Because of the Fever

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Third Person POV:

"You should've gone with Sam," Elena groans, fighting Dean as he tows her into his room. She's been bitchy all week, her discomfort causing her to lash out to the Winchesters. Dean was just about sick of it, but he knew he couldn't get mad at her. Not when it's his fault she's so sick-it was his idea to play in the rain.

"I'm not leaving you alone in the bunker when you're two seconds away from coughing up a lung," Dean counters, scooping Elena off her feet when she tries to push away from him.

"Dean, put me down!" Elena's always been grumpy when she's sick, but Dean hasn't seen it first hand until now. He just ignores her as he carries her the rest of the way to his room. "Dean, if you leave now, you can catch up to Sam and hunt the spirit together. I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Dean snaps, practically tossing her on the bed. She lands on the bend, exhaling air sharply. She glares up at Dean even as he brings the covers up around her shoulders. He gently tucks her in, ignoring how pissed she is so he can take care of her properly. Dean places his hand on her forehead, frowning when he feels her temperature. "Lena, you're burning up."

"I'm fine," she repeats stubbornly, but this time she can't hold back a slight sniffle. Dean rolls his eyes when he hears how stuffed up her nose is, grabbing the box of tissues on his nightstand and handing it to her.

"Blow your nose," he orders, shoving the box into her hands. Elena reluctantly takes it from him, quickly blowing her nose. Dean gives her a pointed look, the sound she makes resembling one of tyrannosaurus. Elena slumps in the covers, avoiding his gaze. "I told you, you're not fine. Now sit tight and I'm gonna go get you some soup."

"Dean, you don't need to baby me," Elena calls after him, but Dean is already down the hall and out of earshot. Groaning, Elena flops back down on the pillows and stares up at the ceiling.

She would never admit this to Dean, but she feels terrible. Her head is spinning, the constant feeling of nausea preventing her from doing just about everything. She hasn't been able to breathe through her nose for days, the back of her throat sore from the unbearable attacks of snot. It hurts every time she swallows and it hurts every time she speaks. But pain and discomfort have always made her moody, and now Dean is paying the price.

Dean enters the kitchen, his eyes roaming over the cabinets. He barely knows where anything is, but thankfully he finds a can of chicken noodle soup. Dean pours it into a bowl and sticks in the microwave, his eyes roaming to the door and down the hall. He knows Elena is lying in bed staring at the ceiling, probably thinking about how bad she actually feels and deciding how much more fight she has in her. Smirking to himself, he grabs the soup and heads back down the hall. By the time he gets back, Elena is only half conscious. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Dean nudges her with his elbow.

"I thought you wanted me to rest," Elena groans, rolling away from Dean and hiding her face in the pillow.

"Well, now I want you to sit up and eat this soup," Dean says, nudging her again. Mumbling something that sounds a lot like You're an idiot, Elena sits up and looks over at Dean. "Oh, don't give me that look. If anyone should be giving that look, it should be me. You're a real pain in the ass, you know."

"Yeah, 'cause you're just a ray of sunshine," Elena slurs, closing her eyes and slumping down against Dean's shoulder. He smiles slightly, the look on her face giving him a moment of joy before he remembers the task at hand.

"Hey, don't go falling asleep on me," he teases, pushing her off slightly. "You've gotta eat this." Elena glares at him, but she opens her jaw and lets him place a spoonful of chicken noodle soup into her mouth. Elena squirms when it touches her tongue, nearly spitting it all out.

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