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Chapter 44: Sickness

It seemed like you hadn't been sleeping long enough when your alarm rang out. Last night's sleep was rough, leaving you groggy and more tired than usual. On top of a poor night's sleep, your body ached and you felt a warm flush on your cheeks. There was no denying you were sick, but you were going to push through it to go on the hunt today. You wanted to meet Charlie and help her out.

Ever so slowly, you maneuvered your body around and sluggishly sank your feet to the floor. The cold ground sent violent chills through your body, a groan of discomforting escaping you. Every small bit of movement made the aches intensify.

A knock sounded at your door, causing you to wince from the headache. "Come in."

Dean slowly poked his head and furrowed his brows. Before speaking, he walked in, quietly shutting the door behind him. "You sound and look like crap."

"Gee, thanks Dean." You pushed past him to gather some clothes out of the closet. "Can I get ready in peace? Without you making fun of me?"

"I was just checking on you. You're normally out there for coffee twenty minutes before we're ready."

"I didn't sleep great," you admitted, only willingly giving him half of the story. "I'll be ready in ten."

"That's good, because Sam will be ready in fifteen."

You only nodded, speaking hurting your throat too much. Dean took it as his hint to leave you be. Being alone gave you an opportunity to strip out of your night clothes and slide into your comfiest pants and hoody. The remaining time was spent on brushing your hair and teeth, and throwing your clothes and weapons for the hunt into a duffle bag.

You grabbed the bag and made your way to the library where Dean was waiting for Sam and you. He held two mugs of coffee in his hands. When Dean noticed you trudging into the room he traded you the coffee for your bag.

"Thanks," you muttered before sinking down into one of the chairs at the table.

"No problem. You look like you could use an extra boost today."

Without even taking a sip of the gloriously warm liquid, you folded your arms on the table and leaned your forehead on them. Your eyes fell shut, trying to welcome sleep.

You heard Sam's footsteps entering in the room as he asked, "She okay?"

There was a hand that rested on your arm before the voice of Dean sounded softly. "Y/N, look at me."

Without lifting your head, you turned it and faced Dean, your cheek staying rested on your arm. Without a word Dean reached the back of his hand to your forehead. Once he pulled his hand away, he gently tucked your hair behind your ears.

"Sorry to break it to ya, Sweetheart, but you're not going on this hunt."

In normal circumstances, you would argue with Dean. However, you felt like a bus had run over you. Maybe relaxing in the bunker was a better idea than being miserable on a hunt. "Okay," you answered.

"Wow," Sam scoffed. "She didn't argue. She must really be sick."

"She is pretty warm," Dean replied.

"You know what," Sam said. "I'll get ahold of Cas for the hunt. Why don't you stay here in case she needs anything."

If you would have had the strength and energy to get up and slap Sam, you would have. He knew you liked Dean and that was precisely why he was ditching Dean with you. It was confusing. Was he trying to make you feel uncomfortable around his brother or was he trying to force his brother to have feelings for you. That was a topic for a different, healthier day.

You finally picked your head up, ignoring the weight of the headache, and stared at the boys. "Dean, no. There's no sense—"

"There's our stubborn girl," Dean said. "I think Sam's right. I'll stay."

It was bad enough that you were sick, but then Sam had to go and make things worse by volunteering Dean to babysit for the span of the hunt. The last thing you wanted was for Dean to see you sick and at your worst.

There was no winning the fight, and rather than straining yourself, you gave up and rested your head on your arms again. You had no idea how much time had passed before a set of arms lifted you and cradled you against a sturdy chest. A deep breath of the earthy musk told you the arms and chest belonged to Dean.

You incoherently mumbled his name before he softly hushed you and you fell back to sleep before he placed you on your bed. When you woke up, Dean was sitting in the corner of your room watching something on his laptop. Probably porn. He looked up at you in time to watch you stretch.

"Feeling any better?"

You grunted in response.

"Well, I'm going to head out to the store. Do you want anything or need anything?"

"I feel like a child for asking, but can I have a cool cloth for my head?"

He left and quickly came back with a cloth and glass of water in hand. He placed the water on your bedside table and sat on the edge of your bed. He reached his free hand to the other side of your body and rested it on the bed, draping the cloth on your forehead with the other hand. His green eyes stared down at you with compassion, shocking you. It was time to break the silence. "What?"

Dean shook his head, but kept his beautiful eyes on you. "Honestly, I just don't like seeing you sick. There's not much I can do to help you and it drives me a little crazy.

"I feel like such a loser for being sick and missing the hunt," you mumbled.

"Hey," Dean captured your chin in his hand before continuing with, "at least you're a beautiful loser."

"Did you just Seger me?"

"There is a Segar song for everything," he replied with a smirk before leaving you alone.

Was the fever playing tricks on you or was Dean Winchester blatantly flirting with you? You shook your head, telling yourself it was just the fever.

+++

Dean woke you by stroking your cheek. Being awake was the last thing you wanted. The more you slept the more you could avoid feeling terrible. You offered him a very weak smile and sat up in bed.

"I got some Nyquil," he said, handing you an already portioned cup of medicine. "And lots of snacks." He smiled wide and sat on the empty side of your bed as you downed the medicine.

Your face twisted in disgust. "I hate medicine."

Dean chuckled and pulled a bag full of potato chips and candy onto the bed. He also reached down and grabbed your laptop off the floor, opening it straight to your Netflix. "What should we watch?"

"Dean," you groaned. "Just leave me be. You'll end up sick too."

"Nope," he said. "I've been taking my vitamin C, unlike someone." He laughed and you couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh with him.

"Fine, but when you're sick next month, don't complain that it's my fault."

"Never," he said, kissing the top of your head. Your heart raced. Sure, the two of you had playfully touched and stuff before, but he'd never kissed you in any way. Maybe it wasn't the fever. "So, back to Netflix." He looked at you expectantly for an answer.

"Honestly, it doesn't matter. This medicine will kick in and I'll be good as dead."

"Westerns it is." He stretched his arm out and pulled you into his side. Your body stayed stiff for a moment, unsure of what to do. It seemed too good to be true, and if you relaxed and believed it was, that might be what shattered the dream. But you eventually did relax and rested your head on his chest. Only twenty minutes into the first Western and the medicine had you knocked out and snoring, cuddled deeply into Dean's side.

A/N: I have a confession. This chapter has been written for ages. Probably since about the fifth chapter. I've been dying to upload it for reasons. Mostly because it is kicking off the relationship. And I'm excited to finally be into it! Hopefully you all are too.