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“We’ll be fine, won’t we Lo?” Dean gently pinches his son’s cheek. He tries not to flinch at the fever heating Logan from the inside out. Castiel is worried enough for the two of them. Therefore it’s Dean’s turn to be the reasonable one for a change and that means shooing Castiel out of the house before he misses his meeting.
“I’ll call you... just to check in,” Castiel promises, picking up his coat from where it’s draped over the back of the couch.
“Yes ok. Sure. Whatever. Go!” Dean tightens his arm around Logan, scooching the little boy higher on his hip. Logan makes a small noise of discomfort, but leaves his face pressed into the collar of Dean’s pyjama shirt.
Dean follows Castiel to the front door, watching as the other man lingers, indecision warring on his face. “Maybe I should just call in…?” Castiel frowns at Logan and Dean purses his lips into an unamused scowl.
“No. You need to go. You’ve been going on and on about how this is your chance to finally bring up some of your own ideas. How are you gonna do that if you’re here?” Dean argues, pressing a hand to Castiel’s chest, forcing him to step out of the house. Castiel sighs in resignation.
“You’re right.”
“Damn straight.” Dean leans forward, giving Castiel a peck on the lips. “Off you go.” He steps inside the house, closing the door on Castiel. Dean will never get over how stubborn his partner can be, especially when it comes to their son.
Dean brings Logan over to the couch, lying him down. Red rimmed and tired eyes stare back at Dean and he gives Logan a smile. “You ok, buddy?” Dean wipes Logan’s sweaty fringe from his forehead.
“Hurts,” Logan whimpers and Dean’s heart clenches. He says nothing as he plucks the homemade afghan blanket from the end of the couch. Unfolding it, he carefully wraps it around Logan.
“I know… but you’ll be ok,” Dean presses the back of his knuckles to Logan’s cheeks, feeling for the fever. “I’m gonna make you some soup. Wanna watch cartoons for a while?” Logan brightens a little at the mention of cartoons and Dean smiles softly, flicking on the TV. He leaves Logan to watch a brightly coloured show involving LEGO men.
Dean is chopping carrots when his cell vibrates in his pocket. He doesn’t even have to check and see who’s trying to call him. “Cas it’s been like ten minutes,” he sighs, answering the phone.
“I know but this is the first time he’s been sick since he was a little baby,” Castiel says over the loud thrum of the car. Dean can tell he’s on the Bluetooth speaker. Castiel can’t stand it when he sees people talking on their phones while driving. Especially so when Dean does it.
“I recall. Still. We’re fine!” Dean peeks into the living room, seeing Logan struggling to keep his eyes open. He’s relieved. A little rest will do the kid some good.
“Are you sure?” Castiel’s worry is clear, even over the phone. Dean rolls his eyes.
“Yes Cas. Now leave me alone. I’m trying to recreate my mother’s soup recipe,” Dean pads back over to the counter eyes scanning over the array of ingredients he had laid out.
“Ok. I’ll talk to you soon,” Castiel says and Dean makes a kissy noise before hanging up. He drops the phone onto the counter top before him. Picking up a knife, he finishes chopping the carrots.
The pot of soup bubbles away not twenty minutes later and Dean feels warm with pride when he deems it tasting almost exactly like how Mary Winchester makes it. If this doesn’t kick Logan’s cold in the ass, nothing will. Grabbing out a pair of bowls and spoons, Dean ladles it out and brings them into the living room. Logan is fast asleep and Dean loathes waking him.
Placing the bowls down, he gently nudges at Logan, watching as tired eyes crack open and he glares at Dean. “I know buddy, but here. Soup.” Dean coaxes him into a sitting position and winces as the little boy lets out a bark of a cough. Those had been blessedly silent since the bout of lung heaving coughs that had woken Dean and Castiel early that morning. Those painful coughs soon turned into sobs and Dean and Castiel knew that today wasn’t going to be a fun day for little Lo.
Dean sits next to the boy, handing him a spoon before placing a pillow on his lap to soak up the heat from the soup bowl. They eat in silence, both watching the cartoons playing on the TV. “You like it?” Dean asks, watching as Logan slurps noisily at his soup. Nodding, Logan continues to eat and Dean preens, happy with the verdict on his cooking.
They both have happy tummies when Dean’s phone buzzes again. Logan has his head pillowed on Dean’s thighs; blanket hiked up to his shoulders, dozing as Dean cards his fingers through his sweaty locks. “Yes Cas?” Dean says.
“How is he?”
“Fine. Loved the soup. He’s resting now,” Dean looks down, watching as Logan nods off.
“Ok… that’s good. I’m still going to be a while yet. I’m sorry…” Castiel sounds as if he’s snuck off to the bathrooms to call Dean, the slight echo to his words tipping him off to Dean.
“Don’t be sorry. We’re fine here. Trust me,” Dean says, trying to sooth the other man.
“Ok… talk soon.”
“Bye Cas.” Dean goes back to watching the cartoons even as Logan sleeps.
Dean’s heart almost beats out of his chest when Logan wakes with a terrified scream. Nightmares. Dean holds the boy to his chest as Logan calms down. He whispers comforting words into Logan’s hair as the boy trembles, his nightmares fading.
“Daddy…” Logan whimpers and Dean holds him tighter.
“You’re ok, buddy. It’s ok,” Dean gently rocks him and tries to control his own emotions. Seeing his child cowering in fear has protectiveness flaring up inside him and it’s hard to fight off all the bad things when they’re dreams, make believe, not real. “How about we get you something for that fever, huh?” Dean pats Logan’s hair, heaving them both up as he stands. Dean carries Logan into the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge for something to bring down Logan’s temperature. Spying a few leftover juice boxes Dean pulls one out. “Juice?” Dean offers the box to Logan who takes it, holding it to his chest as Dean walks them back to the couch. Popping the straw in, Logan settles with his juice and Dean throws an arm over the back of the couch, both of them staring blankly at the TV. It’s the perfect time for Dean’s cell to begin its pesky vibrating. “Cas,” Dean answers.
“Is he ok?” Castiel asks and Dean looks down at Logan, who looks back up at him.
“You wanna talk to Pa?” Dean asks, cocking an eyebrow and Logan nods, holding out his hand. Dean passes him the phone.
“Pa?” Logan murmurs. Dean plays with one of the couch cushions as Logan speaks with Cas. “Soup…juice…yeah. Ok. A nap. Ok. Bye Pa. Here,” Logan hands back the phone in favour of sucking on his juice.
“There see. You believe me now? Everything is fine,” Dean states and Castiel chuckles.
“Yes I believe you. He sounds much better than this morning,” Castiel concedes and Dean rolls his eyes. “I’ll be home soon,” promises Castiel.
“Alright. Talk to you then. Love you,” Dean hangs up. He addresses Logan, “You aren’t allowed to go back to being sick before Pa gets home, you hear me?” Dean waggles a finger at Logan who giggles. As far as sick days go, this one hasn’t been too bad. Watching the colour seep back into Logan’s face and the light returning to his eyes proves as much. Dean is glad. He knows Castiel will be too.