What would happen if Dean got laryngitis???
“Y/N, hey. Have you seen Dean lately?” Sam caught you in the hallway. You frowned and shook your head.
“Not since he went to bed last night, actually. He said something about not feeling well and then-” You and Sam made brief eye contact before the two of you took off in the direction of Dean’s room. Sam burst through the door and the two of you stopped in your tracks as you looked at the groaning pile of… Dean laying on the bed. You took slow steps toward him and laid your hand on his stomach as you sat beside him. “Not feelin’ much better, huh?” You gave him a sad smile.
“Uh uh.” He hummed, shaking his head and looking at you through squinted eyes. You turned at looked over your shoulder at Sam, giving him a nod and telling him it was okay, you’d take it from there. As he left the room he gave you a look, questioning if there was anything he could do. With a tight smile and a small shake of your head, Sam left the room.
“What do you need, Dean?” You reached up and ran your hand through his hair, his eyes closing at he relished the feeling. “Anything at all.” His eyebrow raised at that as a smirk crossed his face. “Not that.” You laughed and rolled your eyes. “C’mon, just tell me what I can do to help.”
“N- ah- mmm.” He groaned and pressed on his throat, wincing.
“Your throat hurts.” You said, and he nodded. “I’ll make you some tea.” As you stood, Dean’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and stopped you from leaving. He mimed twisting the top off a bottle and you chuckled when you realized what he wanted. “Fine, I’ll make it Irish.” You giggled and made your way into the kitchen.
“He alright?” Sam watched as you filled a teapot.
“His throat’s been buggin’ him. I think we should try to get him to a doctor.” You flicked on the gas stove as Sam scoffed behind you.
“Dean? At a doctor’s office? He patches himself up with duct tape and whiskey. Dean doesn’t even know what a doctor’s office looks like.” Sam explained, turning the page in the book he was reading.
“I think I could convince him to go.” You shrugged, leaning against the counter.
“Wanna make it interesting?” Sam dug in his pocket and pulled out a $20 bill.
“Laryngitis. What kind of bitch gets laryngitis?!” Dean croaked from the passenger seat of the Impala.
“I still can’t believe you went to the friggin’ doctor, man.” Sam grumbled, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror as he looked at you from his spot behind the wheel. You shot him a quick wink and sank back against he seat.
“Yeah, uh, - um, Y/N has - has her ways.” Dean cleared his throat and then winced at the rough feeling in the back of his mouth.
“Oh, come on! That’s so not fair!” Sam whined, stopping at the red light and turning around to snarl at you. You shrugged.
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.” You grinned.
“Yeah, and damn did she do it. She’ll be the next one complaining about her throat hurting.” Dean nudged Sam who pulled the car to the side of the road.
“I think I’m gonna be sick.”
What Would Happen… - CLOSED - [WWH Drabble Masterlist]