A/N: Happy holidays! 3

Christmas. Supposed to be a special time of year, right? At least, Dean thinks so. Especially now, with Chuck gone, and Cas back, and... and. Well. He just wants to do something special for them, y'know.A month long affair. Decorations, and festive foods, and maybe even, sometimes, Christmas music. Or Christmas specials instead of the usual action flick, cowboy movies that they've been making their way through lately. Something like that.

Till he wakes up a few days after Thanksgiving, immediately shivering and gritting his teeth through an impressive headache. He feels hot, and cold, all at the same time somehow, and his hands won't stop shaking. Every inch of him feels like he's been tossed into a wall by a ghost- as impossible as that is, because they haven't had a real hunt since one involving some weak ghouls a couple weeks back. Then the coughing begins and he realizes he's congested, and... oh no.

"Fever's 100.5," Sam says, brow pinched in concern as he peers at his brother once he's successfully dragged himself out of bed and Sam had realized immediately what was going on.. "Not too serious, but you clearly have something, so you should stay in bed and just rest, Dean."

Dean slumps even further in his seat, his face falling. "But," he rasps out, closing his eyes at the rough sound of his own voice, "I... I wanted to..."

Sam waves it off. "Whatever it is'll have to wait, big brother. Back to bed with you. One of us will bring you in soup to eat later, maybe some tea to sooth your throat."

Dean looks abjectly miserable as he shuffles away, shoulders slumped.

Cas and Sam catch each other's eye, takes a minute to think about what they want to do, then start putting things into motion.

Sam takes care of the food side of things, a bowl of soup and mug of tea placed on a tray to be brought to him, which leaves Cas with the medicine and temperature checking aspect of it all. He's a little bit fascinated by the thermometer, watching its number raise upside down,

"I can't-" Dean gasps for air as soon as it's out of his mouth, choking down air after not being allowed to remove the thing from under his tongue until it'd beeped. Between that and his congestion, he had slowly started to feel like he was suffocating.

Cas rubs his back slowly, a soft frown on his face. "Dean..."

"S'ok, just." Dean coughs and looks away. "Guess I ain't been sick in so long, I..." He wraps an arm around his middle and shivers. "Really fuckin' hate this."

"I know. I'm sorry," Cas says, handing him the mug of tea. "Try this."

Dean grimaces and sips from it, despite not being a fan of tea at all. He eyes Cas warily. "Can't taste much," he mumbles. "Tastebuds are prolly out to lunch too right now. Lucky assholes."

Cas hums, taking the tea smoothly from him, and replacing it with the bowl of soup. Dean sighs and stirs it around, the look on his face softening slightly. "He made tomato rice soup," he murmurs.

Cas nods somberly. "He did," he confirms. "Eat that, take some of the medicine, and then you can get some sleep."

Dean grimaces, trying to listen. The soup is tasteless to the point of nauseating, and Dean really, really hates cold medicine. "Leaves me feelin' really out of the loop," he grouses as he glares over at the tablets waiting on his table.

"Well, thankfully, you don't need to be in the loop right now," Cas offers, with the infamous finger quotes that makes Dean sputter a little in his soup as he looks over at him. "There are no hunts, there's nothing but just us and this bunker. So you can give in a little bit, allow yourself to rest."

Dean sighs. Sinks back into his pillows and closes his eyes. "Wanted to really make all'a this special for ya," he sighs, his eyes heavy with exhaustion once the soup is drained as much as he can stand it, and he turns his attention to the medicine.

Cas smiles gently at him, stroking his hand down Dean's arms. "You don't have to worry about such things, Dean," he tells him softly. "Any time spent with you is special. I need nothing more."

That hits like an anvil and Dean almost chokes on his pills, Cas patting him on the back until he can breathe somewhat normally again. "Warn a guy first," he gasps, and Cas' smile grows, leaning back to brush some of the hair out of his eyes, quietly apologizing.

Dean's body fights off whatever it is for awhile, and Cas and Sam continue doing all they can to hurry the process along. He's deeply asleep one morning when Cas slips inside and rests something on the table next to where Dean is asleep, sitting down to wait to see what his reaction is when he wakes up and sees it.

He's turned towards the table when he wakes up, so the first thing he sees are bright lights dancing and sweeping in front of his vision. He blinks, hard, and wipes at his eyes. "What the...?" He reaches out groggily and only just manages to touch a branch, realization dawning on him. He flops over onto his back and blinks when he realizes Cas is sitting next to his bed patiently waiting. "Oh, uh. Did you do this?"

"Sam and I decorated it, I brought it in for you," Cas says, his gaze flickering over to the small tree cheerfully reflecting a soft multicolored glow against the walls. "Do you like it?"

"I do," Dean says softly. "Thanks, Cas."

"I know you are disappointed you can't be much more help with holiday festivities right now, but I promise you it will all be right here, waiting for you, as soon as you're healthy again," Cas promises him.

It's all but impossible not to believe the man when he talks like that. "Ok," Dean finally says, blinking sluggishly at him, still feeling exhausted despite his having not done anything more strenuous than rolling over. He hates it, never having the time or energy to do even the smallest thing he had planned on doing in the lead up to Christmas.

He sinks back into sleep within minutes and Cas remains, gaze flickering from Dean to the tree, a soft smile on his lips.

-x

The next day, Cas looks up in surprise when Dean shuffles in to the Dean cave, looking pale and a little breathless. "Hey," he says, quickly getting up and walking over to support him. "What are you doing up?" He rubs Dean's arms briskly, "Come, sit down." He helps Dean over to the couch and sits down next to him, searching his face.

"Know I can't help with decorating or baking or whatever else right now," Dena says. "But one thing I'm good at is picking holiday movies. So thought we could have a marathon, if... uh, if you wanted. Know I'm not the best company right now, but y'know."

Cas shakes his head with a small smile. "Yes, Dean, I would like that." He hesitates. "It wouldn't be what Sam calls... Hallmark movies, is it?"

"Oh god, no," Dean groans. "There's a box of DVDs over there, mind bringin' 'em over?" Cas does so, and Dean begins shifting through them, sorting through must sees from maybe laters.

After checking in to see if Cas had actively seen any, the answer received being a resounding no, Dean smirks and they settle in to watch Jack Frost. "Not the horror movie," Dean says. "Not exactly the mood I wanna set here."

Cas simply smiles. "I trust you," he says, watching with fondness as a dazed, sheepish look crosses Dean's face. "Come here," Cas murmurs, holding his arms out until Dean tips into his warmth with a sigh. "Comfortable?"

"Yeah," Dean hums, pressing play.

Cas finds himself more interested in the movie than he expected to be, a good fifteen minutes in before he turns to say something to Dean... just to find him slack against Cas' shoulder, breathing even and deep, fast asleep. "Oh," he says softly, distracted from the movie as he watches Dean sleep, his skin still a little flushed with illness, breathing congested, but all in all, as attractive as ever.

Cas smiles, careful not to move, content to finish watching the movie and using the streaming service menu to find other holiday movies once it finishes, content to keep doing what Dean intended for them to do this evening, Dean's warmth against his side leaving Cas content to stay like this for as long as possible..

-x

A few days later, Sam and Cas have their heads together, trying to figure out recipes in the kitchen, overwhelmed by the thought of feeding all of the people they had invited over when Dean was still healthy at Thanksgiving, when a thick notebook is dropped in between them, Dean leaning over to look at them with a smirk.

"Dean!" Cas says, startled. "You're looking better."

"I'm feeling better," he responds with a wink. "Now put your chicken scratch away, boys, here's what we're going to do..."

And just like that, the best Christmas ever starts getting slowly back on track. A little last minute, but hey. Better late than never.