#sick!jack

Jody talks about how hard it is to deal with the aftermath of Kaia’s death. How she has to worry and keep an eye on the other girls. How she has to tell Claire that Kaia’s killer is still on the loose. 

Castiel and Jack moment.

Castiel gave Jack the update on Lora. She’s going back to her mother. Job well done, Jack. He then offers Jack a hunting trip after Sam and Dean get back. Jack agrees, coughs. Castiel asks if he was okay. Jack replies its probably his first cold coming in. 

Title: Oh You Poor Thing Author: cablesscutie Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: None Apply Completed: Yes Word count: 1500 Summary: For the anonymous request: "Jack is wretchedly sick and Bitty is taking care of him. (Not hospital sick, but still total feverish misery.)"

Heyy, I had an idea for a Jack Barakat one. Where you two are on a night out, drinking and having fun but Jack doesn’t seem himself. He’s coughing and feeling pretty miserable but wants you to have a good time so he’s sucking it up until you notice and drag him home (much to his protest) where you have cuddles and movies instead! :)

A/N: Hope you like it!

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

You asked for what had to be the tenth time that night. It was supposed to be date night with your boyfriend, Jack, but more and more, you were thinking it had been a bad idea. When Jack picked you up he had been poorly concealing his shivering under his leather jacket. He’d insisted he was fine when you’d questioned him about it, and you’d let it go. It was cold out. Now though, your food hadn’t even arrived, and Jack was coughing again, long and hard as he ducked his head into his sleeve. It had moved from a dry sort of gasp to a more painful sounding wet thing, and if you had to hear Jack wheeze that “water going down the wrong pipe” even though he hadn’t sipped any water, one more time, you were going to lose it.

“C’mon. We’re going home.”

You declared once Jack stopped hacking.

“No--sweetheart--I’m” Jack huffed.

“If you say “fine” right now, Mr. Barakat, I will toss my water in your face and walk out here, I swear to God.”

Jack didn’t really have a response to that. You weren’t one much for exaggerating, he knew there was at least a fifty-fifty chance you would actually do it. Still, he look ready to at least argue when the waiter returned, setting down the tomato basil mozzarella pizza the two of you had decided to split.

“Actually, would you mind boxing that up for us? And we’ll take the check whenever you have a minute.”

Jack hung his head.

“You didn’t hafta cancel date night.” He mumbled.

“It’s not cancelled, it’s relocated.” You told him, smiling.

After you’d gotten your food, the two of you wove through the dark parking lot. You raced ahead of Jack and beat him to the driver’s seat.

“I can drive.” He protested.

“You can.” You agreed, and continued adjusting your mirrors.

Jack groaned.

“You are by far the bossiest woman to ever--”

“--Grace you with her presence?” You teased.

Jack coughed thoughtfully.

“Yeah.” He said quietly. And there was a solemnity to it that made you turn.

“If you keep this up, I’m going to kiss you, and then I’m going to get that disgusting cough, and we’ll both be doomed.”

Jack laughed, but you could hear the drag of mucus as he did, and his tired smile didn’t light up his eyes the way it usually did.

When you got into the house, Jack tossed a half  formed sentence  about going to change and trudged upstairs. You found him there ten minutes later, face down on the bed, blinking slowly, still in his jeans and half buttoned top.

“Were you planning on moving anytime soon?” You questioned playfully?

“Mmmm’comfy.” Jack told the pillow.

“You’d be comfier in actual pajamas.”

Jack rolled over and lay on the bed bonelessly.

“Help.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You really are sick.”

“I not sick, I’m tired. There’s a difference.”

You tossed him a pair of sweats and t-shirt from his side of the dresser and went to sit on the bed. You began undoing the buttons on his shirt, absently listening to the faint wheeze that he made with each breath.

“You’re sick.”

Jack chose to shimmy off his jeans instead of responding, and a minute later and pulled on his sweats. You could see his goosebumps, even when he tried to discretely rub his arms when he thought you were distracted getting your pjs.

Wordlessly you tossed him the thick hoodie he’d bought at Fort McHenry, the day you’d dragged him there and it had sleeted.

“I’m gonna go grab an expectorant/decongestant, I’ll be right back.”

“That sounds gross and kinda kinky.” Jack answered from the bed.

“Only in your dreams.” You shot back.

You’d expected Jack to stay in bed, so you were suprised to hear him pad down the stairs just as you were filling a cup of water. He wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your shoulder.

“Come watch a movie with me.”

“You’re not getting out of these.” You said, shaking two bottles of brightly colored medicine at him.

Jack grimaced.

“You can’t blame a man for trying. And I want movies either way.”

“Alright. We’re doing a horror one then.”

“Shouldn’t the invalid get to pick?” Jack quipped.

“The invalid made me drive him home in the middle of our date. My pick.” You grinned at the pout on his face.

“It’s not like you were giving me a choice.” He grumbled.

“Only because your choice would be never admitting it. And then I’d have to watch you be miserable all night. “

“I’m never miserable when you’re around.” Jack answered.

And then it was taking pretty much all of your will power not to kiss him, so you grabbed a blanket from the cabinet and threw it toward the couch, where Jack was sprawled. You popped in Freddy vs. Jason, and then snuggled up on Jack’s side.

“This is the cheesiest movie ever made." Jack deadpanned.

“Exactly! It’s awesome.”

“You’re weird.” Jack shook his head, laughing, but it quickly degenerated into a painful cough.

Remembering the medicine on the kitchen counter, you jumped up and measured out two doses, one to help the cough, and one to to help Jack sleep through the coughing.

“Here.” You offered him both, setting some water on the side table.

I’m--huhghh--good.” Jack coughed out.

“You're really not though. Think of it like a shot.”

Jack knew you weren’t going to give it up, so he took both dosage cups and tossed them back, one after the other.

“Ughhh. Definitely not a shot.” Jack chugged some water.

“Sorry babe. I’ll make it up to you when you’re better.”

“Mmm, that sounds good to me.” Jack set the cup down and opened his arms, pulling you closer.

By: Alyssa

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