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It’s subtle, but Castiel doesn’t fail to notice the gradual drifting of the car before Dean pulls it back into the centre of the lane again.
Castiel turns to glance at him. Dean’s jaw is firm, dark spaces already making their appearance under lidded green eyes that are struggling to stay open, fist constantly tightening and re-tightening over the steering wheel. His other hand is limp, resting in the space between them.
He wants to take it, slide his palm gently under it.
It would be easy.
So easy.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he looks back to the road momentarily before watching Dean again. Sam’s loud snore from the back makes him glance back at the younger boy, noticing the way his head rests against the window, Jo’s blonde hair sprawled across his chest, arm slung around his waist. She’s asleep too, though not making as much noise as Sam.
Castiel is glad that Sam persuaded his brother to take them to the amusement park across the state. It boasted of the biggest Ferris wheel, the sweetest, pinkest cotton candy, the fastest rollercoasters and other grandiose things Castiel can’t recall after spending eight or twenty hours there – he isn’t sure because time had passed in a wild, hazy blur.
Although, he won’t forget the way Dean lit up when Sam won him the slinky, the way he’d laughed when the clowns made a beeline for his brother, and the way Jo was allowed to lean in and remove the excess cotton candy from around his mouth.
They’ve known each other since they were in diapers, or so Castiel is told, and she is just as much his friend as she is Dean’s, so the jealousy that simmers underneath his skin every time she pats his ass playfully, or drapes herself across him, or presses herself against him when she drags him up to dance with him to a song on the radio, is uncalled for.
The car drifts again and Castiel reaches out to steady himself against the dashboard.
"Dean." He warns, panic in his voice, before glancing to the boy in the driver’s seat.
"Are you okay?"
Dean clears his throat and glances at the non-existent traffic in the side-view mirror.
"Peachy." He replies.
The way he throws a pinched smile in Cas’ direction tells him otherwise.
"Perhaps you should let me-"
"I’m fine, Cas." He says, immediately grimacing because the reassurance comes out harder than Castiel deserves.
He supposes the sigh that escapes Dean’s mouth is an apology. The following look he gives Castiel confirms it.
"My dad." Dean offers up as an explanation with a half-shrug. He checks his rear-view mirror before glancing nervously in his direction. Castiel understands, of course he does… it doesn’t mean he agrees though. John Winchester is a difficult man at times. Sometimes, Castiel thinks he loves this car more than he does his sons, which is why Dean is deathly afraid to let something – anything – happen to it.
"I can drive, Dean." Castiel insists.
"I know." Dean fist tightens over the steering wheel again. "But if something happens-"
"Nothing’s going to happen. You just need some sleep. We have a few hours to go."
Castiel can almost see the cogs whirring in his head. A few quiet seconds pass and Castiel thinks he’s going to give in but it seems that blinding, resolute obedience wins over logic and common sense when Dean shakes his head.
"I’ll be okay. You get some shut-eye. You said it yourself, we only got a few hours to go."
Castiel glances back to the younger Winchester before he asks again.
"Dean, please. Just pull over."
"Cas, I’m good."
"Dean."
The sharpness in his voice catches Dean’s attention. He takes a breath before speaking again.
"Research suggests that almost 20% of accidents on major roads are sleep-related. Men under thirty have the highest risk of falling asleep at the wheel."
Once he starts speaking, the words come tumbling and he feels like he can’t stop.
"Sleep-related incidents are more likely than others to result in a fatality or serious injury than any other kind. A person who’s been awake for seventeen hours faces the same risk of a crash as a person who has a blood alcohol level of 0.05g meaning they’re twice as likely to have an accident. Drivers who’ve been awake for twenty-four hours will have a driving performance similar to a person who has-"
"Jeez, Cas! Take a breath, would ya?" Dean interrupts, eyes wide, astounded at the ferocity with which the facts pour from him. "You’re facts are gonna kill me before anything else."
He can’t help the embarrassing heat that rises in his cheeks at Dean’s remark but he still pushes. "…you’ve been awake for almost thirty-six hours - don’t look at me like that, I know you were up last night-"
"That’s none of your damn busin-" Dean’s defensiveness is not unexpected. Castiel knows he was up waiting for John to stumble home from the bar, finally making an appearance at 6:30am – half an hour before they had to leave for the amusement park.
"Yes, it is."
The look Dean throws him is brimming with something akin to frustration.
"You’re my friend. I…" He wants to say care but the intimate implication of that word that would make Dean uncomfortable.
He sighs instead. "Everyone in this car is at jeopardy if you’re tired." Pointedly, he glances back at their two passengers before meeting Dean’s gaze again and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Everyone."
Dean’s jaw clenches, he doesn’t want to give it up. Castiel expected resistance. He hates using Sam and Jo as emotional manipulation but Dean’s stubborn and doesn’t know what’s good for him sometimes.
He squeezes his hand over the meat of Dean’s arms, feeling the tension run up across his shoulder and into his back.
The road is quiet except for the occasional whir of passing street lamps. He can feel the rumble of the car under his feet, the sheer power it exudes. He knows she’ll take care of her passengers if they take of her, and right now, they’re not.
"Pull over. Let me drive for a while." It’s a soft request - almost a murmur - gentle and easily refutable if Dean wishes, accompanied by understanding blue eyes, and a slight encouraging curve of pink, chapped lips.
The car slows to a stop.
Handbrake up.
Engine running.
Calloused hands still gripping the steering wheel.
Dean glances over at him and Castiel is slightly taken aback at the vulnerability he sees there.
"Be careful with her. She’s…" His words fail as he runs a hand smoothly over the curve of the wheel to caress it.
"You know I will." Castiel reassures, hand falling from Dean to step out of the car to slide into the driver’s seat as Dean shuffles over into the passenger’s side.
They’re on the road again quickly but he can feel Dean’s eyes on him.
"What is it?" He asks with a glance over at the boy next to him. Dean’s facing him, one leg drawn up, bent at the knee, adjacent arm resting along the back of the seat, head leaning back against the glass. His eyes are hooded, far more than they were when he was driving, and the shadows are playing jump rope with his features.
"Thanks, Cas…" It’s murmured, voice sleep-slurred but still grateful, as his eyes close fully.
Castiel smiles at the picture perfect image of the boy across from him and wishes he hadn’t forgotten his cell phone at home.