Hot and Cold

Hot

Castiel helps Dean lie down on the motel's bed, watching as his sick human finishes his coughing fit.

"Dean, please let me do something to help." Castiel pleads, meeting Dean's red rimmed eyes.

Dean covers his mouth through a cough. "There's nothing you can do, Cas," he shrugs.

"If Sam were here what would he do?" Castiel murmurs as he sits on the side of the bed, laying the back of his hand on Dean's warm forehead. He's burning up.

"I dunno. It was usually me who took care of him." Dean says after a moment.

"Dean, your temperature is rising fast. I don't know what to do without my healing powers." Castiel worries his brow as Dean takes his hand.

"Go start a bath," he says before coughing once more. Castiel helps him sit up through the fit. "And get some ice." Castiel nods and hesitates before leaving. "Cas, it's the only thing that'll actually help."

Castiel fetches the ice bucket and rounds the corner to the ice machine. He's gone and back within minutes, starting a lukewarm bath for Dean.

"You don't hafta do this, Cas. You're gonna get yourself sick." Castiel doesn't care about that. His only care is Dean right now.

He helps Dean out of his clothes until he's down to his boxers. His whole body is flushing from the temperature.

"Whatcha lookin' at, Cas? You like," he starts coughing again, "what you see?" He wheezes.

Castiel huffs a small laugh. "I don't like seeing you sick, Dean."

Dean winces at the cold water and adjusts slowly. "Why are you helping me anyways?"

Castiel's caught off guard and takes a minute to gather himself. "Because I want you better." Simple.

"Yeah, but," a shiver racks Dean's body and Castiel once again lays his hand on Dean's forehead. "But I can take care of myself."

He only rolls his eyes at that. "Yes, I can see that, Dean. You're very good at watching out for yourself."

He snickers and sniffles. "Shut up," his laughter leads to more coughing. "Stop making me laugh. It hurts." But he's still smiling all too fondly at the angel-turned-human.

They meet each others gaze and hold it until Dean shivers once more. "Is there anything else I can do, Dean?"

"Maybe some chicken noodle soup? And pie?" He raises a brow hopefully.

"I don't want to leave you here."

"I'll be fine. Temperature's already going down." He gives his best charming smile and Castiel folds.

"If it'll help..." He gets up, but before he leaves, he leans over Dean and whispers in his ear, "I just don't want anything bad to happen to you. You matter too much to me," and kisses his forehead before he's out the door, too quick for Dean's comprehension.

It's pouring down rain and Castiel has no umbrella. He does however manage to find pie after going to three different stores.

When he get's back, five cans of soup and one cherry pie later, he finds Dean wrapped in towels trying to change into clothes.

"It's too hot, but it's too cold. This fucking blows." He groans as he takes off his sweatpants and shirt before stirling with a t-shirt and boxers.

"I have the soup, Dean." Castiel shudders slightly, the rain soaking his hair and clothes.

Dean turns around so quickly he falls down on his bed. He makes it seem like he meant to and just plays it along. "Well, did you get the pie?"

"Yes, Dean," he smiles. "I got the pie."

"Do I need to teach you how to use the stove?" Dean looks up from his face in the pillow. "And why are you all wet? You're gonna get yourself sick!"

"It shouldn't be too difficult. And I'm sure you can appreciate the irony in that statement."

"Just don't burn down the place, okay? And dry off."

"Okay, Dean." He smiles softly as he shucks off his drenched coat and dries his hair. He precedes to the small kitchen and reads the directions.

A half hour and one confused and impatient Castiel later, he has the soup ready. He brings it in a large bowl for Dean who takes it gratefully, stomach rumbling from hunger.

When he finishes, he sighs happily and eyes the small refrigerator. "You got the pie, right?"

"Yes, Dean. But you should rest first." He sits at the side of the bed and checks Deans forehead once more. Dean looks pleadingly up into blue eyes. "Fine," he allows and gets up to get a slice. "Only one piece."

A few grumbles from Dean and then he's satisfied, chewing a mouthful of pie. "Thanks," he smiles around his food.

Castiel just shakes his head and eats some of the leftover soup, the need for food strange and still foreign.

He takes the empty plate from Dean and makes to sit down at his side, but Dean tilts his head to the empty side of the bed. Castiel complies a little too eagerly and lies down next to Dean, letting him curl up, inch by slow inch, until he's asleep against Castiel's shoulder. He smiles at the sleeping man and kisses his forehead once more, happy the fever has faded.

"Feel better, Dean," he whispers before the steady breathing lulls him to sleep.

He wakes up in the morning with the sniffles and Dean just laughs with an "I told you so."