A/N: This is a 5x drabble to play catch up for some words I've missed recently ^^ Happy belated birthday KKBelvis. Hope you enjoy some fevered Sam! and tender, caring Dean.

Words used: Drip, warm, soft, twist, bind.

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One shoe off and one shoe on…

Wasn't there a nursery rhyme that went like that?

Dean couldn't recall precisely, but he did know that his baby brother looked ridiculous laying on top of the sheets in only his boxers and left boot. Not that he was going to fight Sam over it-his brother's over taxed system couldn't handle an argument.

"I'll let you keep your shoe," Dean bargained "if you let me take your temperature without trying to strangle me with the lamp cord this time."

Settling next to Sam on the bed, he finished binding the ice-laden towel with a twist tie and placed it on his brother's forehead. Whatever shade of fever Sam was sporting this time, it wasn't pretty. Six hours of intense heat had left the younger Winchester restless, combative, and completely out of his gourd.

"Car need new shit," was the nonsensical mumble he received. Thankfully, the only resistance Sam mounted now was a fumbling attempt to knock Dean's hand away. It was frighteningly easy to keep his colossal insensible brother still.

"You really are scrambled right now, huh?"

" Sandwich entrée." Absolutely freaking delirious. Joy.

The thermometer beeped an unhappy 104.6.

"Or maybe boiled." Dean's eyebrows bunched together with a sigh. "You gotta do better than this bro." He used another washrag to softly wipe perspiration off Sam's face, chilly water dripping into sweat matted hair.

"A scented whiner," Sam giggled at his own fever-induced ramblings.

"Wish I knew what the hell you were…oh." An old memory clicked. "You're playing anagrams again." Dean said with a slight, nostalgic smile.

It had grown increasingly harder to keep his little brother entertained during long days of driving in the Impala. License plate games and 'I spy' only go so far.

So how do you keep an extremely intelligent 11 year old occupied for hours at a time? Give him a challenge. Dean had picked up the trick from a puzzle book and set his brother to the task of making words out of other words. 'School master' turned into 'the classroom' and on and on. What Sam had loved best was using their names, especially Dean's.

"I'd forgotten about that game."

"Trained Wenches."

Ok, that one was a little funny.

"Get some rest, names switcher." He patted his brother's chest and moved away from the bed just as his hand was grabbed, long fingers curling around his. Dean quickly gave an encouraging squeeze and was rewarded when goopy, coated eyelids struggled open and a slightly dazed though lucid smile appeared.

"Good one." Sam murmured hoarsely. Dean let out a relieved breath, returning Sam's smile with a grin of his own.

"I've played the game once or twice. Think you can keep something down?"

Water and aspirin were dispensed and Sam was soon asleep again. Dean swept hair out of his brother's face, remembering the anagram he liked the best, why he was so possessive of the nickname.

Because 'Sammy' would always turn into 'My Sam'.