lovesick ➳ destiel oneshots

sick•ness

description: Dean is sick.

note: Day eighteen of my thirty day writing challenge! Also, this is an AU as well.

words: 1,214

☁

Laying sick in bed wasn't necessarily the best way to spend somebody's three year anniversary, was it? Yeah, it was not. But that's how Dean and Castiel's anniversary went down.

The morning started with Dean jogging to the bathroom and throwing up in the toilet. He had woken up Cas with the noises he made. Dean rarely got sick, which is why Cas was so surprised to wake up to see his husband kneeling over the toilet. The day was June 18th, their three year anniversary. They had a lot planned that day, yet judging by the fact Dean was projectile vomiting in their bathroom, it didn't look like they would be doing anything.

"Dean?" Cas called out, throwing their duvet off of his legs, standing up. His bare feet hit the cold, wooden floor as he heard multiple fits of coughing and gagging in the small room. Cas was wearing simply a gray Led Zeppelin t-shirt in his underwear. 

The temperature change from the room into the bathroom was astronomical. It was cool and cozy in their room while in the restroom, it was burning hot. Cas could see Dean on his knees, ducking his head into the toilet while his right arm was around the bowl. The man licked his lips, and knelt down next to his husband, rubbing circles on his clothed back. Castiel could feel the slight jump of Dean as he placed his hand on him, although his touch was faint and subdued.

"I'm sorry for waking you up..." Dean replied weakly, his voice slightly echoing in the room. 

"Don't be sorry." he said, continuing to rub circles. "How are you feeling now?"

Dean sat on his behind instead of his knees and leaned back against his husband. Cas, pouting his lips as he saw the multiple stains on Dean's shirt, stains that he would have to scrub vigorously before washing, and the fact that Dean was in pain at the moment.

"Like shit." he groaned.

"Language, baby." Cas hushed, his voice quiet.

"Nobody's here but us." Dean shook his head on Cas' lap, he was running fingers through Dean's hair, whispering little things to him.

Cas' lips thinned. "I know. But we've talked about it before. What if you teach our future children to cuss?"

"Yeah, I know. Jack would be quite the charmer with his language, though. Thanks to me."

"How do you know his name'll be Jack?" Cas tilted his head, looking down at Dean, who looked back up with only his eyes.

"I just know." Dean smiled. Although he felt awful, just the thought of having a family with Cas was extraordinary. "He'll have blue eyes, lighter than yours. Brown hair. Your lips. He'll look mostly like you, in all honesty."

"I thought we're going to adopt. We can't afford a surrogate." Cas softy laughed.

Dean nodded, his head still on Cas. "Yeah I know. I just have a hunch."

The couple had been dreaming about adoption for three years. It was something they always had wanted. Yet, being a mechanic and being a counselor weren't the best paying jobs. They had almost their whole family supporting them. However, the rest of the world wasn't kind to them. They would get snarls in the streets whenever they held hands from people. They would hear conversations from mothers to their children saying that they were sick and ill. Both of them tried to ignore it, yet it was almost impossible. It was near impossible to just pretend that most of the world hated for who they loved.

Adoption would change their lives. It was just so goddamn expensive. "I want a family with you so bad." he muttered, his lips barely moving and his eyes saddened.

"I know, I know." he cooed. "Why don't we get back into bed? I can make you some honey tea if you want."

"Alright, fine. But don't go all mommy on me, alright?" Dean said, attempting to stand up.

Honey tea was a remedy Cas always made for himself whenever he was feeling foggy. He loved honey and would use it on almost anything, then give the excuse that it helped with sinuses. But in reality, he just really enjoyed it on almost anything. Toast, waffles, tea, coffee, peanut butter, you name it, Cas probably put honey on it.

Boiling the pot to start making the tea, Cas stood in the kitchen, his hands behind his back, clenching the island in the middle of the apartment's kitchen. They had been living in that same complex for the beginning of their relationship, nearly five years ago. Flabbergasted, Cas realized how long he had been in love with Dean. He smiled, thinking about their June wedding. Everybody they knew and everybody that supported them came. It was the biggest wedding both of them had ever been to, and a lot of people had told them that afterwards, too. But Dean was ghastly ill, and it very much so upset Cas. Not the fact that they wouldn't spend their anniversary out, but the fact that Dean was upset at himself. He could just tell.

The whirr of the teapot came about, telling Cas that the water was ready. Pouring the water into a mug, he opened his case of chamomile tea. He had a whole cabinet, filled with different cases of different types of tea, all in separate circular, metal cases. He grabbed a teabag and popped it into the hot water. Also grabbing the honey out of the same cabinet, he drizzled some in there, using the teabag to mix it up, along with the leaves that were melting in there.

The man held the mug very gently by the handle, and began walking back to their bedroom. From the doorway, he could see Dean, his body shaking from his coughing. Pouting, Cas quickly flipped the switch with his free hand, accidentally startling his husband. 

"I'm sorry!" Cas' face was painted with guilt. 

"Why are you sorry, babe?" Dean asked, turned over in the bed and trying to sit up with a grunt.

Castiel placed the tea on Dean's bedside stand, then sat down. They both had their own side of the bed, but inevitably always ending up spooning each other, even in the hot, dry summer. It was like instinct, they just had to cuddle up next to each other.

"I didn't mean to wake you." the man replied, softly sitting at Dean's feet, his voice still tanged with affection. Dean grabbed his tea and began drinking it. Dean, admittedly, didn't like tea very much. But his husband did, and collected a lot of different types of tea, always loving each flavor. So, Dean would always have to try it by Cas' request.

Cas left the room to grab something. Coming back, Dean had already halfway drank his tea. Dean noticed that Cas was holding a forehead thermometer, ready to take his husband's temperature. His temperature was of 102.3º. Cas, very worried about Dean, began freaking out, muttering slight things to himself.

"How are you so relaxed about this?" Cas itched his right temple, scratching at his hair.

"'Cause you're the best doctor I know, angel."

I AM SO SORRY THIS WAS LATE