I know it's been forever since I updated this one, so if you're still here, just know that I appreciate you. =)

Chapter Twenty-Three

On Saturday, Castiel woke to find Dean still snoring lightly beside him even though he hadn't set an early alarm. He was tempted to give his boyfriend the same sort of sexy wake-up call Dean had given him yesterday, but then he decided there was a better use for this rare opportunity. He would cook Dean's favorite breakfast. Dean would get to sleep in and wake to the scents of coffee and bacon. He had certainly earned it after last night's workout.

Slipping quietly out of bed, Castiel tucked the blankets back around his naked lover and wiped a bit of drool from Dean's cheek. He found the red lace panties on the floor beside the bed and moved them to the hamper. Then he thought better of it and put them on top of the dresser. He would wash them by hand. They were far too beautiful to risk to his ancient and temperamental machine.

Dressed in worn jeans with a hole in the back pocket and an AC/DC tee purloined from Dean's drawer, He peeked in on Claire and found her curled up in her window seat reading a battered copy of The Wizard of Oz that he was pretty sure had been Jimmy's when they were little. "Morning. You want to help me with breakfast?"

She nodded eagerly, marked her place with the book's frayed green ribbon bookmark, and padded after him still in her My Little Pony pajamas. The pants were getting a bit short in the ankle. Actually, he'd noticed lately that a lot of her clothes were getting too small. She must be having a growth spurt. He wondered if he should take her to a store or just shop online. And how often should he plan on replacing her wardrobe? Once a year? More? He didn't remember ever being taken clothes shopping as a kid. Sometimes he was given a bag of hand-me-downs from some church clothing drive, but if nothing materialized, he made do. He got good at sewing buttons back on and taping up broken shoes.

Shoes! Fuck, he'd completely forgotten to check if her shoes still fit! What if they were pinching her toes and causing her feet to grow wrong? What if she got permanent problems because he was a terrible father who neglected to buy her properly fitting shoes? Jimmy would never have forgotten something like that.

Stop. One thing at a time. She's barefoot right now, and her feet look completely normal, so focus on making breakfast, and worry about new clothes and shoes and whatever else she needs later.

Food. Food was easy. He was good at food.

While he set the coffee maker, he instructed Claire to get bacon and eggs out of the fridge. Then, once the coffee was happily burbling, he put his prized cast iron skillet on the stove and lit a fire under it. "Do you know how to crack eggs?" he asked.

She looked at him like he'd asked if she could dress herself.

"Okay. Point taken," he chuckled and handed her a bowl. "Crack six eggs into this while I cook the bacon."

He kept an eye on her just in case, but she cracked the eggs expertly, and he only had to fish out one piece of shell. He showed her how to add a little cream and salt to the eggs and whisk them until they were smooth and airy. "See those frothy little bubbles? That's how you make nice, fluffy scrambled eggs."

They moved the bacon to a paper towel, and Castiel added a small pat of butter to the grease in the pan. When it was melted, he tilted the pan to swirl it around, and then let Claire pour the eggs in. He was showing her how to use a silicon spatula to break up the curds as they formed and make sure the still liquidy parts got more heat exposure when a bleary-eyed Dean wandered in wearing sweatpants and a Led Zeppelin shirt.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Castiel greeted him with a smile. "There's coffee in the pot, and there will be bacon and eggs in just a few minutes."

"Mmmm. Marry me," Dean said.

Castiel's heart skipped a beat. He knew it was just an expression, but still. Those words from Dean's perfect lips…

Dean's brain seemed to catch up to his mouth, and he hastily backtracked. "I mean… Sorry. I just meant…"

"I know," Castiel assured him and kissed him softly. "It's alright. I never accept proposals made pre-caffeine anyway. It's like proposing while drunk. It doesn't count."

Dean laughed. "Good policy. Are you wearing my shirt?"

"Yes. Is that okay?"

Dean's hand slid under the fabric, warm against Castiel's skin, though it kept to relatively innocent areas since Claire was in the room. "Oh, it's more than just okay. And, um, for the record… when I propose for real, I'll be down on one knee, and there will be a ring so there's no confusion about whether I'm serious or not."

Castiel forgot how to breathe for a moment. When. He said 'when I propose'. He licked his lips which were suddenly very dry. "Well, for the record, I plan on saying yes." It may only have been two months, but he was more sure of this than he'd ever been of anything else in his life.

Dean smiled, soft and genuine; no charm, just love. "Good to know."

The moment was broken by Claire rapping her knuckles sharply on the counter top to get their attention. Castiel turned, saw that the eggs were done, and quickly went to help her move the heavy pan off the heat.

Over breakfast, Claire passed a note to Castiel. Can we go ise skating today?

"Sure. That sounds like fun." Castiel showed the note to Dean. "Maybe we could ask Sam if he'd like to join us."

Dean lit up like a kid at Christmas. "Really?"

"Really." Sam had been over for dinner a couple more times, and the last time, Claire had even passed a note directly to him rather than going through Dean or Castiel. When Sam attempted a little sign language with her in return, he took another step towards truly earning Castiel's trust.

"Awesome! I'll text him right now." Dean jumped up to go find his phone, then turned back and planted a kiss on Castiel that left him breathless. "I love you."

"I love you too," Castiel said with a smile.

Sam texted back almost immediately. He was free and would love to go ice skating with them. The fact that he had no plans on a Saturday reminded Castiel uncomfortably that the man probably had no friends besides Dean and his NA sponsor. And while Dean tried to spend as much time as he could with his brother, between work and cultivating his budding relationship with Castiel there often wasn't a lot of time left over. Castiel thought about Sam sitting alone in Dean's apartment like a neglected pet, and his stomach soured with guilt. He'd been selfish, monopolizing Dean's free time, and he resolved to include Sam in their plans more often. Invite him to hang out and watch a movie with them, or join them for Claire's ASL classes. And he supposed he could occasionally spend Monday nights alone while Dean and Sam did something just the two of them.

They finished their breakfast, although Dean didn't eat much, only picking at his food, even his beloved bacon. Claire finished Dean's portion as well as her own. She was definitely having a growth spurt.

While Claire was getting dressed, Dean did the dishes, and Castiel googled nearby ice rinks. "No soap on the cast iron," he said automatically when Dean reached for the pan.

Dean gave him much the same look Claire had earlier. "I know, Cas. I'm not an idiot."

"Sorry," Castiel said sheepishly. "My brother did that once while he was visiting. I was tempted to wash out his mouth with soap as punishment."

"I don't blame you. Do you have a jar for the bacon grease."

"In the fridge door. Top shelf."

Dean located it and transferred the cooled grease from the pan. "How are you doing, by the way?" he asked as he worked. "With the whole Jimmy thing."

Castiel blinked. "I'm… well, I'm not fine. I still miss him constantly like someone scooped out part of my heart, and I still constantly second guess if I'm taking care of Claire the way he would want me to, and I'm dreading our birthday next month. I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to celebrate my birthday again, or if I'll always want to spend that day hiding under the blankets, waiting for it to be over. But since we looked at the photos with Claire, and since I talked to you about what it was like for Jimmy and me growing up, I feel… better. Less like I might fall apart at any moment anyway. I guess that's the same thing."

Dean listened to Castiel's word vomit in silence and nodded. Then he said, "We can just ignore your birthday if that's what you want. Normally, I 'd feel like a shitty boyfriend if I didn't at least take you out to dinner, but I get that it's gonna be triggering for you, so if you'd rather I didn't even comment on it, I can do that. Just tell me what you need."

Castiel felt an enormous wave of relief. He hadn't even realized how worried he was about his birthday until he wasn't anymore. "Thank you, Dean. I think… I think this year I want to just treat it like any other day. No presents, no cake, just… whatever we would normally do that day."

"Okay. Then that's what we'll do. And if you change your mind next year, just let me know."

The easy assumption that they would still be in each other's lives next year made Castiel smile.

Dean poured himself a second cup of coffee, yawning into the back of his hand as he did. Castiel cocked his head, looking at his boyfriend more closely. There were dark circles under Dean's eyes. "Are you feeling okay, Dean? You barely touched your breakfast, and I'm usually the one who has trouble getting moving in the morning."

"Yeah. Just t-t-tired, I guess," Dean said around another yawn. "Somebody kept me up late last night."

Castiel couldn't help smirking smugly. He put down his phone and sauntered over to Dean, pressing up against his back and kissing the corner of his jaw. "That was entirely your fault. The picture you made in those panties will be keeping me up for a long time."

Dean chuckled. "Maybe you should take some actual pictures next time."

Before Castiel could reboot his brain and come up with a response to that, they were interrupted by the sound of someone tapping her foot impatiently in the doorway. Claire was dressed and ready for ice skating and wanted to know why they were not.

"Alright, alright. We're going," Castiel laughed. "Just… watch some cartoons while we get dressed."

She gave them a narrow-eyed look that clearly communicated, No hanky-panky in the bedroom, then flounced off to the couch where she turned on Netflix Kids on the TV.

"Wow. She's turning into quite the sassy little prima donna," Dean chuckled.

"Yes, she is. Sometimes I worry that I'm going to end up spoiling her because every time she gets like this, I'm just glad she's coming out of her shell, and I don't dare scold her for fear of discouraging it."

"Nah." Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel and kissed his temple. "She's a good kid. She's not manipulative, just… assertive. She has ideas and opinions, and she's not afraid to let you know it. In her own way. If she learns to channel it right, she'll go far in life. Now let's go get changed before we get the Look again."

Castiel laughed and followed Dean back to their bedroom.

~o0o~

Claire had never been ice skating before, but she had roller blades, and it was more or less the same skill. She took to the ice like a fish to water. Castiel, however, couldn't seem to get the hang of it.

"It's alright, Cas. I've got you," Dean assured him as Castiel clung to his gloved hand like a lifeline. "Slide your feet, don't lift them."

"Where did you learn to do this?" Castiel asked. Even Sam was gliding gracefully across the ice, occasionally balancing his huge frame on one foot for a few seconds, while Castiel wobbled like a newborn foal.

"South Dakota. Our uncle had a pond on his property, and that was our swimming pool in the summer and our skate rink in the winter." Dean got a wistful look on his face. "Those were good times. Do you remember, Sammy?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, I remember. Remember the time Uncle Bobby took us deer hunting?"

Dean laughed. "Oh man, was that a mistake. You wouldn't touch meat for a month after watching him butcher a deer carcass. Which, in Bobby's house, basically meant living off PBJ. He wasn't really our uncle by blood," he explained to Castiel. "He and our dad served together in the Marines, but as he was fond of saying, family don't end in blood. He looked after us a lot when Dad was busy."

Sam gave a suppressed snort at that, and Castiel wondered if 'busy' was code for 'on a bender', but Dean shot his brother a warning look, and Sam kept silent.

"He sounds like a nice man," Castiel said to cover the slightly awkward moment.

Both Dean and Sam laughed. "He's a good man," Dean said. "I don't think anyone could ever accuse him of being nice. He has no patience for 'idjits', which is most of the world in his book. But he was a better father to us than our real dad, that's for damn sure."

Castiel squeezed Dean's hand. "Could I meet him someday?"

Once again Dean lit up like Castiel had just handed him a puppy for his very own. "Yeah. You want to?"

"Of course I do. I want to see every part of your life that you want to show me, Dean."

"Maybe, uh," Dean glanced at Claire skating ahead of them, "maybe we could take her out there for a visit this summer. Get out of the city for a few days. And we could take her fishing, show her how to cook over an open fire. You think she'd like that?" His eyes shone with hope.

"I think she would." Naomi wouldn't like Castiel and Dean both taking off at the same time, but she would just have to deal with it. Castiel was already getting excited about the idea of a real family vacation. He'd never had one of those before.

"Look at that! You're doing it!"

Castiel looked down at his feet and realized with some surprise that he was indeed skating. He had found his balance while he wasn't thinking about it. Dean beamed proudly at him but didn't let go of his hand, for which Castiel was grateful. He wasn't feeling that secure yet, and besides, Dean was keeping his fingers warm.

~o0o~

They stopped at a pretzel cart for lunch, but Dean barely nibbled at his before giving the rest to Sam and Claire to split. "You didn't like it?" Castiel asked.

"Not hungry." Dean shrugged.

Castiel frowned, recalling the sluggish start this morning and the barely touched breakfast. And Dean's cheeks seemed redder than could be explained by the cold air, and his eyes were rather glassy. "Dean, are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Yeah, of course."

Castiel pulled off his glove and touched Dean's cheek. "You're burning up!" Even allowing for the contrast of Castiel's cold hands, his temperature had to be at least a hundred.

"What? No, I'm not," Dean scoffed. "I'm just warm from skating."

"No, you definitely have a fever. You can't work tonight. I'll call Anna and see if she can fill in. If not, I'll manage without a sous chef."

"I'm not sick, Cas. I don't get sick."

Castiel gave his boyfriend a very unimpressed look. "Clearly that's not true. Give me the car keys. You're not safe to drive."

Dean gaped at him like he'd asked for one of the man's kidneys. "Do you even know how to drive?"

Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, I know how to drive. I just find that owning a car in New York City causes more inconvenience than it prevents, but I have maintained my driver's license for emergencies such as this." When Dean still didn't hand over the keys, he sighed. "Fine. If you don't want me driving your car, we'll all take a cab."

"I'm not leaving Baby parked on a random street in Manhattan overnight!"

"Dean!" Sam interrupted, his tone sharper than Castiel had ever heard it. They both turned to look at him. All the blood had drained from Sam's face, and his hands were shaking but his voice was firm. "Cas is right. You don't look good. Let him drive. Please."

Dean closed his mouth.

Even with Dean sulking in the passenger seat and glaring every time Manhattan traffic forced Castiel to hit the brakes suddenly, driving this car was a glorious experience. He hoped Dean would let him do it again under better circumstances, maybe out on the highway where he could get up some speed.

He parked outside Dean's building, turned off the engine, and handed Dean back his keys. "Claire and I will take a cab home. You should get some rest."

Dean snatched the keys with a huff and climbed out of the car without even a kiss on the cheek goodbye. It was probably for the best if he didn't want to catch whatever Dean had, but it left an uneasy feeling in Castiel's stomach and a lonely ache in his heart.

"It'll be okay," Sam said quietly from the back seat. "He's always grumpy when he's sick. As soon as he's feeling better, he'll apologize."

Castiel nodded. "Take care of him please?" Because we both know he won't take care of himself.

Sam smiled. "Of course."

On the cab ride home, Claire stared pensively out the window, her forehead furrowed with worry. It made her look older than nine, and that made Castiel remember that her birthday was coming up soon, not long after his. It would be the first without Jimmy for her as well. He put that thought aside to deal with at a less emotionally fraught time.

"I'm sure Dean will be okay," he assured her. "It's probably just a cold. He'll be better in a few days."

She turned to look at him, still frowning. He had learned to recognize when she was trying to puzzle out how to communicate something, so he waited. She pointed at him, then slowly finger spelled D-E-A-N (she had finally learned the correct spelling for that), then she mimed breaking something in half.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. No, Dean and I are not breaking up. We weren't even really fighting." I hope. "It's just that he wasn't feeling well, and I was worried about him, and sometimes when people are stressed, they argue. That's all. Like Sam said, Dean was just being grumpy, and we'll make up as soon as he's feeling better."

She pointed at Castiel again, then at herself, then painstakingly spelled out 'Dean', and finally, she drew a circle in the air in front of her. It wasn't exactly the sign for 'family' that Miss Eileen had shown them, but it was close enough that he got her meaning.

"Yes. You, me, and Dean are a family." He made the correct sign for 'family' but didn't otherwise draw attention to her mistake, focusing on soothing her fears. "And sometimes families argue, but they still love each other."

That seemed to satisfy her. She snuggled under his arm, and he kissed the top of her head.

~o0o~

"Castiel, the McLeods are here."

Castiel suppressed a groan. He should have been expecting it. The New York City Ballet was performing tonight, and his least favorite customers always came to Paradis for a late dinner after that. He briefly considered refusing to go out there, but Naomi was already in a bad mood because of Dean being out sick and Anna unable to fill in. He needed to pick his battles if they were going to get through the night without casualties.

"Just a minute." He finished plating the quail for table three, placed it on the pick-up counter, and reflexively checked on Claire. She was helping Benjamin shell peas and giggling at whatever they were saying to her. She wouldn't even notice he was gone if he was quick, and he definitely intended to keep this quick.

"Castiel!" Mrs. McLeod cooed as he approached their table, and to his horror, she actually rose to hug him! "How are you, darling? We haven't seen you in ages."

He went stiff as a board in the unwelcome embrace, but she didn't let go, so he awkwardly patted her lace covered shoulder, trying not to touch bare skin or breathe too deeply of her cloying floral perfume. "I've been well." All the better for not dealing with you. "How is your meal?"

"Delicious as always. You're an artist, my dear. The Van Gogh of food." She finally released him, her fingernails trailing down his front and going rather alarmingly low before she withdrew those too and gracefully resumed her seat.

"Sit for a minute, Castiel," Fergus said. "I'm sure you've been on your feet for far too long, and we'd love to catch up. Naomi mentioned that you've got yourself a new boy toy. We want all the juicy details." He smiled like a shark.

Castiel's blood turned cold. Naomi had been gossiping about his personal life with these people?! "I'm afraid I can't stop to chat tonight," he said, neatly sidestepping the question about Dean. "My sous chef is out sick, so we're a bit short handed in the kitchen."

"They work you like a slave back there," Mrs. McLeod said, pursing her blood red lips and tutting disapprovingly. "We'd be much gentler." She looked up at him coyly, her double meaning inescapably clear.

Castiel forced a smile. It was actually painful. "As always, I'm flattered by the offer, but I'm happy in my current employment," he lied. "Now I should really get back to work and let you eat your dinner while it's hot."

"But we'll see you on Monday, yes?" Fergus said.

Castiel blinked. Monday was his day off, the one day he never had to see them. Then he remembered the party and the meeting to plan the menu. "Yes, of course. Eleven o'clock. I'll have some sample dishes for you to taste." He prayed Dean would be better by then. If he wasn't, Castiel would just have to face them on his own.

Fergus raked his eyes over Castiel. "We'll bring our appetites."

Castiel's skin crawled, and his smile began to feel like a rictus. "Enjoy your dinner."

As he made his way back to the kitchen, he passed Gabe. The head waiter raised an eyebrow at him in a silent question. Are you okay? Castiel nodded, inexpressibly grateful in that moment for his staff. He would miss them if he had to quit, but he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take and remain sane.

He marched back into the kitchen, intent on finding Naomi and giving her an earful about discussing his love life with the customers, but when he saw the unoccupied chef's table and Claire's abandoned backpack, his heart stopped. He spun in a circle to take in the entire kitchen. No curly blond head.

It's okay. Don't panic. She's probably in the bathroom.

But the bathroom door was open and the light was off. He flipped it on and stared at the four empty corners illuminated by the fluorescent glare, his heartbeat pounding louder and louder in his ears.

"Everyone stop what you're doing right now!"

The clangor of the kitchen ground to a halt, replaced by an echoing silence punctuated with the faint hiss of gas burners. The look on his face must have been pretty terrifying because Alfie actually took a step back, a soapy pot held in front of him like a shield.

"Where is Claire?" Castiel said into the silence. "Who saw her last? Benjamin?"

They shook their head. "She was sitting right there the last time I looked." They gestured to the chef's table.

"I think I saw Naomi take her back to the office," a server named Alana volunteered timidly.

Castiel turned on his heel, marched over to Naomi's office, and pushed open the door without knocking. When he saw Claire sitting on the couch with Naomi, the wave of relief nearly knocked him off his feet. Then he took in the rest of the scene, and a cacophony of alarm bells went off in his head. Naomi's hand hovered over Claire's head as though she'd been stroking the little girl's hair, and Claire was holding a half eaten piece of cake, frosting smeared on her face.

"Claire, go back to the kitchen right now please." In his effort to keep all anger out of his voice, he was afraid that he sounded cold and distant instead, but he could fix that after he dealt with Naomi. Claire stood up obediently. He put a hand on her shoulder as she passed him. "You can finish that," he said, pointing to the cake in her hand, "but no more sweets tonight, okay?" She nodded and left the room. He closed the door behind her and turned on Naomi.

"Castiel," she began in her most condescending, let's-be-reasonable tone.

"Do. You. Have. Any idea what went through my mind when I saw she was gone? Do you?" He didn't yell. His voice was deadly quiet.

"Don't you think you're being a touch melodramatic?"

"No, I really don't. You made me live through my worst nightmare a minute ago, so all things considered, I actually think I'm being remarkably calm."

"I was only trying to help. You were busy, and she seemed bored."

"She is not your child!" This time his voice did rise almost to a shout. He took a deep breath to get himself under control. "She is not your child," he repeated more quietly. "You shouldn't have removed her from where I left her, nor should you have given her sugar without my permission, and you definitely shouldn't have closed the door."

Her eyes widened. "Castiel, you can't seriously be implying that I would do anything inappropriate!"

"It was inappropriate just for you to be in here alone with her without my knowledge or consent, regardless of if anything else happened."

She opened her mouth for another protest, but he cut her off before she could get a word out.

"This is not one of our arguments, Naomi. This is not a discussion or a debate. I am informing you that you crossed a serious line, and if you cross it again, I will quit. Is that perfectly clear?"

For once she was too stunned to get the last word, merely nodding, but Castiel derived no satisfaction from that.

Claire huddled in her chair, knees pulled up to her chest, picking at the remains of her cake. The wary look she gave Castiel when he sat down across from her made him cringe with guilt. He was just screwing everything up today. First Dean, and now this.

"I promise you're not in any trouble, sweetheart. I was scared, not angry." Well, he was angry too, but not at her. Naomi was the adult. "I'm sorry if I scared you too."

She relaxed. He wanted to ask her exactly what Naomi had said and done, but this was neither the time nor the place. He would call Dr. Bradbury tomorrow and ask her advice on how to handle that conversation.

"Are you okay here for a couple more hours? I can take you home if you want." Naomi could go to hell. It was her own fault if Castiel had to leave early.

But she's not the only one to blame, is she? whispered a voice at the back of his mind. You're the one who went out to the dining room to kiss ass and left Claire alone and vulnerable.

Yes, well, I won't be doing that again. He didn't care if the President, the Pope, and the Queen of England were all out there wanting to give their personal compliments to the chef. When Claire was here, he stayed in the kitchen where he could keep an eye on her.

Claire shook her head and tapped the table.

"You want to stay?"

She nodded.

"Okay." He stood up and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "Let me know if you need anything."

He was heartened by the small smile she gave him.

As he returned to work, he noticed that he was getting some odd looks. "Why is everyone looking at me like I grew a second head?" he finally asked Benjamin.

They smiled, that quiet, enigmatic smile of theirs, and flipped a steak on the grill. "That was a side of you we don't often see, chef. Of course we know you're human underneath it all, but it's rare that you let the mask fall like that."

Castiel frowned. He had been too focused on finding Claire to think about it, but now he realized that in his terror he had probably shown more vulnerability than he usually allowed himself in front of his staff.

"It isn't a bad thing," Benjamin added as though reading his mind. "We respect you all the more for seeing how seriously you take your role as a parent." They hesitated, then added, "And we will all try to be better about watching out for her when she's here."

Castiel's heart swelled with an emotion he couldn't quite put a name to. Gratitude didn't seem like an adequate description. "Thank you, but you don't have to do that. She's my responsibility."

Benjamin looked at him and said evenly, "A child's safety is everyone's responsibility."

Castiel couldn't argue with that.

~o0o~

He was so exhausted when he and Claire got home that he expected to fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow, but it was not to be. He stared up at the circling shadows of his ceiling fan, hoping it would hypnotize him or at least slow the hamster wheel of anxiety his brain was stuck on. Nope. He tried laying on Dean's side of the bed, breathing the lingering scent of his lover, but that made the lonely ache in his chest worse. He even tried jerking off. When he had played with his soft cock for five minutes without the slightest response, it started to feel shameful and ridiculous. With a frustrated groan, he pulled his hand out of his pants and got up to wash his hands and make a cup of tea.

He grimaced at the first sip. It wasn't bad exactly, but it was definitely better when Dean made it for him. He really was getting spoiled.

He was leaning against the counter, watching the glowing numbers on the microwave clock and calculating how many hours of sleep he could still get, when his phone started ringing in the bedroom. Who the fuck would be calling him at two in the morning? He left his tea in the kitchen and hurried to answer or silence it before it woke Claire. When he saw the name glowing on the screen in the dark room, he immediately accepted the call. "Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas. So… turns out I'm sick. Sorry I was an ass to you about it." Dean sounded woozy. He was probably a little drunk on cold medicine.

"I suppose it's understandable that it would put you in a bad mood," Castiel said dryly. "After all, it is your first time. You're not accustomed to it."

"Okay, okay," Dean laughed. "Can you just give me a general idea of how much groveling I need to do to get out of the doghouse?"

"No groveling." Castiel sank down on the bed. "Just promise me you'll take better care of yourself in the future. When you don't feel well, pay attention to those signs instead of ignoring them."

"You sound like Sammy."

"Because we both care about you."

"I know," Dean said quietly, "and I promise I'll try."

"Then I forgive you for being an ass to me, but," Castiel hesitated. He didn't want to burden Dean's conscience further, but he also didn't want to let anger and resentment fester in his own heart and poison what he and Dean had. "You also owe Claire an explanation for your behavior. After you stormed off, she asked if we were breaking up."

"Oh, shit," Dean groaned.

"I assured her that it was just a bad day and we would be fine, but I think it would help if she received some reassurance from you as well."

"Yeah, I'll talk to her as soon as I'm not contagious anymore. God, I'm so sorry, Cas. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"A fever will do that to you. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be asleep? You won't get better if you don't rest."

"I know, but I can't sleep." A whine crept into Dean's voice. "I miss you. I hate sleeping alone."

Castiel smiled. "I know the feeling. Would you like me to sing you a lullaby?"

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the phone, and then Dean said softly, "Maybe."

Castiel had been joking, but if that was really what Dean wanted… he cleared his throat. "Look at what's happened to me. I can't believe it myself."

Dean started to laugh, but when Castiel faltered, he said, "No, don't stop."

"Well, if you're going to laugh at me," Castiel said sternly.

"I won't. I'm sorry. I'll be good." There was a faint creaking of bed springs as Dean got comfortable. "Serenade me, Cas."

So Castiel did. He was mildly surprised that he still remembered all the words. When he sang, "This is too good to be true. Look at me falling for you," he knew Dean could hear the genuine emotion in his voice.

As he finished the final chorus, he heard Dean give what sounded like a jaw cracking yawn. "You got a pretty voice, Cas."

Castiel smiled. He was sure that wasn't true. His voice was too deep and raspy to really carry a tune, but he liked that Dean thought it was pretty, so he didn't argue. "Get some sleep, Dean. I'll call tomorrow to check on you. I love you."

"Mmmm. Love you too, baby."

Castiel expected the lonely ache to return as soon as he ended the call, but it didn't. He laid down on Dean's pillow and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

A/N - I'd like to take this opportunity to assure you all that Dean does not have covid. I started writing this story before covid was a word in our vocabulary, and I am determined to keep this little corner of the fanfiction multiverse covid free.