New at This - SPN (Cas, Dean) [4/?]

[TheUnicycle]

Hello! The rest of my last fic is still in progress, but for now, I have the beginnings of a new story. This one is a season 9 AU. Cas is still graceless (lives with them at the bunker), but all the other canon problems are mysteriously absent (Sam is fine [not that he's really present much here], no Gadreel, Crowley's wherever, etc). Instead, we get the far superior plot of Cas catching a cold, with Dean caretaking AND catching the cold. Destiel elements, as usual. Some mess.

hah'CHOO!

Dean looks up at the sound, just in time to see Cas jolt forward into another uncovered sneeze, spraying all over their motel room table. Great.

He can see the spray glistening on the table from his place on his bed nearby- out of the main trajectory, at least. Cas lifts a finger, touching the snot coating his upper lip, squinting at it with an almost-fascinated expression. Then he starts moving it towards his mouth, and nope, that's way too far.

"Cas! No."

"I was-"

"No. And next time you sneeze, cover your mouth. And nose. Use tissues, your clothes, your hands if you have to, whatever. Just, please, not all over the furniture."

Cas finally glances down at the disgusting table. "Oh. Sorry."

Dean suppresses a sigh. "Just. Next time."

Cas nods, and Dean goes back to scrolling through the local PD's database. Except, it's kind of hard to focus with Cas sniffling every few seconds. He's been trying not to yell at Cas; he's having a hard enough time becoming human on top of everything else without Dean being his usual asshole self. Cas is doing the best he can, he just needs a little extra help right now. Dean reminds himself of these things regularly.

It helps that he really does like having Cas around more, finds it probably more fascinating for Cas to try new foods or experiences than Cas himself does. There are, however, some things he'd prefer not to have to teach. Nevertheless, he finds himself pulling tissues out of a box so he can instruct Cas in the art of blowing his goddamn nose.

"Don't mention this to Sam," he says after. Cas nods his agreement immediately, though whether it's for his own sake or Dean's, he's not sure. Probably both.

He wipes off the table, washes his hands, then turns back to Cas. "I think I found who we need to talk to next. You need something to eat before we go?" Cas shakes his head. "Okay. Fed suits then. I'll take the bathroom, you change out here."

*****

Thirty minutes later and an explanation that Cas should cover his mouth when he coughs, too- at least when their faces are very close together- they're knocking on the front door of a small house on the outside of town. A man opens the door, more than a crack but still a cautious amount.

"Mr. Sugita?" The man nods, and Dean continues. "Agents Williams and Slade. We'd like to ask you a few questions about what you heard the other night."

Mr. Sugita sighs, that look on his face their witnesses get when they think they're about to be laughed off or told they're insane. Dean feels bad for him, but it's encouraging in terms of their investigation. "All right. Come in."

The interview itself goes well- he's 99% sure of where the vamp nest is, now- but Cas keeps turning to cough into his shoulder, and Dean's starting to get a bit concerned. Hopefully it's nothing, but there was that sick woman they interviewed a couple days ago, and he's not sure how Cas' immune system is handling the whole fallen angel thing. His hygiene practices certainly aren't what they should be- not like he'd ever need to worry about human germs, right?

Cas sneezes- into his elbow, thankfully, though he is facing Dean- as Dean climbs into the car. "You feeling all right?"

"I'm fine, Dean."

Dean sticks a hand on his forehead anyway- it feels a little warm, but not so hot he can be sure without a thermometer. He'll stock up on supplies tonight, and they can head back to the bunker tomorrow so Cas can rest up. First, though, Cas is at least mostly okay, and there's a nest of vamps that need beheading. Hopefully it won't take long; he's not feeling too optimistic about the chance Cas isn't coming down with something. And if he is, Dean's probably catching it, too.

*****

Well, good news and bad news. On the bright side, the trio of vamps went down easily, and no sign of any others. Everything indicates they're done with the case now, and they should be able to get Cas some much-needed rest.

The bad news is that Cas is definitely coming down with something, and a fair portion of their fight took place in an industrial freezer the vamps had been using to store their victims. How it even still had power, Dean's not sure; he's assuming the vamps were responsible for that, somehow.

Either way, by the end of the fight, Cas' nose is running and his teeth are chattering. Dean wrangles him down to the Impala, turns the heat on and throws a blanket over his shoulders, and heads back inside to deal with the mess. He'll call in a tip about the victims' bodies tomorrow, after they blow town.

When he gets back outside, he sees Cas coughing into the blanket, but he's stopped shivering, at least. Cas looks up as he climbs in. "Sorry," he says, his already-rough voice sounding rougher.

"It's fine, Cas. Let's just get you feeling better, okay?" He tries to smile, but he's not sure he's doing a great job at it. Cas nods, though, and Dean shifts the car into reverse. "I'm going to stop at the store, get you some tissues. Then I'll get you settled in at the hotel and grab some food from that Chinese place next door."

hatchoo! HATCHOO! Dean shoots a glance over at the source of the sound, and sees Cas pulling the blanket back down from his face, snot glistening on the inside. He feels threads of both panic and disgust running through him. It's just a cold. Cas will be fine, and I can wash the blanket. Cas dips forward again, smothering a wet-sounding hasshhoo! in the blanket. Thoroughly.

*****

Cas is doing slightly better when they pull into the motel parking lot, although exhaustion is starting to show. Dean collects the bags from the store and his medkit from the trunk, then circles back around to meet Cas. He guides him in the motel room with a hand on his back, setting him down on the toilet seat.

One phone call to the restaurant later, he plops some sweatpants, a t-shirt, and clean underwear on the bathroom counter next to where Cas is showing no signs of movement, staring at the wall. Setting a hand on his shoulder seems to jolt him back to awareness. "Okay, buddy, first I'm gonna take your temperature, and then you gotta get cleaned up. I should be back with food around the time you get out of the shower."

"Okay," Cas says, ending the word with a cough. He lets Dean guide his mouth open and stick the thermometer in, blue eyes staring up at him the whole time. The thermometer beeps to announce its reading of 100.6F.

"Well, not great, but not too bad, either. A warm shower should help you feel a bit better. I'll leave a box of tissues on your bed, and I'll be back with food soon."

Dean grabs two boxes, opens them, and puts the first on the table. It's when he goes to put the other on Cas' bed that he remembers the night before and sighs. Cas had been complaining about his pillow, so, naturally, Dean offered to swap with him, see if that was more comfortable. It had helped, at least, but it's not making him more optimistic about his chances of avoiding what Cas has, especially given the damp spot that had been on it. Whatever. Not like he really believed in his chances anyway, between the close quarters and Cas' unfamiliarity with colds.

His clothes are dirty but fortunately blood-free (minus the jacket he sheds), so he heads out for the food without changing.

*****

When he returns, Cas is slumped on top of the covers, hair damp. He looks up as Dean enters the room, starting to talk before pressing his face into a handful of tissues. "Hello, De- ha'tshoo! TSHHOO!"

"Bless you, buddy."

"I do not feel very blessed," comes Cas' flat reply, congestion clear in his voice.

"Well, that's cause you haven't had the soup yet."

Cas gives him a very unimpressed look.

Dean rolls his eyes. "You'll feel worse if you don't eat. You're gonna have to sit up though." When Cas makes no move to- well, do anything, Dean sighs and moves to help. He's adjusting Cas' pillow where it's propped against the headboard when Cas shoves him, bringing his hand rapidly towards his face. ha'sshhiew! Dean feels it hit his face, Cas' hand only half-covering the expulsion. "Sor- hatsshhew!" A little of that one hits him, too, not that his last hope of staying healthy hadn't died anyway.

"Don't worry about it, Cas. Just eat your soup." He puts the container on the bedside table while Cas blows his nose, and goes to take a much-needed shower.

Edited August 31 by TheUnicycle
updated title

[TheUnicycle]

Part 2:

 

When Dean wakes up, he's unsurprised to find a slight soreness in his throat. He's faring much better than Cas, though, who wakes up a half hour later and dives straight into a coughing fit, before settling back into the sheets and moaning. "It got worse, Dean."

"I can see that." Cas frowns at him but doesn't say anything. "I've got the stuff packed up, I've just gotta load it in the Impala and then we can get going."

Cas starts to sit up, groans, and collapses back into his pillow, which he then sneezes into. ha'shoo! Dean can't quite make out his muffled, congested speech, but he's pretty sure it's along the lines of "I don't think I can."

"I can't understand you, Cas. Do you need help getting up?" His head moves against the pillow in a way Dean thinks is a nod. "Okay, I'll help you get to the bathroom, and then I'm going to load the stuff in the car. Then I'll be back to help you get to the car, if you need it."

He walks over to where Cas is still face down in the pillow, and carefully reaches an arm around, and rolls him over, revealing a very not-clean face, and closed eyes. Dean grabs some tissues from the box next to him, and places them in Cas' hand. "Here, wipe your face off first."

Cas doesn't move. Dean's observed that graceless Cas is very much not a morning person, and sick graceless Cas is apparently even less of one. He's basically dead weight, which means his face is almost certainly going to end up falling against Dean, and he'd prefer a little less snot and drool if that's going to happen. He plucks another tissue out of the box, grabs the ones from Cas' hand, and wipes Cas' face himself. He doesn't so much as twitch under the movement. "Cas? You still with me?"

Cas' eyes flick open, and his face starts to screw up. Dean frantically clamps the tissues over the lower half of his face, just in time. ha'ssshoo! hatshooO! The tissues in his hand are soaked, but better than his face, at least.

After throwing them out, he sticks his hands under Cas' armpits and pulls, but Cas is heavy and absolutely no help at all. "Come on, buddy, you gotta get up so we can get you back to the bunker." Preferably before Dean's too sick to drive safely. It's a good 8 hours away, and if Cas' condition is any indication, he doesn't want to still be driving tomorrow.

Cas finally seems to actually wake up a little, and when Dean pulls on him again, he sits up. Cas still leans against him for the walk to the bathroom, but that he can manage. He washes his hands off in the sink, downs the rest of his coffee, and grabs their bags to take to the Impala.

A tickle starts building rapidly in his nose as the brisk morning air hits him, and he rushes to get outside and close the door behind him, not wanting Cas to hear. The guy's doesn't need to feel guilty about getting him sick, but he probably would.

As he turns around, door clicking shut, he can't hold it back any longer. eh'TISH! eh'tishhuh! They spray out into the parking lot, empty save for a few spread-out cars. A man who was walking down the street in his direction crosses to the other side. Dean throws the bags in the trunk, then heads back inside.

*****

After they've been driving for an hour, with only low music and Cas' occasional sounds of illness breaking the silence, he decides it's time for breakfast, and pulls into the next town. There's a diner, but he doesn't want the delay or to inflict Cas- who's only covering his mouth about half the time- on the other occupants, so he grabs a couple breakfast sandwiches from the gas station while the tank fills, adding an extra-large coffee for himself and an orange juice for Cas, who he's hoping will sleep at least some of the drive.

They eat, and it's smooth sailing for a while after that. Cas falls asleep, ending up slumped against him, kinda gross but also kinda adorable. And he clearly needs the rest. Dean's throat has been getting steadily sorer, but he's been able to avoid any coughing or sneezing since the hotel, not wanting to alert Cas or disturb his rest. The bunker is still a couple hours away when that changes.

Cas is still out like a light and slumped against his shoulder when he feels it brewing. Dean moves his right hand from his knee to the wheel, careful not to jostle Cas, then brings his left wrist and presses it against his nose. It helps, but it's not enough. nxx't! When it inevitably slips out, he tries to stay as still and quiet as possible. Cas doesn't stir, and the tickle lessens, but it overtakes him again a few minutes later. nxxgt! NX'T! Those ones are louder, and shake him more. Cas shifts in his sleep, but doesn't wake.

15 minutes and many stifled sneezes later, he has a pounding headache and desperately needs to blow his nose, but Cas is still asleep, now leaning against the window instead of him. He resigns himself to pulling off the road, and takes the exit for a rest stop. It takes a few more stifles to park and gently open and close his door. He chances opening the trunk to pull a couple Tylenol out, swallowing them down immediately. Now that he can actually let the sneezes out, his nose is no longer demanding immediate release, but he heads to the bathroom to clean himself up.

The bathroom is empty, which he's thankful for. Upon inspection, his nose is a little red, and his face a little flushed, but he's not too visibly sick yet. He grabs a wad of paper towels to blow his nose in, which triggers a few coughs in the process, but despite the tickle that's still making his eyes water, he doesn't sneeze. Nor does he while he's using the urinal or at any other point before he heads back to the car.

As he's walking through the dirt parking lot, though, a pickup races through in front of him, kicking up dust. He barely has time to turn away from Baby before- hhiih'SHUH! hih'sshhsh! iissSHuh! hih'SSHH! Well. That got rid of the tickle, at least. He sniffs, grimaces, and wipes his mouth on his shirt. It's gross, but he's gotta get going. Carefully, he opens his door, climbs in, and picks up his keys.

Cas smacks his lips beside him. "Deanb?"

Shit. He doesn't respond, hoping Cas will just go back to sleep. It has the opposite of the intended effect, though, because Cas just calls out for him again, considerably more alarmed this time.

"Yeah, Cas? You need something?"

Cas' eyes blink open. "I- ha'SHOO hatsshoo! hasshhoo! Sorry." Great. He supposes Baby already needed a through deep clean, anyway.

Handing him a couple tissues- and grabbing another couple to wipe the dash off- he says, "It's fine, Cas. What were you going to say?"

Cas finishes blowing his nose, and Dean points to the trash bag by his feet. Cas throws the tissue in, and says, "I don't feel good."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that one out. We've only got about 90 minutes until we're back at the bunker, and then we can get you more comfortable. You need to use the bathroom before we get going again?"

Cas looks around, blinking, seeming to realize for the first time that they're stopped. He visibly considers it for a moment, then nods. "I thidk so."

"Okay." He helps Cas out of the car, stealthily tucking a few tissues in his own pocket, figuring he can at least blow his nose while Cas is inside. He winces first at his own congestion and then at the rough coughs echoing from inside. He clears his throat, and waits for Cas to finish. When the door does open again, Dean's using another tissue to wipe at his already running again nose, which he quickly dumps in the trash before Cas can notice. Cas walks back towards the car, Dean hovering nearby in case he needs help.

The dusty parking lot seems to set Cas off, too. He stops, gasping in little ragged inhales, then- et'shoo! esshhoo! Dean moves to steady Cas as he stumbles slightly. ESSHHEW! ih- ih- Cas clearly isn't done, but Dean takes the opportunity to get him in the car, and out of the dust. Dean ducks in front of him, willing him not to spray him, and opens the door. Moving quickly, he's out of the way in time for the ESHHIEW! to narrowly miss him. He guides an unsteady Cas into the car, handing him the box of tissues once he's seated.

Moving around the back of the car- out of view of Cas- he coughs, wincing at the pain in his throat as he does so. As he opens his door, Cas ducks forward- into a tissue, this time- with a h'eshhhiew!

He pats Cas on the shoulder and starts driving.

[ichixshiro14]

This is so good, you write them in character really well!! 

[TheUnicycle]

On 8/17/2024 at 8:38 PM, ichixshiro14 said:

This is so good, you write them in character really well!! 

Glad you like it!

 

Part 3:

 

They, somehow, make it back to the bunker without further incident, and he settles Cas in his room with an extra blanket on his bed, and one left on the armchair in there for Dean to use. He's suddenly extremely grateful they put a big, comfy chair in Cas' room, not in the mood to sleep on some small, hard monstrosity.

He'd taken Cas' temperature, given him tylenol and made him drink a glass of water, and gone off to make soup. The last of the main ingredients are in, and he's putting the lid on the pot for it to simmer awhile when Sam calls.

He clears his throat before he picks it up, hoping he doesn't sound too sick. "Hey, Sam. How's the case going?"

"Slow, but I think we finally got a useful lead. Gonna be a couple more days, though. How are you and Cas?"

"We're back at the bunker now. Cas is pretty sick- it's just a cold, but you probably want to steer clear for a bit." He rushes through the last couple words and mutes the phone just in time, paper towel at the ready. heh'esshUH!

Sam sighs over the phone as Dean blows his nose in another paper towel. "All right, just go easy on him if he gets you sick, okay? He's new at this; I don't need you trying to kill him."

"Come on, give me a little more credit."

"Dean, last time I got you sick, you shot me."

"First, that was years ago. Whatever happened to 'let bygones be bygones'?" Sam starts to protest, but Dean cuts him off. "Besides, they were salt rounds, you big baby. Assault, not attempted murder. Didn't you go to law school?"

Sam doesn't take the bait. He sighs in that 'I know you're trying to start a fight but I'm not in the mood' way of his, and says, "Whatever, dude. Just be nice to him."

"I am nice. I'm making him some tomato-rice soup right now. Speaking of which, I need to get back to that. Seeya." He hangs up, and not a moment too soon. esshh! esshuh! ESSSHHSH! Hands still over his face, he walks to the sink to clean himself up, then stirs the soup and adds a little more salt.

*****

Dean shifts again, trying and failing to get comfortable. It appears he greatly overestimated the comfort of this chair. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad in normal circumstances, but his head is pounding and his muscles ache, and this chair isn't helping.

When he looks up, defeated, Cas is staring at him. "You dod't have to stay id here, Dean."

"I gotta keep an eye on your fever, don't I?"

Cas is evidently feeling somewhat better with some food in his stomach, because he levels Dean with a glare. "You checked it ad hour ago, and said it was fide." He softens as he says, "You need to rest, too, Deab."

"I'm not the one who's sick, Cas." And because the universe hates him, he immediately feels the need to sneeze. Cas is still staring at him, too, so stifling it isn't going to keep him from noticing this time, music playing in the background or not. Resigned, he lifts his arm to his face, and gives in momentarily. het'esshh!

"I cad tell."

He rolls his eyes. "There are other reasons to sneeze, Cas. It's just dusty in here." Cas just looks at him with big, sad eyes, and Dean desperately needs it to stop. He clears his throat and says, "If you're not going to sleep more, you wanna play words with friends? Maybe you're sick enough I can actually win for once."

Cas stares at him for a moment longer, but nods and reaches for his phone, so Dean fishes his own out of his pocket. This should get Cas' eyes back off him, too. He squints at the letters on his screen, trying to figure out a word. His eyes flick up to Cas, who's staring at his own screen, frowning at it, and Dean watches as his face screws up suddenly. hatchoo! hasshhoo! hassSHEW! Dean can see the spray as it shoots onto his lap.

Cas' eyes flick up at Dean guiltily. "Sorry," he says, grabbing a tissue and wiping off his phone, then grabbing another for his nose.

"It's fine, Cas." This is part of why he choose words with friends- no game pieces or cards in the splash zone. He looks down at his own phone, and taps out a word.

While Cas is distracted with his own word selection, Dean turns to the side, surreptitiously wiping his nose with a tissue from his jacket pocket before turning back. Cas looks up at him a moment later, smiling, as his phone dings. He glances down, and he's already pretty sure he's going to lose this time, too.

*****

Twenty minutes later, it's looking even more like he's going to lose. Not that he's really surprised; Cas being sick isn't really much of an advantage if he's sick, too. In fact, he's pretty sure it's impacting his ability to play far more than it is Cas'.

He submits another low point word, then presses his wrist to his nose. nxgt! His head pounds with the force, and he's pretty sure he's going to have to excuse himself to the bathroom to go blow his nose soon.

When he looks back over at Cas, he's staring at him, sad eyes making a return. "Dean, if the dust is botheridg you, just sdeeze. I cad see you doidg that adyway."

He agrees, if only to make Cas stop looking so freaking sad. "Fine."

Cas brightens, thankfully, before throwing his arm over his face. hesshhoo! He sniffs, starts coughing, then moans as he finally pulls his arm away.

Dean spends the time sniffling, his nose running more after the most recent stifle, and his supply of tissues used up. Which Cas evidently notices even with his own coughing and the soft music still playing, because after he pulls a few tissues out, he wordlessly lobs the box at Dean.

Dean complies, taking a handful of extra tissues and sticking them in his pocket before tossing the box back. It nearly empty; he'll have to fetch another soon. Maybe two, so they don't have to keep throwing the box back and forth; he gets the feeling Cas will do it again when his pocket runs out.

A few words later, Cas' breath starts hitching again, on and off for a couple minutes. He groans in frustration as it slips away again, which seems to get his nose itching again, and he raises the bunch of tissues he's had ready back to his face. hiihh- ihh- ihh- He looks up at the light on the ceiling like Dean suggested a minute ago, and this time it works. HETCHOO! H'SSHHOO! eht'tshhoo! tshooO! esshoo! ihh- hehh- et'SHHEWW!

Cas falls back against the headboard, not even bothering to pull the soaked tissues from his face. "I'b sorry I did this to you."

"Cas, you know that was you, right?" Sure, he knows what Cas means, but he doesn't have to act like it.

Cas slides the mound of tissues off his face and glares at Dean. The effect probably works better with him looking too miserable and too guilty to seem like a threat, honestly. "And it was you a mbinute ago. Or are we still pretendi'g it's the dust and I didn't get you sick?"

Dean sighs, which turns into a cough, and he's too tired to bother pretending anymore; not like it's working anyway, apparently. The lack of sleep the night before and the day spent driving are weighing on him with the illness, and his eyelids are heavy. "I've been sick before, Cas. I can handle it." Cas is still glaring at him miserably. Dean shoves his blanket aside, moving to stand. "Let me take your temperature again, and then maybe we can both get some rest."

He grabs the thermometer off the desk, and Cas drops open his mouth without being asked, having learned how this works by now. While they're waiting for it, Dean's nose starts itching again, and he turns to the side, lifting his arm. eh'tisshuh! The thermometer beeps, but he's not done. h'esshuh! ESHH!

When he turns back, Cas is holding out a couple tissues. Dean takes them, along with the thermometer. After blowing his nose, he announces, "101.4."

"Your turn," Cas says.

"I don't have a fever." Okay, maybe he probably has a slight fever, but Cas doesn't need to know that.

"Prove it," Cas says, undeterred.

He sighs, sticking the thermometer in his mouth. Cas seems to anticipate his next move, too, because it the instant it beeps, Cas' arm darts out and plucks it from his mouth. "100.7," he reads, looking both victorious and upset.

"See? Still doing better than you." He ruffles Cas' hair, removing his hand once he realizes what he's doing. Maybe this illness is affecting him a bit more than he thought. "I'll get us some water, and then we can rest, okay?"

hesshhoo! heh'tshoo! esSHOO!

Dean takes that as a yes, already moving towards the sink.

*****

Dean sleeps fitfully on the armchair, shifting around, coughing with increasing frequency. Cas, at least, seems to be able to sleep, snoring loudly from the bed.

After a few hours, he gives up on rest and clambers out of the chair, sticking the back of his hand experimentally on Cas' forehead. Still warm, but not dangerously so. He's pulling it back when he's overcome with the need to sneeze; his upper body turns to the side as to not spray Cas, but he's given up on covering. Cas' room is going to need a through cleaning from Cas' treatment regardless; Dean might as well not cover himself in snot.

essshsh! heshshsh! ESHH! eshshuh! He stumbles, trying to steady himself, but another strong sneeze knocks him fully over- falling right onto the bed. het'ESSSHUH! Before he can do anything about the position- preferably get up before Cas notices he's fallen over from the sneezing fit that's surely woken him- he'll need his body to give him a break. heh'TISHHH! eh'tisshsh! He can see the wet spots speckling the sheets in front of his face, another reason to be glad he's not facing Cas.

Cas shifts behind him, and then he feels an arm fall over his side. essshuh! He's pretty sure that one hits Cas hand where it rests on his stomach, as he convulses in towards himself. "Cas?" he croaks, then immediately starts coughing, rough and painful. He turns his head into the sheets during that, not wanting to spit on Cas more than he has to, even if the reverse has certainly happened enough times.

When he finally gets long enough between outbursts to do more than just catch his breath, he realizes he's ended up pressed against Cas somehow. Cas' hand grips tighter at his shirt when he tries to pull away. "Deab?" Cas says, not relaxing his grip any.

"Sorry, Cas, I just..." ...fell over sneezing. What's an explanation for this that sounds neither ridiculous nor pathetic? Or at least not both?

"Deab?" Cas says a little more urgently, his fist pushing into Dean's stomach, still clutching his shirt.

"I'm right hih- here Caahh- esSHHshsh!" He tries to turn his head back towards the sheets, but he doesn't quite make it.

"Dean!" Cas calls again, panicked. Shit. He's having some sort of fever-induced nightmare, isn't he? Probably should've used a thermometer, rather than relying on his own fevered hand.

"I'b here, Cas. Everythig's alright."

Cas' grip on his shirt loosens, and his body seems to settle, though his arm is still tight against Dean. Before Dean can figure out how to make Cas release him, Cas starts nuzzling the back of his neck. His nose is kinda wet, though Dean finds he doesn't mind, relishing the feeling of Cas against him, stubble scraping pleasantly. It's actually pretty relaxing, having Cas wrapped around him; the lack of sleep and his illness is catching up to him a lot faster here than the chair.

Yeah, he should definitely be using thermometers to check people's temperature. It doesn't seem like his fever is doing too well, either. Cas' leg moves, nudging their ankles together, and... what was he thinking again? He's sure there was something, but- later. Sleep is tugging him under, and he coughs weakly once more before falling into the comforting blackness.

[TheUnicycle]

Part 4:

Dean wakes to a phone buzzing insistently in his pocket. He tries ignoring it but it just starts buzzing again, so he pulls his fuzzy head from the mattress- wait, mattress? Wasn't he in the chair in Cas' room?

Cas' bed. He's in Cas' bed. Fuzzy events swim in his mind, not quite taking form.

Right. Answer phone now, figure shit out later.

He climbs from the bed, heading towards the hallway before answering as to not wake Cas- who is also in his bed, shifting restlessly but seeming asleep. A glance at the caller ID says Sam's the one calling, though, at... 9:30am? Guess he slept a lot longer than he'd planned.

Remembering he's not supposed to sound sick, he grabs a stack of tissues to blow his nose, too. Once he does that, swallows some water, and clears his throat a final time, he hits answer.

There's a few seconds of static, as if he'd waited long enough to answer that Sam wasn't convinced he was picking up. Then- "Dean?"

"Yeah, what?" His voice isn't great, but it should pass over the phone.

"Just wanted to check in on you and Cas, mostly. We just wrapped up talking to the local PD, about what we expected."

"I'm fine; Cas is still pretty sick, but he'll be fine. Just needs to wait it out."

"Mmm," Sam says, something odd in his tone. "You sleeping, Dean? It won't help him for you to get sick, too."

Pretty sure that train has left the station. His face heats as he remembers the position he was apparently sleeping in, and has another reason to be glad Sam can't see him. "Four hours a night, six nights a week."

Sam sighs over the phone. "Just make sure you're getting some rest."

"Yes, mom." And then he hangs up abruptly before coughing heavily into his arm. He's trying to decide whether to make breakfast or check on Cas first, when a hasshoo! sounds from the room, making the decision.

As he pushes the door back open, he sees Cas' face screw up again, a hasshhew! spraying upward unimpeded. Getting closer, he hears Cas muttering under his breath, before snapping with another ha'CHHew!, this one misting Dean. The mutters sound vaguely like Enochian, but Dean can't be sure. Great.

From the looks of it, he needs to get Cas' fever down, so heads to get a washcloth from where he'd left a small stack last night. His nose can't seem to wait for him to finish running cool water over it, and sneezes down at the sink. uh'TISHH! uh'TISHSHH! As he moves to wring out the washcloth, preparing to run cleaner liquid over it, he hears another hat'SHOO! from behind him that almost sounds like it's in agreement.

Eventually, he gets a clean- more or less- washcloth on Cas' sweaty forehead, and reaches to grab the thermometer from the nightstand, not standing back up from the bed. He feels the bed shake as Cas coughs harshly several times, but he stops by the time Dean's ready to stick it in his mouth. He slips it in and guides Cas' jaw shut, only for Cas to immediately cough again, sending it back out to fall on the bed.

Thermometer in his hands, Dean turns his head to the side. esshuh! esshhsSH! Sniffling wetly, he resumes his prior task, holding the thermometer in place this time. Cas mutters around it, but otherwise doesn't move until it beeps. The beeping seems to trigger a sneeze, though, spraying Dean's hands and misting over his forearms. hasshHEW! Dean barely even notices that time, though whether that's a sign of acceptance or his own illness getting to him, he's not sure.

The little display reads 103.2F, and he frowns at it. "Come on, buddy. Time for meds. Breakfast too, if you're up for it."

Cas isn't up for it, clearly, so after Dean gets him to swallow the meds down, he just takes a couple himself and collapses back in the armchair. "hh- eh- essshh! esshshsH! Ugh." They spray over his lap and leave his nose wet and stuffy. Feeling around in his pockets reveals no tissues, and the box is over on Cas bed- who has even calmed down now- so he resumes his sniffling. Every time he's starting to actually get somewhere with it, another wet sneeze or few shoots out of him, undoing the progress. Though judging from the wet spots on his sweatpants, they're clearly getting some stuff out.

There's always more snot, though. esshsh! esshUH! esshuSH! He resigns himself to getting up, despite his aching muscles protesting. Knowing Cas' box is almost empty anyway, he heads straight for the door, still sniffling.

*****

It's another forty-five minutes before Cas is awake and somewhat lucid, and Dean's given up on sleep by then and moved on to playing some dumb game on his phone.

He looks up from it periodically, glancing over at Cas, until he sees glassy blue eyes staring back at him. "Hey, how you feeling?"

"Dot good."

Despite himself, Dean's lip twitch upward in a slight fond smile. Relieved, too, to see Cas coherent again. "Too not good for some breakfast?"

Cas squints at him, still lying down. "Do I have to get up for breakfast?"

"You'll have to sit up, but I can help you with that. You're going to have to go the bathroom at some poidt, though." Which reminds him, Cas should drink some more water. He gets up and grabs the glass from Cas' nightstand.

Cas blows his nose from his position on his side, then says, "I don't want bore water. I'll just have to urinate again."

Holding the glass of water, he turns around from the sink, and coughs into his free arm, managing not to spill any water in the process. "You're supposed to have to do that. You'll feel worse if you don't drink."

Cas coughs into his pillow, then turns his head back to look at Dean. "I'll take by chances."

Dean sighs, setting the water on the nightstand. Cas really does look miserable. "It's there if you change your mind. If not, I'm making you drink when I come back with breakfast."

He ruffles his hand through Cas' hair, realizes it as he cracks the door open, and turns back around to look at Cas. Cas is staring back, and the bright light of the hallway behind Dean seems to set him off, and he sneezes openly into the air. ha'shhhoo!

He looks at Dean guiltily. "Sorry."

"Cas, just... don't worry about covering your mouth in here for now, okay? Your room's going to need cleaning anyway, so... whatever." Cas nods back at him, looking surprised, and Dean steps into the hall, smothering his face in his elbow when he lets out a sneeze of his own a few seconds later.

*****

Eventually, he manages to make breakfast, but this cold isn't making it easy. Even with something simple like scrambled eggs and toast, continually coughing into his arm kinda interfering with his ability to cook. Not to mention the sneezing, which isn't exactly... neat.

The coffee helps once it's ready, making him a little less tired and soothing his throat. He plates the food in containers they usually use for leftovers, not trusting himself to not spill the contents of plates on the walk back.

For drinks, he fishes a thermos out of the cupboard for his coffee, and another for some tea for Cas. Looking at the pile of containers, he sighs and grabs one of the grocery bags to put them in. Better safe than sorry.

Turns out to be a smart move on his part, because he's only made it halfway to Cas' room when he stumbles with a heh'SHSHH! ESSHH! which is immediately followed by a coughing fit that leaves him leaning against the wall for a moment to catch his breath. He shakes his head, picks up the bag, and keeps walking.

Cas is still half-asleep, as expected, and Dean helps him up, getting sneezed on twice for the favor. The food seems to help wake Cas up, though, and he says the honey tea soothes his throat once he's awake enough to do so.