I wrote this primarily because I'm sick, and just got to thinking about it. It's readable as Wincest, but then again, it's also readable as just close brotherly love, whatever your pleasure is...
Dean almost coughed his stomach out and then laid back weakly on the crummy hotel mattress. He starred at Sam through half-lidded eyes, licking the sweat off of his lips absently. "I'm not sick."
Sam climbed into the bed and sat next to Dean, "Yes, you are." Sam ran a hand through Dean's hair and Dean pushed his head into his younger brother's lap, burying his face against his thigh. Sam continued stroking his hair softly.
"If you keep touching me, you might get sick," Dean muttered miserably.
"I'll risk it," Sam whispered. "You get some sleep though." Dean protested, but was passed out within a few minutes. When he woke, he growled softly at the lack of Sam in bed. Sam walked over from the kitchen area, "I made you some soup."
"What time is it?" Dean sat up a little, head pounding.
"You slept for about twelve hours," Sam said, "And you slept hard, too." Dean nodded, his throat sore and slicked with mucus, heat radiating off of his skin, and nose stuffy. He felt terrible. Sam carried a bowl of soup and bottle of water to the bed and assumed his position again. He lifted the spoon to Dean's mouth.
"I can feed myself. I'm not a baby," Dean grunted, though he made no effort to take the food from Sam. Sam fed him the soup, and then pushed the bottle of water at him, dumping two aspirin in his hand. Dean took them without argument and downed the remainder of the bottle.
Sam sighed, "You're really sweaty. Do you want to shower to cool off?" Dean nodded slowly and slid to the edge of the bed. Sam lifted him to his feet and helped him to the bathroom.
"I can take it from here, Mom," Dean said, pushing off of Sam and leaning against the bathroom wall instead. Sam hesitated, but nodded. He waited right outside the bathroom door, listening for any sign of trouble. Dean exited the bathroom a few minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist.
"You feel better?" Sam hovered behind him as they walked back to the bed.
"Yeah," Dean said, falling into bed and adjusting to be comfortable. He pulled the towel off and tossed it on the floor, "Up the fan, will you?"
Sam pulled the fan string until it was at high power, and then went to the vending machine for a few more bottles of water. When he came back, Dean was still awake, waiting. Sam smirked, and said, "Making sure the monsters didn't get me?"
"Yeah," Dean said sleepily. "I always take care of you."
Sam set the water on the table beside the bed, pulled the sheet over Dean's lower half and curled up next to him. "Yes, you do."
