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120_minutenTeam: Slytherin
Challenge: Hurt/Comfort - Atemnot/Panikattacke (für mich)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Inhalt: Castiel has got an asthma attack in the middle of the night.
Tags: AU
Sprache: Englisch
At first Dean doesn't know what woke him up.
He frowns confused, blinking his eyes open and grumbling like a bear who had been interrupted during its slumber. He even curses quietly, staring into the darkness of the room and tries to remember what day it is. Hell, what year it is!
He glances at the alarm clock on his nightstand that reads 4.07 p.m.
Way too early to even function properly!
So why the hell –??
And then finally Dean registers the noise right next to him and he's awake in an instant.
“Cas!” he says worriedly, flicking on the small light beside him and turning toward his husband. As expected Castiel's eyes are wide open, his breathing shallow and quick while he stares at the ceiling with an expression as if he's not quite sure if this is reality or just a terrible nightmare.
“Cas!” Dean calls again, trying to get his attention. “It's okay, babe. I'm here. You'll be fine.”
Castiel focuses his eyes on him and Dean hates to see the fear in them. He hates it every fucking time.
But instead of answering in kind and freaking the fuck out like he did the first few times Castiel had an asthma attack right next to him Dean forces himself to focus. It would do them no good if he'd lose his mind.
Instead he rises and throws a glance at Castiel's nightstand. Usually there is his inhaler placed in reach, but Dean can't see it. For a horrible moment Dean thinks that Castiel left it somewhere and he won't be able to find it in time, but fortunately he spots it on the floor just a second later. Castiel probably tried to grab it and threw it down in the process by accident.
“It's gonna be fine, Cas,” Dean promises, his voice gentle and reassuring. He crawls gracelessly out of their bed, fetches the inhaler and kneels beside his husband a moment later. “Okay, remember, inhale deeply and hold your breath as long as possible so the medicine can work its magic.”
He says it every single time and of course Castiel knows that – knew this years before he even met Dean –, but Dean can't help himself. It just calms him down, talking and sounding semi-professional and absolutely in control while on the inside he's tense and purely stressed. He hates seeing his husband like this. It's not something you can get used to with time and the fact that Castiel told him once that it feels fucking horrible, like suffocating, breaks Dean's heart all over again.
“It's gonna be fine, babe,” Dean whispers, looking deeply inside those beautiful – and right now watery – blue eyes he fell in love with the first time he saw them. “Just concentrate on me, okay?”
Castiel nods weakly before doing as he's told. He takes the inhaler in his mouth and breaths in, his whole body shaking, but closing his eyes almost instantly when he feels the soothing effect of the medicine.
And Dean just wants to embrace him, take him into his arms and make sure that he knows how much he's loved, but right now Castiel needs all the air he can get and so Dean refrains from doing something foolishly and drops a gentle kiss on Castiel's forehead instead.
He doesn't move for a while, just kneeling beside the bed, rubbing Castiel's arm reassuringly and listening. Castiel's breathing still sounds a bit quicker than usual and he can't keep himself from coughing, but some color returns to his cheeks and his pulse seems to calm down.
After what feels like an eternity – although it's more likely just ten minutes – Dean climbs into their bed again, not once breaking the contact with Castiel. His hand, his arm, his hair – Dean just needs to touch.
“You okay, Cas?” Dean asks after a while.
Castiel hesitates for a moment, but eventually he nods. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice sounding raspy. “It wasn't … so bad this time.”
From Dean's point of view it's bad every single time, but he keeps his mouth shut. “Go back to sleep. You need some rest.”
Castiel seems to agree, but Dean can see in his eyes clear as day that he won't be able to rest for a long while. Attacks like that are always exhausting, but Castiel always had problems with relaxing after an episode. He's still tense and fears that it'll happen again the minute he dares to let his mind drift.
So Dean does the one thing he always does: he starts to sing.
Most of the time he picks his favorite songs. “Hey Jude” is high on top since his mom used to sing that Beatles-song instead of a lullaby and it always puts Dean's mind at ease. And sometimes it's just Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath or whatever the hell pops up in his head.
But today it's a stupid song he heard in a cereal ad this morning. It sounds childish and it's probably even beneath the standard of a three-year-old, but Dean couldn't shake it off all day long.
And at first he feels a little bit dumb singing about rainbows and sugar, but Castiel starts to chuckle quietly so Dean counts it as a success and keeps going.
For about half an hour he sings every single cutesy kid-song he can remember and smiles when he feels Castiel relax beside him.
“Let's go to sleep,” Dean says gently after a while.
“I'm not sure I will be able to sleep,” Castiel counters. “That stupid song is stuck inside my head now. It's irritating.”
Dean laughs loudly and drops a kiss on his husband's lips. “You're welcome, babe.”
Challenge: Hurt/Comfort - Atemnot/Panikattacke (für mich)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Inhalt: Castiel has got an asthma attack in the middle of the night.
Tags: AU
Sprache: Englisch
At first Dean doesn't know what woke him up.
He frowns confused, blinking his eyes open and grumbling like a bear who had been interrupted during its slumber. He even curses quietly, staring into the darkness of the room and tries to remember what day it is. Hell, what year it is!
He glances at the alarm clock on his nightstand that reads 4.07 p.m.
Way too early to even function properly!
So why the hell –??
And then finally Dean registers the noise right next to him and he's awake in an instant.
“Cas!” he says worriedly, flicking on the small light beside him and turning toward his husband. As expected Castiel's eyes are wide open, his breathing shallow and quick while he stares at the ceiling with an expression as if he's not quite sure if this is reality or just a terrible nightmare.
“Cas!” Dean calls again, trying to get his attention. “It's okay, babe. I'm here. You'll be fine.”
Castiel focuses his eyes on him and Dean hates to see the fear in them. He hates it every fucking time.
But instead of answering in kind and freaking the fuck out like he did the first few times Castiel had an asthma attack right next to him Dean forces himself to focus. It would do them no good if he'd lose his mind.
Instead he rises and throws a glance at Castiel's nightstand. Usually there is his inhaler placed in reach, but Dean can't see it. For a horrible moment Dean thinks that Castiel left it somewhere and he won't be able to find it in time, but fortunately he spots it on the floor just a second later. Castiel probably tried to grab it and threw it down in the process by accident.
“It's gonna be fine, Cas,” Dean promises, his voice gentle and reassuring. He crawls gracelessly out of their bed, fetches the inhaler and kneels beside his husband a moment later. “Okay, remember, inhale deeply and hold your breath as long as possible so the medicine can work its magic.”
He says it every single time and of course Castiel knows that – knew this years before he even met Dean –, but Dean can't help himself. It just calms him down, talking and sounding semi-professional and absolutely in control while on the inside he's tense and purely stressed. He hates seeing his husband like this. It's not something you can get used to with time and the fact that Castiel told him once that it feels fucking horrible, like suffocating, breaks Dean's heart all over again.
“It's gonna be fine, babe,” Dean whispers, looking deeply inside those beautiful – and right now watery – blue eyes he fell in love with the first time he saw them. “Just concentrate on me, okay?”
Castiel nods weakly before doing as he's told. He takes the inhaler in his mouth and breaths in, his whole body shaking, but closing his eyes almost instantly when he feels the soothing effect of the medicine.
And Dean just wants to embrace him, take him into his arms and make sure that he knows how much he's loved, but right now Castiel needs all the air he can get and so Dean refrains from doing something foolishly and drops a gentle kiss on Castiel's forehead instead.
He doesn't move for a while, just kneeling beside the bed, rubbing Castiel's arm reassuringly and listening. Castiel's breathing still sounds a bit quicker than usual and he can't keep himself from coughing, but some color returns to his cheeks and his pulse seems to calm down.
After what feels like an eternity – although it's more likely just ten minutes – Dean climbs into their bed again, not once breaking the contact with Castiel. His hand, his arm, his hair – Dean just needs to touch.
“You okay, Cas?” Dean asks after a while.
Castiel hesitates for a moment, but eventually he nods. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice sounding raspy. “It wasn't … so bad this time.”
From Dean's point of view it's bad every single time, but he keeps his mouth shut. “Go back to sleep. You need some rest.”
Castiel seems to agree, but Dean can see in his eyes clear as day that he won't be able to rest for a long while. Attacks like that are always exhausting, but Castiel always had problems with relaxing after an episode. He's still tense and fears that it'll happen again the minute he dares to let his mind drift.
So Dean does the one thing he always does: he starts to sing.
Most of the time he picks his favorite songs. “Hey Jude” is high on top since his mom used to sing that Beatles-song instead of a lullaby and it always puts Dean's mind at ease. And sometimes it's just Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath or whatever the hell pops up in his head.
But today it's a stupid song he heard in a cereal ad this morning. It sounds childish and it's probably even beneath the standard of a three-year-old, but Dean couldn't shake it off all day long.
And at first he feels a little bit dumb singing about rainbows and sugar, but Castiel starts to chuckle quietly so Dean counts it as a success and keeps going.
For about half an hour he sings every single cutesy kid-song he can remember and smiles when he feels Castiel relax beside him.
“Let's go to sleep,” Dean says gently after a while.
“I'm not sure I will be able to sleep,” Castiel counters. “That stupid song is stuck inside my head now. It's irritating.”
Dean laughs loudly and drops a kiss on his husband's lips. “You're welcome, babe.”
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