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The healing had worked. That is, it had seemed to. There was something about being on borrowed grace that didn’t quite fit right.
So when he caught Sam stretching his neck by tipping his head to the side, with a pained expression on his face, Castiel began to fret. “Is something wrong?”
Sam forced a half-smile at him while turning a page. “Just tired, I guess.”
Castiel continued to watch him while he refocused on his reading. It wasn’t long before the man was rubbing at his neck and grimacing again. “Sam,” he said in a low voice. “Are you in pain?”
His friend took a breath and cleared his throat. “No, of course not. Just a bit of a stiff neck.”
He nodded slowly. “And…did you have that before?”
Sam looked up finally. “Cas, I’m fine.”
“I only ask because I healed you. You shouldn’t be feeling any pain right now.”
He snorted. “Cas, I’m a hunter, okay? There hasn’t been a day in the past decade that I haven’t had some aches. It’s a good day when I’m not bleeding profusely and nothing’s dislocated.”
Castiel scowled down at his own hands. “That’s a horrible way to gauge a good day,” he muttered. But before he could continue, Sam was back to stretching his neck again. “Something does bother you,” he insisted.
Sam sniffed and closed the book to rub his eyes. “I don’t know, man. Probably the giant syringe we had so deep in my neck I could taste it.”
The angel made a disgusted face, but shook his head. “You shouldn’t have any residual pain from that, Sam. You shouldn’t have any pain at all. May I examine you?”
Suddenly, much to Castiel’s alarm, Sam’s face and throat seemed to be flushing. “Examine me? What? Why?”
“You seem to be unwell, and I’d like to understand why.”
“That’s not necessary.”
He frowned up at him. “I believe it is.” An idea occurred to him. “For scientific reasons, you must let me examine you. As you said, you are the Guinea pig. We must know the side effects of our experiment.”
Sam laughed sadly. “Our failed experiment, you mean.” He coughed into his arm and then shrugged and stood up. “Okay. That’s fine, just-“
Castiel hurried to steady his friend when he swayed ominously. “Sam!”
This laugh seemed a little unsure. “I don’t know. A little dizzy, I guess. How long have we been sitting?”
“Sam, you really don’t seem well.”
He snorted again, then sniffed a little. “Cas, humans don’t appreciate being told they don’t seem well. You’re supposed to ask how I am, and I lie and say I’m fine, and then you lie and say I seem well.”
Castiel lifted an eyebrow at this. “I’ll remember that for the future. For now, let us dispense with the lies. For the sake of science.”
“Yeah, okay. I guess I don’t feel great.”
“How not great do you feel? And how do you not feel great?”
Sam began laughing again, but then it dissolved into a coughing fit. When at last he had gotten it under control, he gave Castiel a sheepish smile. “Guess you’re right. I must have a cold or something. That would probably explain the achy neck too.”
Castiel did not return the smile. Instead, he lifted his hand. “Sam? May I?”
Sam shrugged and lowered his forehead a little to allow Castiel’s touch. When the angel hummed, he pushed the wrist away. “What is it now?”
His friend was frowning at him.
“Cas? I don’t like it when you go to heal me or whatever and you end up with that look on your face.”
He wondered what look Sam was referring to. “Sam, I’m sensing a flurry of activity in your immune system.”
He huffed a short laugh. “Yeah? That’s a good thing, right? It’s busy fighting off a cold or something.”
But Castiel was shaking his head. “No,” he said carefully. “This is far more activity than would be necessary for that.”
“What, like an allergic reaction?”
“No, I…Well, I don’t know. I’m not a human doctor, Sam. But it seems like your immune system is under attack from quite a number of enemies all at the same time.”
Sam blinked hard, and reached out a hand to grab hold of Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m really kind of dizzy, Cas.”
He hurried to take hold of Sam’s arm. “Let’s get you to your bed.”
In spite of his concern for Sam’s state, there was a tiny part of Castiel that took some base pleasure in the way Sam heaved his arm over the angel’s shoulders. He liked the contact, and he especially liked how heavy the man was. He wondered if that was odd, that he had always liked Sam’s considerable bulk. He had even thought of it sometimes back when he was a human, at night while trying to catch a few hours of sleep. Some part of his brain had lit on the idea that sleep would be easier beside Sam’s large, warm frame, and he had dreamed of it more than once. Once, he had dreamed about lying curled into a warm, protective Sam on a bed, while Dean guarded them possessively with his Colt revolver in his hands from outside the room. It was the best night of sleep he had managed. Things were safer inside Sam’s arms, with his brother nearby.
But this time, he was the one who needed to help protect Sam. That was really the dynamic Castiel belonged in anyway. He was no longer a fragile, hunted human too afraid to sleep. He was a guardian angel of the soldier class, and he would be the one to watch over Sam in his time of need.
On the other hand…
“Sam, perhaps we should call Dean.”
Sam was in another coughing fit when Castiel sat him down on his bed, but he shook his head and waved a hand. “No,” he croaked. “We got this.”
Castiel sighed. He was torn about this. He really did believe they should let Dean know what was going on. But his heart couldn’t help swelling with pride and pleasure every time Sam indicated that the two of them were all they needed. Sam did not trust easily. No one knew that better than Castiel. Even Dean was no longer someone Sam could trust. While it hurt his heart terribly to feel the rift between the brothers he had devoted himself to, it occurred to him then that he, Castiel, the angel of breathtaking errors and crushing disappointment, was the only person in the world Sam trusted with his vulnerability.
Sam cleared his throat and blinked hard again. “This is kind of sudden, right? You think it has to do with what we did?” He sniffed again.
Castiel glanced around the room and discovered a tissue box, which he delivered to Sam at the bed.
“Cas? You have a theory. Spit it out.”
He took in a long breath. “I don’t think it has to do with our attempt to extract Gadreel’s grace,” he said carefully.
Sam blew his nose and cringed. “Then what?”
“I think…I think it was when I healed you.”
The man shrugged up at him in confusion.
“My grace…It’s complicated, Sam. Suffice it to say that I’m unsure…between my grace’s quirks and the unexpected element of Gadreel’s essence…”
“Cas.” Sam gave him a gesture Dean had sometimes used, to indicate he would like Castiel to hurry along his point.
“When I healed you, it may have reset your immune system.”
Sam’s eyebrows lifted, but then he turned and sneezed violently. “It did what?” he coughed as he reached for new tissues. Sam shook his head. “No. No, I don’t get sick, Cas. Other than the trials, I really haven’t been sick since I was a kid!”
“Yes. But you were sick during the trials, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Sam, when we were removing his grace by extraction, you began to revert back to the way you were before his possession. I thought you would be fine once I healed you. And you are, mostly. You aren’t injured. But you’re…”
“Going to get really sick,” Sam sighed.
Castiel winced. “I’m sorry, Sam. Healing you again won’t solve it. If I try, you’ll simply get sick again.”
“But I’m not going to die, right?”
He shook his head. “No, I…I don’t think you’re in any real danger. Not like before. There’s no supernatural element to this illness. Your immune system is responding as it should, as it wasn’t able to before, during the trials. I’m sorry I can’t heal this, Sam.”
The man sighed and reached for the tissue box again. “It’s all right, Cas. I just gotta muscle through it. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few hours.”
Sam was far worse in a few hours.
Castiel had never experienced anything like this before. His heart ached to see the way Sam lay sweaty and shivering in his bed. He ran the cloth over his forehead tenderly. “Sam, I’m so sorry,” he said for the hundredth time.
The hunter was shaking so hard that the bed creaked. But he tried to smile up at him anyway. “All right.” It was a pitiful croak.
It wasn’t all right, Castiel wanted to cry out in frustration. His friend was hurting, and there wasn’t anything he could do to ease the pain. Why did humans have to get so sick anyway? What kind of horrible design flaw was it that allowed them to suffer so? It was bad enough that their lives were already so short. Why was it necessary that they feel so much discomfort in those short lives?
“Cas? Water.”
It wasn’t water. It was broth. But Sam had forgotten that every one of the dozens of websites Castiel had scoured for guidance had suggested that soup had healing properties.
He smoothed the hair back from Sam’s face and then helped him sit up just enough to sip at the mug. Then Sam lay back again in exhaustion. “Talk to me,” he said breathlessly.
Castiel thought for a moment. “When I was human, or as close to that as any angel ever was, I sometimes went days without finding food. It was a man who slept on benches who taught me that some comfort could be found in places with soup.”
He thought Sam was giving him a tiny smile, but it was covered in a grimace.
“So I tried to find a soup kitchen in every city I found myself in. At the time, I thought they were simply using the soup to heal my hunger. I didn’t know as I do now that soup has healing properties.”
Sam turned to cough weakly. Then he sniffed and whispered, “It’s just…feeding you so…you have the strength to fight off…”
Castiel nodded. “Yes, I understand that. Humans must continuously feed themselves. It’s quite annoying.”
His friend snorted a laugh, and then took yet another tissue with a shaking hand.
“Soup is what will heal you,” Castiel sighed. “Since I can’t.”
“It’s all right, Cas,” Sam said hoarsely. “Most humans…just…”
He sat back with a renewed sigh. “Most humans fight disease on their own without an angel,” he guessed. What was the point in Sam having a guardian angel if he couldn’t provide that most simple relief? Castiel was no better than anyone else if he couldn’t heal Sam. He was no better than a human, and worse, really, since even after his experience as one, he still didn’t understand them as well as if he had been one his whole life.
Sam nodded and blew his nose again. He tried to toss the tissue toward the trash can, and missed. Again. There was a small mountain of used tissues piling up on the outside of the can. Castiel had long since stopped cleaning them up one at a time. He would clean them all at once later.
He smiled a little. “Your aim is quite a bit better with your firearm,” he remarked fondly. Then he returned to using the wet washcloth on Sam’s forehead gently. He liked doing that. Almost as much as he liked petting his hair out of his face.
“Feels good,” the man breathed.
“Tell me what else I can do for you, Sam.” His deep voice sounded small and insistent. Desperate, even. He ached to bring some relief to Sam’s flushed, gray face.
But Sam shook his head. “Nothing. Just…stay, okay?”
He sighed again. At least there was that. “Yes, Sam, of course.”
“Off?”
Castiel frowned with confusion, then realized Sam was tugging weakly at his shirt. He helped the man sit up and assisted in pulling it off to drop it to the floor. Then he lay the man back down. Castiel let his gaze slide down Sam’s torso and back up. It never ceased to amaze Castiel the way he could be affected by the human form. It didn’t seem like he should be. Humans were so different. But it had only grown worse since his recent experiences. Being human hadn’t just changed his opinion of food. It had somehow made him even more susceptible to the beauty of Sam.
But he had a job to do. Sam’s long throat and long, long body was flushed and sweaty. Castiel swallowed hard and lifted his washcloth to run it gently over Sam’s skin. He could see the muscle beneath the gorgeous skin moving just slightly, and it made his own muscles tight in response. When Sam coughed, Castiel found himself staring at the way Sam’s stomach muscles flexed.
Sam Winchester had defined human beauty for Castiel years ago. And yet he kept growing even more impossibly beautiful with every day that passed. Even sick as he was, Sam was every example of beauty Castiel could think of.
The man was watching him when he looked up. “You okay?” he asked hoarsely.
“I’m fine, Sam. You’re the one who is sick. Is it better for you to have your clothes off? Not long ago, you were shivering and claiming to be cold.”
“I was. That happens. When we get sick. Sometimes. Now, just so hot.”
He nodded. “Should we…” He gestured toward Sam’s pants.
The man snorted softly. “No. I’ll spare you that.”
“I don’t mind.”
Sam gave him a weak smile. “No, I know. You’re a good guy, Cas. Just…it’s awkward.”
Blue eyes lowered in frustration. “I don’t mean to be awkward,” he grumbled.
The sudden laughter sent Sam into a coughing fit, and Castiel was alarmed. Sam curled onto his side until it passed, then tried to clear his throat and speak again. “Not you’re awkward. I’m awkward. You’re gorgeous,” he giggled.
Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m…”
“The cartoon,” Sam wheezed. “Frozen. Charlie made me watch it.”
He frowned down at him. “Sam, you’re not making sense. You just said that you’re hot. Are you cold again?”
The large man was continuing to giggle between coughs. “You know what this feels like, Cas?”
He stared.
“When I was like thirteen. Mono. Except the cough. I don’t remember coughing.”
“Sam, what are you talking about?”
“Bad fever…chills…aching everywhere…”
“Yes, we’ve catalogued your symptoms, Sam. Be still now.”
“Kissing disease.”
Castiel wondered if he had heard right. “Sam…”
“What they called it. Sam was out of school because of…the kissing disease. Think I have that now? Kissing disease?”
“Is there such a thing?” Castiel asked, bewildered. “Sam, do you have a kissing disease? Is it cured by kissing? Or does it make you desire kissing while you are infected?”
Sam was coughing and laughing so hard now that Castiel was terribly alarmed. Surely this was a bad sign, if Sam was dissolving into madness. “No, Cas!”
“I should be willing, in either case. If it helped you.”
The laughter continued another moment, then stopped abruptly as Sam turned to stare up at him. He coughed a little, then spoke in a wheezing voice. “Willing? For what?”
Emotions were a hard thing for an angel who had spent eons suppressing them, who had only very recently allowed himself the freedom to feel any. It was too late to get that discipline back now. He would never be able to shove down the things his heart was churning out. It was just too much, and he had let it run wild for too long.
“Cas? Willing for what?”
“If it would serve to bring you some relief, Sam, I would be willing to kiss you. Or-or to be kissed by you. If it would help.”
Sam gave him a very slow blink. “Cas…it’s caused by kissing. Not cured by it.”
Realization crashed over him now. He stumbled to his feet and whirled to focus on cleaning up the pile of tissues at the trash can, so that he wouldn’t be forced to look Sam in the eyes any longer. “Of course. Because of the transfer of germs. Obviously.” He closed his eyes in a frustrated cringe, with his back to Sam, and tried to will his emotions to settle down so he could deal with them each individually. It didn’t make sense that one could experience more than one emotion at a time. It wasn’t even fair.
“Cas?”
He made himself look up, and found Sam reaching for him. He hurried back to his side. “How can I help, Sam?”
There was a strange smile on the man’s gray face. “Stay with me,” he rasped out quietly.
He took a deep breath. “Of course, Sam. Always.”
The smile brightened, and hazel eyes that had seemed dull just moments ago suddenly had some of their usual sharpness back. “You’re always here for me. Aren’t you?”
The angel scowled down at his hand, which was holding Sam’s. “If I had been there when you were dying, Sam, I could have healed you. I could have done it right, not the way Gadreel did, by hiding in your permission. If only I had been there, I could have prevented all this. Or before, if I hadn’t been led by the nose by Metatron. I should have been at your side instead. I never go wrong when I listen to Sam. I should know that by now. If I just listened to you and stayed by your side…”
“I like you by my side.”
It was a small voice, hoarse from all the coughing. But it pulled at Castiel’s heart in a whole new unfair way. He stared into Sam’s eyes.
“Water, Cas?”
He flinched. It was impossible to keep up with the flow of conversation with a mad, feverish hunter. “Yes, of course. Water. No, broth,” he stammered.
Sam watched him while he sipped. When he lay back down, he sighed. “Tired, Cas.”
“Yes, you would be. Please. Sleep, Sam. I’ll watch over you.”
There was that tiny smile again. “You always do.”
Guilt ran through his veins as surely as blood. “I always mean to,” he sighed miserably. “I hope you know…I always mean to.”
Sam squeezed his hand weakly. “Just stay,” he whispered. “That’s all I need.”
Castiel watched lovely eyes close, and he went back to work running a washcloth over Sam’s forehead and throat. He tried not to indulge in gazing at Sam’s body further than was necessary for this task. He was almost relieved when Sam began shivering again, because he could then pull the blanket back over him and be tempted no more.
The man slept for two hours. Every time Castiel started to move away, just to stretch his legs or reach for a book, Sam found his hand and held him tight even in his sleep. Finally, Castiel gave up and lay down beside the man. Immediately, Sam curled into him, without ever waking.
He smiled sadly, and worked his arm beneath his friend to hold him on his own chest. Sam seemed to sigh with contentment. Castiel closed his eyes. There was no fighting against his emotions now. There was no pretending that this wasn’t exactly where he wanted to be.
Soon, he would be back on the hunt for Metatron, seeking to end Gadreel for his part in hurting his friend and killing Kevin. He would do whatever it took to slay Metatron and return what was left of the decaying natural order.
But for now, he was utterly helpless against how pleased his heart was to be protecting Sam. He hated that Sam hurt, but his heart swam in the opportunity to watch over his friend. Worst of all, his brain joined in the giddiness by confusing itself about what it meant to be lying beside the man. It just felt so right to hold Sam this way.
What if we could hold him every night, the stupid brain sighed, and make him feel safe and watch over him and feel his weight on our chest?
Yes, the heart cried, and protect him! Protect him always! Be the one to protect him! Nothing is more than that! To protect Sam Winchester, what could possibly be more than that?
Keep him safe in your arms and wrap your wings tight around him, his mind whispered. Let no harm come to him. He runs toward danger, Castiel. He will always run toward danger. It’s in him. It’s what he’s made of.
You can protect him, Castiel, the heart needled in. There’s nothing you want more.
“This sickness will end, and then he won’t need me,” Castiel murmured aloud.
No, but what if he wanted you? What if?
What if?
Castiel tightened his arms around a human he wanted for his lover. He had never articulated that want before, not even in the safety of his own head. But there was no denying it now. He desperately wanted this man, and he ached with wanting Sam to want him.
Hours passed like this, and at last, Sam’s fever seemed to be subsiding. There was still occasional coughing, but Sam seemed to sleep easier. Castiel could feel his temperature dropping to less extreme levels. He sighed with relief.
When at last Sam stirred in his arms, there was immediate confusion. “Cas? What are you…”
He hurried to remove himself from Sam’s contact, and sat up. “How do you feel?”
Sam was staring at him with sleepy eyes, and the sight of it struck something in Castiel’s heart.
Imagine being there when he awakes, and seeing him like this each morning?
“I’m better,” he said quietly. “Still really achy. But I can breathe a little better.”
Even his voice sounded less painful. “I’m so glad, Sam. Your immune response seems to be repaired. I think the worst is over, and I don’t think this will happen again.”
He nodded and stretched a little. Then he looked back at Castiel with an unreadable expression. “Cas? Were you…holding me?”
A strange panic bubbled up in him. “No, I…Well, yes, but only because…because you seemed to want me to do that. Because you rested better. Because…”
But Sam was smiling at him. “Because I felt safer.”
All the air punched out of Castiel’s lungs, and he had trouble replacing it with a full breath. Those words seemed to grab hold of him mercilessly. “Do you? Feel safer when I hold you?” His heart was pounding out a relentless rhythm, and he was afraid that Sam might even be able to perceive it.
“Maybe a little. Maybe…maybe a lot.”
Castiel finally got his breath, but it seemed jagged and broken going in. “I’m glad,” he whispered. “That’s all I want. For you to feel…safe.”
Sleepy hazel eyes blinked at him with some unknowable emotion behind them. “Cas? You’ve taken such good care of me. I’m so glad you can’t catch what I have.”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s convenient,” he admitted. “I’m just glad I could help a little.”
“You were willing to do whatever I needed. Weren’t you?”
“Of course, Sam. Always.”
“Always,” Sam agreed in his quiet voice. “Even…even kiss me if that’s what it took.”
“I didn’t mind.” The words came out far too quickly. He couldn’t help it.
A small smile broke over Sam then like a wave. There was relief there that Castiel couldn’t understand. “No,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have minded either.” Sam reached out and took hold of Castiel’s hand. “I don’t remember much about last night. Thank you for keeping me safe.”
“We…we should have called Dean,” he tried to scold. He was certain now that Sam could hear his heart slamming into his ribs.
“No. Not yet. I can’t…” He sighed and looked back up. “But you, Cas. You’re here for me now. You took such good care of me. And I can’t help wishing the cure had been a kiss.”
Castiel was nodding, and now he froze.
“You can’t catch what I have,” Sam reminded him. “So what would be the harm?”
What would be the harm? his mind was screaming. What would be the harm? his heart wailed.
The smile took on a sly quality now. “You never know. Maybe, like soup, kisses have healing properties. Maybe that’s what I need to feel completely better.”
He blinked several times, and swallowed hard. “I would…do anything to make you feel better,” he said, and he stared at Sam’s pale lips with naked want.
“Then kiss me. You know. As part of the experiment. For science.”
“For…science,” Castiel allowed.
Sam’s grin was the last thing he saw before light brighter than angelic grace exploded behind his eyelids. Why in the world should touching lips to lips cause such an incredible eruption of emotion? Why did kissing Sam melt his brain and break his heart and yet release him better than ever?
He couldn’t speak when Sam sat back. He couldn’t even blink. He simply stared with wide eyes.
Sam laughed, and coughed a little. “Cas? This is the part-“
He launched himself in without thought. This was the part where he kissed back.