Dean walked into the bunker one day, with sniffles and wiping his nose. Castiel looked up, his eyebrows furrowed and head tilted as he watched Dean walk across the library. He rubbed his temples, and let out a long sigh.

"Dean, is something wrong?" Castiel asked in his monotone voice, getting up from his chair.

"N-Nothing. I'm fine." Dean replied, wiping his nose once more, and leaned against the table. Castiel walked toward him, his signiture concerned face, and placed a hand on Dean's forehead. He quickly pulled it back.

"Dean, your forehead is at a raging temperature. What happened?" Castiel asked.

"I think... I might have gotten a fever." Dean coughed out, covering his mouth with his arm. Castiel watched him, as he wondered to himself.

"You humans go through this occasionally I presume." Castiel commented. "I guess it decided to get you."

"Thanks for the summary Cas." Dean sniffled, and wiped his nose again, coughing. Castiel hooked his hand around Dean's arm and pulled him toward his bedroom. "W-What are you doing..."

"You need to rest Dean. I believe that is what humans do when they are 'sick'." Castiel responded, opening the door and pushing Dean onto the room. "Get in your bed, I will go get an icepack."

"Cas... I'm going to get you sick, you don't have to do this. Sam will be back soon, he can do it." Dean coughed.

"Angels don't get sick Dean. But Sam could, and I won't allow it. Lay down, I will return shortly." Castiel said and turned to go into the kitchen, where he opened up the freezer and placed ice cubes in a zip lock. I think this is how it's done.., He thought to himself, unsure of his actions. Then he returned back to the bedroom to find Dean's clothes all over the floor. He looked up to find him in his bed, shaking. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"C-Cas..." Dean tried to speak, but only coughed more.

"Your sickness baffles me. You are at overheating temperatures, but your shivering as if you were in snow." Castiel spoke, staring at Dean's trembling body, and how he began to sweat. He placed the ice pack over his forehead.

"Thanks.." Dean said, his voice strained and raspy.

"For what, Dean?"

"For being h-here. Helping m-me."

"It's my job to protect you Dean. Even if it something mere as a small virus."

Dean smiled, his green eyes tired, and strained. Castiel stared at him, and slowly returned the action. Castiel offered a massage, because he believed "it would help with the aches". And Dean softly agreed. He flipped over onto his stomach, and Castiel took his trenchcoat and jacket off, rolling up his sleeves in order to correctly press his hands against Dean's back. Castiel traced his muscles, how firm he was, and how much it was scarred. He pressed his thumbs into Dean's shoulders, which caused him to let out soft moans. Castiel remained expressionless, focusing his attention on correctly massaging Dean's back.

Through the next day, Castiel would help Dean with his virus. When it came to eating, he would make soup. He opened a can and pour it into the bowl just like that, and serve it to Dean. When Dean realized it wasn't even cooked, he would laugh and burst into coughs. Castiel would touch his forehead, to see if he was progressing. When he didn't seem of any difference, we went to the store to buy some Ibeprophen and some other medicines. He'd give them to Dean, and watch him take them, and how he slowly drifted off to sleep a while after. Since he didn't have to, Castiel would sit at the edge of the bed, and stare at him. He watched how he shivered, how he still coughed in his sleep, how pale and dry his lips were...

"Dean." Castiel called on him, his voice soft and mellow. Dean didn't respond. He leaned closer and tried once more. "Dean."

"Hm? Wha-?" He snorted and turned over. He sat up on his elbows and rubbed his eye. "What is it Cas..?"

"Are you feeling better?" Castiel asked, making sure his treatments were acurate. Dean took a deep breath as he look away, searching his thoughts.

"Yeah. I guess so. I don't feel as bad as I did yesterday." Dean replied, looking back to him.

"Good." Castiel smiled small.

"But... one thing I can't get over is... why you're doing this." Dean's eyebrows furrowed.

"I cannot?" Castiel tilted his head.

"No, that's not what I meant." Dean corrected. "Why are you helping me? And with something your not familiar with?"

"I—" Castiel started, but drifted off into thought. He looked down, unsure on his to answer.

"Cas?"

Castiel looked up again. "Because I possess feelings for you Dean."

Dean stared at him.

"As in friends or—"

"I love you Dean." Castiel looked at him blankly. "And I'll love you more than my father if I have to prove it to you." Dean looked down. He didn't reply anything.

"Uh.. I—"

"I'm sensing tension." Castiel spoke bluntly.

"Yeah... I uh, not sure how to respond to that..." Dean scratched the back of his head.

"Then don't." Castiel replied, and held Dean's neck, pulling himself closer to plant his lips on Dean's. Dean slowly put his hand down, and pushed Castiel off. The angel stared at him confused.

"Cas... don't ... I'll get you sick." Dean coughed slightly.

"Angels don't get sick Dean." Castiel reinformed, and kissed him once more. Dean kissed back, pulling him closer, and held the back of his neck, running his fingers through Castiel's hair. The angel took it upon himself to sit on Dean's laps, and continue their kiss as he deepened it. Dean would pull away to cough lightly, as Castiel watched him. But he'd always come back to the angel's lips, enjoying every second of them.

A couple of days later, Dean was back up on his feet. Breathing normally, no more coughing or sneezing, and color filled his face and lips again. He walked into the kitchen, going through the fridge to grab a beer. Suddenly, a loud thud came from the library. He made a face, closed the fridge door and strolled over. In there, he saw Castiel, holding himself up against the wall, with a couple of books all over the floor.

"Cas?" Dean said aloud. The angel turned around, his face pale.

"D-Dean..." Castiel coughed out. Dean smiled, as he completely understood what has happened.

"Okay, c'mere you. We need to get you to a bed." Dean walked up to the angel, and lifted his arm so that it wrap around his shoulders.

"This feeling is awful. I don't like it." Castiel informed, wiping his nose.

"Yeah, I know. I know." Dean chuckled, pulled him into his bedroom, where he took off his tie, trenchcoat, jacket, and shirt off, and placed him in his bed. Castiel shivered, and pulled up the covers.

"Thank you Dean..." Castiel said weakly.

"No problem." Dean smiled.

"Why are you helping me? I could be back to normal shortly." Castiel asked, looking up to Dean with his tired eyes.

"Because," Dean scoffed and looked down, only to bring his eyes back up again, "I love you too."