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Dean doesn’t like how vulnerable his baby brother looks, with his entire right leg encased in a plaster cast that extends from his foot all the way up to the top of his thigh. It makes him feel more protective of Sammy, seeing him look so fragile and broken. He’s hobbling around the bunker in his boxers, seeing as sweats or pants in general are too much effort for him to put on, and wearing the ratty gray hoodie he’s had since Stanford that he always takes to wearing when he’s sick, sort of like a security blanket in its own Sammy way. They’re all out of painkillers, so Sam has been gritting his teeth or clenching his jaw in pain when trying to get up off the couch or make it from his bed to the kitchen.
Dean’s already too strong protective big brother instincts spike off the charts as it is, but add in a nearly defenseless, pained baby brother with a couple of the bones in his leg shattered, and Dean’s sent into overdrive. It’s only been a few hours since they finally smuggled Sam out of the hospital, without paying the bill, of course, and Dean is antsy with the need to take care of him. Thankfully, Cas notices before Dean can drive Sam crazy with his hovering and constant ‘doin’ okay?’s. “Dean, maybe it would make everyone feel much better if you did something proactive to help Sam instead of worrying? Of course your concern won’t go away, but there is something we can do to help. He’s out of painkillers, correct?” Cas asks, tilting his head to the side in that adorable way of his. Dean sighs, plowing a hand through his hair.
“Yeah, he is.” Cas reaches up to cup Dean’s face with his hand, curving his palm to fit Dean’s cheekbone, and kisses him softly, chastly on his lips, which have been pulled into a perpetual frown for a solid eighteen hours now. As soon as Castiel’s lips are on his though, he can’t help but return the kiss, Cas’ touch thawing him and bearing some of the weight that has found a home on his shoulders.
“Then let’s make a quick trip to the grocery store and purchase some more medicine. I’m sure Sam would be grateful, and it would make you feel better to use your energy in a productive manner, rather than feeling needlessly bad.” Cas amends, blue eyes alluring with their kindness and compassion. Dean brightens; Cas knows him so well, knows exactly how to make him feel better and how to make the situation better, combining the two perfectly in that amazing way of his. Dean sighs gratefully, leaning into Cas’ touch, wrapping his arms around the former angel’s waist and burying his face against his lover’s neck.
“That’s a great idea, Cas. Sammy’s sleeping right now, if we hurry, we can get back before he wakes up.” Cas kisses him tenderly on the cheek, squeezing their entwined hands.
They make the drive to the nearest local grocery store in no time at all, piling out of Baby and heading past the automatic door and into the store. Dean’s striding right past the lines of carts when he feels Cas’ free hand-- the one that isn’t interlaced with the hunter’s-- on Dean’s shoulder, signaling for him to stop. Dean does, turning to questioningly, and then sees what the ex-angel is looking at. “I think we need a cart,” Cas declares seriously, so earnest Dean has to laugh.
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually used a cart shopping before,” Dean remarks, but isn’t as opposed to using one if Cas is with him, for whatever reason. The corner of Cas’ mouth hitches up in a crooked smile, endeared and amused.
“Then what have you used a cart for?” Cas over enunciates ‘have’ and Dean guffaws loudly at his smartass ex-angel’s joke.
“Just c’mon, we’re trying to be quick, remember?” They both chuckle and Dean grins, because of course Cas was right, he does feel infinitely better doing something proactive to help Sammy. Not only that, but Cas’ very presence makes Dean feel a thousand times lighter.
“Where to first?” Cas asks, scanning the vast array of shelves lining each aisle. Since the produce section is to their immediate right, Dean steers them off towards it.
“Not exactly sure. Sam usually is the one to go on the grocery trips,” Dean replies, pushing the cart towards the bins of vegetables and fruits.
“I’m sure we can manage it,” Cas reassures him, then scans the assortment of produce in front of them. “Good choice, Sam does like eating healthy.” Dean rolls his eyes but smiles fondly.
“That he does. Him and his weird hippie-granola-artichoke crap.” Dean shakes his head goodnaturedly, pulling the cart over to where a bunch of clear plastic containers holding strawberries are stacked, and reaches up to grab one and set it gently in the cart, careful not to bruise them. Dean, Cas at his side, wheels the cart over to a tub of weird looking leafy green vegetables he recognizes only because of Sam’s love for them-- that, and their strange name.
“Arugula. Sam loves this stuff,” Dean crows, reaching down to grab a bundle of it and drop it in the cart. Cas reaches for something while Dean examines another weird, most likely organic vegetable -- or maybe fruit? It’s hard to tell -- sitting in a crate beside Sam’s beloved arugula.
“Ji-caw-ma?” Dean says, picking one up and weighing it in his hand. When Cas starts to laugh, Dean tries again, determined to get it right. “‘jick-ay-ma’?” Dean attempts once more, only for Cas to laugh even harder, cheeks flushing rosy with the force of his laughter. It’s a beautiful sight to see, Cas blushing with his face contorted in laughter, but for the sake of his pride, he’s dead set on pronouncing it correctly.
“Jicama,” Cas finally corrects breathlessly, saying it like ‘hick-uh-ma’. Dean’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, dubious.
“That’s just what I said.” The hunter plays it off casually, and Cas rolls his eyes. Dean smirks. “Well it sounds weird enough for Sammy. Throw it in.” Cas complies, setting it down next to the strawberries, before he holds up a pineapple, fingers carefully avoiding the little spikes on its outside.
“Would Sam like a pineapple, do you think?” Cas asks, and he looks so damn adorable, holding the pineapple carefully and gazing at Dean with wide, earnest eyes. The hunter is overwhelmed with affection and the desire to kiss him.
“Yeah, that’s great buddy, Sam could use some aloha in his life,” Dean answers, and Cas smiles at the approval, placing it into the cart. Dean rubs circles over the back of his lover’s hand with his thumb, because it’s as much as he can do right now, though he’d rather be kissing Cas silly.
They move on to the meats and cheese, skimming over the selection, and Dean picks out a pre-cut wedge of jalapeno gouda, thinking of how his brother has an affinity for rich cheeses. Dean might sneak a slice, because he’s got a soft spot for anything spicy. The hunter can’t believe how good this feels, holding hands with his ex-angel lover and going shopping for things to get his fresh-out-of-the-hospital brother. It feels surreal, how domestic and yet natural it is, and he has to say, he kind of adores it. They approach the bakery section of the store, and thus Dean’s sentimental thoughts are replaced with awe as he sees the huge variety of pies. “Dean, remember, we’re shopping for Sam,” Cas gently chastises him, but there’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.
“Sam would want me to get myself a pie. Figures, he owes me one for all the cake he’s brought me over the years,” Dean rations, then reverently grabs a container of cherry pie and sets it in the cart nicely. Cas chuckles, guiding Dean over to the tables filled with fresh-baked breads, and selects a whole-grain loaf with seeds and nuts baked into it. “Oh yeah, he’ll love this,” Dean nods in approval as Cas adds it in.
They make their way down to the canned goods section, and Dean busies himself with picking out all different kinds of canned Campbell’s soup and heaping the cans into the cart. He rants on about how Campbell’s is the best and he’d never feed his brother any other brand when it comes to soup, and Cas listens patiently with his lips turned up at the corners. After they add six bottles of grape flavored Gatorade into the cart, they move onto the medicine aisle, where Dean stocks up on not only Advil and Tylenol, but more bandages and gauze to restock their first aid kit. They’ve only been gone for a little bit, a quick check of the time on Dean’s phone tells him, so he decides they can keep looking for anything else Sam might need.
“Is there anything else Sam might like?” Cas asks, surveying the aisles they’re passing. Dean screws his face up into a look of concentration, racking his brain as he tries to think of anything Sam likes that they haven’t yet gotten.
“Oh! Tea! Sam drinks that almost as much as beer,” Dean laughs. “I don’t even know what aisle to look for tea.” Cas grins at him, tugging him along by his hand as the ex-angel uses his impeccable sense of navigation to steer them towards the powdered drinks section. Dean parks the cart across from the shelves of seemingly endless different kinds of teas, then squares his shoulders and leans forward, beginning his search. “We’re looking for either herbal raspberry or chamomile. Or both, if we can somehow find them with all these thousand fucking flavors.” Minutes later, Cas’ keen eyes have spied them out, and Dean crows triumphantly, kissing his lover proudly.
The two are on their way to checkout when they pass a display of woolly socks, the big fluffy kind that he could never in a million years imagine himself wearing, but that actually look pretty damn comfortable. An idea comes into his head as he thinks back to Sam’s exposed toes peeking out of his cast, and then he veers off over to the stand. “Let’s get Sammy some socks, keep his foot warm since he can’t wear a shoe and none of his other socks probably will stretch big enough,” Dean advises, and Cas scans over the selection of colors. The former angel fingers a crimson pair, looking at Dean in silent question, but the hunter shakes his head, sporting a shit-eating grin. “Nah, we’re gonna get these,” Dean’s hand seizes the last pair of hot pink ones. Cas raises an eyebrow skeptically.
“I don’t think Sam would like-”
“He will, trust me.” Dean kisses the top of Cas’ head and chucks the socks in with the rest of the stuff, then gets in line at a checkout counter.
The older Winchester starts piling the various items onto the conveyor belt, making short work of it. He notices out of the corner of his eye how enamored Cas looks with the display of candy bars and gum by the register, finds it cute how Cas squints down at them, as if trying to understand their differences from each other. “Why don’t you pick one out, buddy?” Dean suggests, walking over to him to draw him against the side of his body with an arm around his waist.
“I can’t. I have no way to tell what sets them apart from each other.” Cas looks up at Dean with bewildered eyes and Dean chuckles, guiding Cas’ wandering hand down to where the little yellow bag of peanut M&Ms sits in its cardboard box.
“Well it only makes sense that I start you off with the best,” Dean says with a smirk. Cas’ mouth ticks up.
“I do like all of the different colors,” he murmurs, looking at the little picture of the candies on the bag.
“It’s settled then.” Dean declares, adding them to the items on the belt. The man checking them out has them scanned and bagged in no time. Dean pays and the two make a hurried retreat back to the Impala, both carrying two bags they throw in the back seat before hitting the road back home.
When they return to the bunker, they find a sleepy Sam curled up in a ball on the couch, watching a rerun of some Arctic survival show. He lifts his head groggily as his brother and Cas enter the room, arms laden with the couple bags.
“Where’d you guys go?” he asks, yawning hugely and blinking up at them as they set the bags on the coffee table in front of the couch.
“To the store to get you some things. Look. I even got you some socks, because I’m the best big brother in the world,” Dean says, pulling them out and tossing them into Sam’s lap. Sam picks them up with a confused look on his face that instantly dissolves into a classic bitchface.
“Wow Dean, you shouldn’t’ve.” Sam says sarcastically, and Dean guffaws loudly, laughter booming as he throws his head back and laughs.
“They’re totally your color, don’tcha think, Sammy?” Dean manages to gasp in between fits of laughter. Sam rolls his eyes, putting them aside as he rifles through the other plastic grocery bags.
His expression softens and grows brighter the longer he looks, and Dean is just about to ask what the hell he’s smiling so big about when Sam says it anyways. “You got all my favorites,” Sam notes, smiling, his eyes looking too puppyish for his own damn good.
“Yeah yeah, don’t get sappy on me, bitch. You just got out of the hospital; this is a one time thing.” Dean replies gruffly, though on the inside his heart is swelling seeing how happy he’s made Sam.
“Jerk.” Sam shoots back. Dean laughs and Cas squeezes his hand, looking pleased.
“But hey, I couldn’t’ve done it without Cas.”
“Well thank you, both of you guys. This is great! You even got me arugula!” Sam beams, cradling the vegetable in his hand like a treasure.
“And some ji-caw-ma, lucky you.”
“Jicama.” Cas corrects.
“Just what I said.”