#it's a terminal case of younger siblingism folks

[shallowseeker]

the reason he's so annoyed at cas is because dean made soup for cas and when sam asked for some he said no. do i actually believe this? not really but i think it's funny.

Is this how it went down?

///

Cas is sweating, and it’s gross. Like, visibly dripping, shirt-sticking gross. Sam watches as Dean, ever the picture of logic and reason, wraps a blanket around him.

A blanket.

“Dean, that’s not gonna help him with what he has,” Sam says.

Dean shoots him a look—the kind that usually comes right before he tells Sam to shut up—and sure enough, “Shut up. You got a better idea, Florence Nightingale?”

Sam rolls his eyes. He’s not the one being a Florence Nightingale.

He doesn’t argue, though. Instead, he trails after Dean into the kitchen, tossing out ideas about where to start looking for Metatron. “We could check the bunker archives again. Maybe call Garth? Or try—”

Dean doesn’t respond. Instead, he yanks a can from the wire rack in the corner—Campbell’s tomato rice soup—and goes to work like he's on some kind of timed TV cooking competition.

“Uh, I’m not hungry,” Sam says, watching him pour the soup into a saucepan with more aggression than necessary.

Dean doesn’t look up. “It’s not for you.” Then he heaves the saucepan onto the burner, twisting the knob until the eye burns red.

As the smell of tomato starts to fill the room, Sam’s stomach betrays him, belting out sound that sounds more like a burp than a growl. Dean doesn’t tease him about it, which is... weird.

Figuring he might as well eat, Sam grabs a bowl for himself and jogs over, reaching for the ladle Dean left sitting innocently on the counter. But Dean moves like a flash of lightning, snatching it up before Sam’s fingers can close around it.

He whacks Sam on the arm with it.

“Hey!” Sam yelps, glaring.

“I said it's not for you.”

Sam watches, stunned, as Dean doles it out into a huge meemaw-style dish. And not just a portion—the entire can. He fills the massive dish to the brim, sets it on a tray, and strides toward the door like he’s delivering room service.

"Really?" Sam deadpans. "He won’t even eat it, Dean."

Dean doesn’t break stride. “Rowena’s magic really screwed him up. Who knows? Maybe this’ll slow it down.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sam argues, trailing after him. “A-and, you didn’t have to give him the whole can!”

Dean stops at the door, glances back, and shrugs. “You can open the other can.”

Sam narrows his eyes at the second can sitting untouched on the rack. He crosses his arms and huffs.

“I don’t wanna.”

Dean grins. “Stay hungry, then.”

//

Cas doesn’t end up eating much of it. Whenever he tries to force himself to take a bite, he shoots miserable, furtive glances up at Dean’s expectant face.

Unfortunately, some of the soup dribbles from his mouth—enough that Dean tucks a napkin into the collar of his shirt like a bib. But whether the messiness is because Cas is too weak or the soup just tastes awful to him, the result’s the same: backwash.

Yeah, Sam’s not eating any of those leftovers.

Dean, of course, doesn’t seem to care about the backwash. He winds up finishing most of the soup.