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Dean knew something was wrong the moment he walked into the apartment. The whole place was dark. And hot. He knew she was home; he couldn't pinpoint how he knew but he did. Turning on the lights in the kitchen, he noticed a pot on the stove and an empty bowl in the sink. Tossing his jacket over the back of the couch he headed to their bedroom. Opening the door, the only light spilling into the room from behind him. He could see a blanket covered lump in the middle of their bed. "Baby?" he called softly.
"M 'sick." her voice wafted back to him. "Go 'way."
"Yeah, no." Dean replied, crossing the room to his lover and sitting on the edge of the bed. "What’s wrong?"
"Freezing." She replied. "Everything hurts. All day."
Dean put his hand to her forehead. "Yeah, you have a fever. Did you eat?"
"Soup."
"When?"
"Earlier."
"Okay, don’t go anywhere."
"Don't worry," The lump replied.
Dean returned with a glass of orange juice. "C'mon sit up for me."
"Unnh. "She protested.
"C'mon baby."
"Nnoooo," she moaned. But she started to unwrap herself from the cocoon of blankets. After a few grunts and weak flailing, she sat up. "What."
He placed two Tylenol in her hand. "Take 'em. Then drink this, and I'll leave you alone."
She grumbled but obeyed. Handing the glass back she immediately burrowed back under the covers. "Just leave me to die now."
"Dramatic." He teased gently before kicking out of his jeans and crawling into bed behind her.
"What're you doin?" She mumbled as he wormed his way beneath the covers to reach and pull her against him. "Dean," she whined, "You're gonna get sick."
"Nah," he responded, hugging her close. He could feel her shivering slightly even though it was like hugging a baked potato. "Just relax with me and let’s get that fever broken."
“If you die, Sam is gonna kill me,” she protested but settled against him quickly and even stopped shivering. Soon she was fast asleep.
Sometime later, Dean awoke, wet and hot. She was moving around in his arms," Dean… ew... Dean, baby..."
“What’s wrong,” suddenly all awake all at once.
"Relax love, the fever broke. And now we have to light the bed on fire." Dean was immediately aware of the heat of her body against him. When she wiggled away, the cold air chilled him.
"Let’s start with changing the sheets before we resort to fire."
"Oh fine,” she groused, tossing the blankets aside and hoisting herself out of bed. "Shower first." She padded gingerly towards their bathroom.
"I'll be in soon." Dean promised. Moving swiftly, he stripped the bed and replaced the sheets and bedspread. He paused a moment, considering her suggestion of fire, then smiled and stuffed the linens into the laundry basket. Dean then followed his lover into the bathroom, where a wall of steam plastered him as he entered, "Jesus,” he blurted, "Do you even have skin left?"
"I'm sterilizing," came the answer.
"You still sound groggy." Dean discarded his boxers and shirt in a pile next to hers, pushed aside the curtain and stepped in behind her. He hissed and shuddered when the hot water hit his skin. Reaching past her hip he turned the water temperature down. "The fever may have broken but you're clearly not outta this yet." He pulled her against her chest. "This is way hotter than you like."
"Yes dear," she murmured, leaning heavily against him. "Still tired."
"Yeah, okay, we're getting you back to bed," he decreed, turning her beneath the spray to rinse the soap away. "Ok baby, let’s go," he encouraged.
She followed his guidance quietly, allowing him to dress her in a clean top for bed. They crawled into the freshly made bed where she curled up against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. "You're a good caretaker." she murmured as she settled against him.
"Just call me Nurse Dean." He replied lightly and kissed her forehead, "fever’s still gone, I think. Go to sleep."
She was already out.