((Supernatural HS AU)) Hodgepodge (Part 4)
Part 3 here.
It was late when Sam finally settled into bed that night, opening his laptop and resting it on his thighs. Just as he logged into Skype, there was a knock on his bedroom door, and he'd barely looked up when his dad peeked in through the crack between it and the door frame.
“Keeping your dinner down alright?” he asked, and Sam smiled.
“Yeah,” he said. “Think the new nausea meds are doing their job.”
“Good...” There seemed to be more he wanted to say, but it looked like he was having trouble phrasing it. He sighed, slipping through the door and sitting on the edge of Sam's bed. “Ya know...I was never good at this...taking care of sick people, I mean. Whenever you or Dean got the sniffles, Mary was always the one with the magic touch.” John let out a melancholy laugh, which faded into silence before Sam even had a chance to glimpse his father's small smile.
Sam found himself reached out before he even realized he was doing it, putting a hand on his dad's arm. “You're better at it than you think,” he offered with a tiny, lopsided grin.
“You think so?” John asked. This time, his smile stuck around a bit longer, though it was still tired. Sam nodded. “Well, I guess that's good to know.”
The silence between them dragged on, but surprisingly, it wasn't uncomfortable. John looked over at the stuffed manatee and bumblebee perched on Sam's bedside table, and he let out a chuckle. “Gabe brought those, didn't he?”
“Yeah, he did,” Sam sand fondly. “Brings me one every time I finish a cycle.”
John got a far-off look in his eye, like he was thinking of a distant, but pleasant memory - and one that he missed terribly. When he glanced back over at Sam, he put a hand on his son's shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “I'm so proud of you, Sam.”
A smile tugged at Sam's lips. “Thanks, Dad.”
John waited a moment, then leaned toward Sam, pulling him into a tight embrace, and Sam wrapped his arms around his father's shoulders and held on until John pulled away. “You don't stay up too late, you hear me?” he said.
Sam nodded, toying with the fringe on the edge of his blanket. “Yeah, I know. I won't.” He made a crossing motion over his chest. “Cross my CVC.”
That did draw a genuine laugh out of his dad, and Sam was glad to hear it.
-
It was about half an hour later that Sam finally saw the notification in the bottom right of his screen that he'd been waiting for. He grinned, clicking on Dean's name in his contacts, and a message popped up in his chat log just a moment later:
Dean Winchester: What are you doing up, little bro?
Sam rolled his eyes, but chuckled just the same.
Sam Winchester: Trying to figure out cold fusion.
Dean Winchester: Figures. Nerd.
Sam Winchester: You're the one with the Lord of the Rings poster on your dorm room wall.
Dean Winchester: LotR is manly as fuck.
Sam Winchester: Never said it wasn't. Can you vid chat?
Dean Winchester: Yeah, I can. You gotta give me a second, though.
Sam Winchester: Why? You naked or something?
Dean Winchester: Hell no. But my roommate's got a big test tomorrow. I don't wanna bug him.
Sam Winchester: That's considerate of you.
Dean Winchester: If he fails cause of me, he'll smother me with a pillow while I sleep. One sec. I'll relocate.
Sam sat up in bed, getting out from under the covers and sitting cross-legged on top of the bedspread as he waited for Dean to get to wherever it was he was headed. He didn't have to wait too long; the video call request notification popped up on his screen just a moment later, and Sam pushed the answer button with a grin.
It took Dean's face a minute to come into focus, but when it did, he waved at Sam. “Can you hear me now?”
“Yeah I can. Where are you anyway?”
“In the hallway. I was thinking of going down to the study lounge, but there's this regular Sunday-night crowd that's there every week, and they'd probably all give me the stink-eye if I talked in there. How're you doing anyway? Still bald as the day you were born, huh?”
“Yep. Probably will be for a good long while, too, so don't you say a word.”
“Hey, I'm not knocking it. But...” He squinted at the camera. “What's on your head anyway?”
Sam ran a hand over his scalp. “Oh...that was Gabe. He got bored while I was at chemo today and started drawing dicks on my head.” Dean threw his head back and laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling with his smile.
“Jesus Christ...”
“Yeah I know. I mean, it was just magic marker, so it wasn't that hard to get it off, but...I don't think I got it all.”
“How's the chemo going, anyway? You puking still?”
Sam sighed and slouched. “No, thank god. I started some new anti-barf meds and they're working pretty good so far. Mostly it's just boring. And honestly? I really miss my hair...”
“Hey, it'll grow back,” Dean assured him. “You could try rocking the bandana look till it does though.”
“I don't know if that would work on me. I don't even own a bandana!”
“So buy one!”
“I could buy a red shirt instead. Pretend to be Jean Luc Picard.”
“Nerd.”
“Shut up, jerk. You love Star Trek and you know it.”
“I'm more of a Kirk man myself.”
Sam scoffed. “Oh come on! Picard was a way better captain. Don't even try to argue that. What kind of reckless idiot goes down with every landing party?”
“He was hands-on! And it's not his fault they couldn't afford the extras to add to fill out the landing party instead.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Besides, Kirk got way more tail than Picard ever did, at least.”
“More like he got every STD in the known universe.”
Dean pouted. “Bitch.”
“At least I didn't cry during Star Trek: Generations.”
“Hey! If you didn't cry during that movie, you have no soul.”
“Guess you could call me soulless, then.”
“I have no brother.”
Sam rolled his eyes, and made sure Dean could see when he did, but he was smiling like an idiot none the less.
“Seriously, though,” said Dean after a moment. “You're doing okay? Taking all your meds? Kicking that damn Hodge's ass from here to Jupiter?”
“Course I am, Dean.”
“I should be there...”
“Don't do that to yourself. You're busy. I told you already, you don't have to come down just to hold my hand while I get chemo. I got Dad. I got Gabe. It's okay, Dean.”
“Still...I've been meaning to come home anyway. I can take a weekend off work, come visit.”
“If you can, sure. But don't make a huge deal out of it, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah...Geez, you're bossy.”
“Shut up. You're not allowed to be mean to the kid with cancer.”
“I'm not being mean. I'm just stating a fact. You're bossy.”
“Yeah, well you're...short.”
“Am not! You're just a skyscraper!” Sam stuck his tongue out at him, and it was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. “Speaking of short, how's Gabe doing anyway?”
“Very funny.”
“Seriously. How is he?”
Sam took a moment to shrug, feeling a warm, fond smile tug at his mouth. “He's...awesome, you know? He's just...he's being more amazing about this than I could ever want...”
“Good. Cause you know if he wasn't, I would come down there and kick his ass.”
“Yeah, I know. He knows.”
“Seriously, though...I'm glad you got him, ya know? It's good to have somebody there to hold your hand, since it can't be me.”
“Like you'd actually hold my hand,” Sam scoffed.
“I would hold the fuck out of your hand.”
Sam stifled a yawn. “Good to know.”
“You tired?”
“No...” Even as he said it, he felt his eyelids drooping.
“Go to bed, Sammy. You gotta be wiped.”
“I guess...I'm actually feeling pretty okay. I think I might actually be able to go to school tomorrow.”
“Only you would get psyched about that.”
“Hey, three-day weekends get old after a while when you spend them curled up in bed trying not to hurl for half the day.”
Dean grimaced. “Yeah, I bet...Sounds like a few hangovers I've had, to be honest.” He grinned, leaning back against the wall and staring at something that Sam couldn't see. From the way the moonlight was streaming over his face, Sam guessed he was probably looking out the window. When Dean looked back at the camera, he quirked an eyebrow. “Go to sleep, little bro. I'll talk to you soon, kay?”
“Yeah...alright. Study hard.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean sighed as he stood up and headed back to his dorm room. He stood outside his door and waved one last time. “Night, Sammy.”
“Night.”
Dean ended the call, and Sam closed his laptop, putting it on his bedside table and yawning again as he crawled under the covers. He was pretty tired, but at least he didn't feel nauseous or feverish. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd sleep better than he had in a good long while.
Part 5 here.