Stomachs and Hands, Amen
Summary: Cas is carsick.
Characters/pairing: pre-Sam/Cas, Dean.
Spoilers/setting: late s5? s8? future fic? I really don't know, but there definitely aren't spoilers past the first of these.
Warnings: if vomiting bothers you, I'd leave now.
Wordcount: 311
Disclaimer: neither Cas, the Winchesters, or the Impala belong to me, and I'm not making any money.
"Dean.”
Cas’ voice is gravelly, the first thing he’s said in over half an hour.
“What?”
“I don’t--- I don’t...” Cas swallows.
“You don’t feel well?” Sam asks. He’s twisted around in his seat, hazel eyes deep with concern and Cas is dizzy. Dean pulls the car over with a wild jerk and Cas falls out and empties his stomach all over the pavement, the click of the door opening echoing in his ears.
“Hey. Hey.” Dean is saying, and Sam is... Sam is rubbing his back. Cas doesn’t understand. The world is upside-down. He swallows.
Dean hands him a bottle of water, and Cas drinks it. It’s cool and nice, and he swallows over and over. Sam wipes at his chin, and Cas doesn’t understand.
“You good now?”
Cas nods. He isn’t sure if it’s true, but he doesn’t feel as stomach-churningly awful as he did before, and it’s Dean. Dean will want him to be good.
Sam supports him back to the Impala. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t even know he needs it, it just happens. He’s sweaty, limp, and Sam takes his weight. Sam folds him into the car and lowers him gently onto the passenger seat, hand lingering for a second just above Cas’ shoulder.
“This is your seat.”
“Shhh.” Sam says. Cas leans back and doesn’t notice anything else until the car starts, and his stomach jumps unpleasantly, but it’s just dread. He’s fine.
He doesn’t see Sam.
The world spins, and he’s dizzy. He twists around and looks in the backseat. Sam smiles at him. His feet are on the ceiling.
Cas turns to face forward again and stares out the window. He doesn’t understand.
In a few minutes, he’s throwing up again, on a hillside, and all he knows is that Sam is whispering something in his ear, and strong hands are stroking his hair.
Characters/pairing: pre-Sam/Cas, Dean.
Spoilers/setting: late s5? s8? future fic? I really don't know, but there definitely aren't spoilers past the first of these.
Warnings: if vomiting bothers you, I'd leave now.
Wordcount: 311
Disclaimer: neither Cas, the Winchesters, or the Impala belong to me, and I'm not making any money.
"Dean.”
Cas’ voice is gravelly, the first thing he’s said in over half an hour.
“What?”
“I don’t--- I don’t...” Cas swallows.
“You don’t feel well?” Sam asks. He’s twisted around in his seat, hazel eyes deep with concern and Cas is dizzy. Dean pulls the car over with a wild jerk and Cas falls out and empties his stomach all over the pavement, the click of the door opening echoing in his ears.
“Hey. Hey.” Dean is saying, and Sam is... Sam is rubbing his back. Cas doesn’t understand. The world is upside-down. He swallows.
Dean hands him a bottle of water, and Cas drinks it. It’s cool and nice, and he swallows over and over. Sam wipes at his chin, and Cas doesn’t understand.
“You good now?”
Cas nods. He isn’t sure if it’s true, but he doesn’t feel as stomach-churningly awful as he did before, and it’s Dean. Dean will want him to be good.
Sam supports him back to the Impala. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t even know he needs it, it just happens. He’s sweaty, limp, and Sam takes his weight. Sam folds him into the car and lowers him gently onto the passenger seat, hand lingering for a second just above Cas’ shoulder.
“This is your seat.”
“Shhh.” Sam says. Cas leans back and doesn’t notice anything else until the car starts, and his stomach jumps unpleasantly, but it’s just dread. He’s fine.
He doesn’t see Sam.
The world spins, and he’s dizzy. He twists around and looks in the backseat. Sam smiles at him. His feet are on the ceiling.
Cas turns to face forward again and stares out the window. He doesn’t understand.
In a few minutes, he’s throwing up again, on a hillside, and all he knows is that Sam is whispering something in his ear, and strong hands are stroking his hair.