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The air was heavy with the stench of gasoline, both from the nearby truck stop and from the oil spilled across their jackets. It was the night after a hunt, and Team Free Will had exhausted themselves digging up and burning the remains from twenty unmarked graves in an effort to find the bones of a ghostly old woman on a murder-spree. Long story short, the bones of the old crone weren’t any of the ones they dug up; they had just needed to burn the cane Dean had been fighting with, an elaborately-crafted piece with an iron handle and bone inlay.
Sam, Dean and Castiel trudged into their two-bed motel room with sore muscles and groggy minds. Castiel watched as Sam shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. The hunter collapsed face-first onto the bed as Dean plodded into the bathroom. Castiel glanced from the bathroom to the free bed; he knew that Dean would want to sleep on the mattress, and as a former angel, Castiel was used to discomfort. He sat down in the chair and slid off his shoes, wincing slightly at the blisters that formed at his heel. Being human took a lot of getting used to. He folded his hands neatly across his lap and leaned his head back, using Sam’s jacket for whatever padding it provided. He heard the click of the bathroom light as Dean padded out in boxer briefs. Castiel couldn’t help but notice how the fabric hugged his hips tightly—they were more “brief” than “boxer”—and averted his eyes.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Dean asked with a crooked smile.
“I’m sitting. The bed’s for you.”
“You can’t sleep in a chair, dumbass. Looks like Sasquatch here takes up a whole bed, so you can bunk with me. Don’t get any ideas, though.” He chuckled lightly as if he’d made some kind of hilarious joke, and Castiel tipped his head in confusion.
“Are you sure? It wouldn’t bother you?”
“Nah,” Dean said. “I’ve shared tons of beds with chicks after long nights of them fucking the life out of me.” He coughed awkwardly. “I mean, after I fucked the life out of them.” His gaze shifted awkwardly. “Anyway, I’m used to it.”
“Okay, then.” Castiel walked to the bed and laid on top of the blankets awkwardly. Dean raised an eyebrow at the former angel who was lying stiff as a board on top of the blankets, still fully clothed.
Dean rolled his eyes and slid under the sheets, grunting a little as he made himself comfortable. Castiel gulped and rolled onto his side to make more room for him. Even if Dean was offering the bed, he didn’t want to be a bother.
“Dude, you know you don’t have to do that,” Dean said. “You can move back.”
Castiel teetered on the edge of the bed and fixed his gaze on the alarm clock. The LED numbers indicated 2:53.
“I’m fine like this,” he said, adjusting the pillow beneath him. “See? I-”
Castiel’s words were cut off as he slipped off the edge of the bed and fell face first. He extended his elbow to catch him, but still hit the floor hard. Castiel groaned into the motel carpet. It smelled like dust.
“Cas? You good?” Dean asked above him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Dean leaning over the side of the mattress, hand extended. He was biting back a smile. “I tried to catch you, but...”
Castiel rose to his knees and rested his aching elbow on the side of the bed.
“Yeah. Thanks,” he huffed, pulling himself into the bed without standing up. Once again, he rolled onto his side and fixed his eyes on the clock.
“Not sure how much sleep you’re gonna get laying like that,” Dean teased. “Just be natural. I don’t care if you take up space. Seriously.”
“Okay,” he said. “Fine.” He rolled onto his back again and cleared his throat, this time staring at the dusty reading lamp attached to the headboard. He folded his hands across his stomach and twiddled his thumbs awkwardly, all-too aware that Dean was still staring at him.
“You’re killin’ me, Cas,” Dean groaned exhaustedly, his speech muffled from where his face was pressed into the pillow. “Just get under the covers. ‘M going to bed now.”
“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel whispered loudly. It wasn’t long before Dean was snoring lightly beside him. Castiel closed his eyes, trying to sync his breathing with Dean’s. What was he doing wrong? Nothing seemed comfortable.
Gingerly, Castiel rolled onto his side. He stared at the back of Dean’s head and closed his eyes again. At first the position seemed comfortable, but as he lay there the ache in his elbow seemed to grow worse, especially on the stiff motel mattress. So much for that. Dean, lying on his stomach, had gone to sleep quickly and easily; Castiel glanced behind him to see Sam, lying fast asleep--also on his stomach--shifted only slightly from where he had fallen into the mattress earlier.
Perhaps moving to a position on his stomach would make sleep come more easily. As quietly as he could, Castiel rolled over to lay on his front, swinging his leg up slightly for momentum. Castiel breathed sharply as his knee hit the back of Dean’s leg. He froze for a moment as Dean shifted in his sleep.
“Sorry, Dean,” Castiel muttered. “I kneed you.”
“Mm?” Dean mumbled. “Y’what?”
“I kneed you.”
In a matter of seconds, Dean went from sleeping peacefully to propping himself up on his elbows, squinting his eyes at Castiel. He cocked his head just slightly, eyeing Castiel with some suspicion.
“You… Need me?” he asked slowly, his voice still hoarse from sleep. Castiel nodded.
“I kneed you more forcefully than I thought, it seems. Enough to wake you up. I’m sorry.”
“No…” Dean turned to face Castiel. “That’s okay, Cas. You don’t have to apologize.”
“I was trying to get more comfortable, but in the process of doing so, it seems that I kneed you.” He turned to face Dean as well. “I’m very sorry for waking you.”
“Don’t sweat it,” he gruffed. He laid back down again, this time facing away from Castiel on his side.
“Okay. Goodnight again, Dean,” Castiel said. He was met with silence.
Turning onto his stomach once more, Castiel closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep. He’d read once that humans counted sheep to relax themselves into falling asleep. Remembering the sheep that they had seen at a farm haunted by a poltergeist, he did his best to picture them. He imagined the way that their little tails waggled as the spirit tried to run them over with a tractor. They bounded gracefully (and sometimes clumsily) over farm tools and fallen logs, and soon Castiel was on the verge of sleep.
As soon as he started drifting off, he was jostled awake by the mattress shifting and the blankets moving. Half-asleep, he listened as Dean slid out of bed. He heard the click of the bathroom light as the door squeaked shut.
Sheep, Castiel reminded himself. Picture the sheep. It wasn’t long before he was once again beginning to fall asleep. He faintly heard the tap running in the bathroom, and soon Dean was back, settling down on the mattress. Castiel kept his eyes shut, but couldn’t help but wonder:
“Did you not flush?” he asked gruffly. He squinted one eye open at Dean, who froze and looked over at Castiel with wide eyes.
“What—? Oh. No,” Dean said. “I mean, I didn’t actually go to the bathroom. I was just washing my face.”
Castiel hummed softly as he reclosed his eyes, ready to let the feeling of sleep draw him back in. He didn’t even notice that Dean hadn’t followed suit until he began to speak again.
“Hey, Cas?” His voice was quiet. “Are you still awake?”
Castiel grunted slightly and squinted over at Dean, who was lying on his side, hands tucked under his head.
“What, Dean?” Castiel asked. “Is something wrong?”
Dean furrowed his brow slightly at the question.
“No. Nothing’s wrong.” He paused for a moment. “I just—I think we should talk about what you said.”
“What I said?” It was Castiel’s turn to furrow his brow.
“Yeah. Just a little bit ago. You said—you said you need me. And then you apologized for it.”
“I was more so apologizing for waking you up. I hadn’t realized it would be such an issue. I will try my best to stay to my side of the bed in the future.”
“Cas, you don’t have to—” Dean sighed. “There isn’t an issue. I just wanted to talk about it.”
They both fell silent for a moment, Dean watching Castiel with serious eyes. Castiel sighed and sat up, wondering why this was such an issue for him.
“Okay, then,” Castiel broke the silence, a little exasperated. “Let’s talk about it. I kneed you. I’m sorry. What else is there to talk about?” Dean frowned.
“I think there’s a lot to talk about,” Dean said, propping himself up on his elbow. “What did you mean when you said you need me?”
Castiel opened his mouth to speak, puzzled, when Dean continued.
“I mean, I’m flattered, ‘course I am. Like, we all need each other, that’s kind of the nature of hunting as a team. But…” Dean trailed off and stared at Castiel expectantly.
“Oh,” Castiel said. Kneed? Need. Need… He swallowed roughly. “I think there’s been a mis-”
“It’s just, I feel like what you said means something, you know?” Dean continued, pushing himself up and sitting cross-legged on the mattress. “I just don’t know what it means, like for us. I mean—I don’t mean for us like that there is an us, but I just—” he faltered and stared at Castiel.
“Dean, I hit you with my knee when I rolled over. I kneed you, quite literally.”
The two stared at each other for a moment, Dean blinking owlishly.
“You—oh,” Dean said. His face was blank. He straightened his back and put a hand on the mattress, crooking his shoulder. He chuckled awkwardly. Before Cas could get another word in he continued. “Yeah, I mean—don’t worry about it. It’s cool. Man, it’s really late, huh? We should get to bed.” Dean feigned a yawn and laid on his side, facing away from Castiel.
Castiel watched him, deadpan.
“No…” he said. “I think we do need to talk about this.”
Dean continued laying still, steadying his breathing so he would seem asleep. He seemed stubbornly set on the idea of dropping the subject, but his shoulders were stiff. Castiel, sitting upright, looked down at him. He could drop it, he supposed, as Dean was clearly embarrassed. Still, at this point, there was no way that Castiel could go back to sleep.
He touched Dean’s shoulder lightly—he didn’t respond, but his shoulder tensed beneath his fingers. Castiel rolled his eyes and pulled Dean down onto the mattress so he was lying flat. Dean still had his eyes closed, face drawn up in almost a wince.
“This is clearly something important to you,” Castiel said. “I just want to know what you were trying to say.”
Dean sighed and opened his eyes.
“There was obviously a misunderstanding here,” he said. “It’s really not that important, I think we should really try to go to bed.”
“Dean, I don’t want to go to bed right now. You said you think it means something.” Castiel felt Dean’s shoulder shift beneath his hand and pressed down a little harder. “What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know,” Dean said, shifting underneath the sheets awkwardly. “I thought you were saying something else, like…” He paused for a moment. “Like, I’m really important to you or something—but like more than with Sam or anyone else, I don’t know.”
“Dean,” Castiel said, his grip on Dean’s shoulder softening. The room fell silent for a moment save for Sam’s gentle snores. Dean looked at Castiel. “You are really important to me. Like more than with Sam or anyone else, as you put it.”
Dean turned his face away from Castiel again, his eyes fixed on the window where the curtains parted slightly.
“Oh, well, great,” Dean mumbled. “Good. Well, same, you’re really important to me too. Like more than anyone else. Well, like, not more than Sam. But it’s different with you. He's kind of a freak of a brother. So we’re cool? Can we go to sleep now?”
“Soon,” Castiel said. “But first, I’m curious. Is there a reason you’re trying to avoid this conversation so adamantly?”
Dean huffed and turned towards Castiel.
“Dude,” he said, “your directness can be a little intimidating in situations like these. You’re kind of intense sometimes.”
Castiel blinked.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said.
“No,” Dean said, pushing his fingers through his hair and looking back towards Castiel. “It’s a good thing. That you can be direct about things like that. It can just make it hard for me to function sometimes.” He chuckled exhaustedly. “I don’t usually do this... feeling stuff, I guess--unless I’m into someone. And, well.” Dean glanced away again, eyes darting around the room. “This is kind of unique for me because I’m not into you.”
Castiel raised his eyebrows. “I see.”
“I mean, it’s not like I’m not into you—well, I’m not. But… I mean…” Dean trailed off into silence. “Like people I make out with, you know? And we don’t kiss. I don’t want to kiss you. Well. It’s not like I actively don’t want to kiss you, you know?” Castiel leaned towards Dean, their faces still a few inches apart. “I just—” Dean gulped, his eyes wide.
“Dean, may I kiss you?” he asked.
Suddenly silent, Dean just nodded once beneath him.
Castiel leaned down and kissed Dean, gently at first, before the kisses turned slow and languid. Dean raised his hands and rested them on Castiel’s chest as he leaned into the kiss. The fabric of Castiel’s jacket crumpled under Dean’s fingers as he pulled him by his lapels to deepen the kiss. Castiel repositioned himself to lie beside Dean, their lips still clasped together.
It was getting late, and Castiel couldn’t say how long the two had been kissing. They were slowing down, the two pressing soft kisses back and forth, and they finally broke apart when Dean yawned against Castiel’s mouth.
Dean chuckled sleepily and tugged Castiel by the lapels, pulling himself into the crook of his neck. They lay silently for a moment, listening to each other breathe.
Dean lifted his head suddenly, frowning at Castiel.
“What?” Castiel asked groggily.
“Dude, your jacket reeks. It smells like gasoline.”
“Oh,” Castiel said. “Sorry. Some got on my jacket earlier.”
“It’s not that big of a deal. But we should take it off,” he said, beginning to pull the fabric of the coat off Castiel’s shoulder.
Castiel sat up and shrugged his jacket off. He began to fold the coat thoughtfully, but Dean snatched it from his hands and threw it past the end of the bed. He grabbed a fistful of the blanket and tugged it over them, pulling Castiel back down into the pillow.
The two drifted off to sleep.
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The next morning, Sam blinked blearily awake. He sat up and stretched, stiff from last night’s hunt. He threw off his blankets and got out of bed, dragging his feet towards the bathroom when he stumbled on something.
He caught himself and looked down at his feet, where Castiel’s bundled jacket lay on the floor.
Sam frowned, glancing towards the other bed in the room, where he was surprised to see Dean and Castiel both asleep, a mess of limbs beneath the blankets. Their faces were so close that they were just a breath apart.
Huh, he thought. Good for them.