Castiel felt silly he had had to go to Gabriel for help, but he'd never before encountered the common cold. Or he had, but he'd never encountered the Dean Winchester brand; which included a lot of groaning, sniffling, and contemplated suicide. Gabriel had taken one look at Cas' morose boyfriend and laughed obnoxiously.
"Dean-O's got the man-flu, Cassie. The boy needs soup and lots of it. And something warm to hold on to."
Castiel frowned; "where am I to get soup from?"
"Don't worry about it, I'll get Sammy on the case. You go snuggle up to him and turn up the heat. He needs to sweat out his illness."
However, had Gabriel popped in on his own boyfriend when he'd returned from his heavenly duties the night before, he'd have known Sam was in no fit state to be cooking up chicken soup. The youngest hunter was curled up in bed, a box of tissues clutched in one hand and a crumpled up tissue in the other. His eyes were red-rimmed and his nose was glowing like a fictional reindeer.
"Jeez, Sam-I-Am, not you too."
Sam cracked his eyes open a little more, peering up at Gabriel; "wha?"
"Dean's sick too... How're you feeling, kiddo?"
"I feel like Hell, though I'm probably handling it better than Dean is."
Gabriel chuckled; "most definitely, he's been begging Cas to smite him already."
"Such a drama queen... You couldn't get me some soup could you?"
"I'm on it Sammy-O. Let me go check in on the grumps, see how much soup needs to be snapped up..."
Sam nodded and burrowed further in to his mass of pillows and blankets as Gabriel trotted off to Bobby and Crowley's room, gingerly knocking on the door.
"Who is it?"
Gabriel stuck his head round; "just me. Is Bobby sick?"
Crowley shook his head; "nope, just fat and lazy."
"Oh, um, good? Anyway, the boys are sick, so keep Bobby away."
Gabriel managed to snap up some flu remedies in no time, sharing them between the Winchesters. Castiel curled up next to Dean, feeding him hot soup at regular intervals, providing him with something warm to cuddle up to, and giving him reassuring kisses, promising he'd get better. Dean, for all his groaning and complaining, felt better with the angelic presence, holding on to his lover like a life-line.
Sam was dealing with his cold much better, but appreciated Gabriel's babying nonetheless. The two of them curled up in bed watching films. Gabriel had upped his overall body temperature so Sam had something warm to cling to and insisted on spoon-feeding him his soup.
"How're you feeling Samsquatch?"
Sam smiled, snuggling closer to his angel; "much better. My head's still throbbing, but I definitely feel less gross."
"Good. You focus on getting better."
"Are you getting soft in your old age?"
The archangel barked out a laugh; "no! I just want to be able to have wild sex with you again."
"Oh. Romantic. Thank you."