How Do You Say 'Sick' In Enochian? (Supernatural)
Title: How Do You Say 'Sick' In Enochian?
Characters: Sam, Castiel
Rating: PG
Summary: Castiel is sick after dragging himself and Dean out of Purgatory at the cost of his Grace. Sam takes care of him, with snuggles and the occasional reminder that Tylenol is not candy.
A/N: This is written for the Sassy Exchange on tumblr, for wingeddildos, for the prompt "Post-purgatory fic, where Sam takes care of Cas, who is really sick because he sacrificed his grace to get Dean and himself out."
Sam sighs as he watches Castiel stare at the ceiling and hum to himself. In the time it took him to go to the bathroom, the former angel has somehow managed to get himself tangled in his trench coat (at least he’s finally trying to take it off) and rolled himself off the bed in the process. Sam was out of the room for a minute and a half at the most, it’s actually a little impressive.
This is what he gets for ever being the least bit curious about how Castiel would react to getting sick, it really is.
“Hey, Cas, need a hand?” Sam says, bending now and starting to untangle the trench coat.
Castiel looks up at Sam with fever-bright eyes and says “I have a new appreciation for Led Zeppelin, Sam.” Sam has to resist the urge to roll his eyes as Castiel sits up and Sam takes the trench coat the rest of the way off and throws it on a chair, picking Castiel up and laying him back on the bed.
Castiel has been sick ever since he and Dean appeared from Purgatory a week ago; Castiel sacrificed his Grace to get them out, and his new human immune system isn’t really up to snuff yet. He’s been running a fever for the last three days, but it stays consistently moderate so Sam isn’t too worried yet. He’s been loading Castiel up with liquids and Tylenol since the fever started; the former angel is fascinated with the pills, for some reason.
Castiel is humming Stairway to Heaven as Sam stands up to grab a cold washcloth from the bathroom. When he returns Castiel grins up at him and sings “And if you listen very hard, the tune will come to you at last, when all is one and one is all, yeah, to be a rock and not to roll.”
It’s very out of tune, and not entirely on the right beats, but Sam can’t help the grin that spreads across his face when Castiel looks at him expectantly until he sings “And she’s buying a stairway to heaven.” Castiel smiles brightly at him and claps a little before he’s overtaken by a coughing fit, rolling onto his side and curling up as Sam sits on the edge of his bed and rubs his back.
Eventually the fit passes and Sam helps Castiel sit up, handing him a glass of water for his throat. Castiel drains the glass and hands it back with a guttural sound that Sam has figured out is ‘thank you’ in Enochian. “English, Cas,” he says patiently as he sets the empty glass on the table. The fever must be trying to spike again; every now and then Castiel speaks in Enochian, usually accompanied by a rising temperature. So far Sam has managed to keep the fever down each time it attempts to spike.
Castiel says something else in Enochian and Sam checks his watch and decides it’s been long enough that the former angel can have some more Tylenol. He gets another glass of water, grabs the Tylenol container, and shakes two pills out into his hand. He holds the water and pills out to Castiel, who pops the pills into his mouth and swallows them with a gulp of water. He gives Sam an expectant look after, and Sam sighs.
“We’ve talked about this, Cas. Tylenol is not candy, it is medicine, and you can only have so much at a time.” He gently pushes Castiel flat and pulls the blankets up over him, saying “Try and get some more sleep, ok?” Castiel nods solemnly, closing his eyes and curling towards where Sam is sitting on the edge of the bed. Sam stays there for a few minutes, making sure Castiel is actually asleep, before getting up. Hopefully Castiel will sleep for a few hours. Dean is out at the library looking for a job, and it sounded like he was going to a bar afterwards, so it’s just down to Sam to keep an eye on Castiel for a while.
Castiel flails himself awake several hours later, shoving the blankets off as much as he can and mumbling “Hot, too hot,” as he opens his eyes. Sam is at his side in an instant, putting a hand on Castiel’s forehead, and he winces when he feels the hear there. “Sam?” Castiel says, blearily following Sam’s arm up his body to his face.
“Hey, Cas,” Sam says quietly. “Feeling a little worse, huh?” When Castiel nods miserably Sam runs his fingers through his friends hair. “I’ve got some stuff that should help, ok?”
“Ok,” Castiel rasps, turning onto his side and coughing again. Sam rubs his back for a moment before getting up and grabbing the medicine and a washcloth. This time he’s got cough syrup in addition to the Tylenol. Castiel frowns when Sam tries to tug him vaguely upright to take all the meds.
“Just for a second, Cas,” Sam says, hauling the angel into a sitting position. “Take these and you can lie down again.” He doles out the Tylenol and water first, then cough syrup, then lets Castiel lie down and covers his forehead with the cold washcloth.
“I don’t feel any better, Sam,” Castiel says a little petulantly a few minutes later. “This is false advertising.” He gives Sam a pathetic look, as if urging Sam to make it work faster, and mumbles something else in Enochian.
Sam can’t help the little chuckle he lets out at Castiel’s expression. “I can’t make the medicine work faster with the power of my mind,” he says, running a hand through Castiel’s hair. “I can make the washcloth colder, that might help, but otherwise you just have to wait for the meds to start working.” He snags the washcloth and re-wets it with cold water, laying it on Castiel’s forehead once more.
Sam can tell the moment the meds start working because Castiel visibly relaxes into the mattress, sighing tiredly as he blinks slowly. Sam had re-wet the washcloth a few more times, until Castiel grabbed his wrist and tugged him up on the bed with him. Now he’s against the headboard, one hand stroking through Castiel’s hair. “Feeling better now?” Sam whispers, sliding his hand down to feel Castiel’s forehead, satisfied when it feels cooler to the touch.
“Mmmhmmmm,” Castiel hums quietly, pulling at Sam until he lays down, using Sam’s shoulder for a pillow and throwing an arm across his waist. He protests when Sam tries to move, mumbling “Stay, pillow,” and tightening his hold.
Sam huffs out a quiet laugh. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says sincerely, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Castiel’s forehead. “Sleep, Cas.” Castiel makes some sort of affirmative sound, cuddling closer, and Sam can’t help his fond grin as he drifts off as well.
Characters: Sam, Castiel
Rating: PG
Summary: Castiel is sick after dragging himself and Dean out of Purgatory at the cost of his Grace. Sam takes care of him, with snuggles and the occasional reminder that Tylenol is not candy.
A/N: This is written for the Sassy Exchange on tumblr, for wingeddildos, for the prompt "Post-purgatory fic, where Sam takes care of Cas, who is really sick because he sacrificed his grace to get Dean and himself out."
Sam sighs as he watches Castiel stare at the ceiling and hum to himself. In the time it took him to go to the bathroom, the former angel has somehow managed to get himself tangled in his trench coat (at least he’s finally trying to take it off) and rolled himself off the bed in the process. Sam was out of the room for a minute and a half at the most, it’s actually a little impressive.
This is what he gets for ever being the least bit curious about how Castiel would react to getting sick, it really is.
“Hey, Cas, need a hand?” Sam says, bending now and starting to untangle the trench coat.
Castiel looks up at Sam with fever-bright eyes and says “I have a new appreciation for Led Zeppelin, Sam.” Sam has to resist the urge to roll his eyes as Castiel sits up and Sam takes the trench coat the rest of the way off and throws it on a chair, picking Castiel up and laying him back on the bed.
Castiel has been sick ever since he and Dean appeared from Purgatory a week ago; Castiel sacrificed his Grace to get them out, and his new human immune system isn’t really up to snuff yet. He’s been running a fever for the last three days, but it stays consistently moderate so Sam isn’t too worried yet. He’s been loading Castiel up with liquids and Tylenol since the fever started; the former angel is fascinated with the pills, for some reason.
Castiel is humming Stairway to Heaven as Sam stands up to grab a cold washcloth from the bathroom. When he returns Castiel grins up at him and sings “And if you listen very hard, the tune will come to you at last, when all is one and one is all, yeah, to be a rock and not to roll.”
It’s very out of tune, and not entirely on the right beats, but Sam can’t help the grin that spreads across his face when Castiel looks at him expectantly until he sings “And she’s buying a stairway to heaven.” Castiel smiles brightly at him and claps a little before he’s overtaken by a coughing fit, rolling onto his side and curling up as Sam sits on the edge of his bed and rubs his back.
Eventually the fit passes and Sam helps Castiel sit up, handing him a glass of water for his throat. Castiel drains the glass and hands it back with a guttural sound that Sam has figured out is ‘thank you’ in Enochian. “English, Cas,” he says patiently as he sets the empty glass on the table. The fever must be trying to spike again; every now and then Castiel speaks in Enochian, usually accompanied by a rising temperature. So far Sam has managed to keep the fever down each time it attempts to spike.
Castiel says something else in Enochian and Sam checks his watch and decides it’s been long enough that the former angel can have some more Tylenol. He gets another glass of water, grabs the Tylenol container, and shakes two pills out into his hand. He holds the water and pills out to Castiel, who pops the pills into his mouth and swallows them with a gulp of water. He gives Sam an expectant look after, and Sam sighs.
“We’ve talked about this, Cas. Tylenol is not candy, it is medicine, and you can only have so much at a time.” He gently pushes Castiel flat and pulls the blankets up over him, saying “Try and get some more sleep, ok?” Castiel nods solemnly, closing his eyes and curling towards where Sam is sitting on the edge of the bed. Sam stays there for a few minutes, making sure Castiel is actually asleep, before getting up. Hopefully Castiel will sleep for a few hours. Dean is out at the library looking for a job, and it sounded like he was going to a bar afterwards, so it’s just down to Sam to keep an eye on Castiel for a while.
Castiel flails himself awake several hours later, shoving the blankets off as much as he can and mumbling “Hot, too hot,” as he opens his eyes. Sam is at his side in an instant, putting a hand on Castiel’s forehead, and he winces when he feels the hear there. “Sam?” Castiel says, blearily following Sam’s arm up his body to his face.
“Hey, Cas,” Sam says quietly. “Feeling a little worse, huh?” When Castiel nods miserably Sam runs his fingers through his friends hair. “I’ve got some stuff that should help, ok?”
“Ok,” Castiel rasps, turning onto his side and coughing again. Sam rubs his back for a moment before getting up and grabbing the medicine and a washcloth. This time he’s got cough syrup in addition to the Tylenol. Castiel frowns when Sam tries to tug him vaguely upright to take all the meds.
“Just for a second, Cas,” Sam says, hauling the angel into a sitting position. “Take these and you can lie down again.” He doles out the Tylenol and water first, then cough syrup, then lets Castiel lie down and covers his forehead with the cold washcloth.
“I don’t feel any better, Sam,” Castiel says a little petulantly a few minutes later. “This is false advertising.” He gives Sam a pathetic look, as if urging Sam to make it work faster, and mumbles something else in Enochian.
Sam can’t help the little chuckle he lets out at Castiel’s expression. “I can’t make the medicine work faster with the power of my mind,” he says, running a hand through Castiel’s hair. “I can make the washcloth colder, that might help, but otherwise you just have to wait for the meds to start working.” He snags the washcloth and re-wets it with cold water, laying it on Castiel’s forehead once more.
Sam can tell the moment the meds start working because Castiel visibly relaxes into the mattress, sighing tiredly as he blinks slowly. Sam had re-wet the washcloth a few more times, until Castiel grabbed his wrist and tugged him up on the bed with him. Now he’s against the headboard, one hand stroking through Castiel’s hair. “Feeling better now?” Sam whispers, sliding his hand down to feel Castiel’s forehead, satisfied when it feels cooler to the touch.
“Mmmhmmmm,” Castiel hums quietly, pulling at Sam until he lays down, using Sam’s shoulder for a pillow and throwing an arm across his waist. He protests when Sam tries to move, mumbling “Stay, pillow,” and tightening his hold.
Sam huffs out a quiet laugh. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says sincerely, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Castiel’s forehead. “Sleep, Cas.” Castiel makes some sort of affirmative sound, cuddling closer, and Sam can’t help his fond grin as he drifts off as well.