A/N:
I had completely different intentions for this fic initially, then Cas said he didn't dream as an angel, and for some reason that made me sad. So I wrote this. I'm not sure if this makes it better or worse, really.
Also, I started writing this after 10 X 1 then watched 10 x 2 while still working on it. So I think it's set nebulously during or after 10 x 2.
"Sam," Cas coughs roughly into his fist after only this one word and thinks, maybe, making this call was a mistake.
He shouldn't want this. He shouldn't need this. He shouldn't ask for it.
"Hey, Cas, you doing okay?" Sam asks as the coughing fit leaves Cas gasping for air that, by all rights, he shouldn't even need. He's still fighting for breath when Sam continues, "Yeah. Okay. Stupid question. So what's going on? You need something?"
He's, thankfully, not currently delirious enough to say the truth. That he needs Dean. That Dean is the only thing that could possibly make this better.
But since he knows he can't have that, he asks for what he can. He shuts his eyes and wishes he were not laid low enough to request it. "Company. I don't...I don't want to be alone, Sam."
"Oh," Sam says in a surprised, punched in the gut sort of way that makes Cas think he's becoming an imposition.
His already raw throat feels tighter somehow. He rubs at it. "I don't want to take you away from Dean, of course. I understand if you can't come."
"Cas," Sam says like Cas should know better. Maybe he should. "I'm on my way. Keys are already in my hand. Just... hang tight."
Relieved, he sets his phone back on his bedside table, rearranges his blankets, and tries to fall back asleep.
XXX
He's not sure if he's dreaming when he hears Sam's voice, sounding like it's a million miles away. "I didn't want to tell him. Not over the phone. I wasn't sure he could handle it. He really doesn't seem good. But Dean's really not... himself. He should be prepared for that."
At the mention of Dean, Cas knows he must be.
He sinks deeper into his pillows, ignoring their strange hardness and texture, and lets the rest of the conversation drift over him.
"He doesn't remember me asking him to come, does he?" Sam asks.
"I am not sure that he does," Hannah says. "He has been sleeping with concerning frequency."
"Huh. Well, if he's this bad, maybe he really shouldn't come," Sam says.
"He is insistent that he is to help you in whatever way he can," Hannah says. "I do not understand what compels him to help you, especially in this weakened state, but I intend to comply with his wishes. We will be there tomorrow."
XXX
Minutes or hours later, Cas has no idea, a cool hand brushes against his burning forehead, and he cautiously opens his eyes, surprised and more than a little concerned that he hadn't heard his door creaking on its hinges.
The man hovering at his bedside seems to provide an explanation, though, as Cas doubts he's really there. Mirages and fever induced hallucinations tend to be soundless. "Dean."
Dean clenches and unclenches the hand that isn't still lingering against Cas' skin. "Geez, Sammy wasn't kidding. You look like a light breeze could knock you over."
"I'm already," Cas coughs roughly into his elbow and sucks in his breath, "lying down."
"Christ," Dean says as he presses his eyes closed. "You sound even worse. Can you even sit up?"
"I..." Cas scoots back, wondering why he's letting himself indulge in this. Dean's been missing for months and months. He can't just suddenly be there. He closes his eyes again. "You're not here. You're not real."
"Am too," Dean says as he squeezes Cas' arm with one hand. "I feel pretty real. Don't you think?"
"Yes," Cas admits, "but then, you always do...or, at least, I always want you to."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Dean asks, raising an eyebrow.
"I dream of you often," Cas says. Then after a contemplative pause, he adds, "This could be a dream."
"Whoa, okay," Dean says. "Flattered I've got a starring role in Cas cinema, but think we need to get this fever way the hell down."
That's all the warning Cas gets before Dean lifts him off the bed into a bridal carry, his untied robe falling open at his sides. Dean makes an undignified guttural noise, wavers precariously, and all but drops him. Then, seeming to have fully grasped the situation, he says, with forced levity, "Cas, that's an eyeful I really wasn't looking for."
Cas, knowing he's unintentionally made Dean uncomfortable, awkwardly tries to grapple with the robe's strings as he's carried into the bathroom. Dean bats his hands back. "Sorry, Cas, but that's, uh, a bell we can't really unring...'sides, this'll be easier if you're ...uh, disrobed anyway."
Dean sets him down against the bathtub's cool porcelain, and Cas decides he ought to point out the obvious flaw in this plan - aside from Dean's clear lack of comfort with his lack of clothing. "I'm not human, Dean."
"Yeah, so?" Dean says as he pulls Cas' robe down his shoulders and turns on the cold water. Cas shivers as it flows over his legs.
"I don't know that human remedies are going to be particularly effective for my...affliction," Cas says.
"Well, worth a shot," Dean says as he coats a washcloth with cool water. He rubs it gently down Cas' cheeks, across his forehead, and over the back of his neck. "Can't get you recharged if you're delirious."
"I can't be 'recharged,' Dean," Cas protests. "I'm dy..."
Dean clamps a hand over his mouth and glares at him. "Don't say it. Hell, don't even think it. Not gonna happen."
Cas knows that Dean doesn't really have the power to stop this, but his look of utter determination makes him want to believe that Dean can prevent his fate through sheer force of will. He has, after all, pulled off stranger feats.
So Cas only sighs deeply in reply, and Dean slowly takes his hand away before returning to his administration of cool water. When Dean decides it's been long enough, he wrings out the washcloth and asks,"Feel better?"
Although he's shivering, Cas has to admit that he feels more alert and more awake than he has in days. He nods slowly, "Surprisingly, I do."
"Yeah? Good enough to walk?" Dean asks as he wraps a towel over Cas' shoulders and rubs at them.
"I'm not certain I would go that far," Cas says as Dean helps him stand and step out of the tub. "Perhaps if I lean on you?"
"Yeah, okay," Dean says as he grabs Cas' robe off the floor and holds up one of the sleeves. "Let's get you dried and dressed first."
After several minutes of being rubbed over roughly with a towel, Cas is leaning so heavily into Dean's side that Dean might as well be carrying him. He doesn't say so aloud, but it's not because he can't walk, because he thinks he still can, it's that he's so desperate for Dean to be here, to be this close to him, that he feels like he needs this physical anchor.
Cas clings to Dean until they are back in his room and Dean pushes him into his pillows. He runs his hand back over his forehead. "Better, but still think you've got a fever."
"I have no doubt I still have a fever," Cas says. "You can't make it go away, Dean. I wish you could."
"Well, humor me, and let me keep trying," Dean says before handing Cas two tablets of Ibuprofen and a glass of water.
"As long as you are here, you are welcome to," Cas says as he swallows the offered medicine.
"Well, I'm not going anywhere," Dean says before nervously shifting his weight a few times. "Got to keep you running. You're...I can't do this without you, Cas. You gotta stop doing this to me. Because we're never going to..."
Dean trails off sheepishly and ducks his head.
"To what?" Cas prompts hopefully.
Dean licks at his lips and takes a deep breath. Then he boldly cups one hand behind Cas' head and pulls him forward before his temporary bravado falls. "Well, I've been wanting to...we're... well, it's kinda now or never, huh?"
"Indeed, Dean," Cas says as he dizzily nods his assent. "Please kiss me."
Dean, very carefully, does.
Cas tries to kiss back but finds himself fighting to keep his eyes open. He blinks wearily. "We may need a raincheck on this, Dean."
"'Raincheck', huh?" Dean snorts. Then he says teasingly, "Gonna try not to take this the wrong way." Then he cards his hand through Cas' hair and says gently, "Get some sleep, Cas."
XXX
The dull but familiar rumble of the Lincoln's engine tugs Cas back into consciousness. He's leaning, not particularly comfortably, against the passenger side window, with his overcoat draped over him as a makeshift blanket. He briefly catches sight of a green and white road signing informing him that they're 100 miles outside of Topeka.
Hannah is driving.
"You were dreaming this time, Castiel," she says.
"Was I?" Cas asks as he contemplates the passing countryside.
"You mentioned both of the Winchesters in your sleep," Hannah says.
Cas nods slowly, continuing to watch the flat land pass, as he rubs at his temple.
"It was a good dream?" Hannah asks.
"A very good dream," Cas says.
A part of him wishes he were still in it.