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“DEEEEAAAN!” Dean felt the piercingly nasally rasp more than he heard it. He sighed, closing the book he was using for research and walking quickly across the bunker to his room.
“What is it, baby?” Dean asked, reaching over to smooth Cas’s hair back , where it was sticking to his forehead in sweaty clumps.
“Soup.” he said simply, sniffling and looking down at his empty bowl almost forlornly.
“Hmm, you already drank three bowls, Cas. Get some rest. You won’t get better unless you sleep.”
Cas had come down with the common cold a few days before. And after Dean had managed to convince him his “fragile human body” wasn’t “failing him already”, it’s just a cold Cas for chrissake, no need to get dramatic, he had turned into the whiniest patient Dean had ever taken care of. He tried to be understanding though, because he knew Cas just honestly hadn’t experienced it before.
Dean grabbed the bowl gently from his hands, putting it down on his dresser. Cas flopped back down on the bed with a grumble, pulling his little nest of blankets around himself again. “But I’m cold. Can you sleep with me?“
“You wanna get me sick too?” Dean arched a eyebrow at him, trying to ignore how goddamn cute the bastard looked with his messy hair and growing pout.
“Dean. Please.” Cas scooted over, making room for him, as if fully expecting him to give in.
But damn, he could whine.
“Fine, you little shit. Scooch over a little more.” Dean climbed in next to Cas, pressing them together back to chest, and slinging his arms around Cas’s middle. Cas burrowed closer, letting out a happy sigh.
“Thank you, Dean.” Cas breathed out, turning his head to press a damp kiss to Dean’s neck.
“Yeah yeah, just go to sleep.” Dean had to smile despite himself.
“But I swear, if you get me sick…” Cas fell asleep before he could finish the sentence.