Sam paused, waiting for the sound to come again, but after a few seconds of silence, he shrugged. "No idea."

A few long seconds passed of quiet peace, and just as Dean was about to brush it off and go back to the gadget he had found in a storage closet now in front of him, the sound of something hitting a door hard made him stand up straight. 

"What the ever-loving hell?" Dean grunted, his curiosity and paranoia getting the best of him and shoving him down the hall. 

As he approached the room with said noise, he heard colorful curse words paint a canvas behind the door.

"Mother fucking FUCK! God damn piece of fucking shit! Bitch-ass piece of CRAP!"

His eyebrows rose as each sailor-led word broke through the barrier and proved that something was definitely not going the way of his roommate, and it was suffering the consequences of it. 

"Y/N, you ok in there?" he said, leaning his ear on the door, and instantly everything went still on the other side.

"Um, yeah... Just peachy," she replied before clearing her throat. "Having an absolutely fucking amazing time in here."

Though the comment was said in a tone that was meant to convince him that it was indeed "an absolutely fucking amazing time," it didn't take a detective to know that was most certainly not the case. 

"Do you need any help with whatever the hell is going on in there?" he asked through the thick wooden door.

There was a shuffle and a huff of annoyed air as she moved around the space and came closer to the door. 

"No, no! I'll figure it out. Thanks for the offer, though," she muttered, and Dean shook his head at her stubbornness. 

"Y/N, you sound like you're wrestling an elephant in there. I'm coming in," he huffed, already reaching for the door handle and hearing the protest against it. 

"Don't!" she shouted, but it was too late. He stared at her in surprise at first, but it slowly grew into a mischievous grin. "I said don't come in."

After struggling to get her leggings on after a shower, Y/N attempted to put on a sweatshirt but found it to be harder than running a marathon without any training. The sweatshirt arms were getting mixed up with the head hole, and it was a big mess of tangled fabric and limbs. Normally, it wouldn't even be a struggle, but with whatever illness crawled in her and died in the last 24 hours, it might as well have been an Olympic sport.

"And miss out on whatever the hell is happening here? Yeah, I think not," he laughed, stepping into the room further. 

"Not too close. I'm sick," she sniffled, taking a step back and holding her hands out in precaution. 

"Y/N, it's just a cold," he sighed, still moving closer as she continued to step back. 

"No! I'm pretty sure it's the flu or possibly the plague from that Victorian ghost-child case we solved last week," she warned, trying to point the finger at him but realizing it was still tangled in one of the sleeves. "I'm almost certain it's contagious."

"Like I care. Let me help." She couldn't see it, but he rolled his eyes with glee, enjoying seeing the big, tough girl he was used to finally showing some human qualities. 

"Dean-"

He didn't listen and was already headed to help untangle her. 

"Hold Still. Y/N! You're making this harder for the both of us!" he argued, trying to figure out the pretzel she had created in the mess of getting dressed. 

"I didn't ask you to help!" she grunted in annoyance, fighting tooth and nail to not let him near her and failing miserably. 

"That's not much different than normal!" he argued. "Let me just-"

Some grunting and maneuvering of the clothing later, her Y/H/C hair finally popped out of the right hole, and she was enveloped in the giant sweatshirt with hair statically clinging to the crewneck and around her face. She grabbed one of the too-long sleeves and used it to wipe her slightly running nose.

"Thanks," she sniffled, wiggling her nose before brushing the hair away with the sleeves. 

"Anytime," he laughed, trying to smooth out the sweatshirt and the hair she was unsuccessfully moving. "How ya feeling?"

"How do you think?" she motioned to herself before sniffling again and clearing her throat before throwing herself on the bed non-gracefully. "I'm hot one second and then freezing the next. My body aches, and honestly, every piece of clothing that touches me irritates me. My nose won't stop running, and my throat is dry as hell, yet somehow can't stop producing mucus to cough up." At that moment, she let out a cough that would put a grown man to shame as if to prove her point. Then she grabbed a pillow to hug close to her as she curled in a ball at the top of the bed. "The medicine I took before my shower hasn't kicked in yet, so... I'm doing great. Thanks for checking in," she faked a smile before quickly wiping it off and stuffing her face into the pillow.

The laugh that came from the other side of the room made her glare burn through the pain, and she stared at him as if she were death himself, waiting to reap him for revenge. 

"Do you find my discomfort amusing?" she questioned with a deep tone that made him cover his mouth with his hand to hide the grin on his face. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he apologized, although the laughing wasn't making it seem sincere. He moved to the bed and sat, staring at her from the edge of it. "It's just different seeing you like this. I think this is a first for me."

"Yeah, 'cause I don't like to be vulnerable around you guys. Why do you think you've never seen me sick before?" she coughed again, sitting up to try and keep the coughing fit from turning into a full attack.

Dean stood up and grabbed a box of tissues on the dresser across the room as he replied. "I just figured your immune system was great, or you have Cas heal you before you get a chance to get to this point," he shrugged, handing her the box and sitting on the side, closer to her and bumping her knee with his own. "He's unfortunately out of commission this time, so you'll have to handle me as your caretaker."

"Hmm," she hummed, taking the offering and blowing her nose before tossing it to the trashcan she had already set up by her bedside. 

"You don't have to hide your vulnerable side with us, Y/N/N," he said softly as she grabbed another tissue and fiddled with it. "You are human. At least none of my other tests have proven otherwise..." 

She looked at him, showing he had gotten to her soft side some with the joke. 

"I'm used to being miserable by myself," she replied after a moment, moving further into the pillow barricade she had propped up behind her.

"Well, now that you don't have to be, I'm making you soup," he said matter-of-factly, standing and patting her leg before walking toward the door.

"What? Dean, you don't have to-"

"Yup, we'll watch movies, snuggle under blankets, and drink hot tea. Actually, something a little more stout for me cause tea's disgusting," he started to ramble.

"Dean, really, don't-" 

She was starting to sit up, and he held a finger up, making her halt. 

"I'll have Sam run to the store for better medicine real fast and get some Zinc. It is zinc that helps with immunity, right? Oh, and I have a special concoction that Rowena left when Sam had that cold the other month..." He continued to say everything he would do for her as he left the room.

"Dean!" she shouted after him, not wanting to get up but also not wanting to lose the battle. When there was no answer, she took a long breath and threw herself back into the bed. "That's an argument I don't have the energy to fight right now."

"Save your energy for rest!" Dean shouted back. 

"Jerk..." she smiled to herself.

"Dean, what the hell? I was using that!" Sam's voice sounded from the other room, and she quirked her head at the open door. 

"We need to look up home remedies for the plague. Your research has been shifted."

My lovelies forever: