Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear MadSerrrrrver, happy birthday toooooo you!!!!

Hope you like your present! xoxo

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Sam stood outside the Impala's driver side door, not quite sure he believed what he was seeing.

There, in the driver's seat was Dean, window rolled down, head bent back, sun shining on his face, fast asleep.

And snoring.

Sam could hardly believe it, since they were kind of wanted by every law enforcement agency within a five state radius since fleeing Hendrickson and the bank.

Sure, they had been driving for three hours now.

Sure, they had stopped in the middle of nowhere to fill up on gas and food.

Sure they had just spent twelve hours in a hostage situation, hadn't slept in a day, and were exhausted mentally as well as physically.

But they were still not in the clear, so why Dean felt it was alright to take a little cap nap rattled Sam's brain.

He rapped on the top of the car, and Dean's eyes snapped open as he jumped out of his seat.

"Jesus, Sam what is your problem?"

"Me? Dude, you're napping. In the middle of the day, in the car. With half the freaking FBI after us. What is your problem?"

Dean just grumbled and looked at Sam.

That was when Sam noticed just how awful Dean looked.

His face was pale, yet his cheeks were flushed, and Sam saw beads of sweat scattered across his forehead and his upper lip.

It was warm in the sun, but not that warm, as Sam saw Dean shiver slightly.

"Oh that can't be good", he mumbled as Dean got out of the car.

"What are you saying now?" Dean was cranky and in no mood to listen to Sammy lectures.

"You're sick Dean. I can't believe you're sick, and now you are going to act like you aren't."

"I'm not..." Dean couldn't even finish as Sam reached over and placed his hand on Dean's forehead.

Sam's palm and long fingers covered Dean's entire forehead and then some; he felt Dean's sweat soaked hair under his fingertips as he gently took his hand away.

"Touch me again, and I will kick your ass. I swear it."

"You have a fever Dean, you're exhausted, you're stressed out. And I don't wanna hear that you're not. Now get in the passenger side. I'm driving. You're sleeping."

Dean was about to respond, when at that very moment his stomach chose to rebel, and his lunch vaulted up and out, barely missing his own boots, and those of his brother.

Sam jumped back, startled.

Dean coughed and spat on the ground.

"Ew. Nasty."

Sam handed him a bottle of water from his bag, pointed to the other side of the car and gave Dean his best bitch face.

Dean would have argued, but he was ready to take a long nap, and besides, he was looking forward to seeing just how Sam was going to get into the drivers side with a nasty little roadblock to get past.

Dean smirked.

"No problem little brother, no problem."