A/N: Helen Bache – this one's for you. I hope you had/have a wonderful birthday and I wish I could write you lots of squishy things but I don't have nonsensical middle of the night babbles to back me up. I hope you enjoy the fic least.
Sam fervently mopped Dean's brow with a damp cloth as he radiated heat.
'gtoffme' Dean mumbled
'You're sick Dean' Sam said 'you can't even make words'
'then let me sleep' Dean said, taking the time to open his eyes and articulate each word.
Sam huffed as he lay the cloth over Dean's forehead and retreated to his own bed, where he perched himself on the edge and continued to watch his brother.
'I can see you' grumbled Dean after five minutes
'it's this or see a doctor like I asked the first time' said Sam
'Seriously?' muttered Dean 'brothers suck'
A/N: See the review button? Yep, the one right there; press it. Seriously, right now. Whoa right? There's a pop up window (which I'm, like, totally not excited by every time) where you can write words. To me. Go on, do it, I'll love you forever.