Work Text:
It had been five days since Castiel had become human, and as the old Winchester luck would have it, the ex-angel’s first experience of human life turned out to be one that neither brother expected.
They were just finishing up a hunt in Colorado, a typical slash and burn—only there turned out to be more than just a few angry ghosts to put to rest—and were currently stopped in a motel still a day’s drive from the bunker.
Originally, Dean had been against Castiel coming, the ex-angel had just barely been turned human, he needed some time to get his bearings back. Unfortunately, human Castiel was just as stubborn as angel Castiel and was determined to show that he wasn’t useless now that he was human. Nothing Sam or Dean said could ever convince him that he was part of their family now, a Winchester, and that meant that they would stick by him no matter what.
So here they were, Sam in the bathroom taking a shower, Dean at a chair by the window, laptop open on his lap, and Castiel. Right behind him.
“Seriously, Cas?” Dean glared at the angel hovering behind him.
Castiel tilted his head a little, giving Dean that confused look that he did so well.
Dean sighed and rubbed his head. “Personal space, remember?”
Taking the hint, Castiel took a step back but remained looking over at Dean.
Dean narrowed his eyes but turned his face back to the glowing computer screen shaking his head. Damn angels.
For the rest of the trip to the bunker, Castiel continued to stay near Dean, following him closely much like a puppy—something that he continued to do even when they were at the bunker, much to Sam’s amusement and Dean’s growing annoyance.
He didn’t want to bite the guy’s head off but seriously, he was that close.
If Dean went out for a supply run, Castiel would go too; if Dean was poring over ancient tomes in the library, Castiel was right there beside him; if it was Dean’s turn to make dinner, the ex-angel was there; if Dean was tinkering with the Impala, Castiel was there handing him tools—but Dean had to admit that that was the least annoying time with Castiel. The ex-angel would ask questions about the car and before Dean knew it, they were having more of a one-sided talk about the merits of all cars, Castiel paying rapt attention.
But when Dean plopped down on the couch to watch Netflix and Castiel dropped down beside him, his shoulder pressing against Dean’s, he had enough.
Jumping up, the older Winchester glared down at the angel.
“What the hell, man? Personal space.” Dean growled in irritation.
“Sorry.” Castiel mumbled looking down. Dean frowned as he noticed that Castiel’s shoulders were trembling and he looked more pale than usual.
“Cas, you okay?” Dean asked slowly.
“Yes, yes of course.”
Dean rolled his eyes and put his hand on the ex-angel’s forehead before he could move. His frown deepened. “Jesus, Cas—“
“What’s wrong, Dean?” Sam asked from behind him as he entered the room, books in hand. He had just been about to hit the library again.
“It’s Cas, looks like he’s sick.” Dean told him as he moved away his hand, Castiel moving with it for a second before slumping against the couch.
“It is nothing, I will be fine soon enough—“ Castiel argued unconvincingly as he suddenly coughed. Sam gave Castiel a sympathetic frown. Hmm, that explains the sudden clinginess, he thought glancing over at Dean who was watching the ex-angel with a mixture of concern and anger. Cue mother-hen, Sam thought resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
“Get the medical bag, Sam, maybe we can nip this in the bud before it gets worse.” Dean ordered.
Nodding, Sam quickly dropped his books onto the coffee table and disappeared again.
“Cas, I know you’re new to this whole human thing, but seriously—you have to tell us if you feel sick—“ Dean broke off suddenly, a suspicious look on his face as he eyed the ex-angel on the couch. “Just how long have you been sick, Cas?”
Castiel didn’t reply, fiddling with the hem of his trench coat.
“Cas.” Dean’s voice held a warning note in it.
“…” Castiel sighed and finally looked up at Dean, his face drawn in fatigue. “About two days.”
Dean pursed his lips, eyes dark. “Two days.”
“Here’s the bag, Dean—what about two days?” Sam asked as he dropped the bag onto the table and looked at his brother questioningly.
“Turns out that Cas here has been sick for two freakin’ days and only now decided that we needed to know about it.” Dean growled as he dug through the bag and pulled out a thermometer. He held it out to Castiel. “Stick this under your tongue.” He ordered.
“Why?” Castiel asked in confusion.
“Just do it!” Dean growled.
Reluctantly, Castiel did as he was told.
“Cas, come on, you don’t need to pretend that you aren’t sick, that doesn’t help you or us.” Sam told him gently. “You’re human now, you’re going to have to get used to having rough days. It kinda goes with the whole human thing.”
Castiel started to open his mouth to reply when Dean glared at him. Keeping his mouth shut, Castiel just nodded shortly.
The thermometer beeped and Dean examined the reading. “102.2. Great.”
“Is that good?” Cas asked hesitantly.
“He’s being sarcastic, Cas.” Sam supplied as Dean rummaged through the bag again.
Castiel nodded. “Ah.”
“Damnit, we’re out of cold medicine.” Shutting the bag angrily, Dean moved to the door. “I’m going out on a supply run—“
He spun around as he felt an all too familiar presence at his back.
“You are staying here, Cas.” He snapped eyes narrowing at the ex-angel who was suddenly next to him.
“Dean—“ He started.
“No, Cas. Just—stay—here. Got it?” Dean growled. “Cold weather and colds don’t mix, so just—stay here. Stay.” He pointed at him warningly and then turned and left the room.
Sam felt like wincing as he caught sight of Castiel’s kicked puppy look. Moving over to him, he put a comforting hand on his shoulder as he lead him back to the couch. “Look, Cas, I know Dean can be a bit of a dick, but seriously he’s just worried about you.”
Castiel slumped back down into the couch and coughed heavily, causing Sam to wince at the chest rattling noises.
They heard the familiar sound of the Impala’s engine start up and then quickly fade away and once again Castiel had that look on his face. Like the last puppy in the store window, Sam thought, and why do I keep coming up with dog metaphors?
“Cas, man, how do you feel?”
“I have an unpleasant pounding in my head and it hurts to talk. And cough.” Castiel said tiredly.
“Tea and honey is supposed to be good for a sore throat, I’ll get the pot on.” Sam hurried to the next room. On his return he caught Castiel yawning, one hand rubbing at his eyes.
“Hey, Cas, while the teapot is heating up, how about you change into some more comfortable clothes.” Sam suggested.
“I have no need for other clothes.” Castiel replied stubbornly.
“Yeah, but you see when you’re sick, wearing comfortable clothes can make you feel better—I’m sure some of Dean’s stuff will fit you, mine would be too big.” Before Castiel could argue more, Sam had gotten him off the couch and was steering him to Dean’s room.
Turning to the dresser, Sam started rifling through his brother’s clothes. Finding a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, he started closing the drawers. “Okay, here you go, Cas—“
Turning around he fought the urge to go ‘Aww’ as he saw Castiel curled up on Dean’s bed hugging one of the pillows. Unsure whether or not he should wake him, Sam finally decided to let him sleep. Sleep was good for a cold, right? Getting a spare blanket, he pulled Castiel’s shoes off and draped the blanket over him before tiptoeing out.
When Dean returned, he headed to the kitchen to drop off the bags he was holding. Sam was already there busy making some soup on the pretext that soup and colds went together.
“Oh, hey. How’d it go, did you get everything?” Sam asked looking over from where he was peeling some carrots.
“Yeah, yeah. Got enough meds here to kill an elephant.” Dean replied as he gave the kitchen a cursory glance. “Where’s Cas?”
“Asleep—“Sam glanced over at his brother, wanting to see his reaction for the next part. “—in your room.”
Dean glared at him. “Seriously, Sam? Why didn’t you just let him conk out in his own room?”
Sam shrugged, still amused. “I was trying to get him to change into something more comfortable, next thing I know he’s asleep.”
“I’ll get you back for this, bitch.” Dean muttered darkly as he pulled some packages of medicine from one of the bags.
“Jerk.” Sam rolled his eyes. “You know why he did, though, right?”
His brother just looked at him. “I’m going out on a limb here and say it was because he was freakin’ sick for two days and exhausted.”
“Come on, Dean, all the following you around like a baby duck? It probably has something to do with that whole profound bond thing, but obviously he feels better if you’re by him. It’s almost like he feels protected by you or something. That’s why he was so clingy the past couple of days.”
“One night of slaving over a hot stove and you’re already starting with the chick flick moments, Samantha. Really?” Dean gave him an aggravated look and Sam responded with a bitchface.
“How’s he doing?” Dean continued before Sam could start arguing.
“He was fine half an hour ago, still had a fever but it didn’t seem any higher.” Sam replied as he went back to peeling carrots.
“Guess I might as well get these meds into him—but you owe me.” Dean called over his shoulder as he strode from the room.
Entering his room, Dean flipped on the lights. “Cas?”
The ex-angel had kicked off his covers, a pillow on the floor, and as Dean watched Castiel made a whimpering sound of distress.
His big-brother mode immediately kicking into high gear, Dean dropped the medicine onto his desk and hurried over to the bed, noting the flush on the ex-angel’s face.
“Cas? Hey, Cas, wake up.” He shook the ex-angel’s shoulder firmly. Castiel whimpered again and tossed in his sleep. “Cas, come on, buddy, wake up—wake up.”
As Dean spoke Castiel slowly settled down, his eyes finally fluttering open blearily.
“Dean?” He muttered weakly.
“I’m right here, Cas.” Dean affirmed as he put a hand on Castiel’s forehead. “Son of a bitch, Cas, you’re burning up—“
“I—I don’t feel well…” Castiel’s fingers weakly clutched the front of Dean’s shirt as the ex-angel looked up at Dean pathetically.
“I know, buddy, I know. Look we need to get your temperature down, come on.” Dean helped Castiel to his feet, a supporting arm around the still groggy ex-angel as he first grabbed the clothes Sam had set out and then led him towards the bathroom. Leaning him against the wall, Dean managed to detangle himself from Castiel’s grip and turned the water on, getting it to the right temperature before turning back to the sick ex-angel.
“Okay, you’re going to take a shower, Cas, don’t mess with the temperature, it will help cool you down, after you’re done, I’ll pop you some meds that should help you feel better, sound good?”
“All right, Dean.”
“You can undress yourself, right?” Dean asked hopefully. And if you can’t then Sam can help you out because no way in hell am I going to, he thought inwardly to himself.
“Of course.”
Dean was a little relieved by the affronted tone in the angel’s voice, that was more like Cas.
Nodding, Dean headed for the door.
“…Dean?”
“Yeah?” Dean turned and looked at Castiel’s vaguely worried expression. Immediately, he remembered Sam’s stupid speech from the kitchen. “I’ll be right outside, Cas, I promise.”
Castiel seemed to relax at that and Dean shut the door behind him as he waited in his room, quickly getting the medicine ready for him.
After fifteen minutes, Castiel reappeared dressed in Dean’s clothes with his hair sticking up, Dean couldn’t help but notice the relieved expression he had when he caught sight of the elder Winchester still waiting. He coughed violently for a minute and then padded forward as Dean poured some medicine into a lid and handed it to him. “Here, drink this.”
Castiel quickly swallowed the medicine, Dean noting that the flush from his face was gone but that his hand was trembling.
Making a quick decision that he was probably going to regret later, he went over to the bed and pulled down the covers, gesturing at Castiel. “Get in.”
Castiel tilted his head, confused. “But this is your bed, Dean—“
“Look, you can sleep here, or your own room, your choice.” Dean said annoyed.
The tips of the ex-angel’s ears turned red and he quickly moved to the bed.
Son of a bitch, Sam was right. Dean shook his head as he pulled the covers over the sick man and then grabbed a thermometer and popped it into his mouth.
“102.3.” Dean read. “Not good, but not bad.”
He found a half used box of tissues from his desk and put them on the end table within Cas’s reach. “Okay, if your nose starts to run, blow your nose on the tissues not the blankets.” He told the ex-angel sternly, briefly thinking back to the many times he had cared for a sick Sammy who had apparently thought germs only existed for other people. “I’ll grab you a Gatorade from downstairs. Do you think you could eat?”
Castiel shook his head.
“Okay, later then. All right, I’ll be right back.”
Entering the kitchen, Dean rummaged in fridge and pulled out a Gatorade as Sam turned from the stove. “How’s he doing? I heard the shower running earlier.”
“His fever spiked, it’s back down—102, but he doesn’t feel like eating yet, so I’m getting him this.” Dean waved the bottle. “At least he’ll stay hydrated.”
Sam nodded. “Good idea. Well the soup can be warmed up anytime, so you want me to toss a pizza in the oven for us?”
“Sounds good.” Dean agreed heading back to his room.
Castiel was still awake, watching the door.
Dean pretended not to notice how relieved Castiel looked when he came back, placing the bottle of Gatorade next to the box of tissues. “Go to sleep, Cas, your cold will last longer if you don’t.” Great, now I’m talking like Cas is a kid, Dean thought inwardly rolling his eyes. What’s next, getting him a freakin’ babysitter—though that might not be too bad of an idea, Dean thought as he remembered Cas almost burning a motel room they were staying in when he tried to use the microwave.
Castiel just blinked up at him, obviously fighting sleep.
Damnit.
Dean pulled over his desk chair and propped his feet up on the bed as he started to pore through a book on curses he had brought up from the library before the hunt and before Castiel had turned human. Funny, it seems like years ago now.
He ignored Castiel watching him and eventually, Dean heard the ex-angel’s breathing even out as he fell asleep.
Dean sighed in relief. Finally.
Quietly getting up, he put the book down in his chair and headed out, turning the lights off as he went.
He headed for the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge, cracking it open and taking a gulp.
“Ah, that’s the stuff.” Dean wandered into the living room and flopped down on the couch, vaguely wondering if he should save the pie hidden in the cupboard for before or after the pizza. It was a tossup.
Sam had looked over as he entered, sitting in an armchair with books over his lap.
“How’s Cas?”
“Out like a light.” Dean took another drink of beer and turned on the TV.
“I can’t believe he got sick, what a way to spend your first week being human, huh?” Sam shook his head and looked back down at the book in his hands.
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, that crap is pretty typical for Winchesters. Cas is one of us now, so now he gets to share in all things Winchester. He really got the short end of the stick on that deal.”
“He doesn’t think so.” Sam pointed out.
“Yeah, yeah. When’s that pizza going to be done?” Dean deftly switched the subject, he didn’t want to get too far into chick flick territory.
Sam glanced at his watch. “Ten more minut—“
They both looked over in surprise at the sound of pounding feet, Castiel appearing suddenly in the doorway, hair even more disheveled than usual and a panicked expression on his face that quickly smoothed out when he caught sight of both Winchesters.
“What is it, Cas?” Dean asked instantly getting to his feet, watching his friend with concern. “More pain? Where is it? Throat? Chest?”
“It—it is nothing, I just became hungry so I came down.” Castiel said as he started to shiver, eyes downcast as his ears reddened.
“Damnit, Cas!” Dean glared at the pathetic form. He practically dragged Cas over to the couch and sat him down while he pulled the blanket that was on the back of the couch down around his shoulders. “You want to get a chill? Cause if you think a cold is fun, just wait until you get pneumonia for the first time.”
“That soup is still on the stove, Cas, I’ll go warm it up.” Sam offered as he piled his books on the table, Dean still fussing over Castiel and getting him another Gatorade and more tissues as the ex-angel coughed.
Once he was settled to Dean’s satisfaction, the elder Winchester sat down on the other end of the couch, a space between them.
Finishing his beer, Dean got up, wondering what was taking Sam so long.
He heard the shifting of cloth and looked over to see Castiel standing as well, an embarrassed and slightly panicked expression on his face. Just like a few moments before…
Godamnit.
That was why Cas was down here—he had woken up, seen that Dean was gone, and had gotten—scared?
How did an all powerful angel of the Lord turn into—a baby in a trench coat?
Again he was reminded of Sammy when he was young—when that kid got sick all he wanted was for Dean to take care of him while being glued to his big brother’s side like a freakin’ limpet.
Well he is a Winchester now, I guess he picked up on some of Sam’s qualities, Dean thought as he sat back down on the couch and sighed.
He looked over at Cas who was slowly starting to sit down as well, his eyes glued to Dean as if he might just be tricking him and at the last second dive up and sprint out of the door. Had it been a different situation, Dean would’ve found that hilarious. Now he just found it a little sad. He’d never really thought about it before, but Cas really hadn’t had much of childhood either, had he? Another beautiful Winchester trait.
“Fine, get over here—but I swear you better never mention this again.” Dean told him firmly as he opened his arms.
Castiel hesitated, surprise and longing on his face.
“Come on.” Dean waggled his fingers impatiently, attempting to cover up his embarrassment.
Needing no further incentive, Castiel smooshed himself against Dean’s side, one hand grabbing hold of his shirt as he curled tightly against his chest.
Dean wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gave the ex-angel a reassuring pat on the head. “Sleep, Cas, your big brother is looking out for you.”
Castiel was silent for a moment, his body relaxing, and Dean thought he had fallen asleep but then a sleepily whispered. “Thank you, Dean.”
Dean gave his shoulders a squeeze and pulled the blanket more firmly around the other man’s shoulders.
He looked up sharply.
Sam was standing in the doorway with a bowl of soup, puppy dog eyes at full blast as he held his phone in his free hand.
“Don’t you dare!” Dean whispered as loudly as he dared, Castiel slumbering peacefully.
“Too late, I’ll send you a copy though.” Sam replied still making an ‘Aww’ face.
“Screw you, bitch.”
“Jerk.”
Castiel choose that moment to mumble in his sleep, his fist tightening on Dean’s shirt before settling down again. When Dean looked up Sam was giving him an even more sickening ‘Aww’ face.
He was about to tell Sam he was going to kick his ass, when he realized that he had absently started stroking Cas’s head like a parent would to a child.
“Sonofab—“
“Shh, no swearing around your kid.” Sam admonished him, grinning as he took more pictures.
“He’s not my kid, he’s a grown-ass man—“ Dean started to argue heatedly but Sam just turned and walked back into the kitchen.
Dean frowned at the ex-angel’s head. He wasn’t treating Cas like a kid, he was treating him like a dumb little brother, so basically the same as he treated Sam—so what if maybe he was more protective over Cas, but that was only because he didn’t have the same experiences as Sam did. Sam could take care of himself, mostly, but Cas couldn’t not really—he was really just a—just a—
…baby in a trench coat…
…
But that was just a figure of speech, Dean thought to himself hurriedly, he’s just another dumb kid brother, that’s all. And Sam can screw off, he added bad-temperedly.
Settling it in Dean Winchester fashion, shaping the argument so it suited him or ignoring all the evidence, Dean reached for the remote and turned on the TV.
And if Sam came back with pizza only to find that Dean had fallen asleep on the couch one hand still on Cas’s head with his other arm protectively around the ex-angel’s shoulders, Cas’s face more peaceful than Sam had seen in days—well, that didn’t prove anything. Cas was family and Dean had always had a protective big-brother streak in him.
Or as Sam liked to call it, a paternal-as-hell streak in him regarding one little angel.
But Sam could screw off.