Supernatural Oneshots

Two-> Sick Destiel

2
Dean woke up slowly, his head throbbing. "Oof." He groaned, clutching his skull, feeling like it was about to shatter. Castiel looked over at him. "Are you alright, Dean?" Dean shook his head, only to stop after a moment, holding his head even tighter. He rolled over and curled slightly into a ball. Castiel came to kneel beside him. "You're warm." He said matter of factly, putting his cool hand on Dean's forehead. Dean moaned softly as his hand left, and Castiel went into the bathroom to grab a thermometer. "Say ah." Dean opened his mouth. Castiel maneuvered the thermometer under his tongue, letting it rest there for a rather uncomfortable moment before it beeped. "Dean, I believe you are sick." He frowned. Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Cas. Just let me get up." Dean sat up, immediately wishing he hadn't done so. "You are sick, Dean Winchester. Now lay down and rest." Castiel commanded, sounding much like an unsatisfied housewife. He pushed Dean onto the bed and left to go make his man crush some soup. He whistled quietly to himself as he dug through the bunker for some pots. Finally finding one, and deeming it clean, Castiel put it on the stove and rummaged through the cupboards for soup. "Chicken noodle or tomato?" He yelled. He heard Dean tell back, "chicken," and opened it. "He's my cherry pie!" He sang with a grin. Since he had lost his grace, Castiel had taken a liking to Dean's music. And to Dean, of course. Everything about Dean seemed to strike the fallen angel as whimsical, and Castiel enjoyed the feelings he experienced. He did not, however, enjoy them when he wanted to tell Dean about those feelings. He knew if he ever did confide in Dean, it would not be reciprocated, and might even make things awkward between the two.  He furrowed his brows, stirring the soup occasionally so as not to burn it. (Like Dean's mother. On the ceiling. No, I am not sorry.) "Cas....!" Dean called. Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm coming, Dean." He replied calmly. He finished up the soup, turned off the flame, and filled a bowl about halfway with chicken noodle soup. He plopped a spoon into the food and walked carefully back to Dean. Dean slowly raised himself to sit against the headboard of his bed, smiling giddily, as though he were a small child on Christmas morning. He eagerly took the soup and moaned lightly when it instantly made his cold seem less death-like. "Thanks, Cas." Dean grinned fondly. "N-no problem, Dean." Castiel replied, slightly lost in the forest green eyes staring so happily back at him. He cleared his throat. "Is it good?" Dean nodded a bit, still trying not to aggravate his headache. "It's like Mom used to make." He said sadly. Castiel smiled. "I'm glad you approve." Dean quickly polished off his soup, setting it on the stand beside his bed with a satisfied smirk. He patted the bed next to him. "Come here, Cas." Dean requested. Castiel tilted his head for a moment, then complied to Dean's wishes and sat awkwardly near the man. He positioned himself over the side of the bed. "Cas..." Dean laughed quietly, grabbing Castiel gently and leaning him down onto the bed. Castiel allowed his head to rest on top of Dean'ss taut and muscular stomach. "Wanna watch some tv?" Dean asked, his voice slightly clipped. Castiel frowned in concentration. "Sure." He answered, wondering why Dean was acting so strangely. "I think Dr. Sexy might be on." Dean suggested. Castiel did not reply. Dean sighed and flipped the show on, resting his hands behind his head.

"Dean, why is your hand in my hair?" "Huh?" Dean asked, looking down at his hand, finding it curling into Castiel's impossibly dark hair. He flushed intensely, yanking his hand back. "Ow." Castiel scowled. "Sorry." Dean apologized, realizing he'd pulled Castiel's hair.

-smooth, Dean- he thought.

"Ugh, how long was I asleep?" Castiel asked, rubbing his eyes from sleep. Dean shrugged. "Probably 'bout three, four hours?" Castiel sighed. "Sorry." Dean chuckled. "Cas, sleep is a completely regular human need. Without it, we literally go nuts." Castiel groaned. "Yeah," he replied stretching. "But I hate sleeping my day away." Castiel allowed himself a look at Dean, then stood up from the bed and walked away. He was nearly at the door, when Dean called him back. "Cas? Maybe you could, I mean, if you want to, you could sleep in here tonight. It's already two in the morning..." Dean let the offer hang in the air for a long, tense moment. Castiel appeared to mull the prospect over. "Ok." He smiled after a moment. Dean visibly relaxed. And pushed his luck further. "You can sleep next to me if you'd like." Castiel blushed red hot. "Uh, sure." He mumbled. He crawled onto the bed and put his head on the pillow. Then he pulled the blankets up over him, burrowing deep under them, seeming to try to cocoon himself. He had thought that would be the end of things. But Dean pulled him closer with a timid, almost scared touch. His hands drew Castiel against his chest lightly. Dean looked fondly down at Castiel in the darkness of his bedroom. He grinned slightly, and layed his chin on Castiel's shoulder. Castiel froze.

Is it okay if I like this? There's no way Dean actually likes me back, is there? But maybe he does. No, Dean thinks of me as a good friend. The most he'll ever love me is like a brother.

Cas?" Dean whispered. Oh god, his voice sounded so silky smooth. Castiel swallowed thickly. (Stop thinking that.😑) "y-yes, De...?" He choked out.

Great, now I can't even talk right. Get over yourself, Castiel, you're acting like a stupid girl that's head over heels for the star quarterback!

"I love you." Dean whispered tensely. He anxiously waited for a response. Castiel's eyes went wide. "You mean..." He felt Dean nod. Castiel turned over in bed to face Dean. He saw the fear in the man's eyes, the hope, the way he was biting his lip waiting for an answer. Castiel reached out to touch Dean's cheek in the darkness. He closed his eyes slowly as Dean leaned into his touch. "I love you too." He said softly.