weary_head | (no subject)

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phlegm

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The tightness in his chest of the first three days had been irritating enough, but now things were just out and out gross. The island was temperate enough that Dean couldn't remember ever taking sick here, but it seemed his body had decided to make up for lost time. He was achy and sore, not enough to be flulike but enough to be annoying as hell. On the third day after waking up feeling like ass he'd wandered down for his shift at the clinic and promptly hacked a big blog of green gunk onto Rollie's shoe. Thank god he hadn't been wearing sandals, or Dean thought there might have been some actual kicking involved when Rollie turned him out again.

So now he was shiftless, and, by virtue of his roommate, temporarily homeless. Dean would cut off his foot before he got Roger sick, and had wasted no time in gathering up his necessities, bundling them into a bag slung neatly over his shoulder.

But where would he go? Twerp didn't need his hacking, so that ruled out his father's hut. Jess and Sam probably didn't want their perfect love punctuated by the sound of rattling phlegm, so that ruled them out, too. That really only left just one place Dean could go and stay near to his family.

"Cas!" he shouted, doubling over in the next moment for a bout of inspired wheezing. He lifted a wobbly hand to bang on the door. "Hey, you in here?"

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"Yes," Castiel called, and a moment later the door opened a crack. He was smiling, but nervously, and beckoned Dean without opening the door much further. "Dean, come in, hurry."

"Okay..." Dean drawled out, following with none of the speed with which Castiel had disappeared again. "What, you got a lady in here or something?" He chuckled to himself. "My man..."

"No, Dean," Castiel said, and flushed, looking away. He cleared his throat and tried to compose himself, closing the door swiftly behind Dean.

"I'm trying to make a friend."

It was that point in which a squirrel, startled by the commotion, tore across the room, scaling the wall halfway up before disappearing behind a dresser.

Dean's hand flew to his side, but the gun wasn't there, it was wrapped up tight inside his bag. Probably just as well. He couldn't draw on a squirrel and keep his street cred.

He turned an irritated look on Castiel. "You've been here like, a week. How the hell do you have rodents already?"

Castiel shifted on his feet, glancing worriedly at the dresser.

"I invited him in," he said, unable to hold back a smile. "To see if he wants to be my companion."

Edited 2009-06-15 00:51 (UTC)

"You invited a squirrel?" Dean walked forward to the dresser, jiggling it in an effort to scare out the squirrel. "What the hell for?"

"Dean! You'll frighten him!" Castiel said, moving to stop Dean. He was too late, the squirrel ran out from behind the dresser and across the room, ducking behind a chair.

"Humans enjoy animal companions. I was curious," Castiel said, head hanging a little from the squirrel's behavior. "And he has a...cute tail."

"And teeth and probably rabies." Dean felt dizzy, but pressing a hand to his head it felt more like good old fashioned frustration than the cold. "You can't pick just any animal," he explained through gritted teeth. "Some of them aren't meant for - for - human companionship."

"Dean," Castiel interrupted, frowning in a disturbingly intense manner. He pushed Dean's hand out of his way and replaced it with his own. "Are you ill? You feel hot, and your skin is pale."

"Yeah, I got a cold," said Dean, reaching up to peel Castiel's hand away. "It's nothing bad, but I can't stay at home." He peers up at Castiel, not through his lashes but only just. "Can I stay here with you?"

In the corner the squirrel chittered at them both. "In your Animal Kingdom?"

"Of course you can," Castiel said quickly, cheeks warm, his expression touched before worry took over. "I don't...I'm not very familiar with human illness, but I believe you should be in bed, correct?" He took Dean's bag from him, and tried to usher the taller man toward the bed.

"I tried that," said Dean, shuffling forward anyway. "It's boring without a tv." But Castiel's bed did look comfortable, which figured. It'd belonged to a girl before it had him, it probably still smelled good and everything.

Dean sat down on the edge, temples throbbing. "This blows."

"Take off your pants," Castiel said. "And please watch out for the rabbit."

Dean sat upright, hands crisscrossed over his chest. "Dude. I have heard some dirty pickup lines, but that one...that one just does not even make sense." Maybe it was the fever, but he was seriously starting to rethink this. First squirrels, now gay rabbit euphemisms? Maybe he should have gotten to know the guy better before showing up on his door. Or at least tested him for sexual deviancy.

Castiel set Dean's bag down next to the bed and sighed. "I know you are accustomed to sleeping in your pants, but I've found it's much more comfortable if you take them off first."

His hands reached for Dean's belt buckle, to help him.

Dean swatted his hands away. "I can do it, okay?" He wriggled a few feet down the bed and turned around, undoing his pants where the angel wouldn't see.

Shrugging his pants off almost defiantly, Dean had to admit he was more comfortable after. He lay down, face squashed against the pillow, then reached for the corner of the blanket. He pulled a triangle shaped portion of it over him and sighed. "So what was that about a rabbit?"

Castiel tucked Dean in more fully, making sure he was covered to his chin.

"I found a rabbit, I believe she has made a home for herself under my bed. I was thinking of naming her Soft, because she is very soft."

Black Dog was a black dog, after all. Angelo was an angelic cat. If this was the trend when naming a pet, Castiel thought he'd done a good job.

"Rabbit'd make a better pet," Dean had to admit. "People do that. But they're not real interactive, not like a cat or a dog. Also?" From his blanket serape, Dean raised a brow. "Your name sucks."

"I don't know where to find a cat or dog," Castiel said, and deflated a little. He found he reacted to things now he wouldn't have before, like what Dean said to him held even more weight.

A name shouldn't matter, but it felt personal. Castiel wanted this Dean to like him, he cared for him a great deal even if it wasn't the Dean he had saved from Hell. He wanted to be the sort of human Dean would admire, as Castiel had admired him.

Dean eyed him. When it became clear that Castiel was working himself into a funk that could rival one of Sam's, he cleared his throat.

"It's 'cause it's too literal. Yeah, he's soft, but you can't go around calling him what he is. Most kids with a bunny would probably call it Fluffy. Or Fuzzy. Something like soft but not so dry, right?"

"But you named your black dog Black Dog," Castiel pointed out, trying to understand the logic behind pet naming.

Edited 2009-06-15 05:08 (UTC)

"Technically, he named himself that," said Dean, "and Angua translated. We kept it because it's a kickass Zeppelin song."

Castiel's eyes widened. "She can speak with animals?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Just dogs," said Dean, rubbing a hand over his chest like he could keep the tickle from becoming a full blown coughing session. "She was a werewolf in her world."

Castiel watched Dean for a long moment, taking that in. Dean was in a relationship with who wasn't even human? It wasn't the answer Castiel had expected, it was not something he would think Dean, big as his heart was, would do.

Castiel placed a hand on Dean's chest, near his own. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked, instead of addressing Dean's statement.

Dean was getting used to that, this way of Castiel's that had him all up in Dean's space all the time, and he didn't shrug him off. It'd have made him cough up a lung, anyway.

"Dude, I'm stealing your bed. I think that's probably enough for now." He looked Castiel over, remembering the way he'd stood there in the snow with a doofy smile on his face. "You're not feeling funky, are you?"

"Funky?" Castiel echoed, and thought it over. He was still struggling with finding ways to describe the things he felt. He couldn't ecen explain them all to himself. "I only feel worry for your condition, and pleased that you came here."

Dean gave him a tired grin. "You won't be for long," he said, tugging Castiel's blanket around himself. "I'm told I'm a whiny sick person."

"I...am used to your moods," Castiel said, and there was a very tiny smile threatening to break his somber expression.

"You're saying you agree with them?" Dean chuckled, earning himself a wheeze. "Hurts my heart, Cas."

Castiel knows what he means, but covers Dean's heart with a hand, anyway. He tries to summon the power to heal him, still finding it hard to believe it's all fruitless.

"This is the first I've seen you sick," he admits. He's seen Dean bloody and bruised, tubes in his nose, bones broken. Spirit broken. But never a cold.

He supposes this is better, comparatively.

"You're remarkably healthy for someone with such an appalling diet."

"You liked the pie," Dean replied, too tired of peeling Castiel's hands off of him to bother this time. "Tell me you didn't like the pie. You want to eat it all the time."

Castiel's hand smoothed up the front of the blanket, tucking it just a little farther toward Dean's chin. He touched Dean's neck, then his forehead, and rested his hand in Dean's hair. The Dean he knew would never allow it, only ever seemed to relax in sleep. This Dean was different...lighter. Castiel felt his heart swell with some emotion he couldn't describe, to see Dean so happy, even in illness.

"Yes, I liked the pie. I think three slices was too much. Things happened afterward that was a little...disturbing."

The pressure against his head eased the ache there a little, and Dean let himself relax back against the pillow. "That's what Pepto's for. Haven't found an island substitute yet, but..." Dean yawned. "M'working on it."

"Try to sleep, Dean," Castiel said, voice a low rumble, hand smoothing over his hair, almost petting it. He'd seen mothers do this with their children, he hoped it was a comfort.

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