Title: Under Attack

Author: Indigo Night

Feedback: Yes please

Summary: Dean's delirious.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters

Spoilers: Nope.

Pairing: None.

Warnings: Nada.

Author's Note: So, this was supposed to be a birthday present for Mad Server. Theme: Dean has a fever, with bonus points for Sam feeling Dean's forehead, either 100, 500, 1000 words long. This is 404 words long, and like three weeks late. So yes, I epically fail, but I did get the bonus in! Read, Review,

ENJOY!


"I refuse to dance with the pink bunnies!" Dean shouted emphatically.

Sam looked up startled. Of all the weird things he heard on a regular basis, that certainly wasn't one of them.

"Dean?" he asked crossing the dingy motel room to perch on the edge of Dean's bed, leaning over to feel his brother's forehead, but he had to withdraw quickly the heat radiating from the elder Winchester was so intense.

Dean whined softly, shifting under the suffocating weight of the blankets.

"There aren't any pink bunnies," he assured softly, half smiling as he adjusted the covers so they were less constricting.

"But Sammy… they have fangs!"

"You're delirious and dreaming, Dean, there's nothing there." He shook Dean's shoulder, trying to rouse him.

After several moments sleepy green eyes blinked up at him, "Sammy?" he inquired sluggishly.

"Hey, it's time for some more medicine."

"Don't wanna," Dean pouted childishly.

"You need to, your fever's still rising, it's getting dangerous. I might need to take you to the hospital."

"No!"

"Dean…"

"No! There are leprechauns there! They'll eat me!" Dean looked up at him, his eyes round and filled with such genuine fear through the fevered haze that Sam wasn't sure whether to laugh or grab his gun.

"No one, and nothing is going to eat you. Now take your medicine."

Dean bit his lip. "Promise?" he asked uncertainly, tone vulnerable and very un-Dean like. Sam's heart melted.

"Yeah, promise."

Dean nodded seriously and accepted the medicine. As he lay back down, closing his eyes he murmured sleepily, "Thanks Sammy. I don't care what they say; I love you more than all the marzipan in the world."

"Thanks, Dean… I think." And with that Dean fell asleep again.

Three days later…

"Yup, you are officially fever free," Sam declared.

"Yes! Now can I get out of bed?"

Sam frowned, putting on his best stern face, "You really should rest some more, we don't want you to relapse. It seems you've been having quite the adventures these past couple days."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Apparently the dancing, fanged pink bunnies minions from hell are attacking," Sam informed him.

Dean frowned. "… Sammy, you're not making sense. Sure you weren't the one with the fever?"

"You were very upset," Sam laughed.

"Yup," Dean decided, "You were definitely the delirious one. There is no way I'm scared of pink bunnies."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself dude."