A/N: This had a life of its own and quickly became more sap than sick.

LJ Prompt: What if we have a sick Dean stopping by to visit his baby brother, and Jess insists on taking care of him and making him soup and all that jazz?

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just play with other people's toys.

Dean sat in the Impala and stared at Sam's apartment building. He'd been arguing with himself for the last thirty miles.

Just go there...No, get a motel...Don't be stupid, he's your brother...But he's the little brother…This isn't right...

He'd just finished killing a feisty water spirit, and if the gash in his side wasn't bad enough, the the cold he was catching was the final straw. Okay, not catching, more like already caught.

He rested his head against the steering wheel; the cool vinyl soothing his too-warm head. He was gearing up to re-start the self-arguing when there was a knock on the window. Dean jumped and was reaching for his gun when he realized it was Sam. He sheepishly moved his hand away and rolled down the window.

"Hey…"

"How long were you going to sit in the car? You were supposed to be here over an hour ago."

Dean coughed and ran a hand down his face. Before he could answer, he saw Sam's eyes sweep over him.

"Okay, where are you hurt, and how long have you been sick?"

Dean blinked up at him. Sam could still read him like an open book.

Sighing, Dean leaned back against the headrest. "I'm not hurt that badly. I just...really don't feel well and I was debating whether to bring that into your place." To emphasize his point, he sneezed twice against his arm. He closed his eyes and wearily massaged them.

Sam crouched down and placed a hand across Dean's forehead. "What knocked your head to make you that considerate?" he murmured. "Don't be an idiot. Get your ass inside. Now."

Dean dropped his hands in his lap and sneezed again. The last thing he wanted to do was face Jess and Sam looking and feeling pitiful. It made him all kinds of uncomfortable and he wasn't up for uncomfortable.

Sam was already at the trunk, hauling out his duffel bags. He slammed it shut and walked back to the driver's side. "Jess won't care, Dean, you know that. Now come on."

xxxxx

Dean slowly climbed the stairs behind his brother, who was carrying all of his gear. Add insult to injury, Sammy, why don't you. They finally reached Sam's apartment. The door was slightly ajar, requiring him to only gently nudge it open so they could enter.

"Sam? Is that you?" Jess called from the kitchen.

Dean rubbed his forehead and thought that if it wasn't Sam, she was screwed. He made a mental note to remind Sam to never, ever, leave the door ajar again.

"Yeah, it's me. I brought him up." Sam dropped Dean's bags on a chair and closed the door behind Dean.

Jess walked up, wiping her hands on a small towel and smiled at him. "Hey there! What the hell were you doing sitting in your car all that time?"

Sam grinned. "He was losing an argument with himself."

"Ah...that'll do it." Jess laughed.

Dean cleared his throat and smiled. "It's like I don't even have to be here. You two just carry on without me."

That made her laugh harder, and she tossed the towel on the back of a chair. "Come here, and give me a hug."

She pulled him close and gave a warm hug. Maybe it was the fever or maybe it was the long-assed week he had, but tonight, her embrace felt comforting. He returned the hug, adding an extra squeeze at the end.

When she pulled away, she looked closely at his face. Frowning, she placed a hand on his forehead. "Christ, Dean, you're burning up!"

"I'm okay, really, just...a little - hhhh-hih-heh-ITSCHEW" He froze for a second, hand over his face. He closed his eyes and sighed. So much for that.

Jess narrowed her eyes at him. She put her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side. "Sam - put him in the second bedroom, okay?"

Dean stammered, "No, Jess, it's okay, I was gonna go to a motel so I don't...um…" Dean's voice trailed off as he received a serious Jessica Moore bitchface.

He turned to Sam and said, "Why did you teach her that?"

Sam raised his hands and laughed. "That was all her, dude, I swear. C'mon, let's get you set up."

Jess nodded and picked up the discarded towel. She went back to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be there in a minute."

Sam led Dean into a small bedroom, depositing his bag on the small desk in the corner. He rubbed the back of his neck and gestured at Dean's clothes. "Hey - get changed into something comfortable, and then let me look at your side."

"How'd you know that's where I was hurt?"

Sam scoffed, "Seriously, why are you even asking me that? Hurry up, okay?"

As he turned to go, Dean muttered, "I feel like I'm ten…"

Sam paused while he was closing the door and looked Dean in the eye. "You deserve to be taken care of, whether you're ten or twenty-five. Let us do this for you, okay?"

Dean didn't know what to say or how to respond, so instead he sighed and nodded. Satisfied, Sam nodded and closed the door.

Dean dragged his hand down his face, and changed into a pair of sweats and a fresh t-shirt. He winced as he pulled it down over the gash in his side. He'd just finished shoving the dirty clothes in his bag when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened, and Jess poked her head inside. "All decent?"

Dean snorted.

She laughed and walked in.

Dean sat down on the bed, rubbing his temples. His head was killing him, much more than his side. His throat hurt, his body ached, and he really wanted to lay down.

He felt a cool hand on his face and heard a tsk-ingsound. "Hmmm?" he asked, turning towards her.

Softly, Jess said, "Here - take these." She pressed two pills in his hand. He stared at them, as if not sure what he was looking at. "They won't bite, silly. Have some water." He took a glass from her and swallowed them, grimacing at the pain in his throat.

"Mmmph...thanks." He gave his eyes one last rub and cleared his throat. Now that he was inside and getting comfortable, he saw no reason to hide how he was feeling. His breath hitched and he sneezed forcefully. "Ugh...God…"

Jess gently ruffled his hair. "Okay, get yourself tucked in bed. Sam wants to check you over himself. I'm gonna go make you some soup in the meantime."

Dean sniffed and crawled under the covers. "Jess.."

She paused at the door, her hand on the knob, and looked back at him. "Yeah?"

He met her gaze. "Thanks...I don't...I mean…"

Jess let go of the doorknob and went back to him. She pulled the blanket up and smoothed it over his chest. "You listen to me, Dean Winchester. I love your brother. He loves you. And you know I love you as well. This is your home as much as it is ours. I don't know what you do or how you end up in more crap situations than the average person, but it doesn't matter. Sam trusts you, and that's good enough for me. When you're hurting, you come here, and we'll help you. There's no argument, there's no fighting. Just...come here."

Dean didn't move. He swallowed a couple times, and fought against the tears that threatened to spill.

Sam walked in, carrying a first aid kit. "Hey…"

Jess stood straighter and flashed a smile at Dean. She quickly wiped at her own eyes and patted his arm. Sam looked at her questioningly. She gave him a small shake of her head, stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on his cheek. "I'm going to make some soup," she whispered, and left.

Sam watched her go, then turned back to his brother. "What was that about?"

Dean looked down at the blanket. "That's one hell of a girl you got there, Sammy."

Sam huffed a laugh and set down the kit. "You're telling me. Lift up your shirt so I can check your side."

==end==