A/N I've been working on this one for ages, really hope you enjoy and please drop me a review if you do. Take care.

Dean pulled up outside the gas station, an aching emptiness in his stomach after the long drive. Part of him wanted to get back to the bunker as soon as possible, but he couldn't resist stopping in on his way past. He went inside, straight past the food to find what he really needed after nearly two weeks on the road. He found Cas at the back of the store, straightening a row of powdered donuts. He looked strange in his gas station uniform, almost unrecognisable out of his trademark trench coat. Dean grabbed him and hugged him heartily. The relief he felt to be near Cas again reminded him with painful clarity just how much he had missed him in the weeks they'd been apart. But when he stepped back, he saw that Cas's face was pale, with purple smudges under his glassy looking eyes.

"Woah, dude are you okay?"

"Dean," he mumbled. "Something is very wrong with me."

"What happened?" he asked. "Are you cursed? Did a demon do this? Tell me what happened."

"No. I mean I don't know. Everything aches, I've been vomiting all day. I'm so tired. I think I'm dying."

"Ohhh," Dean said, smiling sympathetically as he realised what was ailing his friend.

"Oh?"

"You've got stomach flu," he said. "It sucks but you'll feel better in a couple days."

"It can't just be flu," he said, swaying where he stood. "It must be something more serious. Terminal even. This cannot be normal."

"You're not dying, Cas," he said. "But you are coming home with me."

"I haven't finished my shift," he said, reaching out to straighten another packet of donuts and missing the display by a good three inches.

"You have now," Dean said.

"If I leave I'll get fired."

"We'll find you a new job. Right now you just need someone to take care of you. C'mon." He guided Cas out in to the car, making sure he was safely inside before closing the door and walking round to the driver's side.

"Cas?" said Dean as he sat down. Cas didn't respond, he was almost immobile as he stared blankly at the dashboard. "Cas." Dean reached over and put a hand on Cas's chin, turning his head to look at him. "You gonna throw up in my car?"

"No," said Cas. "I don't think so."

"Okay," Dean said, pressing his hand to Cas's clammy forehead for a second. "Tell me if you're gonna hurl okay?"

"Okay."

"We've forgiven each other for a lot of crap, but if you puke in my Baby, I don't think we can come back from that." A tiny smile pulled at the corners of Cas's mouth, exactly what Dean had been hoping for. "Okay, angelface," he said, turning the key in the ignition, "let's get you home."

"I feel terrible," Cas mumbled as Dean helped him on to the bed.

"Welcome to being human," said Dean. Cas made a pitiful attempt at untying his shoelaces but it proved too difficult for his tired limbs. Dean pulled off Cas's shoes for him and sat them by the bed before opening one of his drawers and throwing him a grey t-shirt and pair of pyjama pants. Cas just stared at them for a moment, apparently having to psyche himself up for the ordeal.

"I ain't undressing you, this one's on you," Dean said and Cas slowly unpinned his gas station name tag and unbuttoned his shirt. He wasn't quite sure where to look as Cas removed his shirt and then his pants, so he made a big deal out of straightening up his already neat desk. A few moments later he peeked over his shoulder to see that Cas was clothed again, sitting hunched over on the edge of the bed.

"Lie down," Dean said, lifting the bed covers and tapping Cas on the legs to get him to move.

"Am I contagious?" Cas asked as Dean put a bottle of water and a trashcan by his bed.

"Yup."

"Then you shouldn't be here," he said. He tried to push Dean away from him but his attempt was so feeble that Dean didn't move so much as a millimetre. Dean smiled,

"I'm not going anywhere 'til you're feeling better," he said, pulling the covers up over Cas's chest.

"But you'll get sick too."

Dean just shrugged as he pulled a chair over to Cas's bedside. "Maybe. But if I do, I guarantee I'll handle it better than you."

Twenty four hours later, Dean re-entered the room with his arms around his stomach, his face sweaty and pallid, his feet dragging. He had managed eighteen hours by Cas's bedside before the nausea hit. And then the headache. Then the fever.

"Kill me," he mumbled, shuffling towards the bed where Cas was still lying face down. Dean clambered in beside him, curling up in to a ball facing the ex-angel.

"I told you it was bad," Cas said, his voice muffled against the pillow.

"I wish you still had your powers," Dean said.

"So I could cure you?"

"So you could put me out of my misery."

They both lay in silence for a long time, the only sounds were their occasional groans or one of them peeling themselves off the bed and hurrying to the bathroom.

Cas re-entered the room around three o'clock in the morning and lowered himself gingerly on to the bed, hands rubbing his stomach. "I don't enjoy being human," he said sadly.

In amongst the waves of nausea, Dean felt a stab of sympathy for Cas. A few months ago he had been an incredibly powerful celestial being, but now he was suddenly human, doing his best to navigate a thousand new and confusing experiences, almost like a toddler except he also had to live with the frustrating memory of the power he used to hold.

Dean was about to reply but was forced to clamp his mouth shut, wondering if he was going to throw up again.

"I'm sorry I got you sick," Cas said in the silence.

Dean took a steadying breath as the nausea faded again. "Well I wasn't about to leave you," he said. "You know what they say, a problem shared is a problem halved."

"You misunderstand how viruses work," Cas said. Dean managed a small smile.

"Well, misery loves company and all that." He turned over to join Cas in staring at the white ceiling. The pulses of nausea in his stomach were interspersed with rushes of feverish heat and chills that meant he had to keep alternating between being wrapped up in two blankets and stripping down to nothing but his sweatpants.

A few hours later, Cas was sitting up in the bed and there was a little colour back in his cheeks. Dean, however, was face down again, his arm hanging over the edge of the bed, his sweat soaked t-shirt in a heap on the floor.

"You look better," Dean said peering up at Cas, but he was so exhausted that the words came out as little more than a single slurred syllable. Somehow, Cas still understood.

"Well you look terrible," he said. He watched Dean for a long moment as though he were considering something. "Come here," he said at last, extending his arms to Dean. Dean lifted his head and gave him a dubious look. "I'm serious," Cas said, "come here."

"No way, man," he said, kicking the covers off his legs in feverish agitation. "I'm way too hot."

"You'll feel better, I promise," Cas insisted. "It's the only ability I seem to have retained since becoming human." Dean frowned at him for a moment longer before deciding that he wasn't in any state to be turning down something that might make him feel better. He shuffled closer to Cas and after another momentary hesitation he lay his head down on Cas's chest and felt the angel's arms around him.

The improvement he felt was instantaneous. The nausea, the aching muscles and the throbbing pain in his head all faded, leaving him with nothing but a feeling of warm, heavy tiredness. He remained very still and quiet for several minutes, too stubborn to admit that Cas had been right. But the exhaustion quickly crept over him, filling him with a kind of cosy delirium as he drifted to the edge of sleep.

"Making people feel better has nothing to do with your grace," Dean said suddenly, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Mm?"

"You've always been able to make me feel better, angel or not. That's nothing to do with your angel powers. That's just you."

Dean didn't look up but he heard the smile in Cas's voice when he spoke. "It's good to know I still have some use."

Dean woke several hours later, still tired. In the first few moments of consciousness he was so blissfully comfortable that he couldn't bring himself to move. As he lay there in the quiet and the stillness, all the tiny details of his surroundings seemed magnified. The sound of Cas's heartbeat inside his chest seemed deafening in the silence. His face buried against Cas's neck, the slow, smooth rise and fall of his chest, the weight and warmth of the angel's arm across his bare back were the only things he could feel. But he was too tired to convince himself that this ought to feel wrong. He didn't have the energy for anything other than instinct, and so he lay there feeling warm and safe, not caring that he was overstepping a line or making himself vulnerable. It was just him and Cas, alone. Together.

He was dragged from his reverie by the sound of the door clicking open. He looked up to see Sam entering the room, brandishing Holy Water and a cross in front of him.

"Is it safe?" he asked, staying close to the door.

"Very funny," said Dean as he reluctantly pushed himself upright to look at his brother. Sam put his props away with a self-amused smile and picked up a tray that was lying just outside the room. He sat it on Dean's desk, still not venturing too close to the bed.

"I brought you some toast and tea and some water. You probably won't want any judging by the noises I've heard coming from the bathroom all day, but it's there if you want it."

Dean appreciated the gesture, but the ordinarily innocuous smell of toasted bread assaulted his fragile senses, making his stomach contort, and he instantly felt the burn of acid rising in his throat.

"Thanks Sammy," he said, forcing a friendly smile as he fought to keep what was left of his stomach contents in their rightful place.

"You guys looks like hell," added Sam. "Don't come near me 'til you're better."

"That's a lovely sentiment," Dean said. "Now get out." Sam laughed and left them alone, closing the door firmly behind him as though to keep the germs at bay.

Cas sat up and walked stiffly to the desk, picking up a mug of hot sweet tea and offering Dean a bottle of water which he turned down. Cas returned to the bed and took a sip of his drink, giving a little sigh of appreciation as he did so.

"That's the one thing I like about being human, being able to eat and drink."

They had barely grazed the topic of food and Dean felt his stomach lurch. He sat up abruptly, grabbing hold of the trashcan and willing himself not to throw up. A second later, the moment passed and he lowered himself back down, rubbing his hand in circles across his stomach.

"Let's talk about something else," he said.

"Like what?" asked Cas.

"I dunno, anything. Just distract me."

"Okay," Cas said. "If you could have any superpower what would it be?"

"Flying," Dean said after a brief consideration. "I was always jealous of your wings." Cas didn't reply and Dean looked round to see Cas staring sadly at his feet. "Sorry," Dean added. Cas looked up and gave him a small smile.

"It's okay," he said. "I do miss my wings though." Dean didn't know what to say, so instead he shuffled back over to Cas under the pretence of making himself feel better. As he lay his head back on Cas's chest, the relief from his sickness was so sudden and so absolute that it bordered on euphoric.

"Okay," Dean said, as the euphoria faded slightly. "If you could live in any state which would it be?"

"Colorado," he said. "I used to visit the Garden of the Gods all the time. Of course that was a few thousand years ago when God was actually around."

"I always forget how old you are," Dean said, looking up the man beside him, with his dark hair and his smooth face unblemished except for the perpetual frown lines on his forehead which seemed to clash with the smile lines engraved at the corners of his eyes. He didn't look more than thirty five, but in reality he was at least a hundred times that. Probably more.

"I still look better than you," Cas said with a sideways smirk and Dean elbowed him playfully in the ribs.

"Okay, I have a good one," Dean said. "If you could pick one moment out of your entire existence and make it last forever, what would you pick?"

"This one," said Cas without hesitation. Dean gave a short laugh but when he glanced up to Cas he saw that his blue eyes were fixed intently on him. Dean felt a lurch in his stomach when he realised he wasn't joking, and it had nothing to do with the flu.

"This one?"

"Yes."

"This moment?" Dean repeated blankly. "But you're sick. And human. And…"

"And I'm here with you," he said simply. "There isn't much else I want. And besides, I'm feeling much better."

"But you could choose any moment. You could have anything you want," Dean said, his surprise making him object more than he ought to. Cas just fixed him with that same steady gaze that rendered words redundant, and Dean's protests fell silent.

"Well what moment would you pick?" Cas asked after a brief pause. It would have been rude if Dean didn't give the same response, but that thought didn't even cross his mind as he propped himself up on one arm to look Cas straight in the eye, their faces very close, Cas's arm still around Dean's back.

"This one," he said quietly. "Right now." Cas reached out to touch Dean's face, which was all the prompting he needed to slide his hand around the back of Cas's neck and pull him in to a soft kiss.

"You know," said Cas with a smile, "I don't think I mind being human after all."