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Come! Sleep! Close your eyes.
Come! Sleep! Give me your sorrow
And I'll keep watch for you
Until the dawn is breaking through,
Until the morning wakens you
It’s early afternoon when Castiel and Jack return to the bunker after their hunting trip. It was a simple case, a haunting, and Castiel had stepped back and let Jack make most of the decisions. The hunt was a success, and seeing Jack gain confidence and learn to trust his own instincts makes Castiel feel incredibly proud.
They’ve been away from the bunker for four days, partly because it was a long drive, but also because they, as Dean would say it, took “the scenic route” back. As Eileen’s birthday is coming up soon, Jack wanted to look for a present for her, and Castiel was happy to indulge him. He even used the opportunity to do a little gift-shopping for someone else, the result of which he is now carrying in an inconspicuous looking paper bag.
As he makes his way down the stairs, he feels relieved to be back home. The bunker is familiar, and safe, and he has missed the rest of his family.
Jack hastily escapes to his room to hide his present while Castiel walks on to the library. Sam is there with a couple of his hunters, but it looks like they’ve already wrapped up their meeting and are just hanging out now.
“Cas, hey! Welcome back!” Sam hands one of the hunters, Stevie, a file from the pile in front of him, and offers Cas a gentle smile. Sam seems to have really settled into his role as the leader of the refugee hunters, and while Dean deliberately keeps himself to the sidelines, Castiel hasn’t missed the way Dean’s eyes shine with pride when he watches Sam.
“How did the hunt go?”
“Good. Jack is—” Castiel can’t help his smile, warmth suffusing his chest. “He definitely has the mind of a hunter. And the heart of a hunter.”
Joy and pride light up Sam’s eyes. “Yeah, I think you’re right about that.” Castiel isn’t sure if Sam realizes it, but he is being every bit the protective, supportive big brother to Jack that Dean has always been to him.
“What about here, how is everyone?” Since the hunt hadn’t been particularly difficult, they hadn’t needed to call in for help. Castiel had tried calling Dean when he had the time and the privacy for it, but Dean had had a bad speech day at least two days in a row. It makes talking exhausting for him, aside from the fact that it can get difficult to understand him. Seeing as they can’t really text either—Dean loathes the voice from the screen reader and with his disfluency, the voice-to-text function is useless to him—Castiel has barely heard from Dean.
With how much time he has spent away from the bunker over the last couple of years, always feeling like he had to prioritize whatever mission he was currently on, Castiel is perhaps more used to spending time apart. Still, he prefers it when they can check in with each other.
“Everyone’s fine, it’s been pretty quiet,” Sam says with a shrug and a smile, a carefully neutral expression on his face.
Castiel raises an eyebrow on him and Sam rolls his eyes and caves. “Okay, maaaybe someone was a tiny little bit mopey. And hasn’t been sleeping well. But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“I see.” Exaggerating a sigh, Castiel holds up the paper bag. “Good thing I brought someone homemade honey-walnut pie then.”
Sam chuckles. Eileen, coming over from where she had been talking with Stevie, leans into his side and he puts an arm around her.
“Hey, Cas! Welcome back,” she says while signing one-handedly. “Are you and Jack ready for movie night, tonight?”
Oh, right. It’s Tuesday.
“Of course. What are we watching?” Castiel asks and signs.
“Dean wants to watch The Hobbit, ” Eileen says, and both Sam and Castiel groan.
“Again?!”
“Maybe I can change his mind with the pie…”
Sam huffs out a laugh and Eileen coos. “Aww, you brought Dean pie? You’re such a good husband.”
Castiel can’t help the way his chest puffs up and he automatically reaches to touch the ring on his finger. It’s been months, but he still can’t help feeling so proud every time someone refers to him as Dean’s husband or the other way around.
“Yes, well…” Suddenly, he just really wants to see Dean. “I should, um.” He holds up the paper bag and motions towards the hallway leading to their rooms.
“Sure!” Sam offers him a knowing smile. “See you later!”
>
In the hallway, Castiel’s already almost at the door to their room when he becomes aware of faint music playing. When he realizes what it is he’s hearing, his determined stride falters and he comes to a complete stop.
Dean hadn’t wanted them to make a big deal out of his birthday, uncomfortable with being the center of attention. Mary had been the only additional guest, and though Dean pretended to be grumpy about it all, he had eagerly put on the silly party hat and blown out the candles on his birthday cake.
They’d somehow managed to wrap Dean’s present in a way that didn’t make it immediately obvious what it was. Dean had been joking about the size of it, but when the wrapping paper fell away, he abruptly fell silent.
The guitar case they’d chosen was made of hazelnut colored leather, with ornaments on the sides that reminded Castiel of the ones on Dean’s gun. Dean had smoothed a hand over it almost as if in a daze, then carefully opened it only to stare in disbelief at the guitar inside.
Dean had never voiced this wish aloud. According to Sam, Dean could play but never seemed to have allowed himself the time to explore this hobby. It wasn’t surprising, but still made Castiel sad to hear, especially when he considered Dean’s love for music, his tactile nature, and the way doing things with his hands always seemed to calm him down.
Unshed tears of joy had been brimming on Dean's lower lids, and all Castiel had wanted was to comfort him, but he held himself back, knowing it wouldn't be welcome until later when they could have some privacy.
Without looking at any of them, Dean had stammered out a thank you, and then closed the guitar case again and reverently set it aside. He was quiet through the rest of his birthday breakfast, and for days after, the guitar seemed to sit untouched in their room. Castiel had figured that maybe Dean just wasn’t ready yet to let himself have this thing that was for him and him only.
It was only when Castiel one day came home from an errand earlier than Dean must have anticipated that he found out Dean does play it—but only when he thinks himself alone.
Just like then, the moment Castiel starts walking again and his footsteps near the door, the music abruptly cuts away. When he enters their room, he sees Dean sitting cross-legged on their bed, snapping the guitar case closed.
"Hello, Dean."
"Hey! Welc-c-come back." Dean offers him a smile, but it's a little subdued. There are dark circles under his eyes and every line of his body speaks of exhaustion. Dean leans over the side of the bed and gently sets the case down on the floor where it's out of their line of sight. It's an unspoken rule that Castiel pretends he didn't just hear Dean play.
"How'd it g-g-go?" Dean asks as Castiel sits down on the bed. "You guys ca-ca-catch th-the evil g-g-ghostie?" He's still smiling, but his hands are fidgeting nervously in his lap. There are extra blankets on their bed, and Dean’s wearing comfort clothes—hoodie, sweatpants, thick socks.
"You've been having insomnia again," Castiel deduces with a frown instead of answering Dean's question.
Dean makes that face that's a blend of fondness and irritation.
"Cas—"
"How bad is it? Have you slept at all since we left?"
Dean sighs and looks down at where his fingers are nervously fiddling with his ring.
"Maybe s-s-six hours a-a-all in all."
"In four days? Dean, you could have ca—"
At that, Dean looks up and shakes his head. "Cas, it j-j-just is what it is. You c-c-can't come running-g-g ev-v-very time I so m-m-much as sneeze."
Castiel knows Dean has a point, but he does not like it. He can't always be there, no matter how much he wants to.
His irritation must show on his face, because Dean huffs out a breath of laughter and reaches up to playfully attempt to smoothe Castiel’s frown away.
Castiel leans away and captures Dean's hand. He laces their fingers together and feels the minute trembling in Dean's. Even if he was using picks, it must have been difficult for him to play with his hands as unsteady as this.
He presses a kiss into Dean's palm and then closes his eyes and sighs when Dean cups his face. Castiel can feel and hear him moving closer, but instead of going in for a kiss, Dean lets go of his hand and snuggles in for an embrace.
For a while, they just hold each other, and Castiel enjoys the way he can feel Dean's heart beating against his own. They're rocking side to side a little in a way that seems to always just somehow happen when they hug.
When Dean finally draws back, Castiel remembers that he has yet to give him his present. Twisting around, he picks up the paper bag that he’d sat down on the bed and then puts it in Dean's lap.
"For m-m-me?" The paper crinkles as Dean opens the bag to look inside, and then his whole face lights up. "Dude, y-y-yes!"
From one moment to the next, Castiel’s drained and exhausted husband is bouncing in his seat and flapping his hands in an expression of pure joy. Dean breaks a piece off the pie with two fingers, sticks them in his mouth, and moans.
With an adoring sigh, Castiel reaches up to brush a few crumbs away from the corners of Dean's mouth before they can fall down onto the covers and inevitably make Dean complain later. "Good?"
Dean hums and nods his head repeatedly.
"C’mon, you go-go-gotta t-t-try this." Dean breaks off another piece and holds it out to him expectantly.
It will at least partly taste like molecules to him, but Castiel indulges Dean anyway. Chewing thoughtfully, he has to admit, “I don’t think I care much for nuts.”
Dean must find some humor in that, because he snorts and laughs to himself.
Remembering his earlier conversation with Sam, Castiel asks, “What are we watching tonight?”
Dean is busy licking pie crumbs off his fingers. “Don’t real-l-ly care. If I’m lucky, imma f-f-fall as-s-sleep anyw-w-way. What you w-w-wanna watch?”
“Um.” Unprepared for this turn of events, Castiel has to reorient his thoughts. “Eileen has mentioned that she wants to watch Sound of Metal. I looked at the summary, it sounded interesting.”
Dean nods. “So-so-sounds good.” He puts his pie on his bedside table, shoulders already slumping with exhaustion again. “Cud-d-dle until it’s dinner t-t-time?”
How could Castiel ever deny him when Dean looks at him with big pleading eyes and beckons him close with warm, open arms?
When they’re snuggled in tight, Dean tucks his head under Castiel’s chin and demands, “Tell me ‘bout th-the hunt. You guys save the d-d-day Ba-ba-batman a-a-and Robin style?”
>
Castiel had hoped that Dean would fall asleep either while they cuddled or later during the movie, but it’s past two in the morning and Dean is still awake. Dinner had been spaghetti and meatballs, with Castiel stealing the occasional bite from Dean’s plate. He couldn’t be faulted for it really—Dean makes a mean tomato sauce. And it is always far more fun sneaking bits from Dean than having his own plate.
Dean complained about it but also made no move to get another plate and put a stop to it all. When Castiel stole his fork and fed Dean the next few bites, Dean rolled his eyes, but judging from the blush on his cheeks and the bashful way he avoided everyone’s eyes, he enjoyed it a lot.
(When Sam teased him about it later, Dean shot back, "We're honey-m-m-mooners, Sam."
"How? You guys got parking lot married like a year ago."
"I'll expl-l-lain it w-w-when you're older, Sammy.")
After, they curled up on the loveseat in the Cave to watch the movie. Drowsy from dinner, Dean watched it through half-lidded eyes, one hand absently playing with the buttons on Castiel’s shirt.
Now, Dean’s beside him with his sleep mask over his eyes while Castiel works on translating a complicated spell from Hebrew into English. Dean’s lying still and breathing evenly, his face turned away from the lamp on Castiel’s side, but it’s been over two hours and he’s still awake.
Castiel had of course offered to put Dean to sleep with his grace right away, but Dean had refused. Ever since the “incident” where Castiel had misjudged a cursed object and ended up basically powerless for several days, Dean’s been insisting on self-reliance more and more. It hasn’t led to a full out fight—yet—but certainly to many arguments.
On the one hand, Castiel can see Dean’s point of not wanting to become dependent on him, and Castiel would never disrespect Dean’s bodily autonomy. But while it was already hard to watch Dean suffer, it is even harder now to be expected to stand helplessly by instead of taking action.
With a sigh, Dean rolls over and pushes his sleep mask up.
“This a-a-ain’t workin’. Can you—”
Castiel is already reaching over to touch Dean’s temple, but Dean shies away with a frown.
“Not th-that, dummy.”
Setting his translation work aside, Castiel looks down at Dean in confusion.
“I thought you wanted help?”
Gesturing at Castiel to shimmy down the bed, Dean climbs between his legs and makes himself at home with his head on Castiel’s chest. He pushes his sleep mask back down and rubs his cheek against Castiel’s shirt.
“Sing-g-g to me.”
Flustered, Castiel leans his head back against the wall with a thud. “Dean—”
“L-l-last time I wa-wa-was out bef-f-fore you were even d-d-done.”
“Yes, but…”
Dean makes an irritated sound. “But w-w-what? ”
Seeing that Dean will not let it go, Castiel admits, “I don’t think my singing is very good, Dean.”
Pushing his sleep mask back up, Dean moves his head so he can squint up at him.
“What? W-w-why?”
“Last time, when I sang you to sleep in the Cave, Sam walked in. And he made a really weird face—”
“Th-that’s just c-c-cause Sam’s face is w-w-weird—”
“—and walked back out. I think he was trying not to laugh at me.”
Dean grumbles something to himself and then pushes his face back into Castiel’s chest.
“Sam’s just j-j-jealous he don’t sound l-l-like he g-g-gurgles grav-v-vel every m-m-mornin’. F-f-forget ‘bout him, Cas. Bes-s-sides, he a-a-ain’t here. ‘S just me, a-a-and I l-l-like your v-v-voice.”
Realizing that he’s run out of excuses, and that Dean has a point in saying they’re alone right now, Castiel finally gives in.
“Alright.” Putting his arms around Dean, he starts stroking one hand slowly up and down Dean’s spine. Pushing his sleep mask over his eyes, Dean somehow manages to plaster himself even closer to him.
Castiel starts to hum the introduction of the song, and Dean repositions his head slightly. For some reason, he always seems to greatly enjoy feeling the vibration of Castiel’s voice in his chest.
When he starts to sing, making sure his voice is as deep as he can go, Dean melts into him like he’s finally found the comfort he’s been seeking.
“Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day
To find our long forgotten gold…”
By the time the song comes to a close, Dean is asleep.
Castiel keeps up the humming for a while longer while he pets Dean’s hair and just enjoys holding him. While it has worked before, he’s still surprised that he could actually help with Dean’s insomnia without using his grace at all.
When he’s sure the action won’t wake Dean, he carefully repositions him so that he’s lying down on the mattress and Castiel can continue his translation work. Dean immediately curls into his warmth, pushing his forehead against Castiel’s hip. To keep in contact, Castiel rests his left hand on Dean’s back between his shoulder blades.
Dean snores on and off and at some point talks in his sleep, but with his face mushed into the sheets, Castiel doesn’t understand any of it. He wakes again after only five hours, but still deems ‘operation lullaby’ a success.
“‘S ab-b-bout a-a-as much as I got th-th-the last four days comb-b-bined,” he argues. He still looks like he needs more rest, but he’s smiling and there’s more light behind his eyes.
Dean also realizes that they forgot welcome-back kisses yesterday, and is about to remedy that immediately when he draws back and makes a face. “Brush t-t-teeth first. And pee.”
When he’s back, they make out lazily on the bed until Dean’s stomach starts to growl.
“Sing m-m-me to sl-l-leep again tonight?” Dean pleads, all but fluttering his lashes at Castiel, as if he truly expects to be refused.
Castiel is starting to suspect that maybe there is some truth to Sam’s claims that Dean (and Jack, for that matter) has Castiel wrapped around his little finger.
“Alright, fine,” he agrees, and Dean all but bounces off the bed, a wide smile on his face.
“Best husb-b-band ever!” he exclaims while shrugging into his robe, oblivious to how his words make Castiel feel like he’s once again been handed the sun to keep as his.
Everyone else is already in the kitchen when they arrive. Like Dean, Jack is still in his sleep clothes, waving at them with a smile. Sam is preparing coffee while Eileen is getting the mugs. Dean beelines it to the stove and starts fixing up pancakes for everyone.
“You're looking better, did you finally sleep?” Sam asks when the food is ready and Dean has sat down to join them.
Dean, who has been very busy stuffing himself with blueberry pancakes, looks up from his plate and for once actually swallows before answering.
“L-l-like a drunk baby.” Then he bumps his shoulder against Castiel’s and winks at him.
Sam snorts and shakes his head at them with a smile. Eileen gives Castiel a thumbs up. Jack, who is either genuinely not understanding the innuendo or, more likely, pretending not to, starts telling them about the dream he had last night. (It involved racoons that were thieves but somehow also jedi knights at the same time. “Told ya n-n-not to watch Sam’s weird ne-ne-nerd movies with the, what w-w-was it? Freakin’ t-t-time-travelling ferrets.”)
Dean’s hands aren’t visibly shaking, but Castiel can still feel the way they tremble when Dean cups his face and steals a kiss while everyone else is busy with clean-up. There’s still a glaze over his eyes and dark shadows under them.
Something desperate arises in Castiel and he leans forward and steals a second kiss. Dean smiles into it, his mouth sticky with syrup, his soul so strong and so fragile in Castiel’s hold.