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"Cas, could you just fucking hold still?" Dean said with exasperation seething into his words. Dean was trying to take Cas' temperature, but he just couldn't hold his damn mouth closed for more than half a second. Sam was currently at the drug store buying Tylenol and whatever else he found suitable.
"O tyin De," Cas said with the thermometer still in his mouth, which caused it to slide farther back into his mouth, causing Cas to spit it out. The clear plastic film almost dislodged itself in the process.
"C'mon, I just need a clear reading! Why are you so damn bitchy when you're sick?" Dean asked, trying to keep his cool.
Cas said nothing, he only reached out to the thermometer to stick it back into his mouth. He hated seeing Dean angry, especially when he was the cause of it. Dean held the stick in place, and finally, after the millionth time, the thermometer beeped and he could finally have an accurate reading.
Dean frowned. "It says 100 degrees, you're obviously running a fever," he said, placing the spit smothered item onto the coffee table.
"Then why am I so cold half the time?" Cas said, pulling the green and blue diamond patterned blanket up around his face. Only his bright blue eyes and dark messy hair were still visible.
"I don't know Cas," Dean said softly, "You probably have the flu or something," He lightly placed his hand on Cas's head, slightly ruffling his dark hair.
Cas's eyes grew larger ever so slightly and Dean immediately retracted his hand. He cleared his throat and picked up the sticky thermometer from the table and went into the kitchen to wash the thing off. His hands shook the smallest bit as he moved the handle on the faucet to turn the water on. He never touched Cas. It was kind of forbidden territory between the two, Cas didn't touch Dean and Dean didn't touch Cas; simple as that. Yet in the past few weeks Dean's had the sudden urge to just touch Cas whether it just be an ordinary pat on the shoulder or to wrap his arms around Cas and kiss him senseless. Dean heard the front door opening and the jingling of keys, snapping him out of his thoughts immediately. Sam stomped into the kitchen holding two bags that looked ready to burst. He placed the bags on the table and began taking out their contents.
"Well, I didn't know what exactly you wanted me to get, so I just got a bunch of different things," Sam said quickly as he piled the small boxes of medication into a pile. Tylenol, NyQuil and ibuprofen among other things were stacked on the table. In the other bag, two two liter bottles of sprite and gingerale stretched out the flimsy plastic bag.
"Dean, what is it?" Sam said, and Dean realized he had been staring.
"Oh, nothing, nothing." Dean said almost under his breath. Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't question Dean any further; he knew that wouldn't get him anywhere.
Dean picked up a random pink box, "Dude, what the hell are all of these?" He slightly gestured to the almost dozen boxes.
"I don't know, I couldn't decide, so I just got them all. I also got sprite and gingerale in hopes that it might settle Cas' stomach, I'm sick of him throwing up on my shit," Sam's mouth shifted into a sour O, the both of them remembering the horrific scene from last night.
Dean turned to the cabinet, grabbing a large glass which he quickly filled with ice from the freezer. Dean turned around and grabbed the bottle of sprite to pour into the cup to give to Cas.
With a glass of sprite, a blue bottle of NyQuil and Tylenol, Dean marched back inside the living room where Cas laid on the couch dozing in and out of reality. His arms were lazily sprawled out over the couch; the blanket tucked hastily beneath him with his toes slipping out from the edge of the blanket. His eyes were closed, dark lashes standing out against his even paler than usual skin. Cas's mouth hung open at an awkward angle, pink plump lips that were slightly chapped lined by dark stubble. In that moment, all Dean could think about was how those lips would feel against his and wrapping his arms around Cas an—
Dean's mushy fantasy was
interrupted by the clearing of someone else's throat; which Dean quickly realized was Sam.
Dean slightly turned his head, Sam raising an eyebrow yet again at him. Dean suddenly remembering the items in his hands, quickly rushed over to a slightly unconscious Cas.
"Hey, Cas," Dean said as he placed a hand on what he thought was Cas's shoulder, "Sam picked up some medicine for you."
Cas slowly opened his eyes, revealing bright blue orbs covered in a glossy film from sleep. Cas blinked his eyes; the murkiness never leaving. He fumbled with one of his arms under the blanket, reaching for the glass of sprite Dean was holding.
Dean pushed Cas's hand away, "No, sit back Cas, I don't want you moving and throwing up a million times again," Dean brought the cool glass to Cas's lips, tilting it upwards.
When Cas's drinking slowed, he pulled the glass away and cracked open the bottle of NyQuil, pouring the liquid into the cap. He repeated the process, and quickly gave Cas the Tylenol afterwards.
"Feeling any better by chance?" Dean said as he placed a hand on Cas's shoulder.
"I don't think medication works that quickly, Dean," Cas said softly, eyes fluttering closed half way through his sentence, a strange blissful smile showing on his face.
"Yeah..." Was all Dean could muster up as he rubbed slight circles into Cas's shoulder, "What time is it, Sammy?"
"Uh, 9:45," Sam said as he glanced at his watch.
Dean poked Cas's cheek, trying to get him up to properly tuck him into bed. Cas obliged, barely able to comprehend his was even on his feet as Dean pulled him up. Dean snaked an arm around Cas's waist, holding him upright. They were half way down the hall when Cas suddenly spoke.
"Dean, I think I'm gonna—" Cas went a little bit green in the face as he tried to prevent from vomiting. Dean quickly rushed Cas into the bathroom, slamming the toilet lid open just as Cas began to puke.
"It's okay Cas, I got you," Dean whispered as he rubbed soothing circles up and down Cas's back.
Cas slumped down afterwards, right up against Dean's chest as he peered at him with his bright blue eyes through dark lashes.
"Dean, I'm tired of being sick," Cas whispered, squeezing his eyes closed. Cas had been sick for the last five days—Dean had stayed home with him the first two to take care of him. At least, he had recovered a little bit over the past few days.
"I'm gonna get you something to drink and a cold towel, okay? Clean yourself up and try to get to bed," Dean said, running his fingers through Cas's soft hair.
Dean helped Cas up—or pulled him up, and left him inside the bathroom.
Dean strode out the door, only to find Sam right outside giving him major bitch face.
"A word, Dean," Sam turned on his heel towards to kitchen, finger in a hook like shape.
Dean could feel his hands shaking, not wanting to explain his feelings for his fucking best friend to his little brother.
"What was that all about?" Sam said when they were all alone in the kitchen, his facial features softening a bit.
Dean offered a small shrug of his shoulders, "Cas is sick, I was taking care of him," Dean hoped that would suffice as an answer, yet he knew vague explanations never satisfied his inquisitive brother.
"I know Dean, and I know this isn't you," Sam let out a large sigh. "Did you take care of me like this when I was sick?—What about Jo, or Ellen, or even Lisa?" Sam puffed at him. Sam was right, even though Dean didn't feel like admitting it. Whenever someone was sick, Dean stayed away from them for the most part, not wanting to get sick either.
"Cas is my best friend," Dean continued to protest further.
"Whatever, Dean," Sam said turning to leave the kitchen. He walked down the hall and bounded up the stairs, going three steps at a time with his crazy-long-gigantic stilts he had for legs.
Dean grabbed Cas's glass from the table where he had left it, going to fetch something to drink for Cas. He poured a hefty serving of gingerale in the class and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet which he filled with cold water. Dean grabbed one of the small towels from under the sink and made his way upstairs to Cas.
Dean knocked on the wooden door the farthest down the hall, "Cas?" Dean slightly pushed open the door.
"Come in," Cas said weakly.
Dean placed the bowl and glass on the bedside table, "Cas, c'mere," Cas almost immediately rolled onto his back. Dean hoped Cas wouldn't get sick from the sudden movements.
Dean dunked the towel under the water, wrung out the sopping wet material and began lightly patting Cas's face.
Cas shook his head, "No, Dean, that just makes me colder," He lightly fought back, flopping his arm in attempt to hit the towel away.
Dean dropped the towel back into the bowl with no water spilling over, save for the few drops that had come to rest on his jeans.
"There's gingerale on the table if you want it," Dean began to turn to walk away, only to be caught on the wrist by Cas; his grip surprisingly strong considering how sick Cas was.
"Dean, I'm cold," Cas said sternly.
"I'll go get you more blankets, then," Dean said trying to wiggle out of Cas's grasp.
"No," Cas pouted as he pulled Dean down onto the bed next to him; throwing the blanket on top of him.
Cas wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling them even closer. Cas snuggled his face into the crook of Dean's neck, "I like this better," Dean could feel the rumble in Cas's throat as he spoke.
Before Dean could even form a coherent thought, he followed Cas's gestures, holding the sick man close; running his fingers through Cas's messy hair.
Dean raised Cas's head out of the crook of his neck, putting merely centimeters between their lips.
Cas tried jerking his head back, only for it to be held fast by Dean's hand, "No Dean, I am going to get you sick,"
"I don't care," Dean said softly, bringing their lips together.
Jolts began to coarse through Dean's body. All he could feel was the soft press of Cas's lips against his; the man's slight stubble lightly scratching his face and the taste of mint trailing on Cas's mouth. He pulled Cas closer, tugging on his hair. Cas gasped, allowing Dean inside to explore Cas's mouth. Cas tasted so good; and Dean never wanted this moment to end.
Cas softly pulled away, returning to his original position. Dean didn't hassle Cas; he knew he was sick and probably exhausted from the past days' events. Instead, Dean let Cas sleep peacefully curled up around Dean; head pressed up against his neck. Dean relaxed into Cas's warmth and quickly fell asleep, too.
The next morning, both of them were woken up by Sam slamming the bedroom door open.
"About damn time," Sam breathed as he walked right back out the door, shutting it behind Dean and Cas; leaving them both completely awake and alone.
"Cas, you feeling any better?" Dean hummed, pulling Cas enticingly close.
"Very much so," Cas breathed, staring at Dean's mouth.
Dean pulled Cas into a chaste kiss, which he quickly took further; running his hands all up and down Cas's body, tongue dipping inside his mouth.
"Do you think Sam's still home?" Cas said worriedly.
"Maybe, but I don't give a damn," Dean said between kisses; silencing Cas for the next hour or so.