A single sneeze sounded from the faraway room.
Then another.
A coughing fit seemed to tumble down the halls.
Then into the kitchen.
Your hunting bag hit the seat of the chair with a thud. Your coughing erupted into more of a croaking and soon you were gasping for air.
"Whoa there Y/N, slow your roll before you infect us all!" Dean pulled his arm away before your breath could hit it.
"Sorry De......Dea.....ACHOO." You popped out another sneeze.
"You know you sound like a kitten when you do that," Sam smirked while he took a sip of his coffee.
You would have retorted if it weren't for the cough that escaped your windpipes knocking all verb forms out of your mouth.
"That really doesn't sound good Y/N, you feeling okay?" Dean asked, rolling his eyes at Sam.
"I think so, I'm just a little-" a cough ensued. "Hot" You finished.
Sam stood, pushing the back of his hand against your forehead on his way to the sink. His eyebrows worked in a way of concern.
"Sit." Dean knew that you weren't feeling good.
Sam brought back the thermometer, plopping it into your mouth. Your tongue felt attacked as it was under it. Once the ear-splitting sound went off, Sam slipped it out of your lips.
"101." He sighed.
"Better go find those comfy pants and sign into your computer because you're not going anywhere." Dean chuckled.
You coughed again, "Wait, what? There has to be a mistake? We have a hunting case to work on!"
"That's probably why you're sick. You wore your body out and now you need to rest it." Sam started in on one of his health lectures.
"Don't you guys need to rest too?" You pointed out.
"Nah, we good." Dean shook it off his shoulders, shrugging. "But hey, you heard him small fry. Get cracking to relaxing." Dean laughs at his own joke. You and Sam look at him. "What, it rhymes!"
You let out a groan, followed by you moving back to your room, changing into new pajamas. Soon after you settled in your bed, you had dozed off. There was a knock at the door.
"I got some soup for you and a wash cloth." Dean moves towards the frame which seemed only taking up a centimeter of the bed. He placed the wash cloth on your head, immediately calming down your chills.
Sam followed him, tucking your sheets up around you.
"Hey, you actually followed our orders for once." Dean smiled at your dozing form. Soon enough, raspy breaths could be heard outside of your room.
Later on, that evening you peeled the sweat-caked sheets away. Your wash cloth had dried up, and you gave a dryer cough than before.
"Sammy," you called out, your voice hoarse.
Sam came in, tray filled with water and an array of crackers.
"Hey, sleepy head. How are you feeling?" He asked.
"Better," You smiles weakly.
"Good, now move over, I found a show on Netflix I think you're going to love," he pushed the sheets aside to set the tray down.
You took the medicine and booted up your laptop. The show was suspenseful, but not as scary as what you had seen in reality.
But just as your heart picked up, Dean burst through the door with a medical mask.
"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam yelled.
"I am not about to get infected by whatever she has." his oven mitt covered hands pointing towards your body.
"Would you knock that off and come watch this show with us?" Sam grumbled. Dean eases his way onto your other side, making sure to make his distance.
You, in a soft motion, leaned onto them. He surprisingly didn't react, letting you escape a giggle from your lips.
You loved Sam and Dean, even though they got on your nerves..... a lot.
