A/N: For madserver's birthday! I know, I know, I'm a day late. Sorry about that. So this is actually kind of a spoof of the "Dean has a fever" theme, and I tried to pick on some of the clichés from sick!Dean fics. Don't get me wrong, I love them but I want to try something different. I am going to right a proper angsty sick!Dean fic for madserver's birthday, but you might be waiting a week or two. Let me know if this is actually funny, haha since its my first attempt at Supernatural humor.

A sip of water down the wrong pipe, and a hacking cough followed. Summer with the air conditioner broken, and sweat dripped down his face. An annoying yapping dog tangling his feet in a leash, and he stumbled.

Sam shot Dean a sympathetic glance, and rested a hand on the nape of his neck.

"Don't worry, I'll get the room." As soon as Sam was out of the car, he whipped open his iPhone. After running his EMF application to ensure there was no sulfuric activity, he called Bobby.

Without pausing for Bobby to answer, he got straight to the point.

"Dean has a fever."

Sam heard Bobby's sharp intake of breath and high-pitched scream before he promised to be there in five. Never mind that he was four states over.

Bobby managed to beat his record, and was standing outside the room even before Sam got there.

"I got supplies. Medicine, water, drinks, food, cold compresses, needles and thread, and handcuffs."

"Handcuffs?" Sam replied, his eyebrows threatening to crawl into his hairline.

"To keep him in bed." Bobby shot back, and Sam nodded in appreciation.

They linked arms, gathering moral support from each other as they prepared to face Dean. Squeezing into the door frame while hand in hand proved difficult, but like all challenges so far they persevered.

Dean stood there, mouth open and gaping, staring at them.

"Oh no! Its worse than I thought! Dean doesn't recognize us!" Bobby shouted, and immediately they both ran to Dean's side. Sam picked him up, cradling him like a baby and rocking him gently while Bobby subtly put one handcuff around his wrist and the other around the bed frame.

"There!" They both crowed in triumph, as a pissed off Dean continued to gape.

"Don't worry Dean! Its for your own good. We love you, and we will nurse you back to help. We'll bathe your fevered brow, wake you up from hell-induced nightmares, and even show our affection by throwing you into an ice bath when your fever climbs. And when we finally succumb to our own exhaustion, I will lay my arm across your heaving chest and be able to detect even the slightest hitch in your breath no matter how fast asleep I am." After that monologue from Sam, Dean looked, if anything, more freaked out.

"But..." he started, confusion evident on his face. "I'm not sick."

Bobby and Sam shared a knowing look, and there expression of concern morphed to looks of placation.

"Sure you're not, son." Bobby said, as he shoved the thermometer into Dean's ear.

"Yea, of course you're not. You were just coughing for no reason the other day." Sam replied with biting sarcasm. He waited for Dean's denial of the coughing.

"Well of course I was coughing! I thought it the hot nurse a booth over though I was choking, she's give me mouth to mouth." Now that got Sam and Bobby's attention.

"What about your fevered brow? I saw sweat on your fevered brow!" Sam enfored this by jabbing a finger towards Dean's chest.

"Dude, its summer and the air conditioner broke. You had to change your shirt every two seconds to keep your sasquatch sweat from ruining my baby's interior." As Dean spoke, his hand started to pick the lock on the handcuffs with a paper clip that had magically appeared out of know where.

"But then your knees buckled, my arm the only thing keeping you from collapsing in the middle of the parking lot. I had to sling your arm around my waist to keep you upright!" Sam responded, desperate to convince Dean to accept help for his illness.

It took another minute of Dean gaping before he could response.

"What the fuck? Did you turn into a fanfiction-writing fangirl while I was gone?"

At this point Bobby butted in.

"Wait, so you're not sick?"

"NO!" Dean shouted.

"But I bought supplies." Bobby hadn't been around Sam for years without adopting his own bitch face, and he used it in full force, holding up the plastic bags. Tears swam in his eyes at the thought of not being able to help his boys, and Dean took pity on him.

"I have an idea." Dean said, lunging himself at his little brother.

So that was the story of how Sam thought Dean was sick, Bobby came to the aid, and they spent the weekend nursing a severely concussed Sammy back to health. And if the Impala suddenly became sentient and climbed into bed with Dean, well, no one was telling.

Weirder things have happened.