So this is going to be a destiel fic, set right after they get Dean back from being possessed by Michael in season 14. I haven't watched any of this season in a while so there will probably be some inaccuracies. This is also super self indulgent and not entirely canon or character accurate. It is also very long. Just FYI.
Note: This is fluffier than I usually write destiel because I feel like it's not super character accurate but oh well.
TW: depictions of vomit
"Woah dude, are you alright?" Sam asked as Dean walked into the dining room. It was almost noon, but Sam hadn't been surprised that Dean wasn't up yet. After all he'd been through hell the past few weeks. But Dean looked like hell too.
Dean shrugged, slumping down into a chair, which was... uncharacteristic to say the least. No snarky retort or eyeroll. Not to mention that he was ghostly pale with dark circles under his eyes, gaunt almost, with a sheen of sweat shining on his forehead.
"You want some coffee?" Sam nudged his mug forward toward Dean.
"Mm, no," Dean shook his head, quickly pushing the mug away from him back toward Sam.
"Hey, what's going on man?" Sam asked, leaning forward in his chair. Dean turning down coffee? Something must really be wrong.
"Feel like I got run over by a truck," Dean mumbled, dropping his head down into his hands, as if he could barely hold it up.
"Yeah, I'd say you look about like that too," Sam teased, expecting an eye roll or a smack. But Dean didn't even react.
"Seriously Dean, what's wrong?" Sam asked, feeling genuinely worried now.
"Don't know. Feel awful," Dean mumbled, shrugging.
Frowning, Sam stood up and walked to the kitchen to get Dean a glass of water. They could at least start there.
"Here, I got you some water," Sam said, setting it down on the table in front of Dean.
Warily, Dean picked up the glass and brought it to his lips with a shaky hand to take a sip. But almost instantly he set it down harshly, water splashing over the side onto the table. His face went a shade paler, which Sam hadn't thought was possible.
"Dean?" Sam asked, reaching over to grab his brother's shoulder.
But Dean stood quickly, knocking over his chair in the process, and bolted out of the room and down the hall. Sam blinked in surprise, confused, until he heard Dean retching. Shit.
Sam followed Dean down the hall to the bathroom, finding the door open. He stepped inside to find Dean hunched over the toilet. Dean coughed, which morphed into a gag, and brought up what looked like just stomach acid and bile.
"Jesus Dean," Sam breathed, moving to sit on the edge of the bathtub behind Dean. Tentatively, he reached out a hand to rest on his brother's shoulder, unsure if the touch would be wanted. Dean was stubborn, and usually when he was sick he didn't want any help from anyone, especially Sam. But to his surprise, Dean didn't react.
In fact, Dean just groaned, slumping over even further to drop his head down onto his arm. His body continued to convulse with heaves, but nothing was coming up anymore.
"Dude, I think you're done. Maybe you should go lay down, seems like you've got one hell of a bug," Sam said, squeezing Dean's shoulder.
"Can't" Dean groaned.
'Can't what?' Sam wondered. Can't leave the bathroom? Can't move? Dean didn't answer.
"Well lets at least get off the toilet" Sam said, pulling Dean's shoulder back until he was leaning up against the wall behind him.
He stood up to grab a thermometer from their medicine cabinet and checked Dean's temperature. 102.3. Yikes. No wonder he felt so sick.
"You need to take something for that fever, here," Sam said, opening their medicine cabinet to grab the ibuprofen. He poured out three pills and held them out to Dean, who swallowed them dry.
"You think you could drink some water?" Sam asked.
"No," Dean said quickly, shaking his head.
"Okay, we'll try later," Sam sighed. Hopefully the meds would do their job. "Do you want to go back to bed?" he asked.
Dean shook his head, swallowing convulsively. He must still be feeling nauseous.
"Well how about you at least lay down in here then," Sam suggested. Dean didn't answer, which Sam took to be an acceptance of the suggestion.
"I'm gonna go get you a pillow and blanket, okay? I'll be right back," Sam said.
When he returned, Dean didn't look like he'd moved at all. Still slumped over the toilet, shivering now. Sam reached over to lay the pillow down and set the blanket down next to them.
"Alright, here, why don't you lay down," Sam said. Wordlessly, Dean flopped down onto the pillow, silent as Sam draped the blanket over him, then reached up to flush the toilet.
"Do you need anything else?" Sam asked, feeling somewhat helpless. He'd never really had to take care of Dean, because Dean had never let him.
Dean didn't answer, his eyes had drifted shut. If he wouldn't drink any water, sleep was probably the next best thing he could do.
"Alright, just rest then. Hopefully you'll feel better when you wake up," Sam said.
But then Dean mumbled something. All Sam caught was 'Cas'.
"Cas?" Sam asked, "What about Cas?"
"I want Cas," Dean mumbled again. Sam's heart dropped. The fever must be so high it's making him delirious. He'd never say that in front of Sam in his right mind.
"Cas isn't here right now," Sam answered. "I can call him and see when he'll be back," he added, seeing Dean's face fall. His eyes were glassy, which was probably from the fever, but he looked like he was almost near tears. "I'll, uh, be right back okay? Hang in there," Sam said awkwardly as he stepped out of the room.
He pulled out his phone and called Cas, who answered after a few rings.
"Hello Sam,"
"Hey, Cas, where are you at?" Sam asked, not sure how to approach this conversation.
"I'm at the store doing a supply run, why?" Cas asked, understandably confused. Sam wouldn't normally call Cas out of the blue.
"Do you know when you'll be back?" Sam asked.
"Well I still have a few more errands to run... Sam what's going on?" Cas asked.
"Uh Dean's sick. Like pretty bad actually, I've never seen him like this," Sam finally explained.
"That makes sense," Cas said, "His body and his immune system are likely weak after being possessed by Michael for so long," he explained.
Sam hadn't thought about that, it did make sense. Dean was more or less dormant inside his own head while Michael was in control, so his own systems have been unused for a while and probably are weak. But Cas surprisingly didn't seem very concerned.
"He's throwing up, and he seems weak. He's got a fever of over 102," Sam went on.
"Did you want me to pick something up for him while I'm out?" Cas asked, still not understanding the gravity of the situation.
"He asked for you," Sam said.
Cas was silent for a moment at that.
"He asked for me?" Cas repeated.
"Yes. He's laying on the bathroom floor looking like he could cry or pass out at any moment and he said 'I want Cas'," Sam explained.
"I'll be home soon," Cas said, then abruptly hung up. Phone calls with Cas were always interesting. But at least he'd finally gotten how serious this was.
Although Sam knew that Cas and Dean were... something... it wasn't exactly out in the open. Sam had suspected for a long time, but had gotten somewhat of a confirmation from Cas a few years ago when Sam caught him coming out of Dean's room in pajamas one morning. Cas had reluctantly told Sam that although they'd never given it a label they were more or less 'together'.
Cas had also asked Sam to keep the conversation to himself, which is a promise he'd kept. He figured that if Dean wanted him to know he'd tell Sam himself. And so far he hadn't.
So for Dean to ask Sam for Cas like that, meant that he was really really sick.
Sam headed back into the bathroom, thankfully finding Dean in the same position he'd left him in, huddled under a blanket on the floor. He sat down on the floor near Dean's feet, leaning back against the bathtub.
"I just talked to Cas and he'll be back soon okay?" Sam said, reaching out to give his brothers leg a gentle pat. Dean groaned in response and curled in on himself further.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Dean suddenly shot up and lurched over the toilet, vomiting stomach acid and bile. He was clearly empty, with nothing left to bring up, but his body didn't seem to know that. He retched harshly, making Sam wince. It looked and sounded painful.
With the next heave Dean pitched forward so far he almost smacked his forehead on the toilet seat. Sam quickly reached out and grabbed Dean by the shoulder, holding him up as he continued to gag emptily.
"Oh Dean," Cas said sadly, appearing in the doorway. "I got him," he said, moving forward to take Sam's place.
Sam stood, letting go of Dean, as Cas swiftly took his place. Cas slid in behind Dean, wrapping one arm around Dean's chest to hold him up and placing the other hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing up and down his spine.
Almost instantly, Sam saw Dean relax a little. Even as he continued to retch and heave, he allowed himself to lean fully into Cas's arm, letting Cas take his weight.
"Cas?" Dean whispered, voice raw, as soon as he was able to breathe.
"I'm here Dean," Cas said, pulling Dean away from the toilet to lean back against his chest. "Shh, just relax," he said softly, reaching up to brush Dean's sweat damp hair off of his face.
"Could you grab a rag and wet it down a little?" Cas asked, turning his attention to Sam for a moment.
Sam nodded, quickly stepping out of the bathroom to grab a wash cloth from their hall closet. He brought it back, wetting it with cool water under the sink.
"Here you go," he said, handing it to Cas.
"Thank you Sam," Cas said, taking the rag and pressing it to Dean's forehead, to which Dean audibly sighed, leaning forward into Cas's hand. Cas gently dragged the rag over Dean's face before setting it on the back of his neck.
"He's burning up," Cas said to Sam.
Sam nodded, "I know," he winced.
"What did you say his fever was?" Cas asked.
"It was over 102 when I checked," Sam said, already reaching for the thermometer to check it again. He cringed when the screen showed 103.1, turning it around to show Cas.
Sam and Cas exchanged a glance, silently asking if this warranted a trip to the hospital. After a moment, Sam shook his head. For people like them, with no real identity, no insurance, the hospital wasn't really an option unless it was life or death. They weren't there yet.
"He needs to drink something. Maybe you'll have better luck than I did," Sam said, grabbing the glass of water from the counter and handing it to Cas.
"Dean? How are you doing?" Cas asked.
"Don't feel good Cas," Dean groaned, his words slurred.
"I know," Cas sighed, "Maybe you should try drinking some water, it might help," he tried.
"Mmm no," Dean shook his head.
"You're dehydrated Dean, it will help," Cas tried again.
"I can't," Dean rasped, sounding so small.
"Come on darling, just one drink. For me?" Cas practically pleaded.
Sam's eyes went wide at the pet name, but he didn't say anything. Even though he'd known for years now that this was... whatever it was... but seeing it so openly like this was still kind of a shock.
But apparently Cas's pleading was enough. Dean finally gave a hesitant nod. Cas carefully brought the cup to Dean's lips and tilted it slowly to give Dean a small sip.
They all waited apprehensively to see if the water would stay down, and it seemed like Dean's body was at least willing to accept one single sip of water. Sam counted it as a win for now.
"We still need to get his fever down," Cas said, frowning as he pressed the back of his hand to Dean's cheek, feeling the warmth.
Sam nodded, sighing, as he tried to think of anything else they could do. He racked his brain to try and come up with what Dean would've done if the roles had been reversed. That was when he remembered.
"When I was really sick during the trials, I got a super high fever and passed out this one time, so Dean put me in a cold bath. I think it worked cause I remember waking up and being a lot more coherent," Sam explained.
"Let's try it," Cas nodded in agreement.
Sam reached over to pull the stopper on the tub and turn on the water. He remembered reading somewhere that you shouldn't put a person with a fever in a cold bath, cause it can cause shock or something, but it just needed to be a little cooler than their body temperature. So Sam adjusted the temperature until the water felt lukewarm, then waited as the tub filled.
"Alright, I think that should be cool enough but hopefully not too cold," Sam said.
"Okay, help me move him so I can get up," Cas said.
Sam moved to stand in front of his brother, looping his arms under Dean's. He pulled him forward just enough so that Cas could slide out from behind him, then gently leaned him against the wall.
"Hey Dean," Cas said softly, crouching down in front of Dean to be at his eye level.
Dean cracked an eye open, "Cas I'm scared," he whispered.
Cas closed his eyes for a second, heart aching for Dean. Sam was right, he'd never seen Dean like this either.
"I know," Cas said sadly, reaching up to cup Dean's face in his hand.
"Why is this happening to me?" Dean asked, a tear slipping down his cheek.
"Your body is just recovering from being Michael's vessel. You'll be okay, I promise. I'll take care of you, okay?" Cas said, swiping the tear away with his thumb.
"Okay," Dean said quietly.
"We're gonna put you in the bath now, to get your fever down alright? It's going to be uncomfortable, but you'll feel better after," Cas explained.
Dean nodded, eyes looking glazed in a way that told Sam he wasn't really even comprehending what Cas was saying. He'd probably go along with anything right now.
"Lift your arms," Cas instructed gently, pulling Dean's t-shirt off.
That was when Sam realized that Cas was going to be taking his brothers clothes off. When Sam had been sick, Dean had put him in the bathtub with his clothes on. But Cas didn't need to do that because Cas was Dean's... person? Close enough.
"Uh, Cas, do you, uh-? Sam asked, trailing off.
"I got it, Sam," Cas nodded, understanding that Sam was asking if he was needed here.
Sam didn't need to be told twice, quickly exiting the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. Although he was very worried about his brother, he didn't need to see him naked and being helped into the bathtub by his... angel? No, that one doesn't seem quite right.
Once Sam was gone, Cas helped Dean to his feet. Dean was shaky, but Cas held tightly around his back, keeping him steady as he pushed Dean's sweats and boxers down off his hips.
"Alright, step up with this leg," Cas instructed, tapping Dean's right hip.
Obediently, Dean lifted his leg and stepped into the water. When Cas tapped his other hip, he shifted his weight - with Cas's help - and stepped fully into the bathtub.
"No, Cas-" Dean gasped as Cas lowered him down into the water.
"I know, I know it's cold, I'm sorry. We have to bring your fever down though," Cas explained, reaching out to run his fingers through Dean's hair.
"C-cas," Dean said through chattering teeth, already shivering with lips tinged blue.
"I'm right here," Cas said, quickly grabbing one of Dean's hands in his. Dean leaned toward him, head coming to rest on Cas's shoulder.
"I've got you," Cas continued, draping an arm over Dean's shoulders, feeling how violently he was shivering. Cas's heart ached. He could hardly stand it, but he knew he needed to leave Dean in there for at least a couple minutes to get his temperature down.
When Dean let out a muffled sob into Cas's now very damp shoulder, he decided that was enough.
"Let's get you out okay?" he said, standing up. Dean whimpered, reaching for him. "You're okay," Cas said, wrapping an arm around Dean to help him out of the water.
It was even harder getting him out than it had been getting him in, because now he was shaking violently. But Cas managed to get him out and dried off. Dean was still shivering when Cas ran to grab him a fresh pair of clothes.
When Cas returned though, the shivering had slowed, and some color had returned to his lips and face. His eyes were clearer too, more aware.
"Cas?" he asked, as Cas set the clothes down on the counter.
"Hello Dean," Cas said, reaching out to cup Dean's cheek with his hand. The warmth was still there, but he no longer felt like he was burning with fever. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
Dean sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned into Cas's touch for a moment. "Not great," he answered, opening his eyes to look up at Cas.
"You're pretty sick," Cas nodded, moving to run his fingers through Dean's hair before reaching over to grab the clothes he'd grabbed for Dean.
Although shaky, Dean was able to stand and get himself dressed, which was a large improvement over the state he'd been in just a few minutes ago.
"What happened?" Dean asked, sinking down heavily to sit on the closed toilet lid.
Cas sat down on the edge of the bathtub, facing Dean. "Your fever got so high we had to stick you in a cold bath to bring it down," Cas explained.
"We?" Dean asked.
"Sam," Cas said, "I wasn't here this morning but he called saying you were really sick."
Dean was quiet for a minute, processing. "So Sam saw me...?" Dean trailed off, not wanting to say what he was thinking.
"Naked? No. He took care of you until I got back but I sent him away before undressing you," Cas said.
Dean winced. "So he knows now I guess," he said.
"Dean, he already knew," Cas told him.
"What? Did you tell him?" Dean snapped, although there wasn't much bite. He was still too tired.
"He came to check on you one night, when you were having a nightmare, yelling woke him up. And he saw me laying with you. Once you'd calmed down I went to talk to him. Tell him that I'd just woken up from the yelling and come to check on you too. But Dean, he already knew. Said he'd suspected it for years," Cas explained.
"Oh," Dean said, confused. "I thought we kept it hidden well enough," he said.
"Apparently not," Cas chuckled.
"Well I guess there's no use hiding it now," Dean said.
"I guess not," Cas agreed, "Now let's get you to bed, your body needs rest to heal," he said, standing up and holding his hands out to Dean.
Dean hesitated, "I still feel a little nauseous."
"I'll put a bin next to the bed in case you need to be sick again," Cas said.
Dean thought for a moment, then seemed to accept that answer. He grabbed Cas's hands, letting himself be pulled to his feet. Dean swayed, vision darkening for a moment. But Cas was right there, wrapping an arm around Dean's waist to hold him steady as his vision cleared. Jesus. Dean's legs felt like jello, he wasn't sure he could make it to his bedroom.
"We'll take it nice and slow," Cas said, as if reading Dean's mind.
With Cas's hand pressed against Dean's lower back and his other hand on Dean's arm, they made their way slowly down the hallway to Dean's room. Cas helped Dean lay down, pulling the quilt up over him. Then he grabbed the trash can from the corner of the room and set it next to the bed, just in case.
Cas sat down at the edge of the bed, carding his fingers through Dean's hair. "Close your eyes," he said.
Dean sighed, but did as he was told. "I'm okay Cas. I can feel you worrying," he said.
"I'm allowed to worry about you," Cas answered. "And you're allowed to let me."
Dean didn't say anything. He wanted to protest, honestly, but he was so tired. His stomach still ached and his head pounded, but sleep pulled at him anyway. And so for once in his life, Dean gave in, and let someone else worry about him for a change.
