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Being in love with a being as old as the Earth is all fun and games until said ex-angel gets sick for the first time of his entire (overwhelmingly long) life and turns into an actual, honest to god, gigantic baby.
It starts off with a soft groan being muffled through a pillow on a rainy Sunday morning in Lebanon, Kansas.
On any given morning, Dean would be fine with being woken up by one of Castiel’s soft groans (especially when said angel is pressed up tightly against his back, morning wood prominently fitted to the curve of his ass), but this particular morning, his fogged up brain processes quickly enough to realize that: one, Cas isn’t wrapped around him like a very warm koala (which is weird), and two, that groan feels like a punch to the guts (which is alarming in the first place, and weird).
He opens his eyes and quickly flips over, only to find Castiel slumped in what looks like a very uncomfortable position on the mattress next to him, his face entirely pushed into his pillow.
“Cas?” Dean asks, barely managing to cover the concern inside his voice, “what’s going on?”
He reaches out immediately and buries his hand into the hair on the back of the angel’s head, carding through the dark locks slowly while his other hand quickly slips under Cas’ shirt. His skin is burning up, covered in little beads of sweat, yet there’s shivers running through his entire body.
Okay, definitely not good.
“Babe?” he asks again, bending over to drop a soft kiss at the nape of Cas’ neck, letting his lips trail down until they meet his shoulder, “hey, look at me.”
Castiel doesn’t move from his position before he answers, his voice even more hoarse than usual, “I think I’m sick.”
“Yeah, I think I figured that out by myself already. Come on, let me see your pretty face.”
“Dean —“
“I know, that’s not funny, I’m an asshole, whatever, just… humor me, okay?” Dean asks softly, running his hand gently into Cas’ hair trying to ease the discomfort.
The once-upon-an-angel finally turns his head just enough to catch sight of Dean, his face paler than usual and looking like he’s straight out of an old episode of ER.
Yep, Dean is pretty sure “I think I’m sick” doesn’t even begin to cover what seems to be going on here.
“Okay,” he says gently, cupping Cas’ chin and watching as his boyfriend closes his eyes on impact, pushing into his palm, “Understatement of the year here, Cas. C’mere.”
Castiel finally relaxes in Dean’s embrace, his head immediately finding its place in the crook of Dean’s neck and letting a sigh of release escaping his lips as the hunter runs his hands under his shirt and through his hair.
“Do you think I’m going to die?” Cas asks seriously after a moment.
Dean can help but laugh at that, ducking his head just enough to look at his boyfriend’s face more closely.
“You’re gonna be alright, sweetheart,” he smiles, “you probably just caught a cold or a bad bug, or something.”
“I feel like I’ve ran the New York marathon while simultaneously being ripped apart by a shredder,” Cas whines, and Dean’s grin just grows bigger because Cas, former Angel of the Lord getting all whiny because he’s sick for the first time is kind of adorable, actually.
“Where does it hurts the most?” Dean asks, trying to decide what the best course of action is here.
He doesn’t think that’s anything too serious for now. Cas isn’t puking, or coughing and sneezing just yet, he just looks drained and is running a serious fever. For now, bed rest and some Advil should do the trick.
“Everywhere,” Cas complains, and Dean can’t help but laugh at him, drawing an angry glance from the ex-angel, “why are you laughing at me?”
“Because you’re adorable,” Dean teases, kissing Cas’ furrowed brows to erase the frown, “Tell you what,” he whispers against the shell of his ear, “I’ll run you a hot bath, make you some chicken soup, get some Advil for your head, and then we can spend the day in bed together watching those weird wildlife documentaries that you like until you feel better.”
“Okay, I must be 5 minutes away from dying because there is no way in hell you’d be okay with watching any documentaries with me, let alone all day long.”
“You think you’re so funny, uh?”
“I’m just stunned. What on Earth could possibly force Dean Winchester to sit through an entire afternoon watching wildlife documentaries?”
“Well, consider this a token of my love for you, babe.”
“Maybe I should get sick more often,” Cas mumbles, his eyes falling shut again like he’s seconds from drifting away.
“Don’t push your luck, angel.”
2 minutes after, Cas is snoring lightly against Dean and the hunter carefully wraps the blanket over them both, not letting go of his boyfriend just yet.
Later, he’ll turn into perfect boyfriend mode, making soup and medication cocktails, he will prepare his favorite tea with a drop of honey just like Cas likes best, and he’ll sit through 10 hours of nature documentaries if he has to. Sam will probably mock him for being this whipped (well, hell yeah, he is, why does it have to be such a bad thing?), and Jack will no doubt join them at some point (Dean isn’t sure who’s the biggest documentary freak between the two of them, although Cas probably has a hand in this).
For now, he’s content just listening to the quiet breath of his angel pressed against his side.
It’s been so easy, falling in love with Cas over the years, even when he used to push it back. It’s even easier taking care of him now, and falling in love deeper and deeper every day. Dean used to think he would never be able to have any of that, or that he’ll never be good enough for Castiel to even want something like this.
Now he just lies in bed, 170 pounds of feverish and sleepy ex-angel wrapped all around him like an actual bear; and Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, doesn’t think life can get any better than this, really.