Sam feels when he gets sick these days. Damn striga just had to have the last laugh.

An hour of fruitless research and ten Sammy sneezes later, Dean’s stomach starts to growl.

“Why don’t you go get us some chow and we can keep researching later?”

He suggests, and Sam nods. His brother gets up and tugs on his jacket, rubbing his knuckles beneath his nose.

“Get me a burger, Sammy! And some p-oh, maybe no pie actually. It’d just bum me out not to get all the flavors in one bite.”

Sam gives him a half amused, half sympathetic look and walks out the door.

#spn snz #sam snz #sam winchester snz #sick sam #aa writes #spn sickfic #lolll please don't judge too harshly friends #i'm simping so hard for this silly silly man

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inconvenient-sneezes · 5 years

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sam + cat allergies

Crazy Cat Ladies

***

“You ready?” Dean asked, pulling the Impala into the witness’ driveway and glancing at Sam.

“As always,” he replied, and the two stepped out of the vehicle.

Dean had barely reached up to knock on the door when an elderly lady answered it. “Hello?”

“Hi.” Sam smiled warmly. “I’m Agent Lincoln and this is Agent...”

“Clay,” Dean supplied helpfully.

“Right. We’re with the FBI, investigating the death of your daughter, Susan.”

The woman’s eyes were brimming with tears. “Yes. Susie. Come in, come in.”

She led the boys through the house, into the living room. The brothers sat on the couch while she perched in front of them on a rocking chair. “What can I do for you boys?”

“We just want to know what happened to Susan,” Dean told her, taking out a notebook. “Tell us everything you know.”

As she began talking, Sam took the opportunity to turn away and scrub at his nose. All of a sudden, it was itchy and tickling like mad. He rubbed it a bit harder and took an experimental sniff, which proved to be a mistake.

“Hah! Hh’HNGSSXH!” He sneezed loudly into a fist, a failed stifle, making both his brother and the victim jump. “Wow. Um, excuse me.”

“Uh... bless you?” Dean quirked an eyebrow, speaking in a language only they knew. You okay?

Sam nodded. Fine.

“Well,” the woman began. “I had just dropped off Susan’s granddaughter Martie off at ballet—”

“Excuseme—” Sam rushed to get the words out before turning away from the pair and letting off a series of sneezes. “Hh’KSHH! Hup’XSHSHH! Hah... huhH! Huh’XSHHOO’uh!”

“Bless you, dear. Coming down with a cold?” She smiled at him politely.

Sam wiped at his streaming, red eyes, trying to look composed. “N-no ma’am.”

These sneezes were starting to sound like his allergy sneezes and Dean knew it too. “Do you have a cat?” Dean asked, setting the notepad aside.

The woman nodded. “Mmhmm. Three. Cocoa, Mary, and Butters.”

Sam’s stomach tightened instinctively. “P-pardon— hh’TSCH! Eh’TCHOO! Hihhh... ihhh... ih’SHHP! Her’ESHH! Hehh... ahhH!” The youngest Winchester gasped, desperate for the sneeze to come out.

Dean stood up. “Um, Agent... Lincoln? Maybe we should—”

“Huh’ARSCHHSHHHH!” By now, Sam’s trembling nose was running and he held his wrist against it in an attempt at composure.

“Sorry ma’am,” Dean apologized, dragging his brother by the arm. “Allergies. We’ll, uh, be right back.”

“Oh, of course!”

Dean helped his brother out the door, who was still helplessly trying to get the sneezes out. “Hh! H-huhhhh... hihH!”

“Take it easy, Big Guy,” he told Sam, helping him into the car. “I think you just made history. What was that, 11 billion sneezes?”

Sam glared at him through glassy eyes. “C-cahhhh... c-cad you dot?”

“Okay, sorry. I’m gonna finish up with this lady. You just uh.... you just wait here.”

***

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