the stars whisper to me

Castiel felt the feathers on his wings twitch, fluttering slightly. The skin around the connection point to his spine tightening in a way that told him there was danger.

It was early, very early, with the morning autumn sun just barely illuminating the sky with its dazzling colours.

He had left to visit a local farmers market without Dean, who had sleepily grumbled to him something about catching up on sleep, and Cas had assumed he would be fine. Safely tucked under their warm fluffy comforter that Dean insisted was necessary

Yet, his wings tightened more with a mixture of discomfort and pain. Two things that he never wanted to feel aching through his wings ever again.

Cas blinked; the grief practically gnawing a hole through him with how quickly he realized Dean was in some sort of danger.

Without him. Alone, obviously in some sort of mortal danger that he could've protected him from.

He frantically paid for fresh produce, apologizing to the poor stall owner for staring at them for so long before shoving the produce haphazardly into a fabric grocery bag.

Cas bolted toward alleyway, barely stepping foot into it before he let his wings immediately take him to Dean.

The miscellaneous groceries were quickly discarded onto the bed, that was practically torn apart with both their pillows and blankets tossed onto the floor along side Dean's soft sleep shirt.

"Dean?" Castiel called out, knowing that the man had to be close. Since his wings would never betray him when Dean was involved.

He glanced around the room, preemptively grasping his angel blade while his eyes scanned for anything off.

Once he noted that their bedroom was vacant of anyone, including Dean, he bent down toward Dean's shirt.

His fingers wrapped around the wet fabric, raising it toward his nose.

"Not blood," he thought to himself.

"Dean?" Cas called out again, moving toward the bedroom door that was wide open. The connection point of his wings continuing to twinge with discomfort.

The pain was slowly fading, yet he could feel the creeping of nausea swiftly taking its place.

He tilted his head, hearing the running water from a shower echoing from down the hallway.

"Showering?" Castiel thought to himself, a part of him tempted to sheath his blade in favour of another.

He moved quietly down the hallway, his angelic stealth providing him the upper hand over whoever might be lingering around the corner.

Cas crept down the bathroom's entrance, the hot steam practically radiating its way out into the hallway with thick pea soup-esque clouds that clung to the comparatively chilly air.

"Dean?" He called out once more, squinting through the fog in an attempt to spot his beloved husband.

"…Cas…?" Dean's voice croaked out.

With the sound of Dean's voice, Cas moved into the steam.

"Dean?"

He looked down at the shirtless man, who was flushed a rather vibrant red with extremely tussled and sweat clumped hair.

Cas crouched in front of him, sheathing his angel blade with a hunch of what his wings had sensed from Dean.

"Have you taken any medication?"

Dean let out a creaky groan, his throat very obviously raspy and sore from the beginning of a nasty virus.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Cas said softly, with enough of a teasing tone that made Dean groan and grumble some more.

Cas got up with a sigh, the tension still radiating throughout his wings, but at least he knew Dean was safe. Miserable, but safe.

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