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Dean's first time back on the away team after his near-death experience is supposed to be pretty simple and straightforward with no possible avenues for mucking things up. Beam down to the planet's surface. Follow Lenore, one of the ship's biologists, into the jungle. Collect samples of the local plant life for Commander Spock and his team to analyze, even though Dean's an engineer. According to the locals and their information about things out in the jungle, Dean's not supposed to have any contact with anything that could give him an infectious disease, and he's certainly not supposed to get himself in any trouble—Jim even pulls him aside before letting him and Lenore wander off and specifically tells him not to get in trouble.
"After what happened with the fever last time I let you off the ship? Your mother and your t'hy'la might kill me if you wander into anything dangerous. So stick close to Lenore, keep your phaser at the ready if you need it, and for the love of all things good, Dean?" He clenches his hand around Dean's shoulder, so tight that Dean has to bite back a whine. And looking Dean directly in the eye, Jim says, "Try to remember all of your xenobiology courses from the Academy before you go touching anything. If it looks dangerous, don't touch it, okay?"
Naturally, Dean nods and gives Jim a yes, sir. Tells Jim that of course he's going to be responsible about everything—what else would he do when making that promise is the only thing that's going to let him do his job? He has every intention of keeping his promise, too. But then he goes and runs into the blood-flower.
Dean recognizes the blood-flower immediately, based on the locals' descriptions of it and the pictures he saw in one of their books. It's meant to be quite rare, especially outside the deeper parts of the jungle, but there it is, hanging down off a vine right as Dean turns around. The crimson petals gleam like gemstones under the sunlight that filters through the trees, and long yellow stamens stick out from the blossom's center. Supposedly, this plant can eat a full-grown man—just devour him whole—but as Dean walks up closer to it, it doesn't really seem that dangerous. More than anything else, it's beautiful, and it'd probably look great in a pot on Cas's desk, provided Dean could find the root system and pull it up without damaging anything, without ripping the roots or somehow killing the plant.
He should probably call up to the Enterprise and get Sulu down here to help him with that, but on the other hand, Sulu's probably busy. He'd probably love to get his hands on a blood-flower of his own, and Dean couldn't blame him for that—the petals are soft underneath Dean's fingers, and as he brushes them down the stem, the plant makes a trilling noise. It sounds almost like a tribble and Dean can't help smiling at it. Yeah, he should definitely try to get this plant back up to the ship, for Lenore and Commander Spock to study, if not so he can give it to Cas. Something this awesome needs to get written up for all of the major xenobiology journals, needs to get spread all across the Federation, so everybody knows about it…
But as Dean curls his hand around the vine, the plant seems to hiss. The stamens quiver and make a sound like sneezing, and a burst of yellow pollen smacks into Dean's face. He flinches, snorts, jerks his hand away from the plant and starts batting at his nose, trying to brush the substance off of himself. Instead of coming off, it just gets all over his hand, and as he fusses around, he accidentally knocks his palm into the flower's petals. The stamens shake again. The flower makes the same sneezing noise. Another eruption of the yellow stuff—and after catching a deep whiff of it, Dean sneezes himself, which just gets him hit with more.
He's not sure what the pollen substance smells like. It's kind of minty, but it's warmer than that. Maybe a little bit spicy? Mint and cinnamon at the same time—either way, it's nice. Nice enough that Dean stops trying to get the stuff off his face. He drops his hand to his side and blinks at the flower. What was he doing, struggling to get this gunk off of himself in the first place? His whole face feels warm, now, and that feeling's spreading, seeping and ebbing down into Dean's limbs and his torso… Dean's cheeks flush hot and his legs wobble underneath him, and everything seems brighter, from the sunlight to the blood-flower's petals…
And he's probably just imagining things—he has to be, that's the only explanation—but Dean could swear that the blood-flower starts moving on its own. Swaying back and forth on its vine like there's a breeze. But there isn't. At least, Dean doesn't feel one. Sighing, he starts rocking from side to side, following the flower's motions, watching as it starts to open up in the center, as it reveals a maw full of things that look like teeth. But they can't be teeth because that's crazy, flowers don't have teeth, even ones that apparently eat people.
Dean squints at the flower and takes a step backward, then another, but the flower follows after him. The thick vine moves like a tentacle, undulating as the flower inches forward, and even as his heart patters around and tries to beat faster, Dean can't help thinking that this flower is the prettiest thing he's ever seen. Well, except for Cas and especially when he's sleeping. But still, the blood-flower is up there on the list. As he takes another step back, Dean wonders if it would even hurt, getting eaten by this flower. He isn't sure that anything would hurt right now. Not when all the world feels so warm, not when moving at all feels like wriggling through molasses.
Dean hasn't felt so good in ages—probably not since the amusement planet, and definitely not since the Mind Meld happened—so how could this be bad?
He's staring at the flower, gaping at it as it comes closer still and looks like it's salivating at the thought of eating him alive. (Can flowers even think? Even flesh-eating ones that can devour a whole person? What if this plant really is sentient and Dean was thinking of putting it in a pot to give to Cas?) His knees wobble again and the flower hisses at him and then—zap! A red burst zips past his head and right into the center of the flower's maw—a phaser burst. With a wailing noise, the flower drops. The vines go limp, its maw closes up, and as Dean stumbles around, he finds himself blinking at Lenore.
She has her phaser out and her black hair tied up in a ponytail. Her bag is brimming with samples of the fauna. And Dean furrows his brow at her as he tries to parse out what her expression is, and then why her eyes are wide and why her mouth's hanging open, why she starts looking him over like he's in sickbay for a physical once she's put her phaser back into its holster, why she purses her lips and wrinkles her nose and squints at him as though Dean's a particularly disobedient child or a reading that doesn't quite make sense.
"Are you okay? What were you thinking, getting that close to a blood-flower?" she says with a sigh, pulling a phial and a scraper out of her dress's pocket. Without another word, she starts scooping pollen off of Dean's face and into the phial. That much makes sense—collecting a sample of the pollen for study makes sense because she's a science officer and studying alien plant life is her specialty—but it doesn't make any sense for Lenore to keep looking at Dean the way she is. And it doesn't make any sense for her to say, "Dean, come on—talk to me. Are you okay?"
Finally, everything clicks together: she's worried. Why in all the galaxies is she worried? Dean blinks at her for a long moment, then slowly manages to give her a nod. Maybe that'll reassure her that everything's okay and Dean's okay and she doesn't need to worry.
"I'm fine, Lenore," he says, and reaches out to grab her shoulder. The world's spinning around him—not in the same, whirling way it did in high school, the first time he broke into Dad's liquor cabinet, but in a warm, slow, reeling sort of way that hits Dean right in the stomach. He could probably still stand on his own if he wanted to, but it feels better, hanging on to Lenore. She's nice, and she's stable, and she's a still point in the middle of the mess that everything else is turning into—holding her shoulder reminds Dean that he's not moving. He's standing still. His feet are planted firmly on the ground, though he digs his heels into the dirt, just to reassure himself that he's not going to fall over or fly away or anything.
And shaking his head, he says again, "I'm fine, I just… I think it sneezed on me? Like, is that supposed to happen or what? Is it normal for plants to sneeze on people?"
Lenore frowns at him, then down at his hand on her shoulder, then back up at Dean. "That's probably how it gets the pollen on its victims," she says gently. "I wouldn't really call it sneezing, but… Come on. Let's get you back to town. I think we've picked up enough samples for right now."
***
Dean's not really sure how they make it back to town with the way that everything keeps wobbling, but when they get there, they find most of the away team sitting around one of the public fire-pits. Jim and Spock aren't there—they're probably still handling their big fancy diplomatic shit with the mayor or whatever their title is—but Benny from security, Charlie, and Lieutenant Uhura are all present and accounted for, sitting on logs arranged around the central pit, and as he looks at them, as he and Lenore get closer to them, Dean wants nothing more than to join everyone. He whines at Lenore to let him go so they can get there faster, but all she does in response is grab on tighter to his hip, tug on his arm.
"You stumbled over your own feet back there, Dean," she sighs, curling her hand around his wrist. "You can't walk in a straight line or stand up on your own very well. I'm helping you. So deal with it."
It's probably a good thing that she helps Dean over to the fire-pit, and it's definitely a good thing that there isn't an actual fire lit at the moment, because the first thing that Dean does once he's close enough is wriggle out of Lenore's hold and stumble into Benny. Well, he stumbles into sitting next to Benny, flopping all the way down to the log and lolling into Benny's side—and Benny's warm. Well, everything is kind of warm right now, all flushed and wiggly and still kind of spinning around, but Dean's getting used to that pretty quickly and besides, slouching on Benny makes everything slightly less spinny and whirly. Benny sighs and says nothing for a moment, not even when Dean starts rubbing his cheek against Benny's shoulder.
He smiles lazily at Lenore as she sits down next to Charlie, keeps rubbing up on Benny, then it occurs to Dean: everything around this nonexistent campfire is entirely too quiet. It's so quiet that Dean can hear the couple in one of the nearby houses arguing with each other. It's so quiet, the silence is seriously scraping against Dean's eardrums, and well, he knows exactly how to fix that problem:
"Benny," he says with a heavy sigh. "Benny, has anybody told you how great you are lately?"
Picking his head up off of Benny's shoulder gets Dean rewarded with a squinty, quizzical look. "Well, no, I don't believe anyone has, Dean. Why? You gonna write me a poem about it or somethin'?"
"No, man, I can't write any poetry—even the stuff that doesn't have to rhyme and shit, I can't hack that at all—come on, man, I'm an engineer, not Don freaking Juan or something." Huffing under his breath, Dean forces himself to sit up straight, then wobbles up to his feet and somehow—he's not sure how—manages to slump down into Benny's lap, straddling his legs. Vaguely, Dean thinks that Cas wouldn't like this very much, but it's nothing sexual, the way he's sitting on Benny, and the only thing that Dean does, once he's mostly stable, is wrap his arms tight around Benny's shoulders, hug him close and slouch into his broad chest.
"But you are so great, Benny, you know that, right?" Dean tells him, nuzzling at Benny's shoulder. "You're a great security officer, keeping everyone on the ship safe—you didn't even know what was gonna happen on this mission and you came anyway, all to keep us protected, and that is just so, so awesome to me?" He pauses for a moment, squeezing Benny's shoulders again, feeling one of Benny's huge hands patting him on the back, and Dean sighs contentedly. This is nice—it's really, really nice—and he doesn't want to let this go. Except for maybe to share this with everybody else around the campfire, because everybody here is so awesome—they're the best possible crew on the best ship in the whole Federation, and they should know it.
"And your beard is awesome, too," Dean goes on. "Just so you know. Just in case you, like… just in case you were thinking like maybe your beard wasn't awesome and you were thinking about shaving it all off or whatever. Which you shouldn't. Like, you really, really shouldn't. Because it's awesome. And you're really so very awesome… Just in case you didn't know that already, y'know."
"No, no, I think you made that point pretty obvious, darlin'." Benny's hand is heavy on Dean's back and each gentle thump feels like a hug of its own—but then Benny sighs in a way that sounds kind of irritated, and the next thing he says is, "Lenore, what in the holy Hell happened to our engineer? 'cause if he's drinkin' on the job, you know I'll hafta tell Commander Scott and Captain Kirk about it."
"Hey," Dean huffs. "I am not drunk—I would never drink anything but coffee on the job and you know it. You wanna smell my breath, tough guy?"
"Not particularly, sugar. Now how about you settle down and let Lenore tell me why you're actin' like you're on a pretty massive dose of pain medication?" Not that this keeps Benny from rubbing his hand around Dean's back in warm little circles. "Not that I outright object to you huggin' me like this and sayin' how great you 'pparently think I am—but this all comin' from Mister, 'I could fight a whole horde of Klingons with my bare hands'? 'scuze me if I wanna make sure you're doin' alright. As alright as you can do, anyway."
"He's… I honestly don't know if he's doing alright or not," Lenore says and arches an eyebrow at Dean pointedly when he tries to frown at her. Shaking her head, she goes on, "Our dear Lieutenant Winchester over here found one of the blood-flowers—you know, the ones the locals mentioned that eat people? And he decided to get close to it. Close enough that it got its pollen all over him and probably would've eaten him if not for my phaser. So, if anything's wrong with him? It's probably due to whatever's in the pollen. I got a sample we can study once we're back on the Enterprise but in the meantime…"
"In the meantime, we're just gonna hafta deal with Dean huggin' everybody like a limpet, aren't we?"
"Until he gets it out of his system or Doctor McCoy finds a cure for it, I don't really see what other options we have." Lenore shrugs and pushes a piece of hair back off of her face. "It's more likely that it'll pass out of his system before Doctor McCoy can find a cure—he might not even need to try to find a cure—but either way, we are somewhat stuck dealing with Dean's… current state."
"Should we, like, maybe take him up to sickbay?" Charlie says and wrinkles her nose in Dean's general direction. "I mean, this is cute and all, and he seems happy enough, which is great. But if he's gonna make things dangerous for everybody, then maybe we should call up to the ship?"
"Maybe it's just me, but I really don' think we should get doin' anythin' about anything until the Captain and Commander Spock get back," Benny says with a shrug.
"Besides, all we're doing is sitting around the campfire, Charlie," Dean points out, whining more than he'd ever admit. "Well, I mean, there's not a campfire right now, but you know what I mean. How could I make anything, like, dangerous. Maybe if we were still out in the jungle, sure, but we're not, so I kinda think we're good? You can let me stay, I'll be good, I promise."
"I'm not worried about you being good, Dean," she huffs, wide-eyed and frowning. "I'm worried about you, like, maybe getting yourself hurt or something? Which would be pretty bad?"
"Well, I've got a hold'a him for the time bein'," Benny supposes, which just makes Dean hug him tighter and wriggle against his chest a bit. Which would probably definitely make Cas jealous, if Cas were here to get jealous of anything, but there's still nothing sexual about this. Not that Dean can see, anyway. He just wants to hug Benny until they're both sick of it, until Benny's hand on his back gets completely tiresome.
Except that he can't just do that, so Dean gives Benny another squeeze and pats him on the shoulder. Because Dean's told Benny all about how great he is, and there are plenty of other people around the fire-pit who need to feel the love, too. Charlie is Dean's next target, mostly because she's the closest person to him, and he shambles up off Benny's lap then stumbles around behind her. Without a word, he curls his arms around her shoulders and squeezes her gently—tightly, but gently, because Charlie's smaller than Benny and probably not as hardy. After all, he's a security officer and she's an anthropologist, and there's probably some kind of saying about the differences between the two.
"And you, Charlie, you're just the best, y'know?" he tells her with a warm sigh, nuzzling at the curve of her neck. "You're like the little sister I never had because Mom and Dad stopped after Sammy. And I love you so much. You're so smart, even when you're talking about Klingons—no, like, especially when you're talking about Klingons, because you're like really, really into talking about Klingons, and your face lights up like fireworks when you talk about them, and I mean, I might not like them all that much, I kinda think they suck actually, but you're really, really into them, and that's what's really important here?"
Dean pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath, then blinks at Charlie quizzically. "And your hair smells really nice—what d'you wash it with?"
Charlie shrugs. "Nothing special?" she says. "Just the same sonic shower that everybody else uses."
"Well, it smells really nice on you," he tells her again. "And your hair is, like, super-pretty, too? Like, it's unfair how pretty your hair is. It's all red, and long, and it's got a nice mix of orange in it, too, and it's really pretty. I mean it, too. Like, I wish my hair was half as pretty as yours is."
Patting him on the wrist, Charlie huffs. She's probably smirking at him, and Dean's okay with that—he just wishes that he could see, because Charlie's smirks are always really cute. "Your hair's very pretty, Dean," she tells him as he gives her another squeeze. "Whether you think so or not. I'm sure Cas would agree with that, too. He probably thinks that you're gorgeous. Benny, don't you think Dean's hair is pretty?"
"Oh yeah, it's about as pretty as this one star cluster I got a glimpse of, once. And that was a very pretty star cluster, so Dean's hair ought'a feel honored, bein' compared to it."
"Cas is totally biased if he ever says I'm gorgeous, though," Dean points out, gently rubbing his cheek up and down Charlie's neck and shoulder area. "Which he totally wouldn't. Not like that, anyway. He'd totally say it like, 'I find the combination of your phenotypical expressions very aesthetically pleasing' and he'd try to be all logical about it—like, 'You have fine cheekbones and full lips and these things indicate blah blah blah sciencey doctor stuff.' Which isn't bad or anything? I mean, he's part-Vulcan, so that makes sense? But I mean… it's not like I'm trying to take logic away from him or anything, it's just…"
Dean huffs and buries his face in Charlie's shoulder. "I just mean… it'd be nice to hear him say that without it having to be logic, just once? Like, it'd be really awesome if I could just be pretty because I'm pretty? And it'd be cool if he could appreciate me being pretty because he appreciates it, not because it's logical?"
"Darlin'," Benny sighs, "if you want your boyfriend t'tell you how pretty you are, then why don't'cha try telling him that you want him to tell you how pretty you are? And tellin' him you want him to say it without trying to boil everything down to logic?"
Dean picks his head up off of Charlie's shoulders and blinks at Benny for a moment. "That's a really good idea, yeah. I'm gonna do it… When we get back up to the ship, I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna tell Cas to call me pretty just because I'm pretty. That's a really, really good idea, Benny. You're really smart."
Next thing he knows, Dean's hearing someone giggle and blinking at Lieutenant Uhura instead—she's smirking at him the same way that he thinks Charlie was, and it occurs to Dean that he has things to say to her as well. So he lets go of Charlie and he stumbles past Lenore and he somehow manages to make it over to Lieutenant Uhura's log without completely falling over. Before he can sit down, though, he trips and lands at her feet instead of flopping down at her side. Sighing, he bats his hand at her boot, which gets her to lean forward and look down at him, and when he smiles up at her, she smiles back. It almost looks condescending, her smile? But Dean's probably imagining things, because Lieutenant Uhura is really nice. At least, she's always been nice in what little bit Dean's dealt with her. Their paths don't cross very often.
"Hi, Lieutenant," Dean says limply, lifting a hand so he can wave at her.
"Hello there, Mister Winchester," she says, gently nudging her boot into his side. "I don't suppose you're going to hug me next?"
"Only if that's okay with you, Lieutenant?" Dean shrugs, but doesn't move to sit up at all. The ground's actually pretty comfortable, which takes Dean by surprise. "I mean… Hugging is great, but we don't really know each other very well? Not like I know Benny and Charlie anyway, so I didn't want to just… invade your personal space or hug you without asking and make things awkward and gross or anything?"
Uhura chuckles a bit, resting her arms on her legs and folding her hands up together. "Well, I wouldn't be opposed to it, if you wanted to get up off the dirty ground. And thank you very much for being respectful about everything, even while you're not entirely yourself. I appreciate it."
Dean beams at her and fumbles up from his position. It takes him a moment to get up onto the log next to her, but he does manage it, and once he's relatively stable, Dean turns and curls his arms around Uhura's shoulders. He squeezes her extra-gently, just because they don't know each other very well and it's polite to be gentler with someone you don't know very well—but he still ends up dropping his head onto her shoulder and nuzzling at her. Partly, it's because everything is spinning again, but for the most part, he just wants to let her know how great she is, and nuzzling at her seems to go well with that. Cats nuzzle at people they like, after all. It just makes sense to give Lieutenant Uhura a sign of affection to go with the hug.
"I know we don't talk to each other all that much, Lieutenant," Dean tells her, sighing a bit. "I just wanted to say that I think you're really awesome? Like, there's the way you know a million languages, and you just handle yourself so well with everything that happens on the ship… You're really brave, too. And we don't have to get to know each other better if you don't want to, but I really wish we did? Because like I said, you're awesome, and you're nice—at least, you've always been nice to me, and I just think you're really, really great? You know. For what it's worth?"
"Well, it's worth something to me, Mister Winchester," she says gently, rubbing a hand up and down his spine. "Even if we don't know each other very well, it's sweet of you to say. And I don't see why we couldn't get to know each other better? Though I'd prefer to do that when you're sober again."
"Oh, yeah, yeah, it's probably not a good idea to do it now, or I'd probably start telling you all about Rhonda Hurley—"
"Not Lieutenant Commander Rhonda Hurley? The science officer aboard the USS Venture? The one who wrote the paper about the neurological aspects of Vulcans' development of language?" Uhura arches an eyebrow at Dean as though she can't believe that Dean even knows who Rhonda is, and she arches it even higher when he picks his head up and nods emphatically.
"The very same Rhonda Hurley who wrote that paper, yeah," Dean says, and keeps nodding. "She and I, like. We knew each other at the Academy? We went out a few times… She was the dazzling, intelligent, feisty upperclassman and I was the hotshot Cadet who maybe thought a little too much of himself… This one time? Oh, god, this one time. She made me try on her panties? They were pink. And satiny. And you know what? I kinda liked it…" Snickering, Dean squeezes Uhura's shoulders again. "No, that's not… I mean, I really liked it. She was all bossy, and they were all tight, and soft… And why am I telling you this?"
Dean furrows his brow and blinks at Uhura some more. "No, really, why am I telling you this? Not even Cas knows about this and he's, like, literally been inside my head. Maybe it's because I like you so much. Which isn't, like. It's not that I don't like Cas—of course I like Cas, like, I love Cas so much, but… I just really, really like everyone here around this campfire right now?"
He could go on all too easily, but glancing over Uhura's shoulder shows Dean two approaching figures, both of them tall, one in science blue and the other in command gold. And he beams at them as they get closer—he can't help it. He can't help the way he calls out, "Jim!" either. And speaking of things that Dean can't help, it seizes him that it would be a great idea to go over and hug Jim right now. So that's exactly what he does. He scrambles up to his feet, head spinning, and once he's mostly steady, he stumbles over and throws his arms around Jim's shoulders, hunching just a bit because he's got a few inches on Jim, height-wise.
"Dean," Jim huffs, patting him gently between the shoulder-blades. "Taking the locals up on a drinking contest might not constitute getting yourself into trouble, not in the way I told you to avoid, but it's definitely unprofessional behavior, and quite unbecoming of a young Starfleet officer."
"'m not drunk," Dean whines, nosing at Jim's neck. "Seriously? First, Benny says I'm drunk, and now it's you—I would never drink on the job, I mean. Jim, really, you wanna smell my breath? I swear to you, I'm not drunk. I swear it on Spock's ears, okay? And on my Mom's eyes. And on whatever else you want me to swear it on—just tell me what to swear it on and I'll swear on that?"
"Well, you are certainly not acting like yourself, Lieutenant Winchester," Spock points out. "Generally speaking, you have enough sense of decorum not to call the Captain, 'Jim' while you're both on duty. Such an action could make it seem that you are attempting to capitalize on your personal relationship with him."
"Whatever," Dean sighs, rolling his eyes before he can even think to stop himself. "I'm not trying to go and capitalize on anything, I'm just… I was out in the jungle, and this pretty flower sneezed on me, and now I feel better than I've felt in literally months, and Jim…" Dean pulls back out of the hug, but only so he can pat Jim on the chest. "Jim, I just want to tell you? That you are really great. You're the best Captain in Starfleet, and you're Captain of the best ship in the fleet, and you… you have got to stop beating yourself up about all the stuff with me and my Dad, okay?"
Jim wrinkles his nose and frowns at Dean—why is he frowning, that doesn't make any sense? Not even when he says, "Excuse me?"
"I mean it, Jim, I really do," Dean tries to explain, even though he shouldn't have to because, really, it's not like he was being particularly subtle. And it's not like this is a hard thing to understand. "I just mean… you have to go easier on yourself about it, okay? You had no idea what was going on. Even if you had, you really couldn't have stopped it. There wasn't anything you could've done… And it's not your fault that you didn't know what was happening. A lot of why you didn't know was that… Jim, it was that I didn't want you to know. And that's not your fault. And you have to forgive yourself, okay? Please?"
Dean doesn't let Jim get another word in edgewise before he's scooped his Captain up in another tight hug. Because this is important, and Jim needs to understand it, and Jim's never been anything but good to Dean so he needs to know how much Dean appreciates that. Sighing contentedly, Dean nuzzles at Jim's shoulder and gives him another squeeze—then he sets his eyes on Spock. Spock is definitely someone who doesn't get enough hugs. Even with whatever's going on between him and Jim and Bones, he doesn't get enough hugs. So Dean lets go of Jim and pounces on Spock instead, wrapping his arms around Spock's chest.
Spock sighs heavily. "Permission to escort the Lieutenant up to the infirmary, Captain?"
"Granted, please…" Jim tells him, not even trying not to sound exasperated. "And make sure he stays there, too. At least, tell Bones to make sure he stays there until he's better."
"Spock to Enterprise," he huffs, curling his hand up in Dean's shirt, resting his knuckles against Dean's spine. "Two to beam directly to sickbay. Energize."
***
Dean's still hugging Spock when they materialize in sickbay, but soon enough, he finds himself shoved off and into Cas, with a gruff command, "If you wish to hug someone, then I suggest that this person be Cas'tell."
Which is perfectly fine with Dean. At least, it would be if not for Cas's insistence on getting him into a bed and sitting next to him instead of cuddling. As he blinks at Cas and tries to give him a wibbling, wide-eyed frown, as he attempts to guilt-trip Cas into crawling into bed with him (and only gets Cas to hold his hand), Dean can hear Spock briefing Doctor McCoy on what happened, in as much detail as Spock can give, considering Dean's admittedly kind of terrible summary of the situation. The two of them join Dean and Cas after a moment and Bones sits Dean up, takes a blood sample (which doesn't hurt nearly as much as it usually does) and bids Spock get back down to the planet's surface.
"Jim and the others will probably need you," Bones tells him. "Nurse Chapel, Cas'tell, and I can handle Dean from here."
Cas furrows his brow immediately and huffs. "How can I help handle Dean, Doctor? If memory serves, there are certain precepts of medical ethics that I'm sworn to uphold—certain precepts of medical ethics that say I'm forbidden from helping to treat someone with whom I have an intense, personal relationship."
"You're not going to help treat him, Doctor," Bones says, patting Cas on the shoulder. "You're just going to keep him busy for me, alright? I might not be able to cook up a cure for this—we may need to just wait until the pollen passes out of his system—Hell, I might not even be able to find something that'll help with any hangover this stuff induces. But the last thing I need if I'm going to do anything? Is Dean running around my infirmary, trying to hug everyone. You're his significant other. Take one for the team and let him hug you."
Cas nods, and gives Bones a yes, sir, and once Spock and Bones have left them alone, he sighs and tells Dean to budge over, begrudgingly climbs up into Dean's bed. As soon as he's settled, Dean snakes his arms around Cas's shoulders, being careful not to brush his fingertips—or any of his bare skin—against the back of Cas's neck, just because he knows that Bones (and Spock, and probably Jim, for that matter) would probably object to them getting up to any telepathic shenanigans while Dean's out of his freaking mind on whatever all is in the blood-flower's pollen. It probably wouldn't be any good for Dean or for Cas, either. Just considering that they've been Mind-Melded before and Dean's probably more receptive to it, in his current state. Or some other kind of blah blah blah sciencey sounding thing like that.
At least Cas handles being cuddled at pretty well. A few months, maybe a year, ago, maybe he wouldn't have handled this quite so well—but now, he tangles his legs up with Dean's just fine and wraps his arms around Dean's waist, rubs his fingertips in gentle circles up and down Dean's spine. He makes a light, contented sounding noise when Dean nuzzles at his shoulder, trails kisses up his neck and onto his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Dean doesn't get any jolts of how Cas is feeling, or feel his own mind opening up, and he can't imagine how hard Cas must be working to keep his mind clear and closed off from Dean's.
"I really love you, Cas," Dean tells him, voice barely above a whisper. "You're smart, and you're funny, and you're awesome, and I just—I love you so much, okay?"
"I know you do, Dean," Cas says, planting a gentle kiss on Dean's forehead. "And in case there is any doubt in your mind, I love you, too."