Comfort
Title: Comfort
Characters: Castiel, Dean
Genre: Gen
Word count: 400 (quadruple drabble, 100 words each part)
Rating: PG
Summary: Castiel makes Dean cocoa.
Written for the prompt: Peppermint
A/N: For anyone who may have seen this on ff.net, I added a section. Also, this is all the fault of
amberdreams and
quickreaver and their devastating 10.9 codas. So, be warned. This is not a happy, heartwarming fic.
Castiel still doesn’t understand “comfort food” but he’s beginning to see the appeal. The aroma of the milk and chocolate he’s heating in the bunker’s kitchen is oddly soothing. The concoction steams as he pours it into a mug and he considers it for a moment before pulling two glass bottles from his pocket, adding a generous splash from one and a few drops from the other. It’s not Dean’s usual poison but peppermint schnapps melds better with chocolate than whiskey. Dean’s not in the market for comfort right now. Castiel knows what Dean wants. What he’s getting is cocoa.
*
Dean stares listlessly at the cup when Castiel sets it on the table. Castiel scrutinizes him, assessing the deterioration. Dean’s pale and shivering, face gaunt. His left hand kneads his right forearm, incessantly clawing at the Mark.
“Cas…”
“Drink,” Castiel says. He knows what Dean will say, doesn’t need to hear it again. “It will warm you.”
“Sam?”
“Still searching for Cain. He has found nothing”
Dean’s head drops further but he picks up the cup and takes a sip. “You spiked it?”
“Embellished,” Cas says, shrugging.
“Peppermint?”
“It melded better.”
Dean wraps both hands around the mug and drinks.
*
When Dean begins to sag in his chair, Cas plucks the mug from his hand, whiff of peppermint not calming at all. There’s confusion in Dean’s hazy eyes, despair and fear.
“It’s not the Mark,” he assures and Dean hears him before consciousness blinks out. Castiel lowers Dean’s head gently to the table, pillowing his cheek on one folded arm. When exhaustion overcomes Dean, sleep is fleeting and plagued with nightmares. Dean won’t wake screaming from this. Cas might have to drop Dean into the sun to keep the Mark from bringing him back but Dean will never know it.
*
Castiel returns to the bunker after. It is empty. It will forever be empty now. For all his troubles, all his demons, Dean filled it with life. When Sam returns, if Sam returns, Castiel imagines he will find the silence unbearable.
Castiel heats chocolate with the last of the milk. He pours two mugs and adds the peppermint spirits. Maybe it will ease Sam to know Dean didn’t meet this end in terror and agony but peacefully unaware. If not, there will be cocoa. Cas takes a sip and waits in vain for the ache in his chest to subside.
Characters: Castiel, Dean
Genre: Gen
Word count: 400 (quadruple drabble, 100 words each part)
Rating: PG
Summary: Castiel makes Dean cocoa.
Written for the prompt: Peppermint
A/N: For anyone who may have seen this on ff.net, I added a section. Also, this is all the fault of
amberdreams and
quickreaver and their devastating 10.9 codas. So, be warned. This is not a happy, heartwarming fic.
Castiel still doesn’t understand “comfort food” but he’s beginning to see the appeal. The aroma of the milk and chocolate he’s heating in the bunker’s kitchen is oddly soothing. The concoction steams as he pours it into a mug and he considers it for a moment before pulling two glass bottles from his pocket, adding a generous splash from one and a few drops from the other. It’s not Dean’s usual poison but peppermint schnapps melds better with chocolate than whiskey. Dean’s not in the market for comfort right now. Castiel knows what Dean wants. What he’s getting is cocoa.
*
Dean stares listlessly at the cup when Castiel sets it on the table. Castiel scrutinizes him, assessing the deterioration. Dean’s pale and shivering, face gaunt. His left hand kneads his right forearm, incessantly clawing at the Mark.
“Cas…”
“Drink,” Castiel says. He knows what Dean will say, doesn’t need to hear it again. “It will warm you.”
“Sam?”
“Still searching for Cain. He has found nothing”
Dean’s head drops further but he picks up the cup and takes a sip. “You spiked it?”
“Embellished,” Cas says, shrugging.
“Peppermint?”
“It melded better.”
Dean wraps both hands around the mug and drinks.
*
When Dean begins to sag in his chair, Cas plucks the mug from his hand, whiff of peppermint not calming at all. There’s confusion in Dean’s hazy eyes, despair and fear.
“It’s not the Mark,” he assures and Dean hears him before consciousness blinks out. Castiel lowers Dean’s head gently to the table, pillowing his cheek on one folded arm. When exhaustion overcomes Dean, sleep is fleeting and plagued with nightmares. Dean won’t wake screaming from this. Cas might have to drop Dean into the sun to keep the Mark from bringing him back but Dean will never know it.
*
Castiel returns to the bunker after. It is empty. It will forever be empty now. For all his troubles, all his demons, Dean filled it with life. When Sam returns, if Sam returns, Castiel imagines he will find the silence unbearable.
Castiel heats chocolate with the last of the milk. He pours two mugs and adds the peppermint spirits. Maybe it will ease Sam to know Dean didn’t meet this end in terror and agony but peacefully unaware. If not, there will be cocoa. Cas takes a sip and waits in vain for the ache in his chest to subside.