I just wanted to torture Dean and Sam together. No plot and less point…

"HETCHOO! HETCHOO!"

"Bless you…" Dean muttered, pulling his voice along his own scratchy throat.

"Thanks." Sam muttered, burying himself deeper in his jacket and coughing a few times into his hands. He was trying to be subtle, Dean could tell, but Dean knew his little brother was sick.

"You alright?" He asked, like he didn't already know the answer.

"Think I might be ATCHOO coming down with-" Another coughing fit, "Something."

"Yeah. Sounds like it." Dean said. The sneezes and coughs from the passenger seat had been coming with increased frequency for the last several hours, that and Sam's constant fiddling with the car's climate control had told Dean that something was wrong and getting worse fast. "Next place, we'll stop." He muttered. His own throat was killing him, and Sam constantly messing with the car's temperature had his own running wild, one moment he was sweating the next he was clenching his teeth to keep himself from shivering.

He had thought maybe there'd be a chance they could make it to Bobby's but there was a headache pressing in on all sides of Dean's skull and he wanted nothing more than to drop into a bed, right here and now. Hell, if his brother wasn't coughing and sneezing like he was trying to dislodge internal organs, Dean might have just pulled the car over to the side of the road and taken a quick nap to try and refresh himself, but it was all too obvious his brother needed a real bed. Soon.

A tiny voice whispered that he needed one too, but he ignored it. He had to take care of his brother first.

A/N: How am I doing so far?