beanside | Ficlet!

For

maygra, both of whom could use some schmoop today.

Rating: PG
Genre: Gen.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, sadly. No money is made, also sadly.
Summary: Fluffy migraine fic.

Dean crept back into the darkened room, gently closing the door behind him.

Sam made a soft whimper of protest at the sound. At least he was assuming the bump under the covers was Sam. Didn’t look nearly big enough.

“Sorry,” Dean whispered. “Not any better, huh?”

“Mumph.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

He tiptoed across the room, setting the grocery bag down on the table. Even carefully, the plastic crinkles, and Sam makes another little pained noise.

The vision had come early that morning, blood and death. It had hit Sam hard, leaving him nauseous and shaking. It killed Dean to see him that way, so once he’d gotten him settled into bed, he’d headed to the store to pick up some stuff.

The drug aisle was…well, kind of scary. There was more painkillers than he ever remembered seeing in his life. And half of them were for ‘migraine’ or ‘sinus headache’ or for ‘tension headache.’ Nowhere on any of the bottles did it mention using them for vision-induced headache.

Which was a shame for the drug companies, because Dean would have paid an awful lot of money for a bottle right then. Thankfully, the hot pharmacy chick had taken pity on him, and after reciting Sam’s symptoms had suggested the migraine formula, two Benadryl, cold packs, hot packs and a tea that was for PMS, and helped her headaches.

Desperate, and admittedly enjoying the thought of feeding Sam PMS tea, he bought all of it. Now, smelling the weird girly herbal tea he wasn’t so sure.

Sam barely stirred when he poked the lump under the covers. “Sammy?” he said softly. “I brought you some stuff for your headache, but the girl said you have to eat something to take it.”

“Dying, Dean. Just leave me in peace,” Sam moaned.

“C’mon, I bought you shortbread cookies. And hot tea. They’ll be good for you.” Dean waited patiently until the bundle of covers started to uncurl.

Finally, Sam’s hand slid out from under the covers. Dean slid the mug into his hand and watched it disappear under the covers, followed by a sipping noise.

It was quickly followed by the gagging noise. “What the hell is this?” Sam hissed, coming out from under the covers..

“Tea? The girl at the pharmacy said it would help.

“Oh.” Sam took another sip, wincing at the taste.

Dean offered him the box of shortbread cookies. “Here. Eat a couple of those, and you can take the pills.”

Sam took them, chewing reluctantly. “Hate being nauseous.”

“I know,” Dean said soothingly, sitting on the bed. “Sucks. Does your neck feel tight?”

Sam tilted his head a little. “Yeah, kind of. Why?”

“She said a backrub might help,” Dean said quietly, offering him the handful of pills.

“Jesus, Dean. Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not at the moment, why?”

Sam’s finger stirred the pile of pills, poking at them. “What is all this stuff?”

Dean shrugged a little. “The girl has migraines, said that when they get like this, she just takes these and sleeps it off.”

“Oh. Okay.” He swallowed the pills with the tea and a grimace. “God, that’s nasty. What’s in it?”

Dean handed him the box. “Dunno. Look for yourself.”

After a long second, Sam glared at him. “Ha, ha.”

“C’mon, Sammy, it’s pretty funny,” Dean grinned. “Roll over and I’ll rub your back.”

Still glaring, Sam drained the tea, and laid on his stomach with a wince. Dean slid a cool-pack under his forehead, ignoring Sam’s curious look. “Did you buy out the Wal-greens?”

“Shut up, Gigantor. You want your shoulders rubbed or not?”

After a long minute, Sam let his head fall back onto the squishy pack. “That feels good,” he admitted grudgingly.

Dean smiled and positioned the warming pack over Sam’s neck, just like the girl had told him. “Glad to hear it.”

He started out light, using his fingers to spread the oil over Sam’s skin. Vanilla and Lavender, to soothe.

Sam sighed, squirming to get comfortable on the sagging mattress. “You don’t have to-“

“Shut up, Sam. This is not Lifetime’s movie of the week, okay?” Dean pressed a little harder, fingers digging into tight muscle and tendon.

Sam hissed. “Jesus, easy!”

“I’m barely touching you,” Dean protested, but he still gentled his touch, until his hands were moving of their own will, prodding at stubborn muscles until they unknotted.

After the first protest, Sam was quiet except for soft exhalations of breath and little moan-whimpers of pain as Dean pressed harder, working deeper muscles.

His hands had long since started to cramp when Dean became aware of another sound, one that was soft and rhythmic.

He leaned back, twisting until he could see Sam’s face.

Long lashes fluttered over high cheekbones, his lips parted and wet with the little puddle of drool that was collecting beneath his head. The noise came again, that soft buzzing noise, and Dean felt his lips curl in a fond smile. That snore only hit when Sam was out, and nothing shy of a banshee was waking him.

And the banshee was iffy.

With Sam out of it, it left him free to rumple the unruly hair, bending to press a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Love you, little brother,” he whispered softly, then headed for the bathroom to shower off the girly smell of the oil.