The door handle squeaked. Dean shot up in his desk chair, hearing the reverberation through the silent house. He'd forgotten. Cursing himself, he dropped his pen and stood, then ran across the house as he heard the door shut, followed by soft footsteps. "Cas, honey. Home already!"
Tightly bundled up in a thick warm jacket, boots and hat stood a young child. His cheeks flushed pink from the snow and negative temperatures outside on his walk home from the bus stop. Dean ran toward Cas and enveloped him in a hug, kneeling on the floor. "You're freezing, buddy." Cas smiled weakly in return. Dean moved back to tug off the knitted cap, and Cas's dark brown hair fell over his head wildly. Dean ran a hand through it to smooth it out, then took off Cas's backpack and swiftly pulled down the zipper to remove his freezing jacket. "I'm so sorry I missed it. I wasn't even paying attention--"
Cas sniffled.
Then he tried to cover it by wiping the back of his hand against his nose. He hadn't said a word to his father yet. Ashamedly, he looked to the rug and attempted to stifle a short cough.
"Hey," Dean called. Cas met his eyes silently. Dean's hand meandered toward Cas's forehead, checking for sickness even though Cas still shivered from walking outside. "Are you feeling okay?"
Cas coughed feebly again. He made an effort to grin and nod his head. "Yeah, 'm okay, dad." Sniffle.
Sighing, Dean turned Cas around by the hips and pulled him into his lap. Castiel's chin tucked down against his chest while he watched Dean untie the laces of his boots and slide them off, laying them neatly in the shoe closet. It was a mystery to Cas why Dean always helped him with his shoes even though Cas was perfectly capable, but he accepted it. Dean swept Cas's small form up into his arms before he had a chance to move. Dean's warm skin heated Castiel through his dad's gray T-shirt, so Cas relaxed and wrapped his arms around Dean's torso. Dean carried him across the house and plopped him onto the couch, across from the warm fireplace.
"Cas," Dean stroked a finger over the child's cheek, "you need to tell me if anything is wrong. Did someone say something mean to you? Or you're sure you don't feel sick?" He didn't want to consider the possibility that Cas was upset about Dean making him walk home. He felt guilty for it, but then Cas got this heartbroken look like he had done something wrong rather than Dean. "It's okay. Just talk to me, sweetheart."
Cas's lip began quivering. "I...," he started, then reached for the blanket bunched at his feet and drew it over his head. Hiding from Dean beneath it, he sniffled again. He curiously listened to Dean's footsteps travel to the bathroom and back to the sofa. Dean plucked the blanket from his head and placed it over the rest of his body. He opened a box of Kleenexes and set them next to Cas as an offering. Giving Cas some privacy, he left to prepare tea in the kitchen.
Cas liked tea. It could be because Dean drank tea, and one day Cas had asked if he could try it, too. But Cas would drink it, so Dean brewed an herbal tea for the cold season, pouring in honey and stirring. When he returned to Cas, the blanket was pulled over his shoulders and two used Kleenexes sat on the floor. "Here. Careful, it's a little hot."
Cas took the cup with a relieved sigh and pulled it to his face, smelling it. Dean took a seat on the cushion next to Cas and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, drawing him in to lean on Dean. Cas's back pressed against Dean's side, and he gazed into the fireplace, taking careful sips from his cup. Gently, Dean stroked his son's arm, occasionally sliding his hand to Cas's neck and back down.
Castiel pitched forward abruptly with a spluttering cough. Dean placed a hand on his back and took the cup to stop it from spilling. "It's alright," he soothed. Cas's coughing fit ended, and Dean reached for a tissue, handing it to Cas. The child used it gratefully and slumped back deep into the chair.
