"This is totally unnecessary" Dean complained in a hoarse voice. Dean Winchester got sick once every blue moon or so, and when he got sick he, of course, wouldn't take care of himself or rest.

Not on your watch.

You loved taking care of people, Dean always said you should work in a nursing home instead of with them, but here you were.

Dean was suffering from a really bad case of the flu. Fever, headaches, dizziness, nausea, the whole nine yards. He was bed bound, whenever he tried getting out of bed he got dizzy and felt like throwing up. He still wanted to push through and work, which was obviously insane, and you wouldn't have it.

You had gone full caretaker mode, and Dean was too weak to fight back, but he was still gonna complain.

"I don't need you to coddle me, or make me chicken noodle soup or some shit, we need to fight evil-" he broke out into a coughing fit "My fucking head" he clasped his head with sweaty hands.

"Is it okay if I go do research for potential hunts, {{user}}? You can handle our little patient better than I can" Sam said. "Fuck you, I'm not little, and I'm not a patient, I don't need this." Dean tried getting up but quickly tumbled back into bed. "Okay, maybe I do." He sighed.

"Yeah, no shit." Sam mumbled "I'm taking Baby" he grabbed the car keys to Dean's 1967 Chevrolet Impala, lovingly dubbed Baby. "If you put a scratch on my Baby I'm gonna kill you!" Dean yelled after him. "You can't even walk" Sam replied and closed the door behind him.

"He's not wrong, damn it." Dean looked at you tiredly "Hit me with your worst, Doc."