Title: Adventures in Sickness
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2,413
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, of course. I also do not own Castiel, sadly.
Summary: Castiel had experienced being stabbed, blown up and even falling from Grace, but he'd never felt as bad as he did now. Part of the Adventures in Falling verse.
Note: Thank you for the support in this verse! Feel free to drop me a comment with any ideas you have for "firsts" for Castiel as he tries to adjust to being human, or even just anything you're curious to see in this verse as prompts/suggestions are always accepted, appreciated and encouraged. :)

Cas couldn't breathe. His throat felt as if it was raw and his head felt worse than when he had drank an entire liquor store. The light streaming in from the hallway was blinding, and Cas panicked as he tried to recall the last time they had run into a vampire.

"Dean!" He tried to shout, but his voice was weak and the words hurt. It would be a miracle if it would be heard on the other side of the bed, never mind in the library. He knew he would have to get up, but the notion was not a pleasing one. As he attempted to sit up, the room started to spin and he fell back into the pillows. Cas closed his eyes, urging his head to stop spinning.

After a couple minutes of trying, he managed to push himself off the bed. His stomach lurched as he tried to walk, but Castiel pushed on, forcing himself to stay focused on making it to the library without falling over. He used the walls to steady himself, but the hallway seemed distorted through the dizzy haze in his brain. When he finally reached the library, it was a miracle in itself.

"Dean…" He rasped again, and this time Dean's head snapped up and he was immediately moving over to Cas. It wasn't until he was in Dean's arms that he realized he had been falling over.

"Cas?"

"I think I'm dying." Each syllable clawed its way out of his throat, and tears were quickly pooling in his eyes at the pain.

"What? Don't be ridiculous." Dean pulled Cas close to him, his arm around the fallen angel's waist supportively as he pulled him over to one of the chairs. "Stay."

Castiel watched him go, noticing once the space was empty that the room was spinning. He felt his head droop forward and his eyes closed for what felt like only one second, but when he opened them Dean was back with the first aid kit and Sam, who was eyeing Cas nervously. "I think he's sick," Dean said quietly, "It looks like a nasty bug though."

Sam stepped forward, placing himself right in front of Cas' face, "What hurts, Cas?"

"Everything."

"You've gotta be a bit more specific."

"It hurts to breathe. And talk. And I believe the room is spinning. And my head feels like it did when I drank that liquor store," Cas paused as his stomach lurched painfully. He clutched at his stomach painfully, "I really don't feel good."

"Are you going to puke?" Dean asked, pushing Sam aside.

"I… I don't know." Dean's arm was around his waist again, pulling him off the chair gently, but quickly, and leading him down the hall and into the bathroom. Just as he positioned Cas above the toilet, his dinner from the previous night came back up. Castiel discovered he really didn't like throwing up. It felt like someone was pouring acid on his throat, and the stench made him vomit more, though the taste really wasn't helping. He was mildly aware of Dean rubbing his back and running his hands soothingly through Cas' hair, as well as the tears currently streaking his face.

"What's wrong with me?" He asked once he was fairly certain there was nothing left in his stomach.

"You're sick."

"Am I going to die?"

Dean chuckled, and Cas didn't see why any of this was funny. "Of course not. You're just going to feel kinda crappy for a couple of days."

"Oh."

"It's okay, though. Sammy's gone to get you some meds and I'm going to make you some soup." Cas' felt like he was going to throw up at the thought and he quickly shook his head. "You're going to have to eat, Cas. And drink lots of water."

Dean helped him stand, flushing the toilet before handing Cas his toothbrush. The minty taste of the toothpaste managed to mask the gross taste in his mouth, but just barely. He let Dean lead them back to their room, the comfort of their bed. Cas curled himself into a tight ball amongst the pillows, pulling the blanket tight against himself. "It hurts, Dean."

"I know," His had landed on Cas' forehead. It felt cool, and Cas wondered briefly if that was bad. An object was pushed into his mouth and under his tongue, but he was too tired to protest. There was a beeping noise and then Dean was looking at the plastic device. "Shit."

"What?"

"You've got a really bad fever."

"Oh."

Dean's hand moved to his hair, stroking it gently back from his face. Cas realized that he was indeed sweating, but he was also freezing cold. He pulled the blanket closer to himself. "I'm sorry, Cas."

"It's not your fault."

"No, but I know what's coming and you're really not going to have a fun couple of days."

"I know."

"I'll be here if you need me, okay?" Dean sat on the edge of their bed, "If you need anything, just tell me."

"Okay." Cas wanted to stay awake—he had just gotten up, after all—but his eyelids were suddenly very heavy and before he knew what was happening, he was asleep.

Cas woke up with the urgent need to get sick. Again. He pushed himself quickly out of the bed, but when he tried to stand he found himself falling forward onto his hands and knees. Dean was suddenly there, right at his side with his arm slinking around his waist as he helped pull Cas to his feet. "Hey, it's okay. I got you." They moved to the bathroom, and Cas only just made it.

Dean was there through the whole thing again; his hands soothing and warm even through his thin sleep shirt. He didn't understand how anything was coming up. He hadn't eaten, hadn't even had any water. And yet, he found himself stuck, pressed against the cold porcelain of the toilet, for a good half hour. "This is awful."

"I know, Cas. I know." Dean helped him to his feet again, but this time he had to all but carry Cas back to their room. He felt so weak, so tired, and it made no sense because all he had been doing was sleeping and throwing up. He allowed himself to be placed in the bed and then watched as Dean handed him a plethora of different pills and a glass of water. "Sam came back while you were asleep. These'll help with the pain and the puking."

Cas swallowed the pills quickly along with the glass of water, and then fell back onto the bed. "Thank you."

"I'm going to go make you some soup." Cas groaned, knowing that the food would only make him get sick again, but he knew better than to argue with the hunter. He watched Dean's retreating back instead, not letting his eyes close until he could no longer see or hear him.

"Cas," There was a hand on his shoulder, gently urging him awake. The smell of tomato soup filled his nostrils, and despite it being his favorite he felt his stomach clench at the thought of ingesting anything more than water at this point in time. "You've gotta eat, man."

"Can't."

"You don't have a choice." Dean said sternly, but Cas turned his head into the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, trying his hardest to ignore him. "Cas."

"No."

"Don't be a jerk about this."

"No."

Dean sighed. Cas could hear the bowl being placed on their bedside table, and then the blankets were being ripped off of him. He flinched at the onslaught of cold air, immediately breaking into to shivers. "Dean…" He said weakly, almost begging. He peered up at him through his eyelashes, and he could see Dean was struggling to keep his stern expression.

"Eat."

"Can't."

"Can't, or won't?" He sat on the edge of the bed, and Castiel curled into his body heat, placing his head on the hunter's lap and pulling his own legs tight against his body. Dean's hand moved to gently stroke his arm.

"Don't wanna get sick again."

"I know, but you have to eat something or you're just going to get weaker and it's going to feel even worse."

Cas knew he was telling the truth, he remembered when Sam had gotten sick and Dean had been just as much of a mother hen with him. Still, the thought of eating… "Please, Cas?" He couldn't say no to Dean, from the moment he was assigned to him he hadn't been able to say no. Now was no different. Cas struggled to sit up, and he didn't protest as a spoonful of the red liquid was pushed his way. The soup was good—Dean's tomato soup was always amazing—and Cas found himself actually enjoying the soothing feel of the warm liquid moving down his throat.

"Good?" Cas nodded, noticing that the bowl was empty. "Do you feel like you're going to be sick?"

"No."

"Okay, good." Dean pushed him gently back onto the pillows again, pulling the blanket up and tucking it tightly against his body. "You can sleep now."

"Thank you, Dean." He croaked, closing his eyes immediately. He smiled when he felt Dean's lips on his forehead, letting himself drift into a peaceful sleep.

He woke with the abrupt urge to get sick, and much to his dismay he wasn't even able to make it out of bed before the bile was rising in his throat. He retched loudly and could just hear footsteps rapidly coming down the hall. Cas panicked, looking at this disgusting mess and the door. He didn't want Dean to see this, it was horrible. He hated how pathetically weak he felt, and he was ashamed he hadn't even been able to make it out of bed.

"Cas, you okay?" Dean asked from the doorway. His eyes scanned the state of Cas, of the bed, and then his features softened from worry to pity.

"I'm sorry," Cas whimpered.

"Hey, it's okay." Dean moved quickly over to the bed, throwing the ruined blanket off of him and pulling him out of bed and into a hug. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm causing you so much trouble, and I've ruined the blankets, and I'm sure you're absolutely disgusted with me right now."

"It happens to everyone, Cas." Dean insisted, "I've done it, Sam's done it. Hell, I've done a lot worse than that and it wasn't cause I was sick."

"I hate sickness."

"I know, I know." Dean stroked his hair gently, "Let's get you in the shower. I'll take care of the bed while you clean up."

"Thank you, Dean."

"Of course."

Cas discovered that, while he was able to catch bits and pieces of sleep, he was never able to get more than an hour. He was either woken with the need to get sick, or simply from not being able to breathe through his nose. He felt exhausted, and his skin felt disgusting despite the multiple showers he'd had to have. Dean was no better off. He woke up every time Cas did, insisting he was there to help. It was clear that the damn illness was taking its toll on the both of them.

"You okay?" Dean asked quietly when he noticed Cas was awake again.

"Yes."

"Need anything?"

"You need sleep," Cas said quietly, the words burning against his sore throat, "I'll be fine for a bit."

"I'm fine," He insisted, "And when you're better we can both just spend an entire day sleeping."

"Yeah?"

Dean smiled, hand stroking gently against Cas' back, "Yeah."

By the third day, Cas was starting to feel better. He was finally able to eat without it coming back up shortly after, and he was even sleeping a bit at night. Dean had been giving him a steady amount of medicine, and it was obviously helping. Sam didn't bother them too much—Dean said that he was always grossed out by vomit, and he really didn't want to clean up Sam's puke—but he did go to the grocery store whenever one of them discovered they needed something.

Cas was thrilled to be feeling better. Sickness was officially one of the worst things about being human, and he sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to deal with it for a long while. Cas decided that, since he was feeling better, he should let Dean sleep for a while. He would go and ask Sam to make him a cup of coffee as a thanks.

When he returned with the steaming cup, Dean was still asleep. He smiled at how peaceful the hunter looked. He remembered that Dena always hated it when Cas watched him sleep, but it was hard to resist when it was one of the few times he was truly, wholly, calm. Cas watched as he stirred, and then he was staring into Dean's beautifully green eyes.

"Good morning, I brought you coffee." He held the cup out for Dean, who took it gratefully, "Sam made it, so it shouldn't taste awful this time."

Dean smiled and opened his mouth to respond, but the only sound that came out was a dry wheeze, and Dean's face immediately crunched in pain as his hand went to his throat. "Dean?" Cas asked gingerly, "Are you okay?"

Dean shook his head and pushed himself off of the bed and over to his desk, pulling a pad of paper and a pen towards himself. Cas watched nervously as he scribbled something down before sliding the paper to him.

Get Sam, it read. Cas tilted his head to the side, "Why? What's wrong?"

The paper was snatched from him and when Dean handed it back, he crossed his arms across his chest stubbornly. I lost my voice. You got me sick!

"Oh." Cas frowned, "I'm sorry…"

The paper was removed from his grasp again. It's not your fault, Cas.

"I'm going to look after you." The look of genuine fear in Dean's eyes was enough to tell Cas the likeliness of that being helpful was very little, so he did as he was asked and grabbed Sam from the library. When he explained the situation, Sam groaned in frustration.

"Awesome." He stood and started moving towards Dean's room, "I hope you're ready to deal with a big baby for a couple of days."