A/N: Hey, I lied to you all. It's not as long as I thought it was. Whoops. But hey, I thought I was being honest at the time, so this is like 2nd Degree Lying. If I had knowingly lied to you, I think that'd be 1st Degree Lying or something, but I was unaware of my deception. So don't hold it against me, okay. Anyway, this word was Coffee Cup (which is like, two words but anyway). And it's about coffee cups and sick!Dean Winchester and doting!Castiel (Winchester heh heh heh I'm making myself happy about something Supernatural-related for once ; v ;) and Sam Winchester is mentioned, but not shown. Sorry guys. This is Domestiel and sometimes Sam appears because I love that shaggy-haired little genius and I just want to scoop him up and give him kisses becauSE GUYS DI YD YOU SEE THE FIN ALE JFC I FDjSDF WHY WHAT IS HAPPENING NO SPIOKLERS MAN OKAYT NONE FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVENT SEEN IT BTUT OMG WOW NO N O NO N O NOPE NO WHY DAMMIT I JUST NO IM SO DONE SAM AND DEAN AND CAS ANDJFC I i'm done okay i wont rant anymore wow im sorry im done okay no more.

woW I GOT DISTRACTED.

Okay, so this is Coffee Cup. It's not as long as I thought it was, but it's a lot longer than Lamp was, okay. So here it is.

The one thing Dean Winchester loved as much as his brother and Cas was his coffee. And, being a man of particularness, Dean Winchester had one coffee cup he adored above the rest; a large, navy blue ceramic mug with white stripes on the side. Sam nor Cas could see what made it shine out above all the rest, but Dean Winchester always made sure this one coffee cup was clean every morning to put it to good use. Because Dean Winchester always had preferred to have a set rule of things, he had a set rule for his coffee; strong, oxygen-rich coffee with two cubes of sugar and two spoonfuls of hazelnut creamer with a dash of cinnamon. Sam would make fun of him for it, for the domesticity and pickiness of it, but Dean barely paid him any mind any more; good coffee was good coffee, and if his idiot little brother was going to point and snicker at it, then he could do it with his milk-overloaded lattes and Midol.

Cas had never commented on it in all their five years of living together, only gave him an odd glance after the fourth day with that one cup and specific coffee ritual. Dean had raised his eyebrows over the rim of his cup as he drank, daring him to ask, but Cas, unaffected, had only gone back to his own toast and coffee and began reading his book again silently. Cas wasn't picky about his coffee. He'd pour sugar for a various number of seconds before pouring pumpkin spice creamer until it turned around a certain light brown color. That was it. Nothing too specific or pinpointed. Dean wondered how he made it through the day. His two-sugars two-creamers coffee was just strong enough to get him through the day, and just weak enough to make him sleepy again at a reasonable hour. Ten-ish, usually. When they'd first started living together, Dean had been surprised to discover that Cas was a night owl, much unlike the grandmother he'd expected him to be; in bed by eight and up by five. If anything, it would have been the opposite if it was completely up to Cas. But, being the secretly-sentimental former angel he was, Cas would try and go to bed when Dean did so he could sleep with him and wake up to have their usual morning coffee before they went to work. Only about forty five minutes of breakfast, but they both secretly adored every second as though they were still newly together.

Today, however, Dean Winchester was not up and ready like he'd expected to be. Routine just wasn't going to work today. At 8:48, Dean Winchester was still asleep, in bed, with Castiel watching him with furrowed brows. He'd considered waking him up, but judging by his face, he wasn't feeling well. While Dean's features were usually smooth with sleep and peace knowing Cas was beside him, today they were scrunched up in what looked like pain. Cas had gently rubbed his arm, attempting to offer comfort while allowing him to still sleep, but to no avail. Dean still appeared to be hurt, even groaning out in pain once or twice. Needless to say, Castiel was worried. Dean was never like this. Maybe he was sick? He laid a hand on Dean's forehead; he was burning. Castiel let his hand drop back to his side with a sigh. Great, he was sick. Fantastic. Dean leaned into a touch that wasn't there anymore, a disappointed sigh falling from his lips when he discovered the hand to be gone.

Fighting the urge to smile at Dean's unconscious actions, Cas brought a cool hand back up to the side of Dean's face, thumb smoothing down a crease in his forehead and smiling when Dean let out a satisfied sigh and turned into his palm. Definitely sick. Stroking his face soothingly for a few minutes more, Cas finally brought his hand back and started to get up, watching as Dean reached out for him in his feverish state with a moan of disapproval. Cas rushed downstairs to the kitchen to get the thermometer, medicine, and something to hydrate him. Dean needed plenty of fluids. On his way out with the necessities and a tall glass full of orange juice (he remembered vitamin c was good for the immune system), he paused by the coffee maker. Coffee probably wasn't a very good choice for someone who was sick, was it... Cas thought a while longer, finally deciding on going upstairs to give Dean medicine and fluids first and then maybe coffee sometime later. Dean did love his coffee. Walking back to the bed where Dean was sprawled on his stomach after his failed attempt to pull Cas back to him, he set down the medicine bottles and boxes and held the thermometer up, turning it on. Dean slept on, his head resting on Cas' side of the bed. Cas sat down beside him, gently sliding a hand under his head and lifting it onto his thigh. Dean groaned at that, blearily opening his eyes to try and focus on Cas. Cas held up the thermometer for him to see, then explained that he needed to take his temperature. Dean nodded, opening his mouth slightly. He had no idea what the hell Cas had just said, but he saw a thermometer, and he felt like shit, so even under a fever, it wasn't too hard to put two and two together. After a moment, the thermometer beeped, signaling it's job done and blinking a 102.3 on the tiny screen. Cas frowned, glancing back at Dean, who was falling asleep again.

"Wait a second, Dean, you need to take something for this," he said, setting the thermometer on the nightstand and reaching for the Tylenol, shaking out two white pills into his palm. Dean waved it away.

"No, 'm fine. I just need to sleep," he slurred, curling into Cas' hip and fisting the back of the former angel's t-shirt. Cas resisted rolling his eyes. Dean would say he just needed to sleep if he had a brain tumor.

"Dean, just take this and drink something and then you can sleep," he said, holding out his palm and the glass of orange juice. Dean shook his head, nosed further into Cas' hip.

"Really, Cas, 'm fine. I don't need it," he drawled, breathing in Cas' shirt. It smelled just like him. He liked that. Castiel sighed, ignoring how adorable Dean was when he tried to snuggle himself asleep into Cas' shirt. He settled on stroking the arch of Dean's right eyebrow, leaning down to his ear.

"Just take these, drink some juice, and I'll take the day off and you can sleep all you want. Provided you wake up when you need to take more," he said, his strokes slowing. Dean stayed silent, his fever-ridden mind considering it.

"'kay. But only if you stay here, and later, coffee," he attempted to haggle. Cas held back a grin, allowing himself to roll his eyes this time before leaning back to allow Dean to try and sit up. He handed Dean the juice and medicine.

"I guess I can do that," he said warmly, running his fingers through Dean's hair and kissing his forehead, smiling at the moan of appreciation it got him.

ayo reviews are pretty rad. whether they're good or bad.

(did anyone catch my raps there)

(anyone)

(did anyone appreciate them besides me or)