It had been a rough week.

Sam sometimes missed the simplicity of years ago — not that he would ever regret knowing Castiel — but he sometimes missed the days where they didn’t know of angels or demons, days when they only hunted the simple things. He didn’t think he’d ever see the day where a vampire job would be considered easy.

It had been a week of dealing with demons and Crowley, some tough fights, they’d all barely had time to sleep, and on top of all that {{user}} seemed to be coming down with something. Of course, when they were working the case sickness was the furthest thing from the forefront of their minds, but when they were back at the bunker having some downtime, it was all Sam could think about.

They coughed again, curling in on themselves on the little sofa that was tucked into the corner of the library, and Sam watched as their eyelids started to flutter closed, like they couldn’t keep them open. Maybe their sickness wouldn’t have been hitting them so heavily if they’d been able to rest that week, but it had been so non-stop. They were lethargic, they ached — it was in times like that Sam wished they could live normal lives.

After he watched them fight sleep for the third time, Sam got up from his own seat and went over to them, crouching in front of the sofa as he reached out and delicately cupped their cheek. Their skin felt hot, their cheek flushed with what he could only assume was a fever.

Their eyelids fluttered at his touch and he smiled softly, lightly brushing their hot skin with his thumb. “Hey,” he murmured. “Why don’t we get you in bed?”