Chapter Text
Although he stirs briefly a number of times in the meanwhile, Cas doesn’t truly wake up again until it’s going on 3 a.m., when he decides it’s a good idea to startle Dean out of a dead sleep. “Dean.”
Dean draws his knife out of his pocket before letting where he is and who he’s with register. “God damn it, Cas. I could have stabbed you.” He rubs a hand over his face, letting himself relax, before he places it against the bed rail. “Well, now that I’m up, how you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” Cas says, though his wince as he swallows and his still pale complexion suggests otherwise.
“Really? Because you look and sound terrible,” Dean says as he fixes him with a hard stare. “The truth, Cas.”
“You don’t want me to lie about this?” Cas asks before leaning back into the pillows. “It seems I still don’t understand the rules.”
“You...what?” Dean asks, feeling like he’s decidedly not awake enough for whatever he and Cas are about to discuss. ‘What rules?”
“Your rules. If I say that you look terrible, even though you do, you’re upset. You wish that I had lied. You’ve said as much,” Cas swallows and winces again and Dean wishes he’d stop talking, both because this has all the marks of being an uncomfortable conversation and because it’s obviously physically hurting him. “But when the situation is reversed, you want me to tell you truthfully how I feel... I don’t get it.”
“So, I’m a hypocrite? Been called worse,” Dean says.
“If ‘hypocrite’ is the word you would chose,” Cas says. “I prefer confusing. I find you very confusing.”
“Makes you feel any better, that makes two of us. You confuse the hell out of me,” Dean says.
“How?” Cas asks.
“Well,” Dean has a list of reasons he’d prefer to get into somewhere else that he decides, for the moment, to gloss over, “right now, you say you’re fine, but, you woke me up, right? Either you need something or finally got you convinced that watching people sleep is creepy.”
“I...I can’t sleep,” Cas says. “I... my throat. It hurts.”
One look at Cas tells Dean he’s fully aware of how obvious he’s being, which just makes Dean laugh. “Well, hate to break it to you, but that’s kind of what happens when you get your tonsils out. But, you know, Cas, pretty sure shutting your trap would help.”
Cas rolls his eyes a little at that, and Dean ruffles his hair.
“Really that bad, huh?” Dean asks, moving his hand to Cas’ shoulder and resting it there.
“I really can’t sleep because of it,” Cas says as he relaxes into Dean’s touch.
“Okay, well, we’re going to get you something to help,” Dean says, letting his finger rest above the nurse call button. “Just...uh, promise me you won’t become some hippie drug addict first?”
At that Cas’ eyes shoot up, as though this idea is somehow both preposterous and offensive. He opens his mouth to ask, but Dean puts his finger against Cas’ lips. He shouldn’t have brought this up, but now that he has...
“Look, it’s...it was years ago. That dick Zachariah zapped me into the future or something. Not this future, another one. And you’re...you’re not like you then or future you wherever he frigging zapped me,” Dean says as he pulls his hand back to run it over the back of his neck. “I guess, you’re not who you could have been. You’re...you’re hacking it as a human. But, man, that version of you that couldn’t, he...well, he scared the shit out of me. I, I don’t ever want you to get like that.”
“I...I was a drugged out hippie?" Cas asks. "That...that does not sound like me.”
“Believe me, it was one hell of a surprise,” Dean says as he presses the call button. “You were kinda into orgies too.”
Cas shoots him another disbelieving look as Dean leans back in his chair.
“But, you know something, when I saw us, future us, still working together, I knew," Dean knows he's on the brink of admitting something here -- not the big thing. Not now. Not yet. He’s not ready. "Knew I was stuck with you."
“You make that sound like a good thing,” Cas says.
“Because it is,” Dean says as he rubs his hand down Cas’ shoulder. “Now shut the hell up.”
Cas does, and once they get more meds in him, they both doze off until late the next morning when Sam calls asking when they’re heading back to the bunker.
XXX
Dean’s holding Cas, who’s kind of limp and half-asleep, up by the elbow as he drags him towards his bed, as he finds an unexpected obstacle.
“Uh, Sam, why the hell is there a cot in Cas’ room?”
Sam pokes his head of his own room and shakes his head a little. “You want to sleep in Cas’ bed?”
“Uh, no,” Dean says sharply enough that Cas cocks his head up and stares at him dazedly. “Why the hell would I?”
“Well, you want to check up on him?” Sam asks.
“Well, yeah,” Dean ducks his head and nudges Cas forward. “There’s some freaky nonsense the nurses said we’ve got to watch out for. Doesn’t mean were having a slumber party.”
Sam smiles and nods. “Okay. You figure this one out on your own, mother hen.”
Dean's about to rebuff that when Cas says, “I would appreciate the company.”
Of course he would. Dean sighs as Sam, the bastard, smirks at him. “Well, I’m going through more lore on cursed objects that can produce physical manifestations. So, I’ll see you guys later. Feel better, Cas.”
As he disappears down the hall, Cas tugs at Dean’s arm. “Whether you’re going to join me or not, I would very much like to be on the bed. Preferably before I fall on the floor.”
“Yeah, uh, right,” Dean says as he tries to pull himself out of his own head long enough to get Cas settled.
Once he does, Cas grasps his wrist. “I do not think I can sleep again yet....or concentrate well enough to read. What am I meant to do?”
“Well, me and Sam, when he got his out, we, uh, we watched movies, ate popsicles, and, uh... “ Dean trails off as he’s reminded of another unnerving version of Cas, “played board games. Kinda need Sammy’s laptop for movies. So, uh, games and popsicles it is.”
“There are board games in the bunker?” Cas asks, looking far more hopeful than Dean would like, though he deflates a little at Dean’s look, “I do understand if you don’t want to play Sorry!”
“Definitely not. But, uh, think there’s some stuff in the library. Course, knowing the Men of Letters, it’s probably just chess and parcheesi. We ain’t doing that. On principle. Besides...”
Dean leans down and presses his hand to Cas’ temple. “Yep. Still got a fever. No strategy games for you.”
Cas smirks a little at this.
“What?”
“I believe I would still be fairly adept at them, as it has been my ...purpose for the past millennia,” Cas says, before starting to rub at his throat.
“And yet you still can’t get it through your head that talking is making your throat worse,” Dean says teasingly as he picks up the glass of water Sam’s left on Cas’ nightstand. “Here. You work on this. I’ll tackle the library.”
XXX
After Dean ransacks the library's recreational shelf and finds twelve different chess sets -- two of which were probably cursed -- he comes back with a checkerboard and a deck of cards only to find Cas sound asleep.
“Lucky for you, I didn’t hit the frozen aisle yet,” Dean huffs before starting to eye the cot with resignation.
He knows Sam is right.
He wants to still be here when Cas wakes up.
And it's not like Cas needs him there. The guy’s a grown man -- he's like a billion for god's sakes -- and definitely has the training of a warrior. He can take care of himself.
It's just...Dean wants to take care of him. He feels responsible for Cas’ human vulnerability.
So he sits down on the cot and watches the even fall and rise of Cas' chest, under the frayed quilt and loose fitting t-shirt, letting it remind him of what Cas has chosen to become.
It cuts at something inside him -- makes him feel all too much for this single being.
And he thinks he understands now, why Cas used to watch him. Cas was in awe of his human existence, wondering, in his boundaryless way what it felt like. And now that Dean knows that he knows what it's like and still chose it, Dean's in awe of it himself.
He means to move away and do something else, something less weird and creepy. But he's still doing it ten minutes later when Cas moans in his sleep and starts twitching erratically.
Dean looks to both sides, like he’s looking for oncoming traffic instead of his brother and other reasons to not give into his feelings, before he climbs onto the bed next to Cas and starts rubbing his hand down his shoulder and arm in soothing motions, chasing away whatever unpleasant dreams Cas has.
Shortly after, Cas blinks up at him bleary-eyed, “I fell asleep?”
“Yeah. Kind of hard to teach you how to play Rummy when you’re catching forty winks,” Dean says as he reaches for the deck of cards. “Maybe we’ll consider moving on to Risk when you can stay awake for more than three hours.”
“Perhaps we should avoid the prospect of world domination altogether,” Cas says. “I think it may be a touchy subject... since I, uh,...”
Dean exhales sharply. “Cas, you, you never wanted to rule the world. You had some seriously rose colored glasses about fixing it, and that doesn’t mean you were right, because, god knows you weren’t. But, man, I get it. I’ve worn my own.”
Dean rubs roughly at where the Mark of Cain once was before scooting closer to Cas and wrapping his arm over his shoulder. “Do we know how to screw up or what?”
“We have often made egregious miscalculations about the consequences of our own actions,” Cas nods before taking several long sips of his water. “In my own experience, I have found that there are always variables that I have failed to account for. And often, Dean, that variable has been you...and how my actions would affect you, but more so, how they would make you feel...”
Dean ducks his head. “Yeah, well... you’re human, because of me."
Cas squints at him. “You think I find this disagreeable?”
“You’re...Cas,” Dean sputters, because he’s not even sure how to line the words up. Of course Cas finds this disagreeable. How could he not? “You used up your grace healing the damn mark and now you’re this. You’re just ...”
Dean waves his hand over him, like that explains it.
“I’m like you? Like Sam?” Cas poses. “Dean, earlier, you said I was ‘hacking’ this -- being human. Did you not mean that?”
“No, I meant it. You’re doing as well as the rest of us,” Dean says. “But that’s not... Cas, you... you don’t want to be human, do you?”
“You think that I made this decision lightly?” Cas’ voice takes on a dangerous edge. It’s gruff with physical and emotional pain and Dean hates it. “I knew what I would lose. I also knew what I would gain.”
Cas takes both of Dean’s hands in his own and grips them tightly. “You.”
“But you don’t even have me,” Dean says. He thinks of Cas’ grace, white and blue and silver, twisting its way through his veins and etching itself into his very core. He knows why Cas did this. The real reason. And it wasn’t just to save him.
“I do have you,” Cas says. “I love you, Dean, and I believe you love me. Perhaps you will never say the words. Perhaps you will never kiss me. That is alright. I am content with what I know.”
“Well, I’m not,” Dean says before pressing his forehead to Cas’. It’s still warm, and he thinks, maybe, this isn’t the best idea at the moment.
Cas’ lips find his anway.
XXX
“Can you two stop, for like an hour?” Sam asks from outside the closed the door. “I’m never going to figure out what made the monster in the hospital show up if you keep this up.”
“I knew what it was,” Cas says, which Dean repeats, since Cas’ voice is practically inaudible. "Did I not tell you, Sam?
“No, you didn’t,” Sam says. “What was it? And how did you know it was the puzzle that was cursed anyway?”
“The puzzle had a bad aura,” Cas says.
“Okay, then...” Dean says as Cas brushes his hand away from his forehead. "More Tylenol for you."
“I ...it didn’t register when I was there with the children. But it did not belong. Medusa is not depicted on the Parthenon, yet she was on the puzzle turning a man to stone," Cas says.
“Think we’ve destroyed objects on less,” Dean says as Cas glares at him for interrupting. “But go on.”
“I believe the puzzle was being used as a talisman for stalling,” Cas says.
“Well, we kind of figured that part out already,” Sam says. “But we still don’t know who cursed it originally or why.”
“Oh,” Cas says. “So, whoever cursed the puzzle, he or she is still out there?”
“Or they’re long dead,” Sam says. “That puzzle wasn’t exactly new. I... guys, are you dressed? Can I open the door?”
“Sammy, we’re playing checkers,” Dean says as he watches in frustration as Cas kings another piece.
“Really? I can hear you on the other side of the bunker.”
“Dean is a sore loser and an enthusiastic winner,” Cas says. “It is surprising all of the pieces are still accounted for.”