Going Live- A Destiel Fanfic

Sick Day?

A/N: Sup bitches!... okay well that's a lot more extreme than I like but I just wanted to say that the story is going to progress a lot faster from here on out. I feel like its gone fast but slow at the same time, if you know what I mean? But anyways, I hope you love this chapter! Like and comment!

-Thursday Morning-

I wake up to the sound of Dean sniffling the next morning, tissues piling up on the table next to him. When he notices that I'm awake, he instantly looks upset with himself.

"Sorry, I didn't wake you up right?" he asks in a congested voice. I tiredly look over his face and find that his nose is a bright red. The rest of his face is unusually pale compared to what normally looks like.

"No, but I think you're sick Dean..."

"No. No. I'm not," he sneezes and glares at me. "I'm not sick Castiel." I smile and stand up, shaking my head. He continues to scowl at me as I go to the kitchen. Despite not being completely done with medical school, I know enough to tell that Dean is sick. It takes him a few minutes to follow me but he eventually stumbles in and takes a seat at the island counter.

He still wears a frown across his face and with his hair so tousled, he looks just like a little kid. "Apple juice?" I ask with a smirk. His glare intensifies, but he still just looks like an angry little boy. Without a given answer, I pour a cup and slide it over to him. He reluctantly takes it but glares at me as he brings it to his lips. "Would you quit pouting? You and I both know that you're sick."

He sets the cup down and scrunches his nose at me with squinty, green eyes. "Fine. But I'm not going to no doctor. Those guys are evil," he grumbles. After he sees my "what did you just say" face, he backpedals, "well except you of course. You're an angel."

"Good save but I prefer to see my patients in bed," I say but he then raises an eyebrow. Be innocent Castiel. "Sleeping."

Dean gives a small smile, "Cas that sounds kinda stalkerish." I ignore him and grab the whistling teapot from the stove and pour it into two cups. Dean stands to grab two tea packets from the cupboard but I put my hands on his shoulders and sit him back down.

"No work or activity. Doctor's orders," I insist. He sighs and reluctantly takes a seat.

"Alright. Alright. Dr. Sexy in the house y'all," he hoots faking an enthusiastic tone. Once again I ignore his taunts and grab the packets of tea myself. I set them in the boiling water and turn to the fridge to get honey and lemons. Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, I screw the lid to the honey and tap the silverware onto the side of the cups. Then I take a knife from the stand and cut a lemon into fourths. I squeeze one slice into each cup and use the spoon to mix it all together.

"This was Mom's special recipe. Tea, honey, and a fourth of a lemon slice. Micheal would make it whenever we were sick but it was never as good as hers. He tried his best but it wasn't anything like Mom's," I smile lightly, setting a cup in front of him and sipping my own. His expression softens and he takes a swallow for himself.

He smiles at me and takes another sip, as I turn to start picking stuff up. "Whenever Sammy got sick, I'd make him chicken noodle soup but I remember this time we didn't have actual chicken so I ended up scraping the breading off old chicken nuggets and using that. I didn't get the chance to shop a lot so we mostly just ate out whenever we could."

I don't say anything, mostly because I don't know what to say. Turning away, I look through the fridge for an idea of what to make for lunch. 'Definitely nothing with high acidity. Greasy food is a no. I guess I could try to make soup. There is chicken broth and potatoes and carrots. I could probably throw some cheese in it. I'm sure Dean bought bacon so maybe cheesy potato soup?"