You wake up one day with a heavy feeling in your head. Your eyes were beginning to burn and your throat felt itchy. You couldn't believe you had caught a cold barely leaving home.
You make your way to the kitchen were Sam and Dean were already seated drinking coffee. "You look terrible." Dean observes as you walk in.
"Thank you. It's the cold I caught. I think it really suits me." You reply sarcastically.
"How'd you catch a cold?"
"Not sure, but I guess the Men of Letters didn't ward this place against microscopic germs."
Sam laughs before suggesting you stay in bed to rest, "If Cas was here you'd be better in no time, but he's off on his own again so perhaps you should get some rest until he gets here."
"Good idea. I'll just grab some breakfast and eat in my room."
Dean stands up, "No, no. Just tell me what you want, I'll bring it to you. Go rest."
You smile at him, exhaustion already taking a hold of you, "Thank you. I'll just have some toast and tea."
You had only been in bed a few minutes when you hear a knock on the door. "Come in!" you call
Dean walks in carrying a tray. "I brought you some spreads for the toast," he explains. "I didn't know if you wanted anything on it. I've also brought you some meds and a little something extra if you need it."
He places the tray laden with food and pills and a small flask on a table by your bed.
"You are amazing!" you tell him.
"It's nothing. Sam got sick regularly as a kid so I'm a pro." He walks over to the dresser and grabs the remote. "Now what are we watching?"
"We? You don't have to stay, I wouldn't want you to get sick too. I'll be fine, don't worry."
"No, I insist. Besides, I never get sick." Dean scoffs.
"Suit yourself then." You reply, settling into bed with your breakfast as Dean browses for a movie.
You're three movies into your binge watch when Sam appears in the doorway. Dean, who was intently watching the "chick flick" he had insisted would be boring, did not immediately register his presence.
"How are you feeling?" He asks, smirking at Dean who jumps a little at hearing Sam's voice and quickly pauses the TV. "Sorry I wasn't in to see you earlier, I went on a supply run. Looks like you've been having a good time though. How did you know Dean loves a good rom-com?"
You laugh as Dean tells him to shut up. "I'm pretty good. Dean has been providing excellent care."
"Well, I guess all those hours of Dr. Sexy came in handy after all." Sam replies. Dean once again advises him to shut up.
As evening falls, you find your energy drain away and you sink lower into your pillows. This does not go unnoticed by Dean who had just come in, holding a steaming bowl. "I'm not gonna lie it's from a can, but I think it's still –," just what he thought you never heard as his voice trails off at the sight of your worsening condition. He comes and sits by your bed, concern etched on his face. His hand finds your forehead. "You're burning up." He murmurs.
"I'm fine," you insist, a wave of pain washing over you. Unconvinced by this feeble protest, Dean walks to the bathroom, returning with a cold compress which he gently places across your forehead. You close your eyes and lose track of time as Dean diligently works to keep your temperature down
You're unsure how long has passed when you finally feel some strength return. You make out a blurred outline of Dean, asleep on a chair as your eyes blink open. Dean wakes up as you stir. He lays a gentle hand on your forehead and sighs quietly in relief as he feels you starting to improve. His eyes look intently down at your face and you cannot help but notice the way he strokes your hair as he moves his hand away. "You scared me." He tells you in a quiet voice.
"Don't worry about me," you assure him, smiling, "I'm always fine." Up close you notice he doesn't look too well. "Dean, you idiot, you're sick!" You exclaim. "I told you to stay away."
"I'm fine!" He protests, a small, badly repressed cough giving him away.
"Yeah right. Did you even sleep last night?"
"I caught an hour in the chair, I'm great."
"You're crazy." You tell him. "Well, if you insist on staying you might as well lay down. I can take the chair."
"Why bother? The bed looks big enough for the both of us. Unless you're not comfortable…" He hesitates.
"Fine by me."
Dean lands next to you in bed and stretches out luxuriously.
"Not tired, huh?" you ask.
He smiles as he slowly falls straight asleep. You stay up next to him, watching his sleeping form next to you, more comfortable and cared for than you had felt in years. A familiar, fluttering feeling develops in your chest. A feeling of sadness creeps in too as you think about the man next to you who would do anything to help those he loves but not be able to accept that he deserves the same love in return; who thought his mere presence would be fatal to you when you met. As he lays next to you, you hope that one day you can show him how much he means to everyone but especially you. For now, it is enough to know he is sleeping peacefully right here.
You're both awakened by Sam as he drops by your room. "Don't tell me you're both sick! Where's Cas when you need him?"
"Guess you better watch some Dr. Sexy reruns." Dean replies sleepily, eyes still closed.