Cas woke to the sound of knocking on his door. He grunted an invitation, pulling himself semi upright, switching on the bedside lamp at the same time as the main light was switched on from near the door. It took him a moment to clear the blurriness from his eyes, allowing him to focus on Dean.

"Sorry, figured you should get up eventually." Dean sounded a little hesitant, taking in the sight of the somewhat disoriented former angel.

"Of course. What time is it?" Cas agreed softly, pushing the covers off and swinging his feet over the edge of the bed.

"It's almost three in the afternoon." Dean said softly. He frowned. "When'd you finally get to sleep?"

"Shortly after Sam retired to his room."

"Alright, well he says he hit the sack at about four, so you've been at this a while."

Cas nodded. "It would appear so."

"Eh, don't beat yourself up. Your body is still getting used to sleep." Dean crossed his arms. "You know Cas, I put a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on your dresser, you don't have to sleep in your jeans…"

Cas looked down at his clothes. "Is it not appropriate? I often found you and Sam in your normal clothing as you slept."

"Yeah at motels." Dean put his hands up. "I'm not judging, I'm just saying you might be a little more comfortable." He took a step back. "Anyway, why don't you clean up and head to the kitchen. I made lunch."

"Isn't breakfast the first meal of the day?" the former angel questioned, watching the hunter head back towards the door.

"Not when it's three o'clock."

Cas wrinkled his brow, trying to make sense of typical meal orders and now conditions under which those titles applied. Eventually he gave up, standing and heading towards the bunker's shower room. He cleaned off and changed into his only other pair of clothes, a pair of jeans and one of Sam's old sweatshirts. The sleeves were too long, but at least it was clean. He made a mental note to ask Dean if he could make use of the bunker's laundry to clean his other jeans and shirt.

When Cas finally entered the kitchen, Dean was just sliding a plate with an impressive looking sandwich in front of an empty spot at the table. He sat down with his own, and beckoned for Cas to join him.

"Where's Sam?"

Dean pulled a face. "He is off visiting some Serial Killer expo at a museum in Denver. He'll be back in a few days. Dragged Kevin with him to stop him from sulking in his room."

"Sam seems to be feeling better."

Dean's expression darkened slightly. "Apparently." He had already received an earful from a hidden angel co-pilot when he tried to suggest the trip was a bad idea. The hunter watched the man across from him settle into his place and eye the sandwich offering. "You okay? You don't look so hot…"

Castiel looked up to meet his gaze. "I feel… tired. I think I have not been resting adequately since becoming human." His hand reached up and touched his right shoulder. "My injury from the torture has been causing me pain as well."

"Hey, you should let me take a look at it, make sure it's healing right."

"It is not necessary." Cas replied. "I have treated it. After you convinced April to revive me, most injuries were completely healed. This last one had been larger, but it too was lessened greatly. I am just unused to the long time it takes for a human body to recover."

Dean shook his head, looking slightly doubtful. If it was Sam, he'd have pried that shirt back and taken a look for himself, but he couldn't baby Cas. The man had led the armies of heaven once, and he had suffered enough hit to his pride without being coddled. "Fine. Just let me know if you need anything for it." He relented.

"Thank you Dean." Cas bit into his sandwich despite not really being hungry. "You are a formidable cook."

"I wouldn't exactly call making a sandwich cooking." he laughed.

"Well, your assembly of deli items is more than satisfactory." Cas corrected.

Dean wiped his hands on his jeans, standing to grab a bag off the counter behind him. He returned, talking through his still stuffed mouth. "I grabbed you some stuff before you woke up." He shoved the bag across the table to Cas.

Pushing his food aside, Castiel lifted the folded items out of the bag. He let a smile creep across his face as he acknowledged what they were. A pile of clothing, similar in style to the wardrobe Jimmy had imparted on him. The feeling of nostalgia was comforting, he had really felt a little as if he had lost his identity in more ways than one when he fell. "Thank you Dean."

Dean was reaching down into another bag, and came up with the crowning jewel. He couldn't hide the grin as he held out the floppy tan coat. "It's not an exact match, but it was the closest I could manage on short notice."

Cas set aside the other outfits, and carefully took the coat from Dean. He didn't hesitate, slipping it on over his sweatshirt. It felt… right.

Dean leaned back, looking entirely satisfied with himself. "There, that's better, isn't it?"

"Much." Cas agreed.

Cas returned to his sandwich, feeling much more at ease with the feeling of the coat around him. Even as it felt too warm to wear it inside, he still wasn't willing to remove it.

Dean finished off his entire sandwich, watching Cas finish up half of his before pushing away the leftover. Thinking nothing of it, Dean slid the plate over, going to work on Cas' rejected food. Back before Cas needed to eat, if they ever needed to blend at a restaurant or diner, Cas would order something and Dean would eat it when he was done with his own. He found comfort in the familiarity of the situation even through everything that was different. He could forget for a moment that Cas was human, Sam was possessed, the prophet was having a mental break, and the king of hell was cuffed in his basement. Right now it was just lunch.

Cas stood with the intent of bringing the empty plate to the sink, but he staggered slightly as a wave of dizziness passed over him.

Dean paused, frowning again. "You sure you're okay?"

Cas regained his balance quickly, moving with ease towards the sink. "I am fine Dean. I think I may be getting my first mild illness."

"A cold… you're getting a cold?"

"As I understand it, it is something of a rite of passage as a mortal."

"I'm not sure it's that." Dean said, shaking his head. "Really? You're getting sick."

"I did spend an entire day in the rain with no relief."

"Yeah, but that was before April zapped your ass back to factory settings."

Castiel shrugged. "Perhaps as with my shoulder, it did not completely fix the problem."

Dean nodded. "Well, alright." He crumpled his napkin onto his plate, rising and putting it on the counter, out of the way. "Why don't you go grab my laptop from my room and meet me in the library. I'll make you some of that fancy tea Sam keeps around for his head colds, and I'll show you what netflix is."

Cas tilted his head, but nodded and left to follow Dean's instructions.

Dean let his shoulders sag when he was alone. He felt a twinge of concern, but he put that down to the fact that he was riding on a roller coaster of ups and downs over the last week. Sam had almost died, and now was on the other end of completely fine, but possessed. Kevin was a nervous wreck, but his mother henning wasn't needed while Sam had him up and out. That left just Cas and himself to worry about, and it would be the day hell froze over that he let his focus land on himself.

Dean made two mugs of the fancy tea he couldn't pronounce to the instructions his brother had repeated ad nauseam the last time he was sick. He added a healthy amount of honey to both and took a sip of his mug, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He thought for a moment, reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a bottle of rum. He put a generous splash in and retested his drink, nodding his approval. He poured a bit of rum into a separate tumbler before walking all three drinks out to the library and waiting angel.

He shoved the alcohol and hot tea over to Cas. "Rum first, tea second."

Cas stared between the glasses. Hesitantly, he lifted the rum and emptied it in one quick motion. He tilted his head back, surprised by the physical sensation of burning, and not enjoying it. He coughed involuntarily.

Dean grinned. "'Atta boy." He commended with a nod of approval. "Burn whatever it is out of you."

Cas sipped at the tea to replace the harsh burn of alcohol with a gentle burn of the soothing hot liquid. "Rum can… burn an illness out of the human body?"

"If you drink enough of it, there isn't much rum can't burn out of the human body." Dean quipped.

The former angel continued to look skeptical, but he didn't comment further on the matter. Instead he let the silence settle in as he watched Dean pull up the streaming site and select something for them to watch.

Cas made it through almost one and a half movies before he was nodding off in his chair. Dean shoved his chair, waking him. "Hey."

Cas startled, looking around him, then up at Dean. He looked at the paused movie and managed to look slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I did not intend to fall asleep."

"Yeah, well, normally I'd hold it against you but you're getting sick so I'll let it slide this once." Dean leaned back in his seat, stretching. "You should go take a nap or something. Or if you can sleep until tomorrow, go for it man. Sometimes the best thing for a cold is just to sleep it off."

"And you?"

"I'll be out here if you need something." Dean dismissed, waving the hesitant angel off.

"Alright. Good night Dean."

"Hey, wait here a sec." Dean stood, exiting the room. Cas remained still until Dean walked back in a few minutes later. "Here." He handed Cas a bag of cough drops and a water bottle.

"I have not developed a cough."

"If you do start coughing, or your throat hurts. You'll have them." Dean insisted. "If you get hungry later I might even be able to come up with some soup." He grinned at Cas' confused expression. "It's tradition." He had years of experience taking care of a sick little brother to call on.

"Thanks Dean." Cas repeated. He began to leave again.

"And put on those damn sweatpants." Dean reminded.

He watched the former angel leave and sighed. Cas' preferences seemed to lean towards seeking being alone when he was sick. Sam was usually the opposite. Normally Sam was all about privacy, but the second he got a little feverish he was the little brother again. Dean's instinct was to do anything and everything to get Cas better, but he had to respect that Cas would tell him when he needed something for the most part.

He'd just have to keep his mother hen instincts in check.