Happy New Year. May 2009 bring loads of peace, happiness, and of course, sick and suffering Dean :D
Written especially for Jessie...
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"Dean, I am telling ya man, if you get in the shower, you are gonna feel so refreshed. I think you have sweated out the fever, so a shower will make you feel tons better."
Dean groaned under the covers, but was slowly starting to see reason.
He did feel like the fever had broken.
But he still felt like complete crap.
Times eighty two.
"Ok Sammy. Baybe you're right, bud no soup. I'm 'onna hurl if I smell it."
Dean rolled over, as he pondered the idea that taking a shower might actually help him feel better.
"Ok Dean, no soup. But you have to eat something." Sam chucked the can into the garbage and turned to look at his big brother all tangled up in the bed.
He really was a mess.
"Maybe a popsicle? It will help soothe your throat. And here, take some of this cold medicine I got you."
"Kay Sam" was all the reply he got.
Sam wandered over to the bed.
Dean unscrambled himself from the bed, with some help from Sam, took the medicine without a fight, and shuffled into the bathroom.
He looked at himself in the mirror and did a double take.
Eyes red rimmed and swollen, irritated from itching and sneezing, and even though he would never admit it, when Sam was gone, a little sympathy crying.
His cheeks were pale as the snow, save a crimson flush on either side near his neck.
Even his hair looked sad and sick, and Dean never, ever had bad hair days.
And God, he did reek.
Even through his raw, red, stuffed up nose Dean could faintly smell his vile odor.
No wonder Sam wanted him to take a shower.
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