The tightness in his chest of the first three days had been irritating enough, but now things were just out and out gross. The island was temperate enough that Dean couldn't remember ever taking sick here, but it seemed his body had decided to make up for lost time. He was achy and sore, not enough to be flulike but enough to be annoying as hell
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"I'm trying to make a friend."
It was that point in which a squirrel, startled by the commotion, tore across the room, scaling the wall halfway up before disappearing behind a dresser.
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He turned an irritated look on Castiel. "You've been here like, a week. How the hell do you have rodents already?"
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