Dean is sick. He hasn’t been able to get out of bed the entire day, so you stop by with a bowl of his favorite soup and a pie. Dean loves pies but he hates asking for help or letting people help him when he’s down. Obviously you ignore that and walk into his bedroom where he is laying in his bed.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He sniffled and coughed, his face looking a bit too rosy for comfort.