Work Text:
Castiel doesn't think he's ever felt so lousey in his entire life.
The last three hours have been spent in the ER room, sat in an overcrowded waiting room with a very upset, very exhausted Dean.
Castiel had left him with Sam only yesterday evening, unable to get out of a work event. Dean had been feeling under the weather, but Castiel had been sure that it was just a cold—nothing serious, just something he'd picked up from one of his friends at day care.
Dean had sobbed and clung to Castiel as he tried to leave, not an ounce of him interested in Sam or the brand new Lego Duplo set he'd brought with him. According to Sam, he'd cried so much after Castiel had finally managed to leave, that Sam was worried he was going to throw up.
It was nearing midnight when Castiel finally got a chance to check in with Sam. He'd pulled his phone out and turned it on, his heart dropping at the five missed calls from Sam and the multitude of messages spanning over the course of the evening. After reading the message that said Sam was taking Dean to the ER, Castiel had hightailed out of it, work event be damned.
He'd arrived in the ER and didn't have to look for Dean in the waiting room—he could hear the cries of his little one from the entrance.
Castiel felt for both Dean and the doctor—Dean was attached to Castiel like an octopus, making the doctor's job at least ten times harder. Thankfully, the doctor was patient and managed to diagnose Dean with bronchitis, though that made Castiel feel even worse than before. How hadn't he picked up that Dean was so ill?
He's no sooner stepped out of the car that Dean is tearing up from his seat in the back, despite having spent the entire journey curled up next to him. Sam has driven them home, planning to stay the night and pick his car up in the morning. "I know, I know," Castiel soothes, clicking his back into place before leaning back down to unbuckle Dean's belt. "There we go," he coos, gathering his little boy into his arms, hoisting him on his hip.
Dean presses his face into the crook of his daddy's neck, hands grasping the back of his shirt. He's mumbling something that Castiel can't work out, but given that he doesn't get upset over the fact that Castiel doesn't respond, he figures it's nothing important.
Castiel carries Dean inside the house, grateful to have Sam leading the way and sorting out the opening and closing of the doors. Castiel's pretty sure that if his hands do anythign else than hold Dean, there's going to be a meltdown on the horizon.
"I'll get his meds ready and a bottle," Sam says, looking at Castiel but resting a hand on his brother's back. "Any chance that it can be mixed with hot milk?"
"No, the doctor said to give it to him as it is. Five milligrams now, then another in six hours," Castiel explains, pressing a kiss to Dean's temple. He's still a little clammy but nowhere as bad as he was back with the doctor. "He can have some pain relief alongside them, though. There should be some of his liquid meds in the cupboard. You know where they are."
Sam gives Castiel a nod, ruffling the back of Dean's hair before taking himself and the pharmacy bag off to the kitchen.
As for Castiel and Dean, they get situated on the couch. Shoes kicked off, Castiel rests in the corner of the couch, Dean tucked into his chest. He still feels guilty for having not caught onto Dean being so poorly sooner, but Dean seems to have settled some at least, resting his head against Castiel's chest with his index and middle finger popped btween his lips. A poor substiture for his beloved blue pacifier, but Castiel will allow it for the time being.
"Daddy's going to take tomorrow off work," he says, his hand working small circles into Dean's back, "and you're gonna have to stay off from day care for a few days, just until you're better. We're going to take nice, long naps and drink plenty, and have soft foods, okay?"
He doubts Dean is really taking much in, but still he nods, and makes a content sound as Castiel's other hand cards through the back of his hair. Like his forehead, his hair is lightly doused from his fever. In the morning, Castiel will see how he is with a bath.
"All right, here we go." Sam sits on the edge of the couch, placing the medicine and bottle down on the table. He looks to Cas, "Want me to play the bad guy?"
Castiel chuckles a little at this, "I think you'll have to." He gestures to his hands, busy with Dean.
Sam takes the syringe of medicine, drawn perfectly to the 5 milligrams, and turns to Dean.
Dean, catching on instantly, turns his head in the other direction. "No!"
"Dean, the medicine will make you feel better," Sam tries, but doesn't yet move. "You want to feel better, don't you?"
"No! Yucky!" Dean insists, pressing his face into Castiel's shoulder. "Go 'way, Sammy!"
Castiel would find it funny, were he not still concerned with Dean. Silently, he gestures for the syringe. Once it's in his hand, he makes Sam have the bottle on standby, and gently taps Dean's cheek. "Dean, say 'ahhh' for me."
Dean lifts his head, opens his mouth, but before he can get so much as a syllable out, Castiel is squirting the liquid into his mouth. He watches as Dean's face turns to shock, then disgust, then upset.
"You did so well!" Castiel praises, grateful for Sam passing him the bottle without hesitation. "Yeah, you're so brave, Dean," he adds, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Wanting to avoid anymore tears, Castiel presses the nipple of the bottle to Dean's lips.
Thankfully, Dean latches on. It likely helps that the bottle is his favourite, decorated with stars of all colours and sizes. As he begins to suckle down the milk, he rests his head against Castiel once more, his fingers twisting around the material of his shirt.
"Such a good boy," Castiel praises, back to rubbing Dean's back. "You're going to be better in no time if you keep this up."
Sam lays a blanket over them, and with a kiss to Dean's temple he bids them goodnight, urging Cas to wake him should he need to.
With just the two of them on the couch, Castiel stretches his legs out in front of him, watching as Dean guzzles the milk down. There'll probably be some reprimand from Castiel's work about leaving without explanation, but Castiel doesn't care. He's been thinking of taking Gabriel up on his offer to work for him for sometime now, and he thinks tonight might have sold him on it.
Dean starts drifting off as the bottle comes to an end, and Castiel puts it to the side of them, rubbing and patting Dean's back in circles. A thin line of milk comes from the corner of his mouth, and Castiel wipes it away with his thumb, then closes his own eyes. As the pair fall asleep, Castiel comes to the realisation that whether he leaves his job or not, the two of them will be okay as long as they have each other.