My Supernatural Prompts Thread - [Total: 8] - (Dean, Cas; M) [Updated: 8/21/2015]

[Kali]

AMAZING!! I can't wait to read more from you!

[NorthernLady]

Blackie!!!!!!!

I felt like crying, laughing and slapping Dean at the same time! Well done! And the ending... ;-)

[PortlandLove]

You're just the best. I love your writing. That is all.

[MissBayliss]

How and where do you prompt!? Lol I wanna prompt someone

[Sawyer]

How and where do you prompt!? Lol I wanna prompt someone

Go here! I think she's got anon turned on, so you don't need an account to participate.

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Oh...My...Lord...the intense build up of that stuck sneeze was just... I can't even...

[SterlingSilver]

Scatter, these are amazing

Puddin~! Thank you so much! <33 You're always such a sweet heart, and I am so grateful for all the work you put into the forum as a Mod! I'm glad you liked it >w<

I'm speechless, dude. Bravo. Yooouuuu are... truly incredible...

Sen Bereeeeeeet~! *huggle* x33 You always leave such nice comments QwQ! Thank you~!

Best ending!

Lol so well done

Glad you thought so~!

AMAZING!! I can't wait to read more from you!

Thank you!! I hope I don't disappoint >w<~

I felt like crying, laughing and slapping Dean at the same time! Well done! And the ending... ;-)

Ahahaha~! Mission accomplished then ;D Thanks~! Glad you liked~

I felt like crying, laughing and slapping Dean at the same time! Well done! And the ending... ;-)

Thank you Portland~! QwQ!! That makes me so happyyyyy <33

Oh...My...Lord...the intense build up of that stuck sneeze was just... I can't even...

Thanks! I was trying to make sure it was worth all the wait ;D xDD

[SterlingSilver]

Thank you all for so many lovely comments~! Finally back with another prompt, ahaha~

A/N: Yet another Castiel prompt by the lovely foxonthemoon (Northern lady) because I cannot get enough of Cas or her wonderful ideas~ *farts out flowers and rainbows* Thank you for so many beautiful prompts, North~! Also, I threw the fever scene in here because it came to me in a dream. And it was the best dream ever. A bit less sneezes in this one than usual~

Warnings: Gratuitous swearing, some mess, plenty of contagion, coughing toward the end, spoilers up to season 7, and also SEVERE ANGST. Probably not the angstiest, but still more toward serious than funny. Also, sorry if I suck at said angst xDD. I don’t usually write too much of it.

PROMPT: Being an all-powerful Angel of the Lord, Castiel should never get sick. Unless curiosity gets the best of him and he decides to leaves his heavenly defenses off to experiment this particular human condition and the customs associated with it ;-)

Take it as far as you wish Bonus point if Castiel does dream walking (in someone else dream) and still sneezes

~Catching~

Castiel knew weakness. A year or so ago, when the End of Days loomed over all heads like the shadow of a cloud, it had started as a whisper. Bits of himself, his Grace, flecking away as the fingernail of humanity scratched at him. The slow decent into the mud of the earth had been cold and prolonged, as Castiel experienced every loss as a novel experience. His buffer of heavenly energy, strength and sensations that separated him deftly from humankind and its struggles, wore thin. Each day he had felt just a little more helpless…hopeless…useless… The accompanying emotions that forced their way inside had been less than pleasant. Doubt, defeat, grief, frustration, depression… all what he would classify now as negative feelings.

And yet there were weaknesses Castiel did not know. He did not understand the concept of being weak at the knees, for example. It was a colloquialism to describe the crippling joy of seeing a romantic interest. That had not happened to him exactly, though he wondered about it occasionally. He also had curiosities in possessing a weak stomach, even though no one Castiel spent time with was squeamish, and he certainly wasn’t either. Weak will was something he had probably possessed immediately after his search for God disintegrated, but it was not a staple characteristic of him or his boys. He supposed he had a weakness for ground beef, and perhaps a weakness for Dean as well, but the terminology for such affinities was such a human one that Castiel preferred not to use it.

However, the particular weakness Castiel found interesting at the moment had to do with physical weakness. Infirmity. Malaise. Illness. Sam and Dean were sick. According to them, they had both caught a “bug” from digging up a grave in the rain during a conventional salt-n-burn, and had since succumbed to the demands of their bodies. Castiel, while still waging a war in heaven and generally more busy than he had ever been before, took pity on them when Dean prayed for his aid in such a raspy, congested voice. While he had regained all his power and then some, he could still remember pain. Could remember need. And it was very hard to say no to his charge when he sounded as he did.

So here he was, standing guard between Sam and Dean’s beds in yet another grubby motel room somewhere south of River City, Iowa. Standing guard was somewhat of an overstatement, Castiel supposed. A more fitting parallel was “playing nanny,” but Dean had not liked that precise wording. Something about, “Dudes don’t need nannies, Cas! Why you always gotta weird things up whenever you’re around?” Castiel was not certain as to why it made a difference, as the nanny comparison was honestly more similar to his role at the moment.

Ever since he arrived earlier that day, he had been fetching tissues, handing over aspirin, spreading blankets on or off bodies, enduring an almost unendurable amount of whining, and sighing a great deal despite not needing to breathe. Why the brothers felt the need to suffer their illness rather than have him heal them of it was anyone’s guess, though they both asserted it was because of a wager they had created when first realizing they had caught the same cold. First one to break and request Angel Mojo loses. Castiel knew then that there were things he would never understand about humankind.

“Caaaaaaas?” Not for the first time, he found Dean’s voice more grating than Sam’s. The angel felt the silky threads of his patience fraying at the ends.

“Yes, Dean?”

Green eyes, bright with fever yet lacking the defiant gleam that both exasperated and charmed Castiel in equal measures, flicked up to him from the bed where Dean huddled. The image caused an unpleasant, curious clenching in Castiel’s chest, and he bent a little to better hear the sick man as he mumbled something against the bed sheets.

“What?” It felt very similar to his adventures with a cell phone. “I didn’t get that.”

Dean probably would have replied, but a familiar grimace passed his features and he crumpled with the force of what came after. “Ha’gitshhh!” Sam, presumably trying to rest, lobbed a dirty Kleenex at his brother.

“Shuddub.”

Castiel had noticed that Sam’s cold was more of a head-achy, fatigue-inducing, stuffy headed coma, as opposed to Dean’s sneezy, feverish daze. Neither of them was particularly happy or comfortable-looking anyhow, and Castiel was truly bereaved by both men’s suffering (Dean’s especially). Though he could not help but voice his unwavering opinion on the matter.

“Dean,” he said, and something in his tone must have conveyed his intention because Dean groaned and rolled onto his other side.

“Just mojo us someb Jack Dandiels.”

“Water a’d orange juice, Deand.”

“Uh, dno. Jack please. A’d a dehubidifier while you’re ad id.”

“Hubidifier, Deand!”

“Bitch, you don’d dow whad I like!”

“Oh by god, you’re like a kid. You’re a kid, Deand.”

Castiel sighed softly to himself, aware that this was around the fifty-sixth or fifty-seventh time he had done so since the brothers fell ill. It was a very exhausting business to tend to them, even though his renewed celestial power reserves allowed him to function without sleep. Castiel could not decide if he missed sleep or not. The experience had been at once soothing and terrifying, in that he could slip into a recharging state, yet lose so much time doing so. Sometimes he would wake in another place altogether, if he had slept in the Impala. Castiel’s thoughts flapped away when Dean rustled in the covers.

He gasped, and then shook with a, “Hag’tishhh!”

Then Sam. “..Uhh-!”

But then Dean. “HAA’gishhh!”

And then Sam, angrily, “Dambbit, Deand! Stob steali’g! You always fukgi’g do thad.”

“Dnot by fault, Sabby, I – … HUH’Gishhh!”

Castiel observed the two of them, brows pinched and pulled downward in a thoughtful frown. The nature of their argument was unfamiliar to him, even if he could usually discern a reason for their bickering.

“What is it that Dean stole from you, Sam?”

“By-.. by sndeeze, uh-!”

“HII’gishhhh!”

“Fuck you, Deand!”

Dean, smirking and eyes still half-lidded in either bliss from the sneeze or the desire for another, gave his little brother the bird. Castiel cocked his head by few degrees, slowly digesting the idea. It seemed implausible, yet Sam did seem unnecessarily heated by the pattern.

“One can…steal sneezes?”

“Dot really,” Dean said. “S’just sombthin’ I’ve always d-.. duhh-…”

“Thii.. this one’s bine, Deand.. iuhh.. I swear-.. uihh!”

There was a moment of sneezy silence, both men fighting to be the first to clench. Castiel watched avidly, his own body tensing a little in anxiousness as Sam hitched with a titanic breah… but then Dean, of course –

“EHH’gishhh!... ohhh, thad oned was good.”

“DEAND.”

“But why would someone desire to sneeze?” Castiel mused, scrutinizing Sam with interest as the giant pawed at his nose with his fingers and wrists. Dean snuggled up, content by both the relieving sneezes and the annoyance of his baby brother. He pulled out a couple tissues and blew, answering after.

“Just feels good,” Dean said, congestion loosed from all the sneezes. He breathed through his nose, pleased, and then burrowed under his covers. “Hard to explain, Cas.”

“UHHHTISHHHUU!!”

Sam practically shouted it, shaking his entire bed, and Dean jumped with a curse from the booming power of it. Cas, while he didn’t startle, was taken off guard all the same. His eyes drifted to Sam, noting the way he sunk into his sheets with a content sigh. The exercise seemed to relax him, or relieve him of some lengthy wait. Once he gathered himself, Dean sighed into his pillow.

“Bless ya, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean broke after only two days because laying around in bed, being too tired to do anything but stay still, made him absolutely crazy. Sam had bet on this happening, and couldn’t keep the shit-eating grin off his face while Dean sulked. He still didn’t understand the wager exactly, but Castiel was glad to see them the Winchesters eager for his help to get back on their feet again. However, the experience of their illness kept hovering at the back of his mind. Particularly the image of Sam after his spectacular sneeze – so overcome with… peace, or something similar.

So as he extended his fingers toward Dean’s forehead, keeping a close eye on Dean’s face, Castiel was delighted to see the crunching, twitchy ways Dean’s nose was shivering. Sam was already healed, bright eyed and roaring with energy, and stuffing clothes into a duffel so they could get out of the motel as soon as Castiel finished with Dean.

“Uh-.. C-Cas, hang on a s-..”

The angel would not be deterred, and instead acted as though he could not understand Dean’s pleas. Two fingers pressed gently to the center of Dean’s head, but he did not evoke his powers just yet. Instead, he waited for the perfect moment. It never took long for Dean to cue up a sneeze, and he didn’t disappoint this time either. Within seconds he was overcome with the need of it, a desperation that Castiel had yet to know, but the fingers against Dean’s forehead were stone. They kept him still, and ensured that he couldn’t turn away.

“Caa-ahh-ah-ah-AH-!” Dean huffed, froze, and then surged forward with a more potent paroxysm than Castiel was bargaining. “EHH’GIIIISHHHHUHHH!!” While it wasn’t near strong enough to budge Castiel’s grip, he did feel the thick mist of Dean’s saliva and germs spray across his face. At the same time, Castiel inconspicuously inhaled before immediately healing Dean afterward.

“What the hell, Cas?” Dean demanded, even as he paused to appreciate his throat not burning. Castiel had removed all traces of Dean’s fluids from his face, but he could feel the fine, delicate molecules of its components inside him. His grace, pulsing and bright, parsed and named each of God’s smallest and most complex of creations. As an angel, he should not be affected by such low forms of life; his grace should keep his vessel immune. He did not smile, but he felt like he might.

Castiel tipped his head just to the side, orchestrating his best puzzled frown, which wasn’t hard considering how often he wore it. “What is it, Dean?”

“You – ” Dean spluttered, gesturing wordlessly before gaining ground again. “You let me snot rocket right in your face, man! That’s nasty!”

“Oh,” Castiel said. It really was news to him, in some way. He was not entirely schooled on politeness or human hygiene rituals. “Well, if it is any consolation, it probably will not happen again.”

Sam snorted from his place by the door where he was waiting, asking them to drop it and hurry up. They had a lot of time to make up since they had been lying in bed sick for a few days. Castiel too had business up in heaven, and he made a subtle exit not a moment after the boys turned their backs. They would likely be sour with his abrupt departure, as they always were, yet Castiel could not bring himself to regret it.

In the snap of a cosmic tremor, the angel found himself in a market north of Inari, Finland. The climate was frigid, brittle, and thin. People hurried around him, trading currency for fish and other produce with soft murmurs on the cold air. Carefully, Castiel allowed his angelic cloak to slip from his shoulders just slightly, and he felt the icy air whip against his neck. Too cold, and the germs (and his body) would freeze and die. Not cold enough, and his vessel’s immunity levels would not sufficiently lower to ensure infection.

Closing his eyes, Castiel strived to slow his pulse and concentrate on allowing his grace to thread, to grow, the virus. He knew the moment he had laid eyes on Dean and Sam that it was a strain of the common cold—nothing too serious. However, with Castiel’s grace as a booster shot, the strain would undoubtedly mutate beyond that of human biology. This would guarantee that the brothers or other humans could not contract it. Still, Castiel was unsure as to how his grace would interact with the germs when encouraged to do so. The pulsing power of an angel could be unpredictable; Anna’s grace had grown a tree after she lost it on earth. There was no telling what Castiel’s would do with a rhinovirus.

And he did not have the time to find out. After Castiel was certain his grace began to nourish the germs, allowing them sustenance and entry into his true form and his vessel, the angel alighted to the skies again in search of his army in Heaven. He had a war to fight, after all. It wasn’t until Dean’s consciousness called out to him from sleep that Castiel had the liberty to check his own progress.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean had always suffered nightmares. While observing him as a child, Castiel noted that his heart was too soft, too easily burdened by guilt, for the life he was leading. First the nightmares concerned little brother Sammy and his safety. It wasn’t long until monster hunting and Hell gave Dean’s mind plenty of brutal fodder to churn while he slept.

Castiel did not have time to ease his charge’s every bad dream; never had, and never would. But something about the plaintive, bleating calls of Dean’s tender soul – words he was not saying, but thinking so loudly – beckoned Castiel to the motel room number Dean had prayed to him earlier that day. The hunter would not want him here now, watching him sleep, but Castiel could feel the pain radiating from him in waves. Just how it was terrible to see Dean ill, it hurt to see him scared too.

It did not immediately occur to Castiel, when he first touched down on the grimy carpet, that something was amiss. The brothers were both asleep, albeit fitfully, and there was nothing unusual about the sight. It wasn’t until the angel approached Dean, gently touched two cool fingers to the man’s forehead, and melted inside his dreamscape that Castiel realized the minute differences.

For one thing, he ended up planting weak-kneed and uncomfortably confined onto a plot of dirt under a reddish sky. It surprised him, as Castiel had only intended to ease Dean’s dreams and return to Heaven, not enter them. As he stood, he amended confined to the more accurate description: overheated. The sensation of being hot was not a familiar one, so it took Castiel a moment to place it. Dreams should not have tactile influence over someone walking through them, unless of course there is a physical altercation, like a fist fight. Castiel should have control over his own temperature, but for some reason he could not think himself into a happy medium. He supposed he could remain hot for the time being, even if it was unpleasant.

More than sweltering, Castiel felt tired. It was similar to the horrid moments following his time travel while cut off from Heaven, except decidedly less painful. Aside from an uncomfortable throbbing behind his eyes and an ominous, prickling feeling behind his nose, Castiel did not hurt. Looking around, he could see nothing but a desolate wasteland, many stumps gnarled and torn where trees had been ripped from their posts. Like some hulking hand had reached, twisted each tree like a cap, and pulled the bark apart.

Castiel spotted Dean standing on one of them, staring up at the sky, watching the pinkish-orange clouds bulge and dissipate. Without anything else to do, and too concerned to just leave after coming in (even if by mistake), Castiel approached him.

“Dean,” he greeted. His voice unexpectedly rusted toward the end of the sound, and he swallowed to compensate. Castiel regretted doing so afterward, as it produced a sharp, startling pain. A hand flew to his throat to reassure himself that a blade was not sawing into it.

Dean whipped around, reflexes tense and ready to fight, but he sighed and deflated at the source of his name. “Cas,” he said, at first seeming relieved. Then he was angry, and this did not surprise Castiel. “The hell are you doing here?”

The angel hesitated, and then nodded once. “You prayed to me as you slept.” Talking was not as awful as swallowing, at least.

Dean scowled. “Really? You fly your feathery ass down here when I’m sleeptalking and not when I need you for real?”

“Remedying your nightmares does not take nearly as long as your usual requests,” Castiel said, blinking rapidly as he felt the presence in his nose flutter on some of his syllables. “I only intended to…” Castiel struggled with his air-quotes, using them stiffly, “…check in.”

With a grand gesture (one Castiel deduced was sarcastic), Dean spun around to show off the grim scenery around them. “Well, welcome to Camp Craphole. Lemme show you to the front desk.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose. “You have conjured a receptionist in this dream?”

Judging by Dean’s roll of eyes, Castiel had to assume that was a no. Another cursory glance around the perimeter, and Castiel saw that there was still no imminent threat. He had to wonder why Dean had been calling for him subconsciously when there was no real danger, but he didn’t have the time or the true interest to ask.

“If you do not require my assistance, I will be… going,” Castiel said. As he said this, the strange thorny feeling pinching at the bridge of his nose inflated, growing into what Castiel could only call a sphere of stimulus. Dean must have noticed something in his expression because he stepped down off the stump.

“Cas? What’s with the stink eyes?”

“…What?”

“You look like you ate a lemon, man.”

“I-… d-..” Castiel found it harder and harder to talk, instead becoming consumed by some unnatural force. Or maybe it was natural? He certainly had never experienced it before. He would have remembered it.

“You’re all covered in dirt too.”

Dean was being neither sympathetic nor helpful, and Castiel tried to glare through the hindrance of a scrunching expression. His lack of control over the situation sent a hot bolt of fear into his chest, and Castiel felt himself scoop a lengthy gasp.

“hck – ”

“Cas – ”

“ – d’jishhhuu!”

The experience was explosive and awkward, brand new, and Castiel thudded onto the floor. At first he thought he had fallen onto his back in the dirt from the force of— what was that? Was that a sneeze? It sounded like one, but he couldn’t be certain. The relief following it seemed to fit Dean’s vague comments that it would feel good. He sniffled by reflex, and found that the tingly feeling in his nose wasn’t gone yet.

“…Cas?”

Castiel realized that he was not on the dirt of Dean’s dream. He was on the carpet of the motel. Dean was sitting up in the dark, his outline and some pieces of his countenance visible through the diffuse rays of moonlight through the blinds. Castiel’s eyes could not discern it as easily as he should have.

“Did you just sneeze yourself out of my dream?”

Ah, so it was a sneeze… which meant-… Castiel rolled onto his knees and was suddenly crouching in a forest just outside of a large family farm in Wyoming. Fully aware of what was happening, Castiel marveled at the way his body ached from the effort, how even his wings dragged and drooped with want of rest. It was similar to his decent into humanity, for he could recognize the need for sleep, but there was an extra edge to it now. This was probably the muscle aches and general fatigue the boys complained about before.

The sore throat was obvious, the sinus headache identifiable. The heat from Dean’s dream had followed him here, despite the perfect weather. There was something inside his nose tickling him, and he assumed that it had to be the slow start of another sneeze. Everything had hit him so suddenly upon flying to earth, and then it occurred to him why. Having been in Heaven for so much time, it allowed the illness he stole from Dean to incubate and garner strength. Once he touched down on the human plane of existence, the infectious time bomb inside him exploded.

“hck’djishhuu!”

Fascinating. The load, trigger, release mechanism of a sneeze reminded Castiel of firearms, though the reflex lacked the decidedly fatal end of a gunshot, thankfully. He had to admit there was a tiresome gathering-time for a sneeze, the tickling sensation climbing his nose at a maddening, ponderous rate before finally mounting to something substantial enough to evoke relief.

Cas?... Cas, damn it, where’d you go?

A prayer from Dean. Castiel pushed himself off the ground, stumbling when the flatness of the terrain felt unsteady under his feet. The world went on a funny tilt, and he caught himself on a tree. The lightness inside his head was familiar – it happened when he suffered blood loss. He was also accustomed to the weak, shaky feeling that came with it. Yes, this was all too close to his time as human for his liking. Perhaps infecting himself was a bad idea.

Seriously, Cas, I’m asking you to get down here and tell us what the hell that was.

He had definitely allowed the illness too much freedom during that time in Heaven. Now on earth, on a plane that would support the manifestation of such an affliction, his vessel was overwhelmed. The forest in which he stood was quiet save for the sounds of nature and the struggle of his breathing. Everything felt thick, dry, and itchy. One particular breath caught at the back of his esophagus and launched him into a coughing fit that tore into him like a rain of arrows, each one sharper than the last. The reflexive eye-watering felt useless and pathetic.

Now that he was sufficiently in pain, at least Dean had stopped asking for him. Castiel did not like ignoring his prayers, but he remembered a time when he had been a burden to the brothers. Even now, this moment, Castiel saw himself as more of a nuisance than a help. He was never around enough for them, and when he was there, he was not doing enough. Sam and Dean could not yet know what he was doing for them, as they would not at all approve, but one day they would understand. Perhaps thank him, as humans so often do for one another. Castiel thought himself human enough in the right ways to deserve that kindness.

“hck’jsiishhh!”

The brunt of the sneeze knifed him, and he doubled over with the force and following volley of coughs. For a fevered, staggering, sick person, Castiel realized he was entertaining very clear thoughts. Despite that reassurance, he was hesitant to return to Heaven. It was unclear how this illness would interact with that plane of existence, but with the war going on, it was not as if he could ignore those duties. After a gathering breath (one he did not need for sustenance, but for steadiness), Castiel flew.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

He could not remember flying to the Winchesters. And he could not remember why he would do so. But Castiel could hear the muddy sounds of Dean’s voice – something he would recognize even through the veil of incorporeal death, or through the long halls of Hell – demanding that he wake. So he did. It happened slowly. One by one, the layers of his awareness returned to him, until it rushed over his body like a slosh of water. Hot, burning water. Castiel gasped in reflex, body shuddering from the sensation. Dean’s hand closed over his arm, and he felt it before he saw it.

“Cas?”

Castiel willed his eyes to flicker open, but the light from the lamp to his right shoved jagged edges through his head and into the hotbed of irritated, sensitive nerves inside his nose. They revolted, twitching, and he could only gasp in response.

“ik’iitshhuu!”

“Son of a bitch, Cas. Warn a guy.”

The world was swimmy, but Castiel made an effort to apologize and open his eyes again. “I-.. I’b sor-.. uhh’kktshh!!”

There was another volley of muttered complaints and curses, which Cas knew he should be able to perceive even if they were spoken too softly to hear properly, but it felt like there was a sodden, achy swatch of cotton wrapped around his ears. Sam blessedly turned off the bedside lamp just as Castiel tried to crack his eyes open again.

“Mind explaining to us what the hell’s going on?”

Castiel didn’t think Dean sounded very happy. The tone was familiar, though the words were glazed and garbled. Luckily he understood most of the words well enough to give a satisfactory reply. The problem was he didn’t want to admit what he had done to the brothers. Something told him Dean would not appreciate him stealing germs just for the sake of an experiment.

“Id.. I don’d dow.” There was something like a little, reactive bell inside Castiel that suddenly rung, and he found himself attempting to breathe in through his nose. As futile as that was, the need to sniffle seemed important to his vessel, so he continued until the air hit him the wrong way. An itch struck itself alight, and his lungs fluttered.

“ihhuhh..”

“Oh no you don’t.”

Castiel felt something soft press over his nose, and then his hand was lifted roughly by the wrist and pinned there, holding the something in place. Even with his eyes closed, he knew he should have been able to analyze everything more clearly. The molecules of each item, the wavelength of each sound, should not be so far out of his reach. These thoughts did not last long before he was overcome.

“ihh.. ihhuhh.. ih-!...”

But it just kept mounting and mounting. Dangling just out of his reach. The bristling in the bridge of his nose was spreading, but it was moving too slowly for Castiel’s liking. Meanwhile, the boys chatted, though the angel could only pick up shards of conversation.

“…-ink it’s a curse? Could be someth-…”

“… -own from Heaven, so it migh-…”

“…-thing with his vessel-…”

“…Jimmy? We’re screwed if-…”

Castiel cut his eyes to the window, where sun was leaking in through the cracks in the curtains. The spikes of light drove into his eyes, and he found himself hurrying an uncharacteristically high-pitched gasp into his lungs before he wrenched with a, “IIK’DJISHH!”

When he opened his eyes, he was finally able to ascertain that he was laying on the floor again, with Dean and Sam leaning over him with wary expressions. The something that someone had pressed into his hand earlier to swallow the sneeze was a tissue, and Castiel had seen the brothers use them enough to know what it was for. However, the rhinovirus inside him had no doubt mutated to the point that humans could not catch this from him. Never mind that Dean and Sam probably had antibodies against this specific strain.

His head felt very hot. His body felt very cold. It was enlightening and terrible, much like thunderstorms are. Castiel remembered he was supposed to be fighting a war.

“I should go.” His own voice sounded strange to him, bungy and wetted down with a sheet of sopping congestion. It made talking uncomfortable.

Dean’s firm glare was enough to shoot down the declaration before it could get off the ground. “Yeah, because you really look up for another Angel-Express ride.” He took a moment to regard the angel a little longer, and then spoke again. “You got a cold?”

Castiel sniffled and meant to answer, but a knife of irritation got to him first, causing his face to begin scrunching. He recalled some of Dean’s earlier complaints, so he tried his best to convey its coming. “H-have t-.. tck’jsiishhh!”

The wavering cadence to his voice was enough to alert both brothers, and they leaned back as Cas bucked with a single sneeze, and luckily no more. The angel was not at all accustomed to the action, even though it was growing more familiar. For that reason, Dean thought his sneezes sounded ill-paced, and almost like the split flurry of a blender on high before switching off again. Jarring, piercing, surprisingly loud and apt to go everywhere without a lid. Luckily Dean managed to cap Castiel’s mouth with the tissue, and waited just long enough to deduce that his angel was finished.

“All right, I’m gonna take that as a yes,” he said, flicking the damp, flimsy paper into a nearby receptacle. He and Sam had been here for a few days now, so the motel was sufficiently lived in. Castiel noticed that it was the room he had visited Dean in during the dream mishap. How much time had passed from then until now should have required merely a single neuron to shed light on the answer, but damned if Castiel couldn’t get even that much right now.

“Castiel, how are you feeling?... Do.. do you need anything?”

That was Sam. Dean was already hefting Castiel to his feet, slowly letting him go with arms still outstretched, as if the angel was a pen Dean was attempting to balance by its cap. The world felt like it was adjusting its angle by single degrees, ticking a little to one side and then the other, until it stabilized. The icy core deep inside of Castiel contrasted greatly with the burning sensation at the base of his skull and across his forehead. If being ill wasn’t so miserable, the angel would have appreciated the physiology more readily.

“Castiel.” Sam spoke his name with a patient, but very concerned voice. Castiel registered the large hand gripping his shoulder, and Dean’s raised eyebrows. It occurred to the angel that he needed to say something.

“Id could be a cold… uh, Heaven’d is – ”

Dean interrupted and put words into Castiel’s mouth. For the first and probably only time, Castiel was so very, very grateful. “Heaven? Are you…? Are they using biological warfare on you guys or something?”

Sam gave Dean a doubtful look that spoke volumes on what he thought about that line of reasoning. But his snubbing slowly turned to incredulity when Castiel first nodded—and when that made him too dizzy—gave the affirimative. The younger Winchester balked, and then grew fascinated.

“Seriously? I didn’t know angels could get sick, though I guess it must be some kind of ethereal or celestial strain. Does it only infect grace? Is that how it works?”

In all of recorded and remembered history, no angel had ever gotten a cold, so Castiel couldn’t speak intelligently on it. Though technically this was all fabrication, and while Sam’s voice was too warbled and distant for Castiel to hear everything properly, the angel still tossed a response.

“Sombthing like tha-.. iik’djishhhuu!”

Both brothers flinched back, Dean going so far as to hold up a hand near his face to block any spray. Castiel placed a hand over his mouth and nose belatedly, feeling a strange warmth flood to his cheeks as he did so. His upper lip felt wet, nostrils damp, and the troublesome itch wasn’t finished. Sam triple snatched a wad of tissues and held them out just in time for Castiel to scramble them to his face.

“hii’ktishhh!!.. HII’ktschhh!” Both were adamant sounds, the thin tissues doing nothing to smother the noise of them. After they were out, Castiel remembered that it was customary to blow one’s nose, but he had never tried it before. The gurgle of his congestion, slow and not nearly with enough vigor to properly clear his nose, was the only thing that pierced the uncomfortable silence.

Dean had his fill of awkwardness, and was ready to leave. He cracked his knuckles for want of something to do. Castiel’s eyes drifted to the man’s hands. “Well, we have a case we’re working through. And you have some angel-sleep to catch up on.”

“Dean, wait,” Sam said. The tone of his words was familiar, but Castiel’s brain was humming too slowly to parse through adjectives. All this willpower was funneling into the herculean task of cleaning his sinuses. “Cas, are you sure you’re okay? Is there anything we can get you?”

“Dno,” Castiel said immediately, muffled from the tissue. His voice grated painfully, the gravel of his tone exacerbated to the point of rumbling. Now talking was painful too. “I’b fine.”

Sam didn’t look convinced, but Dean was weirded out and anxious to leave. Castiel couldn’t really figure out why that was, and his head was buzzing too loudly for him to think about it. The blaze at the back of his neck hadn’t abated, and the chill in his bones was starting to encourage shivering. It was a good thing the boys were stepping out, so Castiel could sort himself out in private. He closed his eyes to concentrate as he blew his nose a second time, and when he opened his eyes, the boys were gone.

Castiel took a breath to sigh, but as his lungs expanded, something in his chest tickled him and he spluttered through a lengthy fit of coughing. Because the tissue was still against his nose, it kind of doubled as a buffer between his lips and the air, so he kept himself still until he was finished. After throwing away the tissues, Castiel sat himself down in the single hotel chair—cushy and rather comfortable—to collect himself. He closed his eyes and mentally ran what could only be described as a diagnostic.

Throat was searing, lungs were irritated. Nose was distantly and constantly ticklish. Sinus pressure at an all-time high. Impressive fever. Because Castiel wasn’t mortal, it didn’t strike him to worry about this as he would with an ill Sam or Dean. Now that he was alone, still, and off his feet, Castiel found his eyes beginning to close.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A moment of darkness, which became more heated as time passed. The flow of minutes or hours was indiscriminate to Castiel; he could see nothing, hear nothing. All he felt was warmth that grew hot, and then boiling. His skin seemed to shrink and grow taunt against his bones, achy. There were no images, so he couldn’t call it dreaming in the conventional sense. Sometimes he heard the distant sounds of the dying, usually in the forms of those he knew best. It wasn’t until someone was shaking him awake that he realized he was asleep.

“Castiel?”

Opening his eyes wasn’t as hard as it was before, but the person in front of him was blurry and indistinct. The voice was so foreign to him, sinking into his subconscious as he woke, Castiel couldn’t tell who was talking to him. It looked like Gabriel. And he didn’t know why, since his brother was dead. It made his chest hurt in ways it hadn’t before.

“Gabriel.”

The lumpy outline in front of him didn’t move, frozen, and Castiel used this opportunity to close his eyes. His lungs felt heavier than they did when he went to sleep, and he chafed air through them in a way that started him coughing. The sound of it was deep and hollow. Gabriel gripped his shoulder all the more tightly.

“Castiel, this isn’t Gabriel. I need you to focus.”

“I’b sorry…” Castiel gritted the apology not because he felt like he had to, but because he meant it. He hadn’t been there to help his brother when he needed it, and he needed Gabriel to know that. Perhaps there was another level of Heaven where angels could go when they died-… he hoped Father had made such a place for souls like Gabe, who lived too much and too passionately to know the cold sting of death.

Castiel blinked, and felt cold trails on his cheeks. Curiously he reached up to touch one, but his hand ended up glancing off one cheek and back into his hair. Strange, his arm wasn’t doing what he wanted it to do. His face felt numb, and his head was a deep-seated ache. His nose, ever the helper, stabbed him suddenly with need. It hurt to breathe.

“kshhjsishhh!” His body didn’t do a good job of formulating the sound correctly, so it came out strangled from his sluggish response. The explosion of pain in his forehead, and the sudden pressure of white specks across his vision had Castiel’s tongue dry. “ekkishhjushh!”

There was a period of hot darkness again. It was comfortable, much like what a womb might feel like, Castiel thought. An awareness that was just barely an awareness. It got significantly less comfortable, however. There was a point when it was much, much too hot, and then very suddenly much, much too cold. And Castiel could hear and feel the screams of someone inside him. Thrashing. The bindings that held him. The pain. It was Heaven all over again, punishment for things he kept doing over and over. It was all he remembered for a long time. And then someone was shaking him awake again.

His eyes wouldn’t open this time, and he didn’t want them to. The bleating pulse in his head was sharp, and the crushing weight on his lungs still unmovable. Someone had a hand to Castiel’s brow. Thinking through haze, he remembered humans doing this to one another occasionally, always muttering something about things being warm or hot or fine afterward.

“Still not great, but better. Dean?”

The name tugged at Castiel, reminding him of something important, and he finally made a true attempt to open his eyes. They were slow, unresponsive, and if you asked Castiel days later he would say it was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He was unprepared for the rush of feeling that came from another hand lying suddenly over his forehead. It felt cool, dry, a little rough from all the work Dean did every day to keep people—the world—safe. The angel’s eyelashes fluttered once from the sensation. The hand stayed.

“Shit, Cas…” That was definitely Dean’s voice, and it gave Castiel the strength to slit his eyes open just wide enough to take in his surroundings. His vision was less blurred, so that was an improvement. And Gabriel was gone, if he had ever been there. Part of Castiel knew it was impossible, but pieces still wanted to believe for a moment, his brother had been once again.

He rolled his eyes up toward Dean’s face, following the slope of his arm. He had to tip his head back a little. Because his hand was still making constant contact with Cas’s hot skin, the cold feeling was slowly fading into a lukewarm one. After a second, Castiel realized he was leaning on Dean’s chest, lateral, on a bed. Swallowing hurt, barbed in the worst of ways, but he did it anyway. He must have waited too long to answer because Dean’s thumb very slightly rubbed against his cheek bone.

“Cas? Buddy, are ya with me?”

Even though he had just woken up, Castiel still felt so very tired. If he closed his eyes, he could probably go back to sleep right this second. That’s what he tried to do, but Sam lunged forward and Dean gently jostled him until he opened his eyes again. Neither of the boys wanted him sleeping at the moment, it seemed. He wondered how long it had been since they had seen him awake.

“I’b rigd here,” Castiel answered, and his voice sounded like it had been slogged through the ridges on a mountain range. Though his insistence on taking things so literally all the time did ease grins onto both the boys’ faces. A collective relief fell over the two of them, and Castiel felt inexplicably touched by it.

The elder Winchester heaved a sigh, and Castiel felt his body rise and fall as Dean’s abdomen grew and shrank with breath. “Damn, dude. Scared the shit out of us.”

The subsequent Angry Dean Lecture and Sammy Translation filled Castiel on what he needed to know: very high fever, dangerous confusion, ice bath, sleeping in fits for nearly three days now. Castiel didn’t know what time it was and all the blinds were pulled shut, so it was hard to discern where the sun was. Both brothers seemed wrung out from the caretaking, however, and now thankful that Castiel was getting better.

“How’d you let it get this bad? And what the hell are your heavenly buddies doing about it?”

Castiel was still playing catch up, coming to terms with being unconscious for so long, so when Dean lobbed questions he could only watch them plaf to the ground at his feet. “.. Whad?”

The impatience on Dean’s face was evident, but Sam kicked him in the ankle and indicated with a tilt of his head toward the angel. And when Dean paused to consider how pale, drawn, and just plain sick Castiel still was, he became much gentler. It wasn’t that Dean was mad with Castiel—he was mad about the angel’s negligence, the carelessness of his own kind, and was just a little miffed that they had wasted three days taking care of Castiel during a hunt. Though it was all worth it, of course, and there had been no more deaths in the area.. yet.. so there was that.

“Biological warfare, remember? Heavenly battles? Shouldn’t your cronies know about you being sick?”

Castiel could now recall his lie, and because he was too tired to continue lying about it, he just told the truth outright. “Dno, I caught this fromb you, Deand..”

Both brothers stared, half alarmed, because this was the kind of crap Castiel would spout while his brain was frying. The angel didn’t get a chance to elaborate, as his nose had woken along with him. And it was quite eager to get back to its nasal duties.

“..uhh..” Castiel’s voice broke on the utterance, face collapsing into an expression of need and defiance. Neither brother was quick enough to get anything for Castiel this time, so the angel merely turned his head to the side and sneezed freely against Dean’s chest.

“uhiikshhuu!.. ‘kishhh!.. hiih-.. ‘KITschuu!” Each release was dragged from him, igniting him with all the pain he remembered associating with illness from before. The chesty coughs afterward were wet, and Sam pressed a handful of tissues over Castiel’s mouth and coaxed him to cough as much as he could to get the “muck” out.

Coughing hurt, but Castiel did have to say nothing was as painful as it had been when he was dangerously fevered. He suspected the orange prescription pill bottle had something to do with it. He didn’t understand too much about medication, but it seemed to do magical things once in a while.

To Dean’s credit, he just kept a cool hand cupped to the back of Castiel’s neck as the angel worked himself through coughs, and eventually raked up something thick and spit it out. Neither of the brothers were doctors, but neither were too squeamish either, especially when Castiel had done all he had done for them, and needed them now. The fit tired Castiel out, but still he wasn’t finished—

“eihh’kjddishh!” Even though he didn’t feel like it, Sam made him blow his nose anyway. The moan afterward was not intentional. Dean thumped him softly on the back.

“I don’t think you know how to sneeze, Cas. Because them noises ain’t natural.”

Sam had folded up the dirty tissues and flung them into the garbage, and then slapped his hands on his knees before standing up. Castiel was on the mend, but not nearly better. There was a lot more resting to be done, and probably more observation too. Castiel had managed to give himself a lung and sinus infection at the same time.

“You were saying about catching Dean’s cold, Castiel?”

The tone had a decidedly mothering quality, the type middle aged women use to scold their children by forcing them to fess up. Castiel didn’t recognize it so specifically, but the sound of it made Dean grin a bit. One of his hands was resting on the top of Castiel’s head; little did the angel know it had been carding through his hair for days.

“I allowed… my Grace to absorb Dean’s… germs, for the sake… sake of experiencing human illness,” Castiel finally said, sounding out of breath. It was less because of he was shamed, and more because he literally was a little short of breath from all the nose blowing and coughing up a lung business. It didn’t stop Dean from flicking him on the ear.

“Why the hell would you do something like that? Dumbass.”

Castiel didn’t have a good answer since the experiment had gone nearly as bad as it could go. The softening in the angel’s eyes, both disappointed and guilty, was enough to unravel Sam’s tight posture. Dean was obviously still pissed, but that’s Dean through and through.

“Well, I sure hope it was worth it,” he groused, though he still carded a hand through Castiel’s messy locks, which were by now in need of a wash. And as the angel lay there, medicated and miserable, with itching lungs, a heavy chest, a ticklish nose, a sore body, wracked with fever, and now partially embarrassed about coming clean… but Deans body was warm where Castiel was cold. Sam was attentive where Castiel had been negligent. And the boys were there when Castiel had felt left out and alone.

“Yes,” Castiel said, eyes closing slowly. “I think it was.”

A/N: Sorry if the ending is kind of terrible xDD. I really wanted to finish this since it’s been sitting on my computer for so long xP.. Also, I use the word “quite” too much LOL.

Edited August 22, 2014 by BlackScatter

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

O_O The intensity of this was just too much.

Excellent job!

[darkness-is-the-light]

Yes, girl, yes. Fantastic!

[Sawyer]

Oh my god, this was SO perfect. I've always loved your stuff because it all seems just so in character, and you do a great job with Cas... I love reading things from his perspective and it's so difficult to capture for a lot of people, so your skill is especially impressive to me. This one was no exception!! And the spellings were exactly just right. I am amazed. You are amazing.

[NorthernLady]

OMG *jaw drop* I read this yesterday but it was way too late to comment. I'm re reading it trying to do a good job of commenting but I always end up quoting too much. Like half the fic is my favorite bit This is way too much goodness and you made my heart explode with feels. This is EXACTLY what i needed that fic to be. And then some!

I love the way you brought on the brother's illnesses. The wager not to ask Cas for a little mojo, but still asking him to be their nanny was ingenious! Also, how Cas waited until the last second to heal Dean, right after he sneezes right into his face Then there is the fact that he had to disappear to Heaven right after and kind of forgot about this little virus mutation experiment and how it went downhill really fast. And I just can't pass over the part starting when Cas stumbled onto Dean's dream and... Well, everything that comes after, really I LOVED LOVED LOVED Cas's thought process as the illness progress. And his hallucination of GAAAABE!

You always manage to floor me, Blacky. Every. single. time!!! I definitely have to make a pdf of your stories and hide it in my kindle for future reading

[Anilkex]

OHHHhhhhhI really liked this. Like, a lot. I love how you write Castiel - acknowledging the sheer power of angels and how one would circumvent their abilities and get sick. His musing throughout is very believeable, and natural. Cas is a tricky dude to write, I think, because it's easy to make him overly robotic or unrealistically human sounding. Much more goes on IN his head than the few (albeit funny) words that come out of his mouth, and you capture that perfectly. Fantastic job!!

[Sophie<3]

Oh gosh. This place is a goldmine!! Seriously, why do I always stumble across threads like this one when I'm not alone/ don't have time to read/ it's the middle of the night. But anyway, what I've read so far was beautiful and... *whispers* (effing hot!!) so I will be back, I swear to Cas! An adorable, sneezy Cas that is...

And btw, all these AMAZING SPN writers, I mean where do you all keep coming from, I mean I can't even...!!

[HPG]

Hahaha! I don't normally like sneezy Cas, but that was fantastic! I loved the one where he got Dean's cold, and the three day build up one so much. I hope you continue this thread. Now I'm going to go hide.

[AngelEyes]

Fantastic!

[PuddinPop]

So, I don't usually bump topics, but I have just seen this and if any thread ever is worth bumping, it is this one.

Let me start by saying:

Scatter, you are one of my absolute all time favourite writers. I love every single piece of work you've ever done, even the fandoms which I'm not familiar with (your Secret Santa for MaiMai was just wonderful). You capture the characters so perfectly, which is a difficult job in itself, and you're one of the only writers that I can spend literally hours reading through your work.

This story is just amazing on so many levels. The sassy yet concerned nature of Dean, Cas not meaning to make himself sooo ill. And those awkward spellings!! God, you did those so perfectly.

“Cas? What’s with the stink eyes?”

“…What?”

“You look like you ate a lemon, man.”

BEST description of a pre-sneeze face ever

“Did you just sneeze yourself out of my dream?”

Brilliant!

“ihhuhh..”

“Oh no you don’t.”

I laughed out loud at this part So typically Dean

Dean’s firm glare was enough to shoot down the declaration before it could get off the ground. “Yeah, because you really look up for another Angel-Express ride.” He took a moment to regard the angel a little longer, and then spoke again. “You got a cold?”

Nnnng. I don't know why this line is so perfect, but it just is xDD

“I’b sorry…” Castiel gritted the apology not because he felt like he had to, but because he meant it. He hadn’t been there to help his brother when he needed it, and he needed Gabriel to know that. Perhaps there was another level of Heaven where angels could go when they died-… he hoped Father had made such a place for souls like Gabe, who lived too much and too passionately to know the cold sting of death.

Omg, my heart

“I don’t think you know how to sneeze, Cas. Because them noises ain’t natural.”

Absolutely amazing xDD

I sincerely hope that you write more of these. I know you're busy with school and stuff, but trust me when I say, I am waiting with baited breath to see another update

[NorthernLady]

I have to ask, Blackie... Are you up to date in your Supernatural? Because season 10 is like.... so fanfic material

[SterlingSilver]

Can I just give a huge thanks to everyone who reads these things~? QwQ And THANK THANK THANK YOU to those who leave so many kind, thoughtful comments for me afterward! You guys are so sweet QwQ

Excellent job!

Aw thank you~! <3

Fantastic!

Thank you~! >w<!

You are amazing.

Sen, you always give me the sweetest reviews QwQ~! Thank you so much for keeping up with my stuff and always leaving a nice comment! Seriously, that means a lot to me >w<!

You always manage to floor me, Blacky. Every. single. time!!! I definitely have to make a pdf of your stories and hide it in my kindle for future reading

AHHH~! I'm so so so so SO glad you liked it! You seriously come up with the best plots >w< <333 I love writing the stuff you prompt! And I'm really touched to get such kind compliments from a fellow Cas-guru ;3

His musing throughout is very believeable, and natural

Thank you so much! I worry alot about my characterizations, so it makes me feel so much better to hear that he was portrayed well~ Thank you Anilkex! I love your stuff by the way <33

This place is a goldmine!!

Ahaha! Thank you! That's a high compliment, and I'm glad you're enjoying my stuff >w<!

I don't normally like sneezy Cas, but that was fantastic!

Uwaaaa, this is a huge compliment QwQ! Being able to captivate someone who isn't normally into the fandom is like, one of the most difficult things I think. So hearing that I managed to do it a little makes me feel awesome! THANK YOU~! SO glad you liked <33

Fantastic!

Thanks~! <3

Scatter, you are one of my absolute all time favourite writers. I love every single piece of work you've ever done, even the fandoms which I'm not familiar with (your Secret Santa for MaiMai was just wonderful).

Puddin, can I just say this is the nicest thing ever~? QwQ I really admire you and your writing. You're a kind person, and you're also VERY talented, so having such high praise from you is a huge honor! >w< Thank you so much for taking the time to give me such a long, lovely comment! I love reading them, and yours was just so nice QwQ~~ I hope to keep this thread going as long as people are interested!

Are you up to date in your Supernatural? Because season 10 is like.... so fanfic material

OMGH NORTH~ <33 AHHHHH~~ It really is~ I was so scared they were going to solve the issue in like, three episodes, and for now it seems like Cas is okay with his replinished grace (omgh Crowley tending to him for a second while Cas was like, picky toddler not wanting his medicine-... I nearly had a heart attack from the cuteness EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!). I'm crossing my fingers for some more hurt/comfort sick!Cas episodes in the future. Hopefully with more Dean and less Hannah > >.. xDDDD

[SterlingSilver]

A/N: Haven’t done any allergic!Cas fics before, and I was looking for something to work on in the midst of terrible homework load/grad school applications xDD. Then the awesome DNO proposed this lovely request on the forum and I couldn’t resist. Hopefully it’s not too short! I also hope it’s in character x’D

Also, this is an alternate timeline where Sam is does not need healed by Ezekiel and human!Cas stays in the bunker with the boys instead of being cruelly kicked out by his negligent soul-partner Dean. I’llneverforgiveyouDean.

WARNINGS: trigger warnings for anyone sensitive to severe allergic reactions (that require use of an EpiPen), subtle (not established) Destiel, sneeze mess, possible spoilers up to season 10, kinda hurt/comfort and a little over the top, but there’s fluff!

PROMPT: So I've always liked the scenario where our beloved ex-angel Castiel is now human and has his first sneeze and is confused by what a sneeze is and the causes of it. Also Castiel's first allergies are adorable for this confused new human. If someone could write a fic with Castiel sneezing for the first time and/or having allergies that would be great please and thank you. Optional: Subtle hints of Destiel

~Reflex~

PART 1

Castiel didn’t think he would ever get used to being human. There were so many rules. Sleep at least this long, eat at least this much but not more than that, when you’re bleeding do this, when your head hurts do that, don’t forget to brush your teeth and hair everyday but not with the same brush, change your sheets, bathe regularly. Always use oven mitts. Never leave the fridge open. A stomachache is not the same as stomach cramps which are not the same as a full bladder.

Castiel’s head spun with it all, and usually he had to learn things the hard way. It was painfully embarrassing to be billions of years old and endure Dean’s laughter or chastising depending on what he had done wrong. Sam was more tolerable, but only by a slim degree. The put-upon looks the young Winchester would level Castiel with were far more honest than Dean’s exaggerated eye-rolling.

No, Castiel would much rather muddle through mistakes in privacy. If he burned himself with bacon oil when trying to make Dean breakfast, he would deal with it. If he nicked himself with the razor while shaving, he would deal with it. It was easier than facing lectures from the boys, or worse having to ask them about something. Castiel had gotten more and more bashful about asking questions for some reason, especially when it came to Dean. He supposed it had to do with all the confusing, overwhelming human emotions he had to juggle nowadays. Angelhood had kept him compartmentalized from such things, but now they were all flooding through, as unmanageable as the washer was the time Castiel put in too much soap.

So naturally, when Castiel felt the slow-rising twinges of something unfamiliar and uncomfortable fluttering around at the bridge of his nose, he immediately stiffened. This was the worst possible time for a biology lesson. At the moment, Castiel was finally getting some long-overdue pop culture training. Dean and Sam, on the grounds of needing a “day to chill,” had forced Castiel into the living room to watch Star Wars. Sam’s huge body occupied the cushy recliner, while Dean and Castiel sat side-by-side on the couch.

Castiel wasn’t actually complaining about the lack of distance between the two of them. Dean’s warm thigh rested against his, and their shoulders were touching. Both sets of hands were in their laps, but Dean’s were slowly migrated toward his knees. The whole business of it gave Castiel a strange, pleasurable sensation in his gut which wasn’t unlike nausea, only painless. It was hard to focus on that lazy feeling when there was a new, fast-approaching one emerging from what seemed like Castiel’s sinuses.

Dean felt Castiel get tense against him, and glanced at his friend out of his peripheral vision. Castiel set his jaw, feeling Dean’s bright, green-…rather lovely.. eyes on him. It was true that Castiel had never really seen Dean as just any other human; that much was clear to almost everyone who had seen them together. However, the delicate blush that would heat Castiel’s cheeks every time they were close hadn’t always been there.

Dean whispered to him, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake Sam, who was dozing. “Relax, man. Han Solo’s too much of a bad ass to die.”

Castiel could see the princess and the pilot giving tearful, dramatic goodbyes to one another in the cryogenic chamber, but he couldn’t muster any worry or sympathy – merely panic at the thought something biologically unseemly was about to happen in front of Dean. The twitch in his nose felt like the fuzzy fingers of something unbidden, reaching further and further back into his nostrils to graze the nerves inside. Castiel’s eyelashes shuttered as fought to keep his eyes open. He did his best to focus on the movie in hopes he could distract both himself and Dean.

“Does…” Castiel’s breath caught, and his mouth dropped open with the sudden jump in the tickle. Talking acted as an enzyme to the reaction, and Castiel closed his eyes tightly against it. Dean’s own green orbs widened.

“… Cas?”

Either his head was going to explode from the rising pressure, or Dean was going to realize something was wrong. One of them was inevitable, and Castiel would have rather it been the first so he wouldn’t be sentient when Dean lectured him on the process.

“Does the pilot love the princess?” Castiel asked through a haze of deep-sinus tickling. Yes, that was precisely the sensation. Something inside his nose was grazing against the sensitive lining, much like the feeling of Dean’s fingertips over the palm of his hand sometimes made him feel the need to scratch. But he couldn’t scratch this, could he?

As Castiel mulled the notion over, wrinkling and un-wrinkling his nose as he frowned through slitted eyes, Dean was very slowly coming to a frightening deduction: Castiel was going to cry because he thought Hans and Leia didn’t give a shit about each other.

“Dude, of course he does,” he said, trying to be soothing for the moment, awkward as it was, in hopes he could avoid the waterworks. Dean honestly had no idea what he would do if Castiel started balling over a perfectly cliché love story. “Just because he ain’t saying it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love her.”

There was a moment when both men looked at one another, and then looked away. Though Castiel had not received much instruction on detecting social tension in a room, even he knew the air had gone from relaxed to awkward just from that question and answer alone. Castiel couldn’t say he knew exactly why.

The itch in his nose gained sudden ground during the interlude, and all Castiel could do was snag a huge breath as the tingling ballooned. His lung strained, head jogging back as he hitched through near-silent breaths – “hh.. h.. h..” His nostrils flared reflexively, tickle continuously inflating larger and larger until he couldn’t stand it one more second. Dean reached and put a hand on Castiel’s thigh, concerned, but suddenly realized what was happening just as Castiel felt the feeling pop.

He snapped forward with a sneeze that surprised them both, “uh’PTSShhuu!” The pressure immediately gave way to a momentary relief, until Castiel felt the urge come on stronger and faster than before. He tossed his head back, mouth agape, and then fell into the second, “uh’PSSH’UU!!”

Sam startled awake on the recliner, bleary-eyed. “Whazzat? Wha?”

Dean, meanwhile, was laughing his ass off. Castiel sniffled to recover, palming his nose with the heel of his hand with an almost instinctive urgency. The inside of his nose tingled with an almost enjoyable aftershock.

“I don’t know what’s better,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Your girly-ass sneezes or the look on your face after ‘em.”

“Castiel sneezed?” Sam asked. He rubbed a large hand over his face and smirked at Castiel, who was starting to sink against the couch cushions. “For a second I thought someone stepped on a squeak toy.”

That just started Dean up again, and Castiel’s expression tightened into a Sam-esque bitchface. He had tried his best to keep it from happening, but apparently he shouldn’t have bothered. No matter what he did, somehow he ended up the butt of someone’s joke. Dean noticed the pinch in Castiel’s shoulders, and reached over to pat one of them.

“Aw, come on, Cas.” He couldn’t help grinning, but tried very hard not to. Darting his eyes to the still snickering Sam didn’t help. “We’re just messing with you. That was your first sneeze, right?”

“I suppose,” Castiel replied, still icy. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to have this conversation because every time the brothers assured him they weren’t taking amusement at his expense, they did it anyway. Still, his curiosity got the better of him. “A sneeze… that’s what happened, just now?”

“Yeah,” Sam said as he adjusted his position. One of his legs had fallen asleep. “You know what that is, don’t you?

“Of course I do!” Castiel puffed up again, defensive. Dean just smiled at him, which only made him more frustrated at this point. “It is a reaction of the body to a foreign stimulus. Until now, I have just.. hh.. never.. hh.. experie-..uh’PTSSH’uuu!”

Castiel had felt it verging on him, but his determination to finish his statement made him try to overcome it. He tried again as he felt a second one coming along, attempting to neutralize the need before it began. Both boys offered a chorus of dawwww as they watched Castiel crinkle and wriggle his nose, but the ex-angel ignored them. Even with every ounce of his impressive willpower set against it, his lungs insisted on seizing breath, his nose continued to spasm, and his body defied him.

“PSSH’uuuu!”

“Man, who taught you how to sneeze like that?” Dean asked, endeared despite the fact Castiel’s outbursts were pretty wet and the man had no idea he was supposed to cover his mouth. “Do angels just naturally sneeze like peeping chicks?”

“It contrasts well with your deep voice, Castiel,” Sam complimented, earning another round of chuckling from Dean.

Rather than pursue the mysteries of sneezing, Castiel shot up from his seat on the couch and dragged his arm beneath his nose as he did so. Dean tried to snatch his wrist, but Castiel caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and deflected.

“Cas, take it easy,” Dean said, face now quite serious. “We were really just kidding. Don’t be dramatic.”

But Castiel wasn’t being dramatic. He was being human, and that was already aimless and weakening, without the constant reminder that he was new at it. Why did it even matter what his sneeze sounded like? It would be Dean to latch onto something completely meaningless and make it matter, all the while getting Sam to help him.

Castiel stomped off to his room before either of them had the chance to make him feel any stupider, closing his door with more force than was probably necessary. Now alone, he heaved a sigh and crossed his arms, perching on the edge of his bed. After a few minutes of silence, Castiel slowly began to regret acting so irrationally toward the brothers. In fact, they teased one another in similar ways out of what Castiel had come to assume was love… strange how quickly human emotions get the best-

Castiel suddenly tossed his head back, bending forward with enough force to stand up and stagger a few steps forward. “Uh’PSHH’uu!” While sneezing wasn’t unwelcome – the aftershock of a sneeze was actually rather nice – Castiel did wish he knew why he was doing it all of a sudden. He could ask Sam or Dean, but even though he felt guilty about overreacting, he still couldn’t comfortably approach them about it. Castiel had always been inferior in terms of human-related knowledge, but now he was their underling in almost every way possible. He wasn’t strong, he wasn’t fast, he had no idea how to use weapons, he had limited experience in actually hunting and wasn’t good at it anyway, and so on.

So, yes. This sneezing business could be handled without their assistance. Castiel touched a few fingers to his nostrils, feeling the dampness there, and felt the dawn of another sneeze come over him. “uh’ptsshh!”

In fact, Castiel thought suddenly, he could use this as an opportunity to learn without them. He didn’t need them hovering over him, constantly criticizing his choices and informing him of what he should be doing. His attempts at making his own decisions had not ended well in the past, but this was such a small one, there was no way he could ruin it. With no desire to rejoin the brothers right now until he sorted this out, Castiel decided to experiment.

Laying down on his back and settling against the bed mattress, Castiel took a long, deep breath through his nose. His breath made a slight whistling noise. Odd. But the air electrified his nasal membranes, causing shivers of irritation. He flinched with a sudden, hard sneeze.

“uh’psshh!”

At times there was more warning, and at others, there was hardly any at all. Interesting. He thought back to Dean’s gun-trigger sneezes, which seemed to startle just about everyone when they happened. Sam’s were more lengthy productions, at times taking almost a minute to develop with spectacular, breathy results. Both brothers had deep, rough, roaring sneezes. In fact, the first time Dean sneezed near Castiel, the angel that thought they were under attack.

Another patient, relaxing breath through his nose, and Castiel produced another. “uh’psshh!”

He would agree that his sneezes did sound a little…high-pitched. He couldn’t see the purpose in altering the sound, and the entire reaction happened so quickly every time, it seemed difficult to control it anyway. Maybe he would try… just…

“hh.. heh..eh’psshhii!”

That wasn’t better at all. If Castiel was honest, it was probably a step in the wrong direction. Again, then. His lungs drew breath, his nose tingled alive with the dependable reflex, and-

“hih’kishh!”

The glottal “kk” at the back of his throat made the pressure bottle up as the sneeze came, and the result was an almost painful experience. Immediately, Castiel ruled out any “kk” or “gg” tongue arrangements to prevent that from happening again. Another breath.

Another “dd’JISHH’huu!”

That one sounded just as explosive as it actually was, and Castiel wrinkled his face in distaste as he felt the moisture along his face and neck. His nose was uncomfortably full as well, brimming with-… well, whatever it is that Dean and Sam blow out of their heads once in a while when they catch colds. Castiel knew the scientific names for such fluids, but didn’t bother with it. He had to worry about the more practical matter of getting a tissue. There were none in the room, and he didn’t want to step out, so Castiel regrettably resorted to his shirt sleeve. Sam hated it when Dean did the same thing, but no one was around to correct him about it. Thank goodness.

No amount of wiping would stem the flow, unfortunately, so Castiel just did what he could until he felt less wet. It was at this time Castiel felt an unusual dry itch in his eyes. Blinking didn’t help, and while rubbing at them with his fists brought relief, it was only temporary.

Sniffling against his pillow, his breath caught weakly against his throat. “uh’psshh!.. uh’PSHH!!” Oh, he was back to his original model. Alas, if he didn’t actively alter it, the sound defaulted. Perhaps it wasn’t really of import. Nose running yet again, Castiel buried his nose against his pillowcase and sniffed sharply.

The backlash was automatic and violent. “UH’psshh!ih’psshh!pshhh!uhpshhh!.. hh.. hh!.. UH’PSHH!PSHH!UH’PSHH!IH’PTSHH.. uh’psshh’HUUU!”

Castiel was not prepared for that level of irritation and release. It left him winded, completely short of breath as he panted against his pillow. Slowly picking his head up, he noted the dark stain there and frowned. He would have to wash it-.. or just.. turn the pillow over, perhaps. Despite being the only person in his bedroom, Castiel still checked to make sure no one was looking as he hid the sneezy evidence.

His head was a bit swimmy from the ordeal, but his nose felt clear and refreshed. He could only compare it to his back or shoulders after a good long stretch. Both hands came up to rub at his eyes again, which were teary from the fit. He suddenly felt a little tired, having come to recognize the feeling after so many nights of simply passing out unexpectedly regardless of where he was. Rather than risk dozing off in a common area – and because he had almost nothing to do instead anyway – Castiel closed his eyes for a little while.

He didn’t even hear Dean crack the door to peek his head in an hour later, wanting to see if Castiel would take a burger for dinner as a peace offering. He didn’t get the see the soft smile on the hunter’s face as he eased the door shut again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sam looked up from his plate of salad, stabbing his fork through some leaves and a baby tomato as Dean thumped down in the chair across from him. “Cas still pissed?”

“Nah, probably not,” Dean said, gathering up his burger. It was packed with so many condiments and dressings, the thing was practically falling apart. Sam gave the dripping hunk of meat a look of dismay that bordered on bitchy.

“Probably?” the younger Winchester prompted.

“He’s sleeping,” Dean said, and then took a bite. Even as he said it though, it rubbed him the wrong way. It was barely 8PM, and while Castiel tended to turn in earlier than they did, he wasn’t that much of an early sleeper.

Sam was similarly suspicious. “Sleeping?”

“Yeah,” Dean remarked through a mouth of food, which encouraged Sam to slide his plate closer to him, presumably to preserve the sanctity of his meal or something. Dean swallowed, then sighed. “You don’t think he’s coming down with something do you?”

Sam shrugged. “Could be. Those sneezes came out of nowhere today.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean groaned. Castiel was a moody teenager when he was healthy and sober. Dean did not want to see the guy jacked up with a cold. On a more hidden, mushy, embarrassing note, Dean didn’t want Castiel feeling sick period. Any germ stupid enough to invade his little buddy’s body was going to answer to Dean Fucking Winchester.

But to keep up his very platonic, very masculine identity, Dean made sure to add, “That would be real shitty of him.”

Sam snorted, putting down his fork to look over at a book he had opened near him. Just like Sam to study through meals even when they weren’t on an official hunt. “Not his fault if he’s sick, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, taking another bite. The brothers ate in silence for a while, enjoying the company and the lack of residual panic that usually never left their minds. It was nice to soak up the moment sometimes, when there was a time and a place to do it. They ate, dinner ended, dishes were cleaned, and eventually room lights were switched off. The conversation was left unfinished, but somehow, it didn’t really matter. They would revisit it when it did.

In other words, they would revisit it immediately the next morning.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Castiel slept through the night without moving an inch, which was abnormal behavior for him. However, upon waking, he wished he had just kept on sleeping. The levels of awareness hit him slowly, one by one, the most urgent of those being the absolutely unstoppable need to.. t-

“uh’psshh!psh!it’shh!.. ha’ptsshhh!ipshhh!.. pshhh!pshh!! hih’pshhh!... AH’PSHH!.. UH’PTSSCHH’huuu!.. IH’TSHH!UH’PSHHH!UHSHH’HUU!”

They tore at his sinuses and throat, jarring him into wakefulness and alerting Castiel to just how terrible he really felt. The center of his face was just a solid block of throbbing congestion, a sensation that echoed up into his head. His headache didn’t pound; it rang like a steady, shrill note that wouldn’t give him even a split second of relief. His eyes felt a little gooey when he opened them, lashes sticking together, and at once he sent his fists digging at them. Both of them burned and prickled, and he rubbed furiously at an itch that wouldn’t be relieved. He could also detect itching along his collarbone, his hips, the insides of his elbows and knees… If all that wasn’t enough, his chest felt tight and his breathing carried a heavy wheeze that made it hard to get a full breath.

Sitting up, the shift got him lightheaded and mess dribbled over his upper-lip. His breath hitched without his permission, but the need was so fierce, Castiel couldn’t hope to hold it back. Head tilting back, he sneezed openly.

“uh’PSHH’huu!” It hung on the air for just a moment, and then he took another breath. “uh’PSH’huuu!” And then another. “PSHHH!.. hhhh’uhpshhh!!..” He had to sneeze with every single, breath, and it was making him dizzy, not to mention dirty. Again he raked fists at his eyes, gritting his teeth at the pain of it but unwilling to stop because it was helping a little.

“uh’PSHHhuu!” Castiel sneezed fiercely, desperate to have the feeling out. “.. uhhh.. PSHH’huuu!!” The pitch rose a little, forceful. “..nnn.. uhh’pshh! uhhh…” Castiel moaned, no longer enjoying any of this in the slightest. He felt disgusting, exhausted, and just generally terrible.

He was gearing up for another sneeze, eyes closed and head jogging back, when there was a knock on his door. In a moment of panic, Castiel pinched his nose shut by reflex. “uh’pxxt!” The sneeze ricocheted around in his head, and his headache nearly blinded him.

“Castiel?” It was Sam’s voice. “You awake yet?”

“Don’d comb ind!!” Castiel said, and then winced. His voice sounded threadbare from sleep, not to mention all the sneezing he’d been doing. Clearing his throat and swallowing around the uncomfortable feeling of a swelling esophagus, Castiel tried again. “I’b-.. dot-.. uh’pxxt!pxxt!.. decend-..?”

Sam was quiet on the other end of the door. Castiel couldn’t tell if it was because he was onto Castiel, or if Sam just couldn’t understand a word he was saying. “Uh.. you missed dinner, so you probably should grab some breakfast. Dean’s just about done cooking.”

“Yes, thag you!” Castiel said breathily, hoping Sam would leave so he could stop holding the sneezes in. It was one of the most uncomfortable sensations in the world. Luckily the Winchester left, footsteps dissipating, just in time for the real comeback. Castiel gasped straight to his toes.

“AHH’PTSSCHHH!!” The first one nearly took him apart, shaking him to his foundations as he practically shouted it, and then dissolved into smaller, rapid expulsions. “uh’psshh!psh!psshh! it’shh!..!.. pshhh!pshh!! ih’pshhh!pshh!!... ha’ptsshhh!ipshhh AH’PSHH!.. UH’PTSSCHH’huuu!!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sam had heard that first monster of a sneeze as he was walking away, but not the other ones, so he assumed it was just the one. A strong one by the sound of it. As Sam walked in, Dean looked up from the stove as he fried his eggs.

“What’s the verdict?” he asked.

“He’s coming,” Sam hedged, sinking into his seat at the table. “But he sounds like complete shit.”

“Dammit,” Dean said to his eggs, reaching up to scratch angrily at the back of his head. He supposed he shouldn’t be all that surprised, given the ferocity of those sneezes last night.

“Yeah, I know,” Sam said in agreement, rubbing one of his temples. “We don’t have time for this. I wanted us to get back on the hunting horse by tomorrow.”

Dean paused as he turned some bacon with a spatula. He hadn’t thought about their hunting duties being postponed by Castiel’s illness. Usually if one of them was sick, they didn’t say a thing about it and simply pushed through until they either died or felt better. But… some piece of Dean’s heart chilled when he thought about forcing Castiel outside into the autumn air because they didn’t trust him in the bunker alone.

“He’d be okay on his own, right?” Dean asked. Even that was an arrow to his gut. Abandoning Castiel when he was sick seemed like an even douchier thing to do.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam said. His brother was skimming this morning’s paper, presumably looking for weird deaths or occurrences nearby. “He’s never been sick before.”

“I’b dot sick,” said a petulant, but weak voice by the hallway. Both brothers looked up, and the burning shock of what they saw pushed Sam to his feet. Castiel, who was perfectly fine yesterday, looked a million times worse than how he sounded.

His eyes were swollen and bloodshot, the area around them hooded with deep red shadow and the corners crusted with residue. The area around his nose was chapped from rough fabric treatment, the nostrils glistening and twitchy. His hair was even more of a mess than usual, matted at the edges. One of his hands kept straying to his throat, and the brothers could hear why – it didn’t sound as if he could properly breathe. And his shirt, from his sleeves to the front of it, was stained patchy with what Dean could only assume was snot. Castiel was revolting this morning, but more than that, he was pitiful. And very worrying.

“Oh my god, Cas,” Sam breathed, advancing on him with such speed that Castiel actually cowered back for just a second. Dean’s heart hurt. He switched off all the valves on the stove and came over himself, taking Castiel’s face by his jaw to get a closer look.

“Is this-? Sammy, what is this?”

“Some kind of severe allergic reaction,” Sam said, distracted by what he was surveying. Castiel’s lips were parted so he could breath, nostrils flaring as he felt the tickling beginnings of that oh-so-familiar need. Castiel groaned because he didn’t want to, and Dean’s maternal instincts flew into overdrive.

“Cas? Cas, you oka – ”

“UH’psshh!hih’pshHH!it’shh!.. heh’ptsshhh!itt’pshhh!.. pshhh!pshh!! HA’pshhh!... AH’PSHH!.. UH’PTSSCHH’huuu!.. IH’TSHH!HUH’PSHHH’UHH!UHSHH’HUU!”

Both brothers managed to avoid the spray, but Castiel’s body was sagging from the effort. Without a word, they hooked his arms over their shoulders to keep him upright, and felt him pant hard and fast against them as he tried to catch his breath.

“Shit,” Sam was saying. “Dean, Dean, he – ”

“HH’PSHHH!AH’PISHH!.. ptshhhuuu!ih’pitshhh!ptshhh!.. ptshh!!ah’ptshhh!!!... ih’PTSCHH!!TSHHH!.. ITSHH!!.. huh-huh’PTSHH!.. AH’PSHHH!..ohhhh..”

Castiel went back to gasping, trying to get something into his lungs. His lips weren’t turning blue, so somehow he was still managing to get enough air. Still, the panicked way the ex-angel was heaving inhales, tugging at the collar of his shirt, meant he pretty freaked. When the edge of the shirt came down far enough for Sam and Dean to see the angry, hive-ridden rash on Castiel’s clavicles and chest, someone made an executive decision.

“Hold him,” Sam said, and then he practically vaulted himself across the room. Dean was left clinging to Castiel, who was getting more terrified by the second. The proximity to a guy who was sneezing his head off and dripping with the aftermath of it wasn’t pretty, but Dean could look past it. At a complete loss, he tried to sit Castiel down at the kitchen table.

“Deep breaths, bud,” Dean said, watching him take shallow ones. He crouched in front of him, trying to catch Castiel’s eyes. They were foggy with what Dean assumed to be oncoming sneezes. “Come on, man. Look, inhale.”

Dean took a long breath through his mouth, trying to encourage Castiel to do the same. It worked for maybe a second until his breath got snatchy, and then Cas braced a hand on Dean’s shoulder for both stability and in an effort to get his friend out of the way.

“hh’pshhh’uu!”

Dean felt the lukewarm sprinkle hit his neck, but Castiel wasn’t sick. These were severe allergies, and even if they weren’t, Dean was too worried to hold it against the poor guy.

“Again,” Dean demanded, holding Castiel still with hands on both his shoulders. Castiel shook his head a little, wheezing.

“Too buch,” he rasped, wrinkling his nose. “Tickles-.. t-.. too b-.. hah’AHPSSHH!.. uh’pshhh!!” Castiel moaned once more, hands reaching up to rub at his tortured eyes. Dean caught his wrists and held them back, earning himself a desperate look from the ex-angel.

“Can’t let you do that, man,” Dean sad in way of apology. “You’ll make it worse.”

“Bud-.. ihh’pshhh!”

Dean turned his face away, wondering where Sam had gone. Castiel was still fighting for a decent pocket of air, and Dean was getting soaked in the process. Thumping, hollow coughs reminded him of the now.

“Inhale, deep, come on,” Dean said, demonstrating. He managed to get Castiel to get a decent, hitching breath before he barreled forward with yet another sneeze.

“upshhh!”

“Good, good. Again, you got this.”

Inhale. “UH’ptsshh’huu!”

“Doing awesome, Cas. Another one.”

Inhale. “Ih’ptshh!psshh!.. ah’pshhh! ih’shhh!pshhh!ptshh!pstsh!ptsh!ptsh!ptsh!.. HUH’ptshhh’uu!.. EH’PTSHH’uuu!.. ptshh!ptsh!PTSHH!.. uh’pshh!”

Shit. Dean didn’t think Castiel’s throat was going to close completely or anything, but these fits made it impossible for him to breathe properly. Once he got rolling, Castiel couldn’t get enough in between to sustain himself. Dean made a promise to never, ever laugh at the sound of someone’s sneezes again. Girly though they were, Cas’s sneezes were on the mild side of lethal.

“Dean- ih’pshh!.. D-ee’pshhh!.. help-! uh’ptshh!!”

Castiel calling for his help with real fear in his voice set Dean’s nerves on ice. He decided right then that he would do whatever he could to prevent Castiel from saying his name like that in the future.

“Easy, take it easy, man,” Dean soothed, voice much calmer than he felt. Was Cas going into anaphylactic shock? Was he going to die right here at the kitchen table, to allergies? Dean snatched a napkin from nearby, pressing it to Cas’s nose. “Blow, okay? Get some of that shit out of you.”

Castiel didn’t need to be told twice, blowing hard with gurgling results, and Dean grimaced as he felt the napkin fill with warm heaviness. Tossing it to the floor, Dean sprung to the counter and grabbed a stack, pressing another to Cas’s mouth and nose just as he wrenched with another sneeze.

“Again, big breath, come on,” Dean said. Castiel followed his orders like the soldier he was, huffing out what seemed to be gallons of fluid. It was almost impressive, if it wasn’t so nasty. They went through nearly twelve napkins before Castiel started coming up dry, and by then the ex-angel was groggy and huffing.

But, he wasn’t sneezing anymore, or at least not as frequently. Dean counted that as a win. Just then, Sam crashed back into the kitchen with what looked to be a little grey first-aid kit. Flipping it open, he started setting a syringe. Dean paled.

“Uh, Sammy?”

“Take his pants off, Dean.”

“WHAT?”

“uh’ptshh’uu!”

“Now!”

Blushing to his ears, Dean tried to get through it as soon as possible. Luckily Castiel was wearing sweat pants, so Dean only had to ease Castiel off the chair a little and shuck them down to his ankles. Stepping back, Dean felt his heart jump when Sam pushed up the edge of Castiel’s boxers on his right leg.

“Don’t move, okay Cas? It’s going to pinch,” Sam said, and then he pushed the needle in. Dean had seen enough movies to know that was an EpiPen, but where Sam had managed to find one in this old place, he had no idea. Castiel’s expression wrinkled, but he immediately started breathing freer as soon as the deed was done.

Dean blinked. “Where did you-?”

“The Men of Letters had some epinephrine laying around, luckily,” Sam said, two fingers to Castiel’s neck to check his pulse. It was weak and fast, but getting stronger. Castiel himself looked pink-faced and droopy. Sam had a hand on his thigh to keep him from sliding out of the chair. Dean couldn’t explain it, but he felt weirdly jealous and possessive of Castiel right now. Something about how tired and small he looked in that chair made Dean want to stand guard.

“I don’d like this,” Castiel said, voice absolutely spent. The vibration of talking made him start to cough, and Dean moved over to rub the top of his shoulders.

“Yeah, neither do we, buddy,” he said. Sam stood up and started to ease Castiel to his feet as well. Dean stiffened. “What are you doing?”

Sam gave his brother a confused stare. “What do you mean? Dean, Castiel just had a pretty severe allergic reaction. We have to take him to the hospital.”

“Doe hospital,” Castiel grunted, swollen eyes closed. There were tear tracks down both sides of his face from his sneezing fits. Dean couldn’t stop himself from rubbing one of them away, thumbing at it. Castiel’s head tilted just slightly into his hand.

“Sorry, buddy,” Dean said as Castiel opened his eyes to look up at him. His blue, blue, bloodshot eyes. “You don’t get to make this choice.”

There was a moment when Castiel and Dean just soul-stared until Sam cleared his throat. It was like a jump-start to an idling engine, revving Dean with purpose as he moved away to grab his wallet and keys. They were all still in their pajamas, but somehow it didn’t even matter.

to be continued~!

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

.........................

CAS!!!!!!!! :heart:

Holly sweet muffins! The intensity of this is just magnificent!

[PuddinPop]

“Castiel sneezed?” Sam asked. He rubbed a large hand over his face and smirked at Castiel, who was starting to sink against the couch cushions. “For a second I thought someone stepped on a squeak toy.”

I am legit laughing my fucking ass off at this this part is my favourite thing ever. Poor Cas xDDD

THIS is exactly the reason why you are one of my favourite writers ever. The intensity throughout this is just amazing. I think the seriousness of the situation added something really nice and new to it, and as sadistic as it may make me, I thoroughly enjoyed it xD

to be continued~!

YESSSSSSSSSS. Seriously cannot wait for the next update of this. I shall be coming back here and checking for an update periodically until there is one.

[SpookyScarySkeleton]

DUDE WHEN YOU SAID YOU WOULD TAKE ON THE PROMPT I WAS PLEASED BUT NOW IM AMAZED HOLY MAC N CHEESE. Please do continue. My poor baby Castiel. *claps* magnificent.

[HPG]

Aww, poor guy! I have anaphylactic allergies and they are not fun.

[SterlingSilver]

Time for some thank-yous to the thoughtful and kind commenters~! <3

The intensity of this is just magnificent!

I'm so glad you liked! Thank you very much, Pyrus >w<

THIS is exactly the reason why you are one of my favourite writers ever. The intensity throughout this is just amazing. I think the seriousness of the situation added something really nice and new to it, and as sadistic as it may make me, I thoroughly enjoyed it xD

PUDDIN AWWWW THANK YOUUU~! You're always so sweet QwQ! I'm also a bit sadistic, so writing a more serious sick!story was fun for me >w<. I'm glad you enjoyed it too!

DUDE WHEN YOU SAID YOU WOULD TAKE ON THE PROMPT I WAS PLEASED BUT NOW IM AMAZED HOLY MAC N CHEESE. Please do continue. My poor baby Castiel. *claps* magnificent.

Thank you DNO~! I have to also say thanks for the great prompt idea I've really enjoyed working with it!

Aww, poor guy! I have anaphylactic allergies and they are not fun.

I've never had them so I don't know if I am portraying them somewhat accurately and respectfully, but they certainly don't sound fun one bit.