Destiel Advent 2012


Dean spends all night camped outside a vampire nest, getting completely soaked and is exhausted by the time he chops off the last vampires head. Two days later he has the worst cold he's ever had and Sam leaves him in bed with a warm towel on his forehead and two blankets wrapped around him.

Castiel pops in a few hours later, forcing Dean out of the deep slumber he's been in all day. "What's wrong with you?"

"'m sick," Dean sniffles.

"Why didn't you call me?" Castiel asks pressing the back of his hand against Dean's cheek to check his temperature.

"What could you have done?" Dean and turns over so Castiel will leave him alone. "Your batteries are running low."

"I'm sure I can handle one little cold," Castiel bristles at Dean's doubt. "I'm not completely useless yet."

"I don't think your useless," Dean sighs but it comes out nasally. "I just don't want you to waste whats left of your mojo on-"

Dean is cut off by Castiel pressing two fingers to the back of his neck and the cold sensation that spread through his body. His nose suddenly works and the aches in his joints disappear.



"You weren't supposed to do that!" He shouts, kicking all the blankets off the bed. "You're supposed to be conserving what's left of your grace."

"It is my grace, I'll do whatever I want with it," Castiel tells him firmly, not liking that Dean is ordering him around instead of being grateful. "Besides, what's the worse that would happen?"

As it turn out the worst case scenario happens a few days later. Castiel healed Dean but that was a blow to what was left of his angel powers and next time the brothers saw him he had a runny nose and cheeks red with fever.

"This is ridiculous," Castiel groaned. "I fought my way through hell and now I've been brought down by a tiny virus."

Unfortunately for Dean, Castiel was a big baby when he was sick. Granted it was the first time he'd ever been sick so Dean cut him some slack but Castiel was making it hard. "Hate to say I told you so."

"Do not mock me, Dean." Castiel swatted at Dean's hand and sent the Vix Vapour Rub he was holding crashing to the ground. "I am still an angel."

"You're sick," Dean sat down next to Castiel and pulls the covers up over his shoulders. "When people are sick, they're supposed to let people take care of them."

"You didn't let me take care of you," Castiel said weakly, blowing into a tissue and tossing it in the trash.

"Well now's your chance to show what a better man then me you are." The microwave beeps and Dean gets up and walks to the tiny attached kitchen.

"My brothers and sisters warned me about you," Castiel grumbles into his pillow and Dean rolls his eyes. "They said nothing good would come from associating with you."

Dean takes the bowl of soup out of the microwave and stirred it a few times while Castiel continues to complain in the background. "They told me bad things would happen if I got to close to you."

Dean sits back down on the bed and places the soup on the nightstand. "Now look at me."

"Okay, okay, don't be so dramatic. It's just a tiny cold."

"Dean, are you aware how many people die from influenza each year in America alone?" Castiel pauses, probably to add drama, while Dean searches for the Vapour rub. "Over thirty thousand."

"You don't have influenza, Cas."

"It feels like influenza." Castiel pulls the blanket over his head.

Dean gets on his knees and reaches under the bed, finally finding the bottle and reaches up to pull the blanket off Castiel. "Get on your back."

"I just want to sleep." Castiel doesn't budge but he's week enough that it's easy for Dean to push him on his back. "Dean, please."

"Just wait a bit," Dean orders. He unbuttons Castiel's shirt then smears the semi-clear sludge all over his chest.

"This smells horrible."

"I know. I'm sorry babe, you'll feel better soon," Dean promises. He wipes his hand off on the foot of the bed and bunches the blankets around Castiel's waist. "You should eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"It's good." Dean stirs the soup again and gently blows on the hot spoonful. "I used to make this for Sam when he was sick."

Castiel grimaces but sits up a bit to look at the soup. "What is it?" "Half chicken noodle, half vegetable. Guaranteed to be the best soup in the world."

"That's putting a lot of pressure on a soup from a can." Dean holds the spoon in front of the angel's lips and even though he still looks a little doubtful he opens his mouth. Half way through the bowl, Castiel's eyes begin to droop and Dean puts the bowl back on the night table. He grabs a washcloths and goes back to the bed to wipe Castiel's chest clean so he can pull the covers around him, he can tell that Castiel is struggling to stay awake." Dean will you stay with me?"

"Course I will." Dean pushes the blanket around Castiel, creating a tight cocoon to keep him warm.

"Will you hold me while I sleep," he yawns.

"That's not going to happen, you're sick and smell like Vapour rub." Dean expects Castiel to argue but he only hears soft breathing instead, Castiel out like a light

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