Supernatural Sickfic Oneshots

Two Sick Hunters Is A Lot of Work

This is a request by the wonderful Shesscertlygorgous16. Everything happens from the reader's point of view.

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You walk into the living room area of the two bedroom motel room, Sam and Dean were renting for a longer case than normal. You had been up for the last couple hours, you had even gone for a run, which normally woke both of them. 

"Dean? Sam? Are you up yet?" You call into the apartment, listening for any sign of life besides your own. 

Sam stumbled into the living room, his hair a disastrous mess and his face pale. "You're up and at it early." he mumbled, his voice gravelly and hoarse. 

"Um... Sam, its after ten a.m." You point out with a giggle. You look him up and down in concern, noticing that the hunter was not looking too well. "Are you sick?" you ask softly.

Sam cringed, sniffling hard through his congested nose. "I think I am... I know Dean is though... Wait, what?! Did you say 10?" he asked in disbelief, clapping a hand over his mouth as harsh coughs emanated deep from his chest. 

 "Bed or couch?" You ask firmly, not sure how to deal with two sick hunters. "How do you know about Dean being sick?" you ask uncertainly. 

Sam sniffled again, before collapsing on the couch with a yawn. "He was up half the night, coughing up a lung. I'm surprised you didn't hear him." he pointed out, looking miserable. 

"I didn't. I'm sorry he kept you up last night." You say kindly, grabbing one of the extra blankets off of a dresser nearby, and covered Sam gingerly with the blanket. "Get some sleep, I'll take care of Dean." you say gently, smiling as Sam nodded sleepily before dozing off. 

You walk into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of glasses and filling them with water. You put one on the side table beside the sleeping Sam, and turned to go check on Dean. 

You look up in surprise, as Dean ran up the hall and into the bathroom in a rush. 

"Dean? You okay there?" You ask, putting his water down on the kitchen table and walking to the bathroom door that was slightly ajar. 

"No... Think I'm gonna be sick." Dean ground out, sounding as gravelly and hoarse as Sam had. 

"Can I come in?" You ask gently, not wanting him to suffer alone, knowing how violent he could be when that sick.  

Dean kicked the door open slightly more, revealing him hunched over the toilet, shaking and shivering, even though he was wearing sweats and one of Sam's massive sweatshirts. 

You move to his side quickly, sitting down on the tub's edge as you rub his back lightly. "How long have you been feeling this sick? Sam only said you were coughing." you say gently, grabbing a clean washcloth, wet it under the faucet in the tub, and put it on his neck. 

Dean jumped at the cold and wet feel of the washcloth. "Too cold..." he said through chattering teeth, as he leaned into you weakly. 

"I know, but you're cheeks are flushed, and all those layers are going to spike your fever." You explain, rubbing your fingers through his hair lightly. 

Dean groaned weakly, burying his face in your lap, before coughing harshly. "Sorry," he slurred, trying not to whimper with how bad his throat was starting to hurt. 

"Don't be sorry, it's okay." You say gently. "Wanna go lay back down?" you ask. 

Dean shook his head, moving back over the toilet with a soft whimper. He rested his head on his arm, so he was above the toilet, but hiding his eyes from the harsh bathroom light-bulbs.