A/N: Another one from the fever meme.

"Hey hey hey." Sam crouches on the carpet beside Dean, catches his elbow. "You OK?" He holds him steady, carding through his hair. "Hit your head?"

"Somebody left their boots on the ground."

Sam eyes Dean's black lace-ups, tangled around his feet. "Yeah." He thumbs his brother's burning forehead, grips both arms tight. "C'mon up."

"You should really..." Dean's face mashes into his chest. Sam feels his hot lips moving against his shirt. "Sh' really look inna that."


Flushed under the sheet, surrounded by pillows, Dean lays quietly while Sam moulds the bag of frozen corn to his head.


There's a crease between Dean's brows that deepens as his eyes land on Sam's jacket zipper.

"Dean?" Sam cups his burning temple, presses a delicate kiss to his forehead. That gaze is still locked on the little metal teeth when Sam pulls back. Sam glances down at his coat. "What?"

"Joey..." Dean licks cracked lips. "What're you wearin'?"


That's when Dean pukes.


"What day is it?"

Dean blinks up at him with shiny eyes.


Dean looks worriedly at the bedside clock, the television.

"Know your name?"

A relieved smile flickers over his face. "Shane."


Sam tugs down the brim of the cowboy hat. "Howdy, pardner."

Dean sits up, ice pack tumbling to floor. He strains forward, pushes back the sheets. "Hey. Joey."

"Hey." Sam settles close to him on the bed, scoops up the frozen veggies. "You dropped these."

Dean glances warily at the plastic bag but lets Sam ease it over the growing goose egg on his skull.

"How you feelin'?"

Dean's eyes travel down over Sam's cowboy shirt, back up to his eyes. He sighs, sags onto Sam's shoulder.

"How's the headache, on a scale of one to sucking?" Sam rubs his brother's feverish back with his free hand. "You need another pill?"

Dean sniffs in a deep breath of Sam's white button-up, pats his belt buckle. "Hnngmf."


"Coffee, Shane?"

Dean drags a hand through his greasy hair, frowns down at the cowboy hat nestled against his chest.

"Fever broke. You're a caffeine-friendly zone again."

"I'm..." His pale face splits in a gaping yawn. "What'd you call me?"

Sam sets the mug on the nightstand, passes a palm over Dean's brow. He dips down, kisses his cool cheek. "Welcome back."

Prompt: A lighter bit of h/c. Dean is running a high fever. And he's convinced that he's a cowboy in one of his beloved Westerns. Bonus points for Sam putting on his cowboy outfit and this having a soothing effect on Dean.