An Evening In
Summary: Dean's sick, Cas is sick of him being sick, so he goes over and they both get some TLC.
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
A/N: The credit for the inspiration behind this fic goes to Tumblr user preservedcucumbers' artwork. She creates great art, and you should go check her blog out.
The artwork for this particular fic is at preservedcucumbers . tumblr post / 19279749896 You'll have to get rid of the spaces, then you're golden. The credit for getting me to post this fic on here goes to a guest reviwer (KitCat) who asked for more of my previous fic '52 Percent'
I hope this doesn't disappoint, KitCat :D
Disclamier: Don't own SPN.
Onwards! Enjoy the story, and reviews are my everything so...
"Cas. I'm telling you. You don't need to do this."
"One day, Dean, we'll both believe everything that comes out of your mouth. Not today, though." Cas sighed, trying and failing to sound chirpy.
They were both tired. Cas was stressed about his upcoming Intro To Theology exam. Dean was stressed too, what with the two jobs he worked and the book he was trying to write on the side. Their lives suddenly turned boring. All about course work and jobs, they'd barely spent a day together for the last two weeks. The weather was terrible too. If it wasn't drizzling, it was pouring, and if there wasn't cold biting wind, there was hail. And thunder. Thunder every night. With the weather being so miserable, Cas wondered why he didn't anticipate one of them getting sick.
Well, Dean wouldn't outright say he was sick. He'd use 'under the weather', 'not so hot', any number of phrases really. Anything but sick. He hated being sick. Cas hated that he was sick. So one evening, having realized that Dean's head cold wasn't going to cure itself in a hurry what with him refusing to take a day off, Cas had gone over to Dean's apartment with some soup.
"Yeah, whatever." Dean sniffed from the couch, walking to the kitchen to get something to eat.
Pouring the soup into a saucepan, Cas smirked.
"Why don't I heat up some soup up and you go settle your posterior on the couch?" he said. It was more of an order than a suggestion, really. Placing his hands on Dean's shoulders, he spun him around and marched him out of the kitchen. Sounds of vague muttering receded from the kitchen, and Dean, presumably, lay back on the couch.
Turning back to the kitchen counter, Cas put the saucepan on the stove, waiting for it to heat up. Remembering all too grumpily that they wouldn't have too much time for each other in the following days, he asked conversationally, "So what going to happen to Kevin now? Are you past your writer's block?"
Not hearing a reply for a good two minutes, Cas popped his head out of the kitchen to find Dean on the couch gently snoring, form outlined by the occasional flashes of thunder.
Good. His body needed some rest for a while now, and if he wasn't going to take it, Cas had seriously been considering knocking him out.
Smiling softly to himself, he padded back to the stove soundlessly and turned it off. He figured soup could wait, and retraced Dean's steps to the couch. He was aching to kiss him, but then he'd end up sick, and Dean would end up wide awake, so he pressed his lips against Dean's dry sightly hot forehead instead.
Dean smiled faintly, scooting down the couch to let Cas sit behind him. He lay his head on his lap, swinging an arm over Cas' shoulder, and Cas began carding through Dean's short hair. He needed rest too, he realized as he listened to Dean's steady breath, feeling the rise and fall of his shoulders from were his fingers were kneading the two week long stress knots away.
Sighing contentedly, he thought "We both do..." and slowly began drifting away.