Supernatural One Shots

A Shitty Pair of Lungs (Cas x Reader) s/f

At least Bobby has a good reason for why he's in a wheelchair. He was possessed by a demon. The demon was going to kill Dean. Bobby broke out of the demon's control (basically impossible to do) and stabbed himself in the gut with Ruby's knife, killing the demon, but leaving him paralyzed.

Bobby Singer is the definition of badass.

You on the other hand, well, you just have a shitty pair of lungs. The whole thing is very complicated. Right now, you're basically Bobby's glorified secretary. It's not like you can do anything else. Still, it's not that bad. Bobby's nice. To you, anyway. Currently, he's yelling at some hunter for being a "stupid ass" while flipping through a book, probably looking for a way to help them.

You were also looking through a book. An old, rare book. Finding information on how to stop the apocalypse is hard. Suddenly, you're attacked by a coughing fit. The sound horrible, as your lungs tries to get rid of the crap inside them. Bobby snaps his fingers and you look at him through teary eyes. He points to the couch, telling you to lay down. You flip him off and he shakes his head, talking again to the hunter on the phone.

When you finally finish coughing, you lean back in the chair. Breathing hard, you reach down, fumbling, and turn up the oxygen concentration on the oxygen tank. Then you readjust the cannula under your nose and try to continue reading. It really sucks that Cas is cut off from heaven's power, but at least he could zap into some hospital and get you the oxygen tank. It'd do for now.

When you can finally breathe normally, or as normally as has been capable for the last month, Bobby gets off the phone. He sighs. "You're gettin' worse."

"Nuh uh," you say, taking a deep breathe through your nose. The extra oxygen helps.

"Sure. Just give us a heads up the next time you need to go to the hospital, unlike the last time." You roll your eyes at that. "How much you got left on that thing anyway?" he asks, jerking his head toward the tank.

You examine the tank. "It's about half full."

"Good to see you're a glass half full kinda gal. That'll help in the apocalypse. We need an optimist." He puts the book in his lap and rolls over to the bookshelf and grabs another.

"Do you know when Cas will be here?" He was riding over with Sam and Dean since he didn't want to waste any of his grace.

"Seeing as he called ten minutes ago, saying he'd be here in fifteen, I'd reckon he'll be here in five minutes." He says it with less sass to you than he would to someone else. You're basically his surrogate daughter by this point.

You breathe deeply, trying to get even more oxygen into your lungs. It's always there, that lack-of-air feeling. Sometimes it's hardly bearable.

You flip the book over, placing it face down on the table. "I'm gonna go outside and wait for the boys." You look at Bobby. Just as he's about to say something, probably a smart ass remark, you tell him "Don't say it." He mumbles something under his breath. "Whatever."

After maneuvering your way through the cluttered room, you go outside to the parking lot, carrying your oxygen tank with you. You sit on the hood of one of the cars, likely the one Dean will park next to.

When you hear the Impala's engine, you look up and wave enthusiastically. Dean pulls up and parks his car next to the one you're sitting on, just like you predicted.

Cas gets out the car first, and immediately goes to you. You hug him tight, pressing your cheek against his trench coat which is surprisingly soft. "I missed you so much," you say.

"I missed you too."

"Yeah, sure, I'll take your stuff in the house, Cas. My pleasure," Dean says.

You laugh lightly. You and Cas pull apart. You look up into his blue, blue, blue eyes. "Hey, Angel," you say.

"Hello," he squints his eyes, "Human."

You burst out laughing, and you can hear Sam laughing by the trunk of the Impala. Castiel looks at you, and tilts his head to the side. "I don't understand," he says over your laughter.

"I know," you say. After you stop laughing, you notice that it's hard to breathe again. Even though you try to hide it, Cas can tell; he can hear your labored breathing and sense your discomfort. Wordlessly, he bends down and turns up the oxygen level, yet again. "Thanks," you say.

He stands up and leans against the hood of the car next to you. He slips his hand into yours, his warm hand holding your ice cold one. "How are you doing?" He looks forward, appearing to be looking at the other cars.

"Well, we haven't found a way to stop the apocalypse, so..." Cas looks at you seriously, and you admit "A little worse." The corner of his lip twitches down, and he looks forward, back at the cars.

"I wish I could help you; I pray for it. My faith in waning, but I pray for you." He speaks quietly. You lean your head against his shoulder. He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. "Are you tired?"

"A little. Will you lay down with me? I haven't been sleeping well since, well, for awhile."

"That's understandable," he sympathizes. "Let's go inside."

You slide off the hood of the car, your shoes crunching on the gravel. Cas leans around you to pick up the tank. "You don't have to do that."

"I don't mind." He smiles. Cas only ever truly, visibly smiles for you. He puts an an around your waist as you walk back toward the house. His hand rests just above your hip.

When you get inside, all the guys are gathered in the kitchen, drinking beer, and talking. You and Cas walk into the living room. You've been sleeping on the couch/bed next to Bobby's desk since the stairs are too much for your lungs to handle.

Cas lays down first, on his side, moving to the far end so you have enough room. Then, you lay down in front of him, pressing your body into his. He moved his right arm so that it's under your neck. He puts his hand on your waist and then begins trailing it down your side. His fingers skim down, touching your hip, then your thigh, then moving back up. You move back further, your bodies pressed closer.

You grab his hand, and pull his arm up. Your hands clasped together against your chest. You sigh and close your eyes. Cas moves his hips forward, surprising you. You laugh once, almost a giggle, and lean back into him. "I missed you," he murmurs, his breath against you making you shiver. You bite your lip and grip his hand tighter in response.

"Oh, gross," Dean complains. You opens your eyes and look toward the doorway of the kitchen. Dean's already out of sight when you hear him say "Get a room!" You laugh again.

"Maybe we should just sleep for now," you suggest. Your eyes close.

"You sleep; I'll stay with you," he says quietly.

"Mm. Love you," you say sleepily.

"I love you, too, (y/n)."