"Cas?" Dean's knuckles on the door echoed in his ears and he winced. He hadn't meant to knock that loud. What if Cas was asleep?
A feeble cough sounded from inside the hotel room. "Dean?"
Oh God.
"Heeey," he grinned weakly as he pushed open the door. "Sam told me you weren't feeling so good, so he said I should go ahead and head back while he handles the demon. You better not get my little brother killed because of your new human vulnerabilty against sniffles."
"I am sorry, Dean ‒"
"Nah, I'm kidding, Cas. You all…right?"
He didn't look it, if he was all right, Dean couldn't help but notice as he seated himself on the edge of the blandly patterned beige-and-dark-crimson bedspread. The dark bruise-colored bags ringing his eyes made the now graceless angel look centuries older and his vaguely gray pallor wasn't helping.
Those electric blue eyes fluttered as Cas exhaled, a tired, croaky attempt to clear his throat as he sank more comfortably back into his pillows.
"How do you do it? This is horrible."
"Hmm?" Dean found himself licking his lips, nervously worrying. He bit down instead, stopping the anxious movement, and smoothed the sheet out. Do what?
Cas waved his hand in the air. "Sickness."
Ah. Dean's grin resurfaced, stronger now. "Yeah, being human sucks, huh?"
Cas grunted, opening his eyes slightly to glare at the hunter through slits.
Dean smirked, reaching over to grab the box sitting on the sidetable.
"Tissue, plague-bearer?"
Dean sat there on the side of the bed for hours, until Cas's thick inhilations had evened out into rattling, deep breaths, his chest rising and falling as peacefully as it could.
The smile wasn't intentional, but Dean couldn't help it as he egded himself off the side of the ‒ damn squeaky ‒ mattress, easing his feet onto the ‒ why was nothing quiet ‒ floor, and stood up, his ‒ shit ‒ jacket rustling.
The hand on his arm paused his furtive retreat from the room, his shoulders tensing guiltily.
"Stay."
Of course he wasn't going to refuse that hoarse voice, even deeper and yet more vulnerable than usual.
He sat, again, steadying himself on the sidetable and knocking off the small room's TV remote.
Bending down to retreive it, he swung his legs up onto the bed as he, too, sat back against the headboard, chuckling. "Hey, I think they have a movie channel, Cas. Wanna see if they've got anything good on? Cas?"
He glanced over at the other man, whose pale jaw worked for a moment until a frail "hmm" escaped.
Figuring he'd stop him if that hadn't meant yes, Dean hit the power button, trying to remember which channel the hotel's handout had given as movies as he surfed.
"Dang. Rom Com? Really?" Dean moaned when he reached the channel and recognized the actors as they dramatically delivered cheesy lines.
"Rom Com?" Cas asked blearily, settling against ‒
Dean's shoulder?
Dean rubbed his chin, suddenly trying the best he could to focus on the overly-conflicted characters on the screen that normally would make him laugh.
Cas shivered.
Dean resisted…and resisted…and didn't. With a sigh, he reached over to draw the sniffling ex-angel in, wrapping his arm around him, letting his head fall against his chest.
For a moment, Cas stiffened, then relaxed into him, turning even more to press his nose into Dean's shirt and drape his own arm over Dean's stomach.
"Rom Com?" he reiterated tiredly into Dean's chest as he sniffled.
"Ah, romantic comedy," Dean murmured, but Cas was already asleep.
(Although FF sucks and doesn't like links, the beautiful cover photo can be found under "Dean and Castiel" by doubleleaf on deviantart. Please send all your love to them.)
