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The time on the Impala’s old, shabby clock has been off by a few minutes for about as long as Dean can remember, but he doesn’t need the exact minutes to know that it’s long past when he was aiming to be back at the motel. He was going for midnight; he would’ve settled for one. And even though he would’ve begrudgingly accepted two, three is admittedly way above his pay grade. Not that he gets paid in the first place.
By the time he’s behind the wheel and starting her back up, he could fall asleep right there, but the drive’s not that far, and if he can just stick it out until then, he can pass right out as soon as he walks through the door. Sam’s not with him to talk him awake, back at the room already after wrapping up his half of the case, and Dean knows he’s being dramatic, but he’d probably just crash in the back seat in this abandoned lot if he didn’t have some remaining piece of his dignity left.
But because he does still have some dignity, he starts back, reaching absently to click on whatever tape he’d put in last. He’ll listen to just about anything if it’ll keep him up. The case wasn’t so bad, albeit unusual — just a nest of vampires. Something so easy that Dean almost found himself amused taking care of it. If he was damned to do this job until his demise, he could at least humor himself with it. The nest was big, took him time to track down and knock out, and when he finally made it, he wasn’t hurt, he was just exhausted.
Pulling into the dimly lit parking lot, he really doesn’t remember how he got there in the first place, just that he evidently didn’t nod off enough to cause a road collision. He can’t ask for much more, and decides for that reason not to question it anymore. Dean manages to drag himself up the rickety stairs, dig out his keys, and try the keyhole until the door finally swings open in front of him. One time that he can make it back without an issue on the night that he needs it most. He almost catches himself thanking God.
He’s careful to be quiet coming in, scoping out the rest of the dingy room and finding, unsurprisingly, Sam crashed in one of the twin beds. He’s surely been like that for at least a couple hours now, and he’s surely out cold. That settles Dean enough, knowing that they both got out easy. His eyes flicker to the other, more lit up side of the room, and he finds Cas sitting at the desk, invested as ever in whatever he’s been reading up on. For half a second, he convinces himself that Cas didn’t hear him come in, but quickly snaps himself out of it when he hears the familiar voice.
“You made it,” he notes aloud, simple and to the point as always, and he doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing as he says it.
Dean nods silently, kicking his shoes off and coming up behind Castiel. He slings a tired arm around the man’s shoulder, leaning against the back of the chair. He hums, glancing down at the pile of books in front of them and taking a moment to appreciate Cas’ presence in the first place. He wouldn’t even know where to start with any of this.
“So,” he whispers, careful not to make too much noise, “What’d you do all day?”
Castiel isn’t shy in leaning against the embrace, thinking for a second or two before shutting the book he’d been cracking at for a few hours.
“I was here the whole time. I can’t say I got much done.”
“Sounds eventful,” Dean muses, resting his elbow on the chair frame, and his chin in the palm of his hand.
Cas shakes his head. “No, I don’t think that’s the correct way to put it.”
But Dean only shakes his head, snickering into his palm and letting his eyes fall shut.
“Vague sarcasm. Good day then, I’m guessing?”
“It wasn’t so bad. Good sounds right,” Cas confirms, tilting his head to look back at Dean. It doesn’t take any social ability to sense how tired he is, but he knew that just by hearing Dean’s voice.
“Hey, that’s good. I’m glad, missed you,” he murmurs back, meeting Cas’ eyes and trying to hide the slightest show of an involuntary grin.
Cas doesn’t try to hide his smile, nodding carefully before letting his shoulders loosen up, and his posture comes down.
“You were gone a lot today. Welcome back.”
Dean doesn’t have to question it, and Cas doesn’t have to clarify. He knows that this is Castiel’s vague, but honest way of saying that he missed him too. They’ve fallen into their own sort of normalcy, understanding each other and what they’ve come to feel without having to say anything about it. It’s easier that way. They know what they know, but there’s no obligation to it. They just are, and that’s more than enough.
With his chin still in his hand and the silence that fills the room, Dean finds himself nodding off where he stands. A clock would tell him that it’s almost four, and he knows he needs to be up soon, but he’s too drowsy to care. If it weren’t for Cas — and of course, it’s always Cas — he would have gone to sleep without even taking the time to shuck his jeans off.
Like always, Cas notices. He noticed several minutes ago, but elected to sit and talk aimlessly instead of sending him straight to bed. But now, it’s probably the better option. He stands up, shifting in Dean’s embrace to wrap an arm around his waist. He sends a sympathetic glance in his direction, one that Dean barely even notices.
“You’re in another world,” He notes, but there’s a fondness even in the way that he chastises Dean. He can only be so harsh, even if he wants to, and he doesn’t. These moments between them are rare, but blissful, certainly.
Dean shakes his head, trying to smile in reassurance that doesn’t get across. He wants to say something, but there’s no fooling anybody, he’s almost entirely out of it. He hardly ever fools Cas in the first place. Castiel just shakes his head, reaching up with his other hand and placing it on Dean’s cheek. Their eyes meet, and that’s enough, without any words, to convince Dean to start stumbling back toward the open bed.
Cas isn’t surprised by how little convincing it takes. He knew there wouldn’t be much involved, that he could get by with just a look. He’s done a lot less for a lot more in the past, but that’s hardly here nor there. He sits at the edge of the bed beside Dean, silently helping him out of his jacket and t-shirt. His hand brushes against the all too familiar handprint on Dean’s shoulder, making him shiver under Cas. Dean manages to pull himself together enough to get his jeans and socks off, then falls back against the sheets to watch out of the corner of his eye as Cas does the same thing.
He can’t help but let his gaze linger. It’s so rare that he sees Castiel out of his trench coat and tie that he almost forgets that it’s even a possible sight. That’s not to say that it isn’t a welcomed one, and if he wasn’t so out of his mind exhausted, he’d easily take the opportunity to memorize every inch of Cas’ bare chest, and anything else he could get along with it. But since he is, he just tugs the comforter up over him, letting a limp arm fall out in front of him.
In seconds, Dean can feel Cas shuffling under the covers with him and resting a cheek against his back. Cas snakes an arm around his waist, then lets his breathing calm and level out. He’s content, something he’s not entirely used to, but finds much easier when he’s with Dean. Dean knows that Cas doesn’t sleep, and there’s no real reason for him to stay all night when he could get right back to work, but he hopes that he’ll stay.
It’s the last thing he’s thinking about as rest finally finds him. He only sleeps so well, or really at all when Cas is around, another thing that has come out of the years they’ve known each other. Sometimes it hurts more than it helps, but now, it most definitely helps. He finds himself checking, just to make sure that he won’t wake up to a cold half of the mattress.
“All night?” he mutters, the words unable to be heard if it weren’t for their closeness.
Cas, who hasn’t found such peace as when he’s right like this, Dean in his arms, just nods against his back, humming in response.
“All night long.” He answers, knowing and thankful that by the time he gets it out, Dean isn’t even awake to hear his gentle confirmation.