Supernatural One-shots

Cuddles (Sastiel)

Sam sighed quietly, the only sound in the room other than his breathing being the near silent sound of the clicking of his keys on the keyboard of his laptop as he typed. He decided to look for a hunt in the comfort of his own bedroom in the Bunker, due to Dean constantly hogging the couch just to sit and watch TV all day. He could stay in his own room to do it, but he never did, constantly claiming the television in the living room was bigger, therefore better.

"Sam!" Dean called, sounding both alarmed and annoyed, which you must know isn't a good mix if you know Dean Winchester. Sam tore his gaze away from the screen, springing to his feet and rushing over to where Dean had yelled from.

"Dean, what's-" Sam's brother cut him off abruptly by pointing to a trenchcoat-clad figure sitting on the couch. Well, sprawled out on the couch. Castiel's face was shockingly pale and he was shivering heavily, enough for Sam to notice from where he stood. Dark circles practically shone underneath his eyes, proving he wasn't getting nearly enough sleep.

"What's wrong with him?" Sam demanded immediately, turning on Dean with his 'explain now or die a horrible death' look. Dean shrugged.

"I don't know, man. Ever since the fall of the angels, he's had trouble coping with bein' a human," he sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "But it's nothing serious, I don't think. He's probably just got the flu or something." Dean glanced over at his moose of a brother. "But you're better with this kind of stuff, so you deal with it."

With that said, Dean tromped up to his bedroom, presumably to watch the TV up there. Sam sighed and turned back to the sick angel. No. Human. The sick human.

"You feelin' alright Cas?" he questioned in a concerned tone, walking over and crouching in front of the couch so that he was eye-level with his friend. Cas grumbled unintelligeble words, coughing a few times before glaring at the floor.

"Being a human is complicated and irrating." Cas's voice was raspy and gravellier than usual. Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, I know. But you're probably just sick. Come'ere. You can sleep in my bed, alright? It's more comfortable than the couch," Sam nodded, quickly checking Castiel's forehead for signs of a fever, just to be sure. Yup, he was sick. Cas agreed to what Sam had said, but before he could even begin to get up, Sam had swooped down and lifted Castiel in his arms.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Cas asked, alarm seeping into his tone and his eyes widened as he gripped Sam's arm tightly. He didn't want to fall. Again.

"It's okay, Cas," he chuckled. "I'm just carrying you. Don't worry, I won't drop ya." Cas leaned back into Sam's chest and relaxed a bit.

"I know you won't," he sighed quietly, although Sam hadn't heard him.

Finally at the top of the stairs, Sam easily made it to his bedroom and carried the blue-eyed man inside, setting him down on the bed.

"There. And, just sayin', wearing the same outfit for two weeks-when you're human, at least-isn't very sanitary. Want something to change into?" he asked, pulling open one of the drawers and unfolding a t-shirt, turning back around to face Castiel.

"I highly doubt your clothes would fit me, Sam," Cas said, looking dubiously at the t-shirt in Sam's hands. The Winchester shrugged. "I'm sure I've got a pair of sweatpants that don't fit me anymore."

"I suppose," Castiel finally agreed, catching the shirt when Sam tossed it to him. Digging through his dresser, Sam quickly found a pair of undersized grey sweatpants. He threw them to Cas. "Right. Go ahead and get changed. I'm going to go take a quick shower," he mumbled, exiting the room and shutting the door gently behind him.

When Sam returned to his room, he noticed two things. One: Castiel was laying peacefully on his bed, curled in a ball under the blankets. And two: Cas wasn't actually asleep. The blue-eyed man's trenchcoat and suit were in a rumpled pile in the corner of the room, Cas wearing Sam's oversized clothing.

"I'm cold," he whined. Sam sighed, walking over to the bed and adjust the blankets on him. As he went to walk away to grab another, Cas reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Sleep with me?" he asked, giving Sam the most heartbreaking puppy dog eyes he'd ever seen. Sighing silently, Sam crawled under the covers, immediately feeling a blast of warmth. Cas shifted closer to him, his forehead now pressed up against Sam's shoulder.

"Night, Cas," Sam yawned quietly, his eyes fluttering close. Cas smiled, curling into Sam's side like a cat.

"Goodnight, Sam."