I'll be your tissue - SPN (Dean) [6/6]

[TheUnicycle]

Hey, since it's been a while since I've posted one of these (sarcasm. it's been like three days.), here's another supernatural fic (well, part one of one, anyway). This one features Dean "canonically hates bodily fluids" Winchester using Cas as a tissue in a variety of situations, reluctantly/unwillingly at first, before warming up to the idea. Undertone of destiel, may or may not be more prominent destiel later. This first part is kinda short; the next one I post will be longer (it's already longer than these three bits combined, and it's not done). Also, side note- I have no clue why the font I write it in pastes sometimes and sometimes not, my computer just likes to change up its copy-pasting sometimes, but getting it to cooperate while keeping the italics seems hard. Anyway:

 

 

The first time, it's an accident.

Dean's leaning over Cas' shoulder to look at a news article that's probably a case, and the sneeze comes almost out of nowhere. He starts pulling back and bringing his hand to cover his mouth, but he doesn't get far on either and jerks forward into Cas' shoulder with a wet hisshuUH! When he pulls back, wincing, there's a wet spot on Cas' trenchcoat.

"Shit, sorry."

Cas just shrugs and says, "It's fine."

"Dude, it's gross."

Cas turns to level him with a look that says do you want me to be upset?, and says, "Dean, I can just clean myself off with my grace. It's actually more sanitary than sneezing elsewhere would be."

Dean looks down, and sure enough, his coat is clean. He mutters "still gross" under his breath, but leans forward again to continue looking at the article.

 

*****

 

The next time, he has only slightly more say in it.

Dean's coming down with a cold when he, Sam, and Cas all get jumped by a group of vamps when they walk out of their hotel. When he wakes up in an abandoned warehouse, he's tied up and shoved into some sort of cage, the two of him next to him. At least he knows they're not dead yet.

He should be able to get the rope off relatively quickly, but the dust in the place isn't going to let his already-sensitive nose wait that long. Since the cramped space only gives him the option of spraying Sam or spraying Cas, he chooses the option that was bragging earlier he "wasn't susceptible to human illnesses".

He gets his face as close to Cas as possible with the restraints, and aims at his chest when his body shudders with a eh'sshhew! ehh'shieww! et'shHIEW! before mumbling an apology (which Cas tells him is unnecessary) and going back to working himself free.

 

*****

 

The third time, Cas is asking for it. Literally. Forces his hand, even. (also literally).

They're tracking a trio of werewolves, end up spending the whole day interviewing witnesses who barely saw anything and chasing wild geese(once again, literally- goddamn goose grabbed the one useful piece of evidence). With nothing they can do before morning, they go back to their hotel room, intending to watch a documentary Cas picked out and relax. Except, when they arrive, it becomes apparent a cat moved in while they were out.

Cas takes it outside and is immediately confronted by the owners, who are relieved to take it off their hands. Dean's nose, however, feels no such relief. He quickly grabs a handful of tissues from the box on the nightstand and holds them up to his face. eh'tshew! heh'esHEW!

After Cas has cleaned up as much cat fur as he can (he gives some convoluted explanation about why it's hard to use his grace to get rid of every last piece in the room, and a different but no less convoluted one for why he can't just stop Dean from fucking sneezing), they finally settle in to watch the documentary.

They've barely made it two minutes when Dean sneezes het'SHIEW! heh'shuhhiew! into cupped hands, the tiny box of shitty tissues used up while Cas cleaned. Which, of course, means his hands are covered in snot, so he has Cas pause the documentary while he goes to clean up (an eh'tshUH! forcing itself out during the process).

After another 15 minutes that only gets about 8 watched of the documentary, Cas is getting pissy, as if he's choosing to be a sneezy mess.

"I can just go wait it out in the shower. We can watch it later, or you can -eh watch it with­-hih-out me heh- eh'tSHHiew!"

"The rental expires tonight, Dean. And you said you'd watch it."

"What do you expect me to do, Cas? If I could just stop sneezing, don't you think I would hih­-have ih- done th-hha-at by hu'TCHew! now."

He stands and moves to step past Cas to get to the bathroom again, sniffling. Cas grabs him by his snot-covered hand and stops him, ignoring his attempts to pull free. "You could stop getting up."

"I'm not gonna sit there covered in snot." He yanks at his hand again, but instead of breaking free, he gets the tingle of Cas' grace skating over his apparently clean palm. "Neat trick. Still going to wash my hands."

Cas lets him go, glaring, but when his breath inevitably starts hitching again a minute after he gets back, the guy fucking pins his hands down, shoves a bunched-up flap of his trenchcoat in his face, and waits until he can't hold it back anymore. ha'tshew! etsHIEWW! He sniffs and tries to glare at Cas over the fabric, but doesn't get very far before his eyes screw up again. heh'esSHuhh! Cas wipes his face with it before loosening the grip on his hands. He transfers the bunch of cloth, already apparently spotless, to Dean's hands and just turns back to the documentary like nothing happened.

A few minutes later, a single eh'tsshhieww! is forced to fall into Cas' trenchcoat and he acquiesces after that, if only because Cas is apparently going to do it regardless. Also, he feels like shit, too worn out between the hunt and sneezing to keep arguing, especially given winning would mean getting up.

When the next uH'sshiew! huh'SHEWW! uh'tshshIEW! takes over him, he holds the continually-cleaned coat against his face himself- maybe he can at least keep one little shred of his dignity that way.

It's not long before he ends up leaning against Cas, exhausted, still sniffling and letting out the occasional sneeze, but they're steadily decreasing in frequency and intensity. Of course, it could just be that his body has decided he's simply too tired to keep it up.

Eventually, his eyes slip shut, he lets out one last sleepy eh'tshew! against Cas, and he doesn't open them again until morning.

Edited August 25 by TheUnicycle
updated title

[anna]

😳😳😳

[TheUnicycle]

Part two:

The time after that, he asks for it. He blames his fever-addled brain for that one, although it is actually pretty convenient, and probably honestly less gross once he gets past his initial objections.

He's laid up at the bunker, Sam off to some case Dean's half-convinced he made up so he wouldn't have to stick around and risk catching this miserable cold. Dean wouldn't blame him if he had.

Cas stays, though, following Dean around, hovering while Dean's heating up soup like he's waiting to catch Dean when he falls (and he is a little lightheaded, but he's not just going to fall over), sitting next to him as he lies in bed, even standing at the door the whole time he showers(and he'd had to prompt Cas to leave the room once he'd set Dean's clothes down on the counter). And it's not that he doesn't like having Cas around (he really, really does), but it's not like Dean's much fun to be around at the moment. Surely the angel's got better things to do than carry clothes around and take his temperature.

Instead of whatever important business he could be getting up to, though, he's sitting next to Dean as he reaches into the box of tissues beside where he's slumped on a pile of pillows stacked against his headboard, groaning as he realizes it's almost empty. Cas looks at him, questioning, as Dean pitches forward into the bunch of tissues. he'ESHhiew! eshhiew! heh- eh- e'tshhIEW! When he pulls the tissues from his face and looks towards Cas again, he's evidently figured out the problem.

As Dean drops the used tissues in the trash can beside his bed, Cas puts the box back down and says, "I'll go get some more." He's already making to get up, but Dean reaches out a hand to stop him.

"Wait," he says, and Cas looks at him, but he's not sure where he was going with it. Mostly he just really didn't want Cas to leave, which is kinda pathetic, but then he's kind of pathetic in general right now, really. Some of the steadying Cas has done probably actually has been necessary, even if he wouldn't admit as much. "Can I just- can you do the magic trenchcoat-cleaning thing? Instead."

It falls out of his mouth before he's really though it through, and he's about to take it back or at least come up with a non-desperately-needy explanation for it when Cas says, "Of course, Dean," and settles back down fully on the bed. Just like that. Just of course, Dean, I'll be your tissue.

He really doesn't want to take it back and have Cas leave, though, so he just shifts closer to Cas, who moves the box of tissues that's between them out of the way and pulls the ends of his coat free where he's been sitting on them. Dean takes it, pitching into the fabric with a heh'tshhiew! he'tsheww! before letting his hands fall and slumping fully against Cas' body. He shivers, the blanket knocked off during his shifting around, and Cas reaches to pull it up to cover him again.

The shivering has almost stopped between Cas' warmth and the blanket when he feels the next fit of sneezes building. He uses his tired arms to drag the coat up, not wanting his snot all over the place even if there is no one but him who cares. hheh- ehHEH- heh'ESHHIEW! ETSCHHEW! eh'TCHHUIEW! etsSHIEW! esSHUHiew!

The intensity of the sneezes leaves him a little lightheaded, but at least his sinuses feel clearer. He knows it won't last, but he'll take what he can get. This method of covering also doesn't leave him with a pile of snot-soaked tissues in his hands or pressed against his face after a fit like that, so that's a definite plus. The evidence just disappears as soon as it hits, and he doesn't have to deal with that on top of everything else.

As he's settling back down, he realizes at some point during the fit Cas' arm wrapped around him, steadying him. It's nice, his fevered brain tells him. It's correct, but he's pretty sure he wouldn't think it that loudly otherwise. He nuzzles against Cas' side where he's slumped, which is apparently a mistake because his nose starts twitching again.

Cas seems to notice and take pity on his aching arms, using the arm that's not holding him up to take the trenchcoat from his hands and lift it to his face. heh- hehhh- ehh'sshiew! heh'shhieww! heshiew!

Dean mumbles a thank you as Cas pulls it away after he's done, feeling the tendrils of sleep pulling at him. Cas rubs soothing circles into his back, and he slips under.

He wakes sometime later with a harsh heSSHHIEWW! that rips out of him, and finds Cas' trenchcoat pressed over his face. Cas' hand dips forward with his movement, even though Dean knows he could stay there unmoving under far more pressure if he wanted to. His still half-asleep and heavily feverish brain tells him it's very sweet of Cas. There's not much time to dwell on it, though. het'CHHIEW! heshUH'iew!

Once he's done, Cas says, "You should eat something again."

He grunts, which sends him into a coughing fit, which ends with another set of sneezes. eh'tsSHhew! etshhEW! 'SHHIEW! He swings his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the slight wobble as he stands.

Cas sighs, walking around the bed to reach his arm back around to steady him. "I could heat your soup up and bring it, you know. You don't have to get up."

"Don't have enough tissues for that."

Cas rolls his eyes, but starts walking, steadying him against his side. They make it a couple doors down the hall before he starts sneezing again, Cas basically holding him up, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist and the other holding the coat to his face as he wracks forward with the force of it. etsHUH! tsSHUHiew! He can feel Cas rolling his eyes as he resumes stumbling towards the kitchen, but he doesn't bother arguing.

They make it to the kitchen without further incident. Once they arrive, Cas sits him down at the table and plops a box of tissues he'd left on the counter earlier in front him, and starts walking towards the pantry before Dean realizes what's happening.

"Hey! I can microwave my own soup, you know," he says, starting to get up. He doesn't get very far before he has to stop to rapidly snatch tissues from the box before heh'etSHuhH! He feels the stool hit his ass, but he's not done. he'tsSHuh'iew! heh'shhiew!

When he looks back up, Cas is staring at him, looking extremely unimpressed. "I'm going to heat it up for you, and you're going to sit there."

He doesn't protest this time, just drops the tissues in the trash, gets a few fresh ones ready (he knows he'll need them soon enough), and drops his head onto his arm with a moan. He's pretty sure he drifts off a little, because he the next thing he knows, Cas is setting the bowl down in front of him.

As he eats, Cas' hand rests on his back; he's pretty sure it's mostly so he doesn't fall off the stool, but he likes the contact all the same. Besides, his pride is already injured enough without finding out he can't even eat a bowl of soup without falling over.

A few bites in, he feels the tickle building again; he would blame the steam, but it's clear his nose doesn't need an excuse right now. Cas must see it coming, because he uses his free hand to lift his trenchcoat back up to Dean's face, and keeps him from faceplanting in the soup. ehh'shhEW! ESHHIEWW!

He makes it through the rest of the bowl of soup with no more than a few coughs, the warmth helping clear his stuffy head. When he's done, Cas deposits the bowl in the sink, then comes back to where he's struggling to get up, wordlessly helping him up and back to his room.

Cas starts a movie playing after they settle down, Dean ending up leaning back against Cas at some point along the way. He slips into a state that's probably one part relaxation and three parts fevered haze, spending more focus on the warmth of Cas against him than on... he doesn't have a clue what they're watching, actually.

Cas reaches to cover his face with his sleeve every time he shakes with a cough or sneeze, wiping his nose with the freshly cleaned cloth after and occasionally lifting the flap of his coat to have Dean blow into the lining. He's pretty sure he's past the point of sickness where he ordinarily would have just stuck a blanket over his head and suffered, so the softness of Cas is definitely a welcome change. Maybe it's just the fever, but he can't remember why he was ever objecting to this anyway.

As the credits roll, a particularly bad fit starts building, and Cas' arm lifts from his chest in preparation. hih- eh- heh- HESSHIEWW! esshhIEW! eh- ehh- etshshuUH! hhheh- 'SHEWW! het'shieww! eshhew!

After, Cas' cool palm rests on his forehead, and he feels the tinge of grace that means Cas is taking his temperature.

"'S nice," he says sleepily.

"What's nice?" Cas asks absentmindedly, moving the laptop off the bed.

"You. Takin' care of me. Coverin' my face." He nuzzles his face against Cas' chest. "'s not normal, you know."

"Go to sleep, Dean. You're tired."

"I mean it, Cas. Thank you," he says, and he's already half asleep by the time Cas responds in a low tone. He doesn't make out the words, but he snuggles deeper, his arms around Cas as he drifts fully out of consciousness.

[TheUnicycle]

Not as much actual sneezing in this part, and it's also a shorter one. Next one is both longer and has a lot more sneezing (isn't quite ready yet, though). Enjoy!

Dean spends a couple days in a haze before he starts to recover enough to really be cognizant. He's not entirely clear on the details of what took place, but he remembers enough of it to know he spent a lot of time wrapped around Cas, and that Cas would be covered in snot if he were human. And presumably very, very sick.

Fortunately, he's not, so he's neither of those things, but Dean switches back to boxes of tissues all the same. He couldn't say he doesn't miss the convenience at all, though(okay, he could say it, but he's not exactly the most honest guy around). A silent agreement not to mention the events during the depths of Dean's illness seems to fall into place, and when Sam eventually returns from his ghost hunt(there really was a case, but he finds out from Claire that Sam had been calling around 'basically begging' for one), Cas just tells him Dean 'mostly just slept a lot', but the way Cas' gaze lingers on him after Sam turns around makes him sure it wasn't all just a fever dream.

As far as they're concerned, officially it never happened, even if there is perhaps more casual touch between them in the weeks after. It's not until about three weeks later, in an abandoned warehouse in Illinois, that they're faced with any of it.

Dean's pressed up against Cas, between a stack of pallets and a wall. Sam's in a similar spot across the corridor, out of sight of the demon get-together they're here to crash. There's just a couple too many demons to comfortable handle when they're so close together, even if Cas says they're pretty weak ones. So, they're waiting for one or two to wander out, let them take out a couple before the rest of the group has time to realize they're here.

The problem is, their hiding spot is a bit dustier that he was prepared for, and he can't even get his hand up to his face without sticking it out into the open or risking knocking something loose. Fortunately for them, Cas' hand is basically already shoved in his face, and he can get it the rest of the way from his place further from the open. Cas seems to figure out what needs to be done about the same time Dean does, though he has no idea how Cas can even tell at this point. He's blaming angel powers, along with the lot of practice Cas had had when he was sick.

Sam, on the other hand, clearly has no idea what they're doing from the 'what the fuck' look on his face as Cas wriggles his hand through the cramped space and moves it up Dean's face. He seems to understand- at least partially- when Cas' fingers clamp down around his nostrils, squeezing them shut.

It works for a little, but the demons seem disinclined to leave their game of what sounds like- defying all explanation- Go Fish. First time for everything, he supposes. At least with the way it's going in there, the demons might end up doing some of their work for them. He can hope; the itch in his nose isn't going away.

A minute later, unable to hold it back any longer, he stifles a sneeze as quietly as he can manage, Cas' fingers tight around his nose. It's not quite silent, though- it'd easily be inaudible to humans at that distance, but the things they're dealing with aren't limited to human senses. Then there's the fact it didn't do much to relieve the itch.

"Did you hear that?" one of the demons says. Shit.

"Hear what?" Cas' fingers shift on his nose, which soothes it a little more, though he's far from in the clear.

A chair scrapes over the floor. "There's someone out there," the first demon says.

"You're just saying that cause you're losing."

A third demon joins in sarcastically with, "Yeah, because you've won a single game tonight."

The tickle is building; he and Cas won't be able to hold it back much longer.

"I'm telling you, there's someone out there. And if they're being this quiet, it's probably a hunter."

Another near-silent stifle escapes as a new demon chimes in with, "I wish. We could use something fun to do."

"I just heard it again," the first demon says again. Honestly, Dean might feel a little bad for him here if not for the whole literally-a-demon thing.

"Fine, let's go check. This game sucks anyway." Two sets of footsteps approach. His eyes are watering, blurring his vision slightly, but he sees Sam tighten his grip on an angel blade while he does the same with the demon knife.

They slip out in tandem, and he feels the blade sink into solid flesh as his nose, free of Cas' fingers, takes its opportunity. ETSHH! His eyes open long enough to see the demon flicker as it dies, and then screw shut again as he sneezes openly over the demon once more, no longer concerned with stealth. ha'ESSH! It mists his own hand, but it's not like he won't need to clean off the blood splatters, anyway.

He pulls the blade free, and the three of them make quick work of the remaining demons.

[TheUnicycle]

Part 4:

After that, there are no new cases in sight, so they get down to work on the bunker. Sam's set up in the library, focusing on the computer side of things, while he and Cas sort through and clean out the rooms they've barely touched since they moved in.

There's a layer- or several- of dust on everything, so he ends up sniffling and sneezing enough throughout the work that he brings a box of tissues and a trash can into whatever room they're working on, using his own sleeve to cover when he can't reach them. It's not exactly pleasant, but it's definitely manageable- just a few an hour.

After they start in on a new storage room, it's a little less definite. He walks in, Cas behind him, and drops the trash can on the ground, breath already hitching. He hasn't even found a spot to put the box down when he lets a huh'SHUH! into a couple of tissues, blowing his nose gently before he drops them in the trash.

About five minutes after he's set the box down on an opening on one of the shelves, he's hitching again, though he manages to hold off on actually sneezing, and the itch reduces to a simmer. For a few more minutes, anyway. huh'shUSH! uh'shhUH! He drops the tissues into the trash, then grabs a couple more and blows his nose before going back to work.

After about forty minutes and fifteen more sneezes, he's considering letting Cas clean this room out by himself. It's only getting worse as he spends more time here. Still, maybe his nose will give up eventually?

Not yet, at least. He puts the box of bones he was hoping Cas could tell him what were from down on the nearest shelf and sneezes into the crook of his elbow. hu'SHSSH! When he finally gets to Cas, his breath is already hitching again. He knows it's not going to be able to hold it back much longer, but Cas seems to see the problem. Cas' solution, however, is not to take the box from him and free up his arms.

Instead, Cas cups his hands over Dean's mouth and nose. It's not exactly the answer Dean was looking for, but he's out of options at this point. He grips the handles of the box tightly as he pitches forward, though Cas' hands put up just the right amount of resistance to keep him steady without feeling like he's slamming his face into a wall. huh'sshhsh! uh'tsshuh!

He pulls back. "Dude, what the hell? Why didn't you just take the box?"

Cas' eyes flick over him, and he says, "You don't like having mucus on your arms." Cas' hand brushes his arm as it lowers, grace tingling over his skin and cleaning his shirt.

Dean's not really sure how to respond to that, so he puts it off, stepping around Cas to put the box down. Technically, Cas isn't wrong, but he can't just do that. But if he says that, Cas will ask why, and he doesn't have an explanation. It's not that he's giving up the argument, he's... strategizing. "Do you know what kind of bones these are?"

Cas tilts the lid up and peers inside. "Several different species of flying squirrel, but there's some sort of aura to them." He pauses for a moment, and turns to where Dean is about to lift his arm over his face, placing his own forearm over it first. Knowing he's not going to win, Dean doesn't bother trying to hold it back any longer. heshUHsh! Besides, Cas isn't wrong about it being kinda nice.

Cas turns back to the box, placing his hand on the side. "They seem to have been conceived on the day of a solar eclipse."

Well, okay then. Hardly the weirdest thing they've found.

The label maker is where he left it across the room. He manages to make it there and back without sneezing again, but almost as soon as he steps back up next to Cas, the urge overwhelms his nose. Cas barely even turns towards him as he places the tails of his trenchcoat over Dean's face. eh'shsSHh! husShUH!

It happens twice more before the box is labeled; after it is, Cas turns to give him a look as he bends to grab the next box. "Dean, I can finish this room by myself."

"I'm -hhuh fine." He can feel Cas' gaze heavy on him, but ignores him, and opens the box to peer inside. He starts to curse, dropping the box lid, but doesn't get further than the first syllable before his own ragged inhale cuts him off. Which, of course, only drags more of the fur the box contains into his nose- and based on his current state, he'd bet it's cat fur.

Cas sighs, wrapping the lining of his trenchcoat over Dean's face. huh'shuH! heh'SHHuuH! ESSHHUSH! uh'shsshSSH! He doesn't protest as Cas drags him up, guiding him from the room as he stumbles with sneeze after sneeze, head still buried in fabric. he'shuh! heshUH! ESSHH! uh'ESSHUH!

When he finally gets long enough between sneezes to pull his head up for air, he realizes he's in the bathroom, sitting on the shower bench with Cas in front of him. "Whhhuh- whhh hu'tSHshH!"

"You need a shower, Dean."

"Thhhh-anks, Ca-­ahh-s," he says, the edge of his sarcasm further dulled by the way he collapses against Cas with the next pair of sneezes. hu'SHUH! huh'SHSHuh!

He knows Cas is rolling his eyes even with his face buried in Cas' stomach. "To remove the cat fur, Dean."

Dean responds first with a wet sneeze against Cas' shirt and a groan. "How am I even supposed to do that?" He punctuates his point with another hu'ESSHhuH! that leaves him slumped, Cas the only thing between him and a one way trip to the tile floor.

"Either," Cas says, "you can sit on the bench and let me help you, or you can sit on the floor. But you-" Cas pauses while he sneezes again "-need to get the fur off."

"Why do the Men of Letters even hhha'shhuh! have a box of loose cat fur?"

Cas doesn't seem to have trouble understanding him, despite the congestion and the fact his face is still buried in fabric. "The goddess Freyja-" Dean starts hitching again, and Cas stops. hehh'ESHH! Cas hands him a couple benadryl he's apparently picked up, and Dean swallows them as Cas asks, "Would you rather I help you to the floor and then leave, or stay and help you?"

Dean weighs his options, not even considering trying to argue he could stay up on the bench by himself. Cas knows it's not true, and he doesn't actually want to crack his skull on the tile, anyway. He buckles forward with another sneeze, and, fuck it, he's too far gone to care. His head aches, his body aches, he's exhausted. "Stay," he croaks, punctuating it with a cough.

Cas stiffens slightly, clearly not having expected him to agree- he'd be surprised too, if he had energy for that- but recovers quickly, turning Dean to the side slightly, pulling the shower curtain closed, then hesitating. "I'm going to take your clothes off now."

He grunts his assent, and it's evidence of just how tired he is that he doesn't bother trying to joke about it. Cas kneels in front of him, unbuttoning his shirt, propping his chest up with a steady hand. Dean doesn't even register the lack of covering on his face until after he dips forward with a heh'ERSSH! and blinks his eyes open to see Cas' head, stoic as he pulls the last button free like Dean hadn't just sneezed in his face.

Clearly anticipating his protests, Cas says, "Dean, I don't mind. Just relax and don't worry about covering your mouth."

Dean dips forward with another HURSSHuh! as Cas pushes the shirt over his shoulders, half-expecting Cas to be staring back in disgust when his eyes own again, but he's just patiently holding Dean's shoulders so he doesn't fall. He even rubs Dean's wet nose on the back of his hand after he's dumped the flannel in the laundry basket, before moving on to tug the undershirt over his head.

Once Dean's stripped down to his boxers, Cas turns the water on, holding one hand under the stream as it warms. Once he deems the temperature appropriate, he pulls the detachable shower head down, and starts going over Dean thoroughly with soap and water. He's somewhat torn between disappointed and relieved that he feels too much like shit to focus on Cas' hands scrubbing over him, but mostly he's just exhausted. He can't even find the energy to be embarrassed about sneezing openly on Cas every fifteen seconds- or, by the time Cas shuts the water off, every thirty or so. In his defence, Cas really doesn't seem to mind.

Once he's more or less dry and wrapped in a towel, Cas sets him on the toilet seat while he pulls a pair of sweatpants, some boxers, and a t-shirt from a drawer. Cas hands him the boxers, and turns to face the wall after he releases the building hesSHuh! into Cas' outstretched arm.

Somehow, Cas manages to get him into the clothes and hauls him to his feet- mostly- pausing to guide Dean's head to the crook of his neck. huh'essh! Dean tries to pull away, after; he doesn't need to risk Sam seeing him leaning against Cas, now that the medicine's kicked in enough he has time enough in between sneezes to do more than catch his breath.

It doesn't last very long; he's leaning against Cas- just slightly- again after a few steps down the empty corridor. Sue him; it's not like Cas seems to mind. In fact, Cas is the one pulling him closer, wrapping a steady arm around him and reaching up to cover his mouth as he rocks forward yet again. uh'ESSHH!

He's pretty sure he looks like shit- he feels like shit, too, his nose irritated and throat raw, not to mention the general exhaustion- but Cas is just smiling softly at him, patiently guiding him down the hall. Cas turns them into Dean's room, and he doesn't even argue, not feeling up to the task of... well, anything right now, really. His bed looks pretty nice right now, even if it's only mid-afternoon.

He doesn't even question it before pulling Cas down next to him on instinct, already half-asleep as he curls into Cas' chest. He hears more than feels one last heh'esshh! before he succumbs to sleep.

[TheUnicycle]

This next section is in Cas' POV. This is also the last main section, but there will be a short epilogue after this

The universe doesn't seem to be giving Dean's nose a break, Cas observes. There was Dean's illness, and less than a month between that and his allergy attack a couple days ago, not to mention all the dust that'd been aggravating it constantly, even before the cat fur. Well, not exactly cat fur, but Dean's immune response had certainly deemed it close enough. Cas had been able to heal the more severe symptoms, removing any need that may have arisen for a hospital visit- which he doubted Dean would agree to, even if he had needed it- there was little he could do for the more mundane symptoms.

Dean himself also didn't seem to be giving himself much of a break. He'd allowed Cas to help him during the worst parts, when he was all but incapacitated, but insisted on stumbling around and sneezing all over himself, even as Cas could see his clear displeasure. Along with the glances in Cas' direction, although he would never ask for the assistance Cas was more than willing to provide. Would look apologetic even as Cas got frustrated at seeing him suffer needlessly and forced his help on Dean, leaving him little choice in the matter.

While he had successfully convinced Dean to let him finish that room by himself- not that it'd actually taken much convincing after Dean had woken from his unplanned nap- he still heard sneezing from the adjacent room regularly. It was back down to the few per hour that could be attributed to the dust, at least. But then, there was today.

They were back working together again, moving obscene amounts of linens from storage to the laundry room. Dean wanted to take an inventory of what they had and how much was still in usable condition, and wash the grime that had accumulated over the decades. And, of course, the dust.

heh'shew! Cas drops his sleeve from Dean's face, bringing his hand back to grip the basket he's carrying. Dean doesn't say anything that time, which he thinks is progress; he's faring far better than he was when he stopped complaining about Cas' help yesterday. And that was already an improvement; the cat fur seems to have taken the fight out of him, although he's yet to decide if that's overall a good thing. He hasn't observed any negatives thus far, but he knows better than to assume things are working out for the better.

As they approach the laundry room, Cas once again sees the minute changes that signify a building sneeze; likely imperceptible to humans, but clear to him. He shifts the basket to his hip again before reaching over. heh'tshew!

Dean sets his basket down on a washer near the bounty of their previous trips, and Cas follows suit. "Well," Dean says, "I think it's time to start going over these. We can get the rest later."

Cas nods and sets to work, looking for holes left by insects or simple wear and tear from when they were in use. The bunker has some of the strongest warding in the world, yet the tiny Tineola bisselliella still manages to find its way in and thrive. He supposes the Men of Letters were more concerned with other matters, which is fair enough. He has his own matters of more concern at the moment, his focus more on the sniffles and occasional coughs coming from the man next to him than the holey bedsheets.

"Cas, you want to start loading the machines?" Dean asks, but Cas sees right through him. While Dean may be getting less stringent in his objections, he still occasionally tries to get away from Cas when he feels a particularly bad fit building. Despite the fact that's when he seems to appreciate Cas' help most, of course.

"Sure," he says, but makes no move from his place next to Dean. He can see the rise and fall of his chest growing steadily less even, sees his arm tensed but not yet moving.

He pulls his trenchcoat up just before Dean goes to move his own arm, sees Dean relax into it even as his face screws up. heh- eh- eshheww! het'SHIEW! hheh- uh'sshiew! etshieww! Dean pauses, but Cas can tell he's not done yet. hhheh- ehh- esshhew! heh'ESSHHIEW! He rubs the fabric over Dean's nose, wiping it as his pulls it away, and grabs a pile of approved towels to take to the washer.

As he's changing the settings on the machine, he sees Dean's face twitch tellingly, but it's unlikely he could get across the room in time. Sure enough, only a few seconds later, Dean's own arm covers his face and he doubles over. he'shHIEW! ehtsSHEWW! Cas doesn't miss the surreptitious glance Dean sends him after he straightens, and he swallows a sigh.

Dean's eyes are growing redder by the minute, and Dean keeps rubbing a fist over them when he thinks Cas isn't looking. His sniffles are sounding wetter, and he's clearing his throat all too often. It's hardly a surprise when his breath starts hitching yet again, and Cas reaches up once again. ehh'shiew! A few harsh coughs occupy the space before the next sneeze comes along. eh'tsshhiew!

Dean's done, but Cas doesn't lower his trenchcoat this time. "Blow."

Dean cooperates with no more than briefly widening eyes, and Cas again isn't sure whether to interpret it as a sign Dean is suffering more or simply becoming more accepting of help. Lifting the trenchcoat to Dean's face not a minute later, he decides it's probably both. heshshiew!

"We should check in with Sam soon," Cas says, "See if he needs anything."

Dean evidently sees right through him, rolling his eyes. "I'm fine, C-aahh­-as."

Cas covers Dean's face, other hand on his shoulder to steady him. EH'SHIEWW! uhh'TSHHIEW! After wiping Dean's nose, he fixes him with a look. "I can tell."

"It's just a little dust. Let's finish what we've already moved in here, and then we can take a break if you're so concerned."

The sounds of sniffling and light coughs persist, but Dean does seem to improve, having left behind some of the severity for the time being. Cas doesn't leave his side again, though, in case he's needed. They sort the last of the linens into the piles for good, acceptable, and bad condition, the latter of which they set aside for disposal.

The improvements to Dean's condition don't last, of course; Cas rushes to set his own pile down on the nearest machine, covering Dean's face just in time. ehh'sshhew! SHHIEW! He grabs the items Dean dropped, placing them on top of the machine where Dean stands, face already twitching again. essshhiew!

Dean starts loading the machine and Cas goes to pick up another heap of laundry. He turns back with his arms full in time to see Dean pitch forward into a bath towel he was presumably in the process of loading. het'shew! heh'shhiew! ehh- hehh- tsshhiew! eh- hhheh- ESSHH! ESSHHIEWW! hhh- heh- hheh- ETSHHHEW! Once he lifts his head, he looks down at the towel in disgust, his eyes flicking between it and the machine.

Sighing, Cas places his hands over Dean's where he holds the towel, using his grace to clean the worst of the mess off. It's not pristine- it's easier to clean things wrapped around his vessel, like his clothes- but it's about to be washed anyway, so he doesn't bother spending more of his grace. Dean drops it in the machine, then sneezes wetly into Cas' arm. esSSHHew!

"Are you sure it's just the dust?" Cas scans the room, trying to figure out another cause for Dean's condition.

"What, you think there's another box of fur in here? I'm in the laundry room all the time, it's just the dusty sheets." Dean says, voice thick with congestion.

Cas remains unconvinced. "If you're sure." Dean responds with another pair of sneezes directed into Cas' arm. "You could still take a break."

Once Dean stops coughing into his arm long enough to accomplish it, he glares at Cas- though there's a notable softness to it- and resumes loading the machine. Cas follows suit, and together they load in the rest of the 'good' pile, Cas hovering close by to catch the ever-present sneezes as they come. It's not until Cas grabs the nearby laundry detergent that they're able to pin down the issue.

He sets the bottle down on the washing machine, and when he glances up at Dean, there's a look of recognition on his face, which is rapidly replaced by a pre-sneeze expression. Dean goes willingly as Cas pulls his head down into his shoulder, which isn't a great sign as for how Dean's feeling. Nor is the intensity or the wetness of the sneezes that spray against him. esSHhh! esSSHHH!

Head still pressed against Cas, Dean says, almost sheepish, "They were out of the usual laundry detergent."

Cas resists the urge to sigh as Dean wracks forward again. esshh! ESSHH! essshhHEW! "Let's get you out of here."

heh'tSHHew! Dean snuffles, not pulling his head from Cas' shoulder. "M'kay."

When Dean makes no move to do that, Cas reaches his arms up, gently guiding Dean towards the door, rubbing at his back in a manner he hopes is comforting. It's an awkward process, made slower by the frequent stops as Dean shakes with a sneeze or three. Once they're out in the hall, Cas closes the door behind him, and looks Dean over with his grace.

Dean can breathe well enough that his grace is neither needed nor useful, but it's a bit close for Cas' liking. There's not much he can do except try to keep Dean comfortable- and now that he's out of the room, his condition should improve. essshhh! esshhew! SHHIEW! Soon.

Dean's hands are gripping at Cas sides as he leans on him, with far more closeness than he requires for balance. He's found Dean to be quite fond of physical contact during these episodes, though he still tries to deny it, backing away and resisting help and comfort until his condition worsens enough to leave him almost incapacitated.

He pulls his grace from Dean's body and waits for him to release the building sneeze and blow his nose, before attempting to proceed down the hall. One arm still wrapped around his waist, Cas pulls Dean to lean on him for stability, and is pleased when he complies without protest.

Dean pulls him towards the Dean cave, and he complies, if only because it means Dean might actually take more than a minimal break before attempting to return to work. Cas grabs the remote as they settle down on the couch, Dean still leaning against him. Dean's eyes flick down to where his trenchcoat pools on the sofa and he resists the urge to roll his eyes.

He picks it up, presses it into Dean's hands, and then lifts them to his face. ehh- heh'eshhh! ehtshhew! When Dean pauses, Cas says, "You can pick it up yourself, you know."

Dean ducks forward with another sneeze, then glances over at Cas. "You sure you're okay with that?"

"It's easier than watching you wait to see if I'm going to do it. Yes, Dean, any time you want, you can use my coat or whatever other part of me to cover your mouth or blow your nose."

"Whatever part of you, you say?" Cas does roll his eyes, now. At least Dean's feeling well enough for deflection. He doesn't bother to respond, just hits play. The message seems to hold for the rest of the allergy attack, at a minimum, which Cas is pleased to find.

[TheUnicycle]

And, the conclusion:

After Cas' whole "use me however you want" speech, Dean accepts that this is just a thing now. A weird thing, sure, but it's hardly their first exception to the norm. Besides, it's a good kind of weird.

He's still sneezing often from all the dust, and it's really convenient to just be able to lean over and press his face into Cas' back, rather than have to go grab tissues or get snot all over himself. And not that he'd admit it, but it's a nice excuse to touch Cas more often. It's not something he'd do in front of other people, but Cas almost seems pleased whenever Dean sneezes on him. Fuckin' weirdo.

Well, he doesn't plan to do it in front of anyone else. But he doesn't hear Sam coming, so he presses his face to Cas' shoulder, lets out a heh'shhUH! eh'SSHUH! and lifts his head to see Sam staring at him from the doorway, eyebrow raised.

Dean figures that's a good time to go back to sorting through the papers. Maybe if he doesn't acknowledge it at all, Sam won't say anything. Because that usually works.

Except, Sam doesn't say anything. After a minute of silence, Dean cautiously turns back around, and sees him looking at Cas with a placating look, briefly flicking his gaze to Dean at the movement. Sam clears his throat, and says, "So... I wanted to tell you guys I got the hunter wiki website up. It still needs a lot of information to be complete, but I think we can start giving out the address, after you guys take a look at it." Sam flicks his gaze between the two of them again.

Dean finally moves into a position where he can see Cas' face, but his expression is just... normal. Interesting. "Okay, sounds good. I'll check it out after we finish these papers; should be about an hour."

Sam nods. "Okay. Cool," he says, disappearing from the doorway as soon as he's finished speaking.

Ten minutes or so after he leaves, Dean tucks his face against Cas' shoulder again. het'eshHH!

*****

After that, he figures he can do it in front of Sam, too; it's pretty entertaining to watch him squirm, and all the other good parts are still there. Plus, he catches a glimpse of Cas' death stare the next time, and it's honestly pretty hot. After the first few times, Sam sees to get used to it, too, and it's just a thing that happens.

Eventually, he ends up doing it in public, too, if only because he doesn't always have too much time to plan out the details of his sneezes. He's pretty used to grabbing Cas if he's nearby, so ends up doing it on instinct half the time anyway. Sometimes people give them weird looks, but, well, not the only thing that's happened for. Better to be seen sneezing on your friend than covered in blood; the former doesn't usually necessitate a timely exit.

And it's really nice to have when he gets sick; Cas'll stick around, sitting with him and covering for him when his arms are sore, warm and solid beside him. Dean finds himself lying against Cas' chest, twisting his head to cough and sneeze into his shirt, or having Cas pull the flap of his coat over.

They don't really talk about it, but there's an ever-increasing frequency of soft smiles on Cas' face that he knows are reflected on his own. He's doesn't think he could admit as much out loud, but it's nice to be cared for, especially if it's Cas doing the caring.

[bubbly]

This is nice!  Love supernatural and LOVE dean! haha