A/N It has been a very long time since I have been able to write anything, so I know that I'm quite rusty. Reviews, advice, and criticism will be very much appreciated.
Oneshot, set late Season 5.
It was not any great event that made this moment remarkable. There was no screaming, no blood, no rush of adrenaline or pounding of hearts, and it wasn't like they hadn't seen a million and one crappy motel rooms just like this one. There was nothing special about the way Sam reclined on his bed, gaze turned toward the window where he could see the blue light of the VACANCY sign outside throbbing through the thin curtain, nor Dean's equally quiet ministering of the tiny stained coffeemaker.
Even the presence of Castiel, something that had once been cause for great disruption, had become commonplace. He sat at the foot of the other bed, utterly still. Until...
"HeehAISSHAH!"
It shattered the silence like an explosion. Sam actually jumped. What the hell- that couldn't have been a-
"Cas?" He should feel bad that he was gaping.
"I... sneezed." Castiel was staring blankly ahead like he did not know whether to be shocked or worried.
Sam met Dean's eyes over Cas's head, his brother looking as startled as he felt.
"Was that your first sneeze?" Even to himself, his voice sounded tentative.
Castiel nodded once.
"How's it feel?"
Cas's head tilted, considering. "Like I might... have to do it again."
"Well, cover your mouth," came Dean's voice from by the coffeemaker. "Don't want your snot everywhere."
The angel turned to him with that studying look that meant he might not entirely understand, but he obeyed, cupping one hand over the lower half of his face.
And waited.
Seconds ticked by and Sam felt laughter tighten in his throat, a strange and uncommon urge these days. He forced it down. Castiel's dawning humanity was slowly bringing into play a whole new set of rules for the three of them, and the last time Dean had laughed at Cas's expense, Sam could have sworn that the stiffening of their friend's spine and quick glance toward the ground had been embarrassment.
"Ihh...ehh...HEH-!" The great inhale threw Cas's head back, but abruptly stopped and, hand lowering, he looked at Sam with widened eyes. "Something's wro-HEISSHH!" Back in full force, apparently.
"What did I just tell you? Cover your mouth." Dean came up from behind him, passing Sam a mug of steaming black coffee. Castiel looked contrite, and a little confused.
He did chuckle then, he just couldn't help it. "S'okay, Cas. Sneezes do that sometimes."
Another single nod was the only reply he got, and silence fell once more in the small motel room. Dean was back by the chipped and cracked counter that served as their kitchen and Sam, realizing that his staring might be starting to make Castiel uncomfortable, turned back to the window.
Minutes passed.
Castiel sniffed once.
The coffeemaker hummed again and beeped.
"Here." When he looked back, Dean was holding out a third mug to Cas. There was a string dangling from it, but where Dean had found a teabag in this fleabag motel, Sam couldn't fathom.
Castiel was staring up at him, expression as unreadable as the day he'd first met the angel, but he slowly reached out to take the mug, cupping it in both hands. His eyes tracked the steam lazily curling upward, but made no move to drink.
"Drink." Dean ordered. "Can't have you getting sick on us."
Sick? Could Castiel... actually get sick? Sam watched the implications of that thought sink in in the fallen angel's eyes, mirroring his own unease.
"Thank you, Dean." Cas's voice was even rougher than usual. The mug lifted to his lips.
Dean lingered by the bed for a long moment, before finally reaching out to pat his hand briefly against Castiel's shoulder. And as he turned away, Sam watched those shoulders relax, easing forward as tension drained, chased away by his brother's touch.
At least there were some parts of being human that weren't so bad.