Shameless fluff…
Dean groaned and rolled back onto the bed, his head pounding and his stomach aching.
Thank God Sammy put that garbage can next to the bed.
The sweat trickled down past his eyebrows and Dean tried to wipe it away.
It took all his strength to lift his arm, pain drifting through every muscle in his body.
He heard the door shut ever so gently, followed by light footsteps. They stopped for a moment, followed by the whoosh of the faucet, then continued closer.
If he had had the energy to open his eyes, he would have, but just as he felt the dip of the bed, the faint scent of shampoo hit his nostrils and he knew it was Sam.
"Hey Dean, how you feeling? Sam softly asked as he placed his hand on Dean's sweat soaked forehead.
It felt good having that large cool palm resting on his feverish head, and Dean longed for it to stay.
"Mmm, head…" he mumbled as Sam took his hand off the sweaty brow.
Dean was about to ask for it back, chick flick moment or not, when he felt a cool washcloth being put in its place.
Ok, that would suffice, he thought, even though he longed for the comforting touch of Sam's long, wiry fingers.
It was as if Sam could read Dean's mind though, as suddenly he felt long fingers gently caressing his sweat soaked scalp, the fingers running through his short hair with a tender force that both pained and soothed his throbbing head.
Dean let out a groan of satisfaction, as Sam worked his way down to the back of his neck kneading and massaging away the tension that assaulted him.
He would hear about this in the morning, for sure, but right now, he was never so glad for this chick flick moment.