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Entry tags:
SPN: Chicken Soup For The Soul
Fandom: Supernatural
Main characters: Dean, Castiel
Referenced characters: Sam
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Contains: Sap
Rating: G
Summary: Castiel's sick and Dean makes a surprisingly good nursemaid.
Notes: No spoilers. I've hardly seen any of S5. Written because goddamnit I have a sore throat and mucus buildup and I'm probably going to get a cold and I deserve to write self-indulgent sap.
"I hate you," Castiel says, and it's slightly worrying that he doesn't sound delirious at all. He screws up his tissue and pitches it at the trashcan. It misses. Dean picks it up and puts it in there properly. "Nobody ever warned me about... this."
"It's a pretty standard part of human life," Dean says, putting his carrier bag down. "And, hey, at least you're alive, right?"
"That is not comforting," Cas says, after a pause. Dean shrugs.
"Well, this might be," he says, and pulls out a box of something, something that rattles. Castiel quirks an eyebrow at him, sniffing hard again, and Dean opens the packet, fiddles for a moment, and then brings over a small capsule and a glass of water. "Swallow this. Whole. It'll help clear your nose."
"What is it?"
"Sudafed. It won't work miracles, but it'll make you feel better." Dean goes back to the bag and tosses a box of tissues in the direction of the bed. "Give me a minute and I'll bring the trashcan over. I'm tired of picking up your gross tissues."
"Why didn't humans give up a long time ago?" Castiel asks, mournfully, but he takes the capsule and settles back down.
"You'll feel better in a couple of days, trust me." Dean pauses, then grins. "Never pegged you for a drama queen."
"I'm not," Castiel says. "I haven't threatened to smite you yet."
"You couldn't do that, now. Right?"
Castiel stares at him. Dean looks just a little flustered.
"Remember who's making you chicken soup, man. And it's me that buys the cough medicine. I could get you the really foul stuff that tastes like something died in the bottle. Here." Dean tosses him something else. "Throat lozenges. They might help you stop coughing, too. Make your throat feel better. I got you the nice kind."
He doesn't say anything for a moment then, rummaging through the bag. Castiel suspects that he's about to produce more soup, from the clanking of tins. He clears his throat a little, rasping a little when he speaks. "Dean. Thank you."
Dean doesn't turn round. "No problem, man."
"If you had a cold, you would just carry on."
"Probably not. You should hear Sam's stories about what a bitch I am when I've got a cold. Man flu and all that." Dean disappears for a few moments, and then he's back with a mug. "Thought this'd be easier than having it in a bowl. The Sudafed should kick in soon, and then you'll be able to sleep, hopefully."
"Thank you," Castiel says again, and takes the soup. Dean's face is unreadable, but he reaches up for a moment, brushes a pleasantly cool hand over Castiel's forehead, through his hair.
"It's fine, Cas," he says, almost exasperated, but Castiel hears it anyway, the I love you he won't say. "Come on. Soup. Sleep. You need sleep if you're going to get better."
"I hate humans," he says, knowing that Dean hears it anyway, the I love you he's not supposed to say back.
Main characters: Dean, Castiel
Referenced characters: Sam
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Contains: Sap
Rating: G
Summary: Castiel's sick and Dean makes a surprisingly good nursemaid.
Notes: No spoilers. I've hardly seen any of S5. Written because goddamnit I have a sore throat and mucus buildup and I'm probably going to get a cold and I deserve to write self-indulgent sap.
"I hate you," Castiel says, and it's slightly worrying that he doesn't sound delirious at all. He screws up his tissue and pitches it at the trashcan. It misses. Dean picks it up and puts it in there properly. "Nobody ever warned me about... this."
"It's a pretty standard part of human life," Dean says, putting his carrier bag down. "And, hey, at least you're alive, right?"
"That is not comforting," Cas says, after a pause. Dean shrugs.
"Well, this might be," he says, and pulls out a box of something, something that rattles. Castiel quirks an eyebrow at him, sniffing hard again, and Dean opens the packet, fiddles for a moment, and then brings over a small capsule and a glass of water. "Swallow this. Whole. It'll help clear your nose."
"What is it?"
"Sudafed. It won't work miracles, but it'll make you feel better." Dean goes back to the bag and tosses a box of tissues in the direction of the bed. "Give me a minute and I'll bring the trashcan over. I'm tired of picking up your gross tissues."
"Why didn't humans give up a long time ago?" Castiel asks, mournfully, but he takes the capsule and settles back down.
"You'll feel better in a couple of days, trust me." Dean pauses, then grins. "Never pegged you for a drama queen."
"I'm not," Castiel says. "I haven't threatened to smite you yet."
"You couldn't do that, now. Right?"
Castiel stares at him. Dean looks just a little flustered.
"Remember who's making you chicken soup, man. And it's me that buys the cough medicine. I could get you the really foul stuff that tastes like something died in the bottle. Here." Dean tosses him something else. "Throat lozenges. They might help you stop coughing, too. Make your throat feel better. I got you the nice kind."
He doesn't say anything for a moment then, rummaging through the bag. Castiel suspects that he's about to produce more soup, from the clanking of tins. He clears his throat a little, rasping a little when he speaks. "Dean. Thank you."
Dean doesn't turn round. "No problem, man."
"If you had a cold, you would just carry on."
"Probably not. You should hear Sam's stories about what a bitch I am when I've got a cold. Man flu and all that." Dean disappears for a few moments, and then he's back with a mug. "Thought this'd be easier than having it in a bowl. The Sudafed should kick in soon, and then you'll be able to sleep, hopefully."
"Thank you," Castiel says again, and takes the soup. Dean's face is unreadable, but he reaches up for a moment, brushes a pleasantly cool hand over Castiel's forehead, through his hair.
"It's fine, Cas," he says, almost exasperated, but Castiel hears it anyway, the I love you he won't say. "Come on. Soup. Sleep. You need sleep if you're going to get better."
"I hate humans," he says, knowing that Dean hears it anyway, the I love you he's not supposed to say back.