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Cas woke up in a pool of sweat, his head pounding and his throat dry as sandpaper. The room spun when he tried to move, and the sudden glare of light made him wince.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Dean said, flicking on the lamp. His voice was far too loud for this hour—or for this headache. “Gotta start the day at some point.”
Cas groaned and turned his face into the pillow. “I would prefer not to.”
They’d been drinking last night. In excess. He remembered laughter, music, Dean’s arm around his shoulders. After that, it was a blur. Since becoming human, Cas had experienced many unpleasant firsts—hunger, fatigue, allergies—but this one was particularly cruel. His first blackout.
At least he’d made it home, apparently in one piece. That was something.
“What happened?” he rasped, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to ease the throbbing behind them.
Dean chuckled and hauled him upright, steadying him when he swayed where he was sitting. ”We had an awesome night last night, that’s what happened. I’ve never seen you with such a big smile on your face.” Dean blushed ever so slightly, “It was nice to see.”
“I don’t feel ‘awesome’ right now, Dean.” Cas scowled.
“That’s because you haven’t had breakfast yet,” Dean said cheerfully. “How’s a bacon, egg, and cheese sound?”
“Disgusting,” Cas said seriously. He’d never understood Dean’s obsession with greasy food, even when he wasn’t already feeling poorly; that much oil often turned his stomach. Since becoming human, he found he preferred what Sam told him was a “vegan” diet.
“Fine,” Dean relented. “Just some toast to start. Seriously, it’ll help.”
He lifted his shirt and frowned at the faint curve of his bloated stomach. “I feel… swollen.”
Dean smirked. “That’s what a night of booze’ll do to you. But you know what’ll help with that?”
Cas raised an eyebrow.
“Taking a nice big hangover shit.”
Cas groaned, letting his head fall back against the headboard. “Don’t joke. I feel unwell.”
“I’m sure you do after the night you had. But as a self-proclaimed hangover expert, I can tell you I’m not joking. Now get your ass outta bed. We’re going for a walk. Gotta get your blood flowing.”
“I do not want to go for a walk. I might be dying.”
Dean grinned. “You’re not dying, you drama queen. You’re just paying your tab from last night.”
Cas shot him a flat look. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, brushing damp hair off his forehead, and his tone softened. “Tell you what—no walk. Just come to the kitchen. Some toast, some coffee. Think you can manage that for me?”
Cas sighed heavily. “I suppose.”
“That’s my angel.”
Dean offered his hand, and Cas took it reluctantly. When he stood, the world tilted again, and Dean’s hand immediately found his hip, steady and warm. They moved together slowly, the mundane intimacy of it grounding Cas despite the pounding in his skull.
At the table, Dean had already laid out a mug of coffee and a plate of toast. Cas sank into the chair with all the grace of a falling tree.
“You lied to me,” he muttered.
“‘Bout what?”
“Walking did not help.”
Dean ignored the jab and slid the coffee toward him. “Put a little hair of the dog in there. Takes the edge off.”
Cas blinked, alarmed. “I do not want to drink dog hair.”
Dean laughed, shaking his head. “It’s a saying, Cas. Means a splash of whiskey.”
Cas looked no less disturbed. “Are you sure it’s best to ingest more alcohol?”
Dean sighed and swapped their mugs. “No excuse now. Drink up, angel.”
Cas took a cautious sip, already bracing for the taste, and cringed. "It’s bitter.”
“Sugar’s right there,” Dean said, pointing.
Cas dumped in an excessive amount, stirred, and took another sip. “Slightly improved.”
“Good. Now eat.”
Cas scowled but obeyed, nibbling at the toast with visible effort. He didn’t make it far. Halfway through the meal, he went pale and bolted from the table.
“Ah, hell,” Dean muttered, jumping up.
By the time he caught up, Cas was on his knees, gripping the rim of the toilet, body trembling as he heaved up everything he’d consumed.
“Easy, sweetheart.” Dean knelt beside him, one hand on Cas’s back, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. “The sooner you get it out, the better.”
Cas gagged again, tears streaming down his flushed face. Dean reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “There you go. Breathe, Cas. You’re alright.”
It took several long minutes before the retching finally subsided. Cas sagged forward, panting.
Dean filled a glass of water and crouched again. “Rinse.”
Cas obeyed, spitting into the toilet before taking a shaky sip. “Why would you drink knowing the next day is awful?”
Dean smiled softly. “I got a hell of a tolerance. You, uh… not so much.”
Cas closed his eyes, exhausted. “May I return to bed now?”
“‘Course you can, sweetheart.”
Dean helped him up, one arm wrapped protectively around his waist. Cas clutched his stomach as they walked back to the bedroom, his steps slow and uneven. Dean guided him to the bed, tugged the blankets up to his chin, then climbed in beside him.
“You should leave, Dean,” Cas mumbled. “I’m disgusting.”
“Not a chance,” Dean said quietly, wrapping an arm around him. His hand slid under Cas’s t-shirt, rubbing gentle circles over his still-cramped stomach.
Cas let out a small, miserable sound, but the touch soothed something in him. He relaxed by inches, the tension ebbing from his body as Dean held him close.
“Better?” Dean murmured.
Cas didn’t answer right away. His breathing slowed, his face pressed against Dean’s chest. “You’re very warm,” he whispered eventually.
“Consider me your own personal furnace,” Dean said with a small smile.
A faint, sleepy huff of amusement escaped Cas. “I don’t deserve your care when I behave so foolishly.”
“Hey,” Dean said softly, squeezing him. “You’re human now, Cas. You get to make bad decisions and regret them in the morning like the rest of us. Besides, you’ve taken care of my dumbass more times than I can count.”
Cas’s reply came out as a drowsy murmur. “I think I prefer being an angel.”
Dean chuckled. “Yeah, well, tough luck. You just had to go fallin’ in love with me, didn’t you?”
Cas hummed faintly, his breathing starting to even out. “Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he whispered, and then sleep claimed him.
Dean pressed a light kiss to his temple, whispering against his hair, “Yeah… me neither.”