#userpris

As he approaches the bedroom he can hear muffled crying, setting him on high alert. The door is still closed, lights still off (except for a soft nightlight), and the humidifier is still running. Dean shoves down his panic because while this might not mean any of the horrible things he's imagining, his husband is still crying in their bedroom. 

The sight that greets him after opening the door is pitiful. Cas is buried under the covers with a Tupperware bowl next to him. He's pale and shaking. Dean sits on the edge of the bed and puts a hand on Cas's forehead. He's burning up. Cas weakly turns his head and whines. 

"Cas, sweetheart, can you hear me?" Dean says softly, brushing the damp hair off Cas's forehead. 

Cas opens his eyes, unfocused, and croaks "Dean? But you're at the store."

"Yeah, I was. But now I'm home. Have you thrown up?" The bowl seems clean but Cas could have rinsed it out.

"No, but Dean, I can't find my hat."

His hat?

"Ok, we'll circle back to that. Have you taken any medicine?"

"Dean! I can't find my hat!"

"Sweetheart, I'll look for your hat but right now I'm worried about your fever. Did you take any medicine?"

Cas begins crying again. "I've looked for it all week!" He whines weakly. 

"Cas, please, we'll find your hat, I promise. Just tell me. Have you taken any medicine?"

Cas shakes his head and weakly clutches Dean's wrist. Dean gently strokes his forehead. "Alright. I'm going to bring you some medicine and water. And we'll get you out of these sweaty pajamas. Then you'll feel better."

Dean begins to pull away but Cas tightens his grip. "And you'll look for my hat?"

"Of course, sweetheart." Dean leaves the room, refraining from reminding Cas that he can't get sick like this from not wearing a hat. Dean doesn't even remember seeing Cas looking for his hat or mentioning it was missing. He roots around in their medicine cabinet for the cold and flu medicine. It's a little odd, he thinks as he makes his way back to the bedroom, that Cas didn't mention the hat. It's his favorite hat. Every other hat Cas tried was too itchy. Except this one that Cas crocheted himself. Shit.

After getting Cas settled with clean pajamas, medicine, and water Dean sets off to look for the hat. He makes sure his phone volume is on in case Cas texts or calls him. Thirty minutes later Dean finds himself looking through the coat closet for the fourth time. Exhaling loudly, he runs his fingers through his hair and decides the hat really is lost. 

Dean goes to check on Cas who has mercifully fallen asleep. He sits on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, watching his husband’s chest rise and fall. Cas loved that hat. He taught himself to crochet to make that hat. He had read that baby alpaca wool is the best for sensitive skin so he was determined to make himself a hat. Maybe he had some yarn leftover?

Cas kept various craft supplies in the office closet. Dean searched through several boxes before finding what he was looking for. There were a few different types of yarn and a case with crochet tools. In a canvas bag Dean found the extra baby alpaca yarn and absolutely did not do a little happy dance. Now he just had to figure out how to make a hat out of it. 

Dean set himself up in the kitchen with soup simmering on the stove and his laptop set up with a “How to Crochet for Beginners” video queued up. Throughout the day he went between checking on Cas and learning how to crochet a base chain. It was much more difficult than Cas had made it seem. Dean had to restart many times before finally getting the hang of it. 

Around 3pm Cas’s fever had lowered to 99 and Dean brought him some soup to try. He hadn’t actually thrown up at all so hopefully he would be able to keep this down. Cas also seems to be a little more lucid but still not very talkative. He finishes the small bowl of soup, thanks Dean, and closes his eyes to nap some more. 

Dean returns to the kitchen to practice the crochet stitch he needs to use for the hat pattern he chose. It's a simple pattern that used a rectangle sewn up the sides and cinched at the top to create the hat. Dean figures once he gets the hang of the stitch it will be a breeze to complete. 

By 10pm Dean had gotten Cas to eat a little more soup and some yogurt and he was over halfway done with his rectangle. A text came through around 10:20. It was Cas asking if he was coming to bed anytime soon. Cas’s fever had broken sometime that evening but he was still very weak. 

Dean hides his project, checks locks on doors, and makes his way to the bedroom. As he slips into bed, Cas rolls over and buries his face in Dean’s shoulder.

“Missed you today,” he says, his voice muffled and scratchy. Dean gently runs his fingers through Cas’s hair. 

“I missed you too, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re feeling a little better. Try to get some more rest.” Dean presses a kiss to Cas’s head. Cas hums and burrows deeper into Dean’s side. 

The next day Cas sleeps in late, giving Dean plenty of time to finish his project and get it washed without Cas asking what he was doing. That afternoon Cas migrates to the living room so that Dean could change their sheets and air out the bedroom. For dinner they have more soup and watch a cheesy Christmas movie. Once the movie is over Dean makes an excuse about getting some more hot chocolate so he can check on the hat again. It's finally dry so Dean folds it into his sweatshirt pocket and joins Cas back on the couch, two hot chocolates in hand. 

Cas makes a pleased sound as he sips his drink and it warms Dean to see him feeling better. 

“Hey, Cas, I- uh- have something for you. Well, I mean, I made something for you. Er, anyway, here.” 

Cas is chuckling as Dean pulls the hat from his pocket. His eyes widen as he takes it from Dean. 

“Dean,” Cas says, turning his wide eyes to his husband. “I’ve been missing my hat all week. Where did you find it?”

“Oh, uh, well actually,” Dean pauses, a blush creeping up his neck, “I didn’t find it. So I made you a new one.” He blurts the rest out in a rush and waits for Cas to say something. 

Cas takes his time carefully inspecting the hat before turning a blinding smile on Dean. “You made this?”

Dean nods and Cas throws his arms around him. “Dean, thank you, I love it so much!”

They pull away and Cas continues admiring the hat. Dean rubs the back of his neck. “Well, when your fever was really high yesterday you kept going on about how your hat was missing. And I know you hate every other hat we have, so I had to make you one.” Dean pauses. That’s not quite right. “Well, I wanted to make you a new one.”

“So you just, what, learned how to crochet yesterday?” Cas asks, incredulous. 

“Um, yeah, I guess?”

Cas pulls Dean into another hug. “Dean, that's incredible and so sweet! It took me a week to figure out how to crochet!”