Sam Winchester One Shots

Sick

I stared up at the paste white ceiling for the millionth time in a day. I coughed again, which turned into a fit of coughing. Apparently, I was, quote, "too sick to be hunting" and I was "not in good shape" for it either. That was Sam telling me this. Oh Sammy, such an overprotective little child. So Laura and Dean were to take the job. Hunting a vampire or something. Oh, and did I mention Sam was here taking care of me? Part of the whole overprotective package. I didn't mind though; it was sweet that he stayed with me instead of working.  

"Hey. How's my wittle bedridden baby? Feewing bettah?" Sam asked, in a mock toddler voice. He was carrying some hot soup with crackers and a spoon.  

"Awh aren't you just a little darling!" I replied, trying my best to be cheerful, and failing.  

He sat down beside me and set the soup on the dresser. I sat up and rested my back against a pillow on the head board of the bed. 

Suddenly, Sam grabbed my shoulders and leaned in towards me. In a dramatic voice, he said, " Look, man, I...I know this all has to be so hard. But I want you to know... I'm here for you. You brave little soldier. I acknowledge your pain. Come here." Sam hugs me and mock cries, "You're too precious for this world." I couldn't help but burst out laughing. This is why I loved him so much. He always knew how to cheer me up and make me laugh in bad times.  

"Now," said Sam, in a motherly voice, "You MUST eat your soup so you can get better, do you understand me young lady?"  

"Yes mommy," I giggled.  

"Ok good. It's very very hot, so be very very careful," he held the bowl in one hand, and spooned up some soup with the other. Before giving it to me, he blew on the steaming liquid and brought it to my lips.  

"You know, it's just a cold. I'm not on my deathbed coughing up mucus or anything." I reminded him.  

"I know. But this is way more fun." He laughed.  

After finishing my soup, I laid down into a comfortable position on the bed. Sam sat next to me, his back leaning against the headboard. He stroked my hair, which he knew calmed me.  

"Sam?" I broke the silence.  

"Hmm?"  

I sat up to face him. 

"Why did you stay here with me? I'm not complaining or anything, but it's just that you could have gone and I would have done just fine alone." I questioned.  

"Well," he explained,"I just wanted to spend some time here with you. Alone. Because I don't know about you, but having Dean and Laura always around, we don't always have time to ourselves." 

"True. But I'm sick, so we can't really be alone-alone." I reminded him.  

"Who says we can't be alone-alone?" He asked, a mischievous look in his eyes. 

Sam started to lean in towards me, obviously trying to kiss me, but I pushed him away.  

"Uh uh. No mister. Not a chance. I am not going to get you sick today." I stated, pointing a finger at him.  

"But-" he argued.  

"Nope" 

"I just-" 

"Nope" 

"Please?" He whined.  

"Ok but ONE and that's it mister," I stated.  

He leaned in and started to kiss me, cupping the sides of my face in his hands. His kisses were short, but left me breathless, wanting so much more. I pulled away suddenly, not wanting to get him sick, because I wasn't about to take care of him when he got my cold.  

"I'm not saying I didn't warn you." I said sarcastically.  

"You know you loved it," he teased.  

"Well I-" 

"That's what I thought."