Tales of Winchesters & Co

Fever & Fluff

Heya, Darlin' Readers, how are you all doing? Here is an update on some fluffy romance. Lemme know how you like it.

The bunker was unusually cold, and Evelyn felt chills pass through her like waves on the beach. She could not possibly sleep. She hugged herself and pulled her legs closer. The time was 3:30, and sleep was far off. She wondered if any of the guys were up.

Quickly pulling her phone from the side table, she covered herself with the blanket.

She knew Sam was usually a deep sleeper, but not Dean. If he wakes up, he will be cranky the whole day and snap at every little thing. Dropping the idea, she gathered courage and wrapped herself in the blanket even more. The socks were not helping either. As soon as she reached her room's door, she felt another chill.

Maybe it was the fever. Evelyn hadn't slept for two days straight. The last hunting trip they have been was hectic. The motel had a very hard couch, and the beds were small. She didn't want to say to the guys because she would be forced to share the bed with Dean since Sam hardly fit in his, and he slept like a pig. But sharing the bed with Dean had consequences. He was a light sleeper, and she had a habit of throwing arms and legs. She couldn't do that to him. He needs rest, or he would be angry.

She walked into the library to go to the control room to adjust the temperature a bit.

"What're you doin' up?" That deep voice spoke, and she turned to see Dean, who looked like he just had a bath. He was wearing his grey t-shirt, and his skin looked flushed. He was a feast for sore eyes. She shook her head and realized how ridiculous she looked, wrapped in a blanket from head to toe.

"Hey...," she croaked and cleared her throat.

"Are you cold?" He asked, his eyebrows scrunched in a perfect frown as he briskly walked towards her, and unannounced, he put the back of his hand to her forehead that was peeking from the blanket. Another chill rushed to her, and she slumped into herself.

"You're cold," she groaned, moving her body away from his touch.

"Whoa...," Dean looked at her, worried. "C'mere," he brought the chair and pushed her into it.

"Stay," he commanded, his eyebrows raised a little bit, and his eyes sorted hers intensely, and his left hand was on the handle of the chair hovering over her, and all she could do was nod. Her eyes felt heavy and had a slight burning sensation.

Within a minute, he walked back, and she turned to look at him. He had a box in his hands. The same box Sam and she set one afternoon in the bunker with utmost dedication. Once she recognized, she groaned. "I'm fine, Deaannnn."

He looked at her seriously and then turned to the box and picked the thermometer.

"Come on, say Aaaahhhh," he said, opening his mouth for her to mimic.

She frowned at him, and he waited. "We can do this all night," he smiled. She plucked the thermometer from his hand and put it in her mouth, surprising him. The last time he put a thermometer, the underside of her tongue hurt.

He sat on the table, but his legs touched the ground. She lives with giants, she chuckled, and the thermometer was slipping, so she held onto it.

As soon as it beeped, she pulled it out and saw. 102, it read. "Ughh...," she groaned when Dean pulled it from her hand.

"Awesome," he grinned at her sarcastically, putting it away.

"Be a good girl and OBEY," he demanded, and she scrunched her face. "No, I'm not going to the doctor," she stated, pointing her finger at him.

"Great, that's exactly obeying," he chuckled and pulled Tylenol out of the box.

"If the fever doesn't come down, we are going," he stated. She took the tablet and hoped it would be alright by morning.

"Don't move," he said.

After he threw the medicine into the box, he held the thermometer and the box and walked away.

She closed her eyes and felt the weakness take over.

Without notice, her blanketed self was being lifted in his arms effortlessly, and she shrieked.

"DEAN...I CAN WALK."

"Shush now, Sammy's sleeping," adjusting her in his arms, one hand firmly held her upper back, and his fingers wound her right arm and the other hand around the back of her knees. His intoxicating smell overpowered her senses. The perfect jaw looked so sharp from this angle. She sighed. He was hot AF.

"Now, humor me, how long has it been since you slept?" he asked, glancing at her for a second and looked at her door, which was already open, so he walked them towards her room.

"What?" she asked, acting clueless. He gently placed her on the bed, and she tried to get out of the blanket, feeling wound up. She noticed him going to her closet.

"I'm stuck," she groaned after trying and failing to come out of the blanket. He shook his head, bringing her long pajama pants from her closet. She momentarily realized how well he was acquainted with her things. He placed her pants on the bed and helped her out of the blankets, gently chuckling.

"What?" she pouted; he was annoying.

"Nothin'," he said.

"As much as I love those shorts, you gotta wear these," he handed the pants. A soft blush formed on her frowny face, and she bit her lower lip from smiling.

He turned away, waiting for her to change. Though she wanted to deny it, the cold she felt made her comply. She changed inside the blanket at super speed.

"I'm done," she said as she placed her shorts aside on the table. He turned towards her and sat beside her.

"Scoot," he said as he placed his phone on the side table.

"What?" she looked at him, surprised.

"Someone gotta take care of you," he said casually, pushing her away as he settled and pulled her close. Her heart sped eventfully, and the weakness combined with the sensations of Dean made her giddy.

He turned off the light and pulled her even closer, and sighed.

"I should have known," Dean grunted after a silent minute.

"Known what?" she whispered as she enjoyed in his tight embrace. "That you were not sleeping on that stupid couch, why are you so stubborn," he asked; a hint of anger she knew so well took over.

She snuggled in the crook of his neck and held him tighter, feeling a joy settle in. Maybe she didn't have to say those words to him. She knew how much he loved her. A chuckle escaped her. He rubbed circles on her back, making her sigh. She clutched the t-shirt on his back and scooted even closer.

"You're like a teddy bear," she whispered.

"No, I am not," he argued, but she knew he was smiling. Then she felt her forehead singe; he kissed her gently.

"You're like a puppy," he decided. She didn't deny it. She felt sleep taking over her because of his gentle touches and innumerable kisses.

"God, I love you," she heard a gentle groan and didn't have the energy to respond except smile while succumbing to sleep.