Ragtime Blues

Warnings: Swearing, sickness

Hana's POV

Closing my eyes, I let my head gently tilt against the wall, brows furrowing. I would kill to get some connection to the outside world in here. Maybe a window at the very least. In my head, I had already cursed the Men of Letters enough times to make them roll over in their graves. They apparently couldn't afford to put a single window in any of the bedrooms. How did they even survive in this super secret bunker?

Ever since I'd told Dean that I had a cold, he wouldn't let me go outside. Not even for a breath of fresh air. In fact, I wasn't even allowed in the library or main control room, since if the door opened, a rush of cold air would come in and apparently kill me.

Which reminds me why I never tell Dean when I'm feeling crappy. It happened almost exactly like this every time.

Being cuddled up in blankets and having Dean running around getting me whatever I wanted always does seem like a plus. That is, until I felt like I was getting suffocated by both. I never got five freaking minutes to myself, because my stupid boyfriend kept peeking his head in.

"Why is there nothing to do?" I groaned to the empty room, throwing an arm over my eyes. A sigh left my parted lips as I felt the heat radiating from my forehead. Still with the damn fever. I really couldn't get a break, no matter how much medication I took.

A knock at the door frame didn't even make me look up. I heard his footsteps from a mile away. I could recognize the arrogant strut anywhere. "I brought you something," Dean whispered into the stuffy room.

Risking a peek out from my forearm, I rasped back, "Unless it's a door outside, I'm not interested." It was too dark to see what he was carrying, but I honestly didn't care since it obviously wasn't what I was asking for. Only getting more pissed that I just HAD to cough at that moment, I threw the blankets over my head.

The bed sunk a bit at the bottom, then arms wrapped themselves around me. "Hana. C'mon, don't be mad at me. I just want to make sure that you get better."

I tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but only succeeded in entangling myself in the sheets more. "Get off of me!" I finally whined, going limp as I accepted my fate.

To my great surprise, he did as I asked. The two thumps of his feet hitting the floor distracted me from the task at hand. I poked my head out from the blanket bundle, hair sticking up everywhere and a suspicious glint in my eyes. His back was turned to me, but he was clearly doing something, because I could see his hands moving even in the darkness. Dean's green eyes met my blue ones gingerly. "I have something that might make you feel better. Sit there for just a second." I rolled my eyes, because that's really all I had been doing for the past few days, but obeyed him nonetheless.

There was a kind of squeaking sound from by Dean. I made a face at his back. What in the hell is he doing…? My question was answered as a swing tune filled the air. The attempt at keeping the smile off of my face was all in vain as Dean smirked and held his hand out to me. "Wanna dance?" he questioned softly, looking me directly in the eyes and bowing down just slightly.

As much as I tried to convince myself that I was still mad at him, the blush continuously deepened on my cheeks. Before I could even think through it, my mouth blurted out, "Sure." I mentally stuck a foot in my mouth. Freaking traitor. And it just kept going, blatantly ignoring my mind yelling at it to stop. "As long as you get me out of these blankets. I may or may not be stuck." Dean laughed and started towards me. His strong, calloused hands wrapped securely around my waist and he yanked me up, successfully freeing me from the blanket prison.

I didn't even have time to register how mouthwateringly muscular he was to have pulled that off, because my feet were already on the floor and his arms had settled themselves more gently at my waist.

Knowing that I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up that Dean would do anything other than gently rock us back and forth, my jaw nearly hit the floor when he started dancing along to the upbeat rhythm, leading me around the room by the hands. He let go of one of my hands to spin me, then chuckled as I spun him, too.

I lost track of time as we spun, skipped, and danced our way through countless swing tunes, giggling the entire time and landing a peck on the other's cheek or lips every once in a great while. It wasn't until halfway through a particularly lively song that I was hit with the bout of dizziness. Drunk off of excitement, I cackled as my legs went weak beneath me. Dean lunged forward just in time to grab me before I hit the floor. "Woah, hey, princess. You alright?" The concern in his voice made me tilt my head to the side. I felt fine. I felt like I was on cloud nine, at the top of my game. Why was he so serious all of a sudden? I tried to brush off Dean's hand as he brought it up to feel my forehead, but he lightly smacked my hand away and it fell back to my side. "Holy shit. You're burning up. Let's get you back in bed."

Even as he leaned down to sweep my legs out from under me, I could feel myself losing balance, drooping tiredly. I cuddled into his chest, and let out a weak protest as he tried to leave. "Nome. Don' leaf me," I mumbled, tugging at his hand.

His lips pressed to my forehead. "I'll be right back, I promise. Try to stay up, you need to take some medicine." And then, he was gone.

Really, the next thing I remember was waking up, apparently a day later. Dean was right beside me, of course, and he felt terrible for exhausting me. He'd even made me a bowl of my favorite soup from scratch to make up for it. I hadn't really been hungry, but I ate it anyway. And that was unfortunately part of his plan to get me to shut up while he apologized over and over again. I silenced him by putting a hand on his cheek, setting the empty bowl aside.

"It's alright, babe. I promise. You don't need to feel guilty. After all, you were just trying to make me feel better," I assured, gradually moving my hand into his hair and running my fingers through it repeatedly, a method proven to work at calming him down in the past.

Dean smiled up at me as he set his head gently on my chest. "How the hell did God rope me a girl as perfect as you?"

Fighting down the blush, I whispered back, "I love you, Dean. And match made in heaven or not, I always will. Now, get up here. I'm freezing and I want to get you sick."

He laughed back, then rolled over me to get to the side of the bed I wasn't occupying and pulled me into his side. "I love you, too, baby girl."