It's A Fool Who Plays It Cool

Dean hears the familiar rustle indicating that Cas has popped in and he turns with a smile that quickly drops off his face when he sees his angel standing there, swaying side to side as if he could barely stand.

"Cas-"

"Dean I believe I am dying," Cas said before his knees went out from under him.

Dean shot forward and caught him, slowing his descent to the floor.  His heart was racing, Cas looked awful, his eyes half lidded, his lips chapped worse than usual, his skin far whiter than what could be considered pale, his nose red…

His nose red.

"Cas… Do you have a cold?"

The angel sniffled miserably, leaning into Dean and pulling his coat around him tighter.  "I don't know.  My head feels heavy and my muscles ache and I can't stop sneezing and my nose leaks."

Dean made a face at that last admission, but carefully hauled Cas up by the armpits.  Cas went, limp as a rag doll, leaning heavily against Dean until Dean gave up trying to get him to stand and half-carried half-dragged him to Dean's bed.  "Ok, first of all, you're not dying, you have a cold, maybe the flu.  Second of all, how are you sick?  Don't you have mojo for this kind of thing?"

Cas sniffled again and the word adorable darted through Dean's brain before he chased it away with a manly chainsaw.  "I think it's because I'm falling.  I'm more human than I once was, and therefore subject to falling ill like one."

Dean sighed.  "Ok, we have to get you out of these clothes."

Cas mustered up enough strength to give Dean a glare.  "Dean I know that you always have thoughts of sex on your mind but this is not the time for intercourse."

He took in Cas's runny nose, bloodshot eyes, and comically stuffy voice.  He'd never thought there would be a time when his mind was on doing anything other than having sex with Cas, but right now all he wanted to do was take care of him.  "Not for sex Cas," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed to undo Cas's tie.  "You need more comfortable clothes when you're sick, the suit and tie gotta go."

Cas nodded and sat up, shucking out of the trench coat and suit jacket.  He shivered and Dean noticed his white shirt was heavy with sweat.  Dean pulled the tie off and got up, motioning at Cas's shirt and pants as he turned to his duffel.  "Those too.  Down to your underwear."  Cas made a soft noise of protest but he began to strip anyway.  Dean dug around in his duffel bag for a moment before pulling out a hoodie.

He turned back to Cas who was sitting in the middle of the bed, shivering pathetically.  "Here," he said gently, handing him the hoodie.  "Put this on and get under the covers, I'll be right back."  He waited until Cas was pulling the hoodie over his head before grabbing his phone and going outside.  He hit the speed dial for Sam and listened the ring.

"Hey, I'm probably gonna be researching for another hour, so if you want some pie you're gonna have to get it yourself," Sam said by way of greeting.

"I wasn't calling for pie.  Cas is sick, do you think you could swing by and get some soup and some Nyquil before you come back?  Also, you may want to get another motel room, he's all sniffly."

Sam was silent for a moment and Dean tapped his foot, impatient for a reply.  "That is so freaking cute," Sam finally said.

"You think Cas being sick is cute?" Dean asked incredulously as he leaned against the door.

"Of course not.  I think you caring enough about him to take care of him when he's sick is cute.  Adorable even."  Dean can hear the smirk on Sam's face.

"Shut up.  How many times has he taken care of me after a hunt?"

"Oh come on Dean, this isn't a back scratching situation.  You're taking care of him because you love him."

"Hey!" Dean snapped.  "We don't use the 'l' word!"

"Whatever.  In answer to your question, yes I will bring the one true love of your life some soup and medicine when I come back to the motel."

Dean rolled his eyes but felt relieved.  Cas needed those things but he didn't want to leave him to go get them.  "Thanks man."

"Anytime, angel-lover," Sam said before hanging up.  Dean rolled his eyes again before pushing the door open and going back into the motel room.  In his absence Cas had put his hoodie on and gotten under the covers, only he had cocooned himself into the duvet instead of just laying under it.

Dean smiled and kicked his boots off, shucking out of his overshirt on the way to the bed.  He laid down next to the angel-turned-caterpillar, wrapping his arms around the bundle the best he could.  Cas peeled his eyelids opened and looked out him, sniffling quietly.  "Go away," he demanded, scooting closer despite his words.  "I'll make you sick."

"No you won't," Dean said, tucking Cas's head under his chin.  "Sam's bringing you soup and cough syrup later, but for now you should just rest."

"Mm, I don't know if I'll be able to sleep," Cas mumbled.

Dean ran his fingers through the sweaty hair at the nape of Cas's neck.  He remembers a time long, long ago when he was a very small boy, and his mom would sing him to sleep.

"Hey Jude," he began, his voice so soft only Cas would be able to hear it, had there been anyone else in the room.  "Don't make it bad.  Take a sad song and make it better…"