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“Have you really only been sleeping for four hours?” Cas asked, arms crossed where he stood in the doorway of the Bunker.
Dean looked up from the lore book he was poring over. Cas was frowning at him, and it was almost adorable. He was almost scared to check the clock and see how late it really was; based on the heaviness of his lids and the fact that he hadn’t seen Sam for a while, it must have been well past midnight. If Sam were here, he’d probably tell Dean to go to bed, but Sam wasn’t the one who’d be left staring up at the spinning ceiling fan, trying not to think about how the white popcorn patterns looked too much like streaks of blood, threatening to drip down until they drowned him completely.
“Nightmares, Cas. Not much I can do about them.”
He wasn’t even sure why he was explaining himself. He ran just fine off of four hours of sleep. He’d been doing it for years, since long before Cas flew into his life and dragged him out of Hell.
“I’ve been doing research. Sleeping with someone else can lead to the release of oxytocin, which can lead to better quality sleep.”
Dean had never seen Cas look so hesitant before. “You’re saying you want to sleep with me, Cas? You’re gonna have to take me out to dinner first.”
He raised his beer bottle to his lips, but before he could drink anymore, Cas was prying it out his grasp. He could feel Cas’s gaze settling over him like a heavy blanket, piercing and steady and almost unnerving, until Dean felt the strange urge to pull his flannel tighter around himself.
“I didn’t realize that was a prerequisite, but I’m willing to get you something to eat.” Dean opened his mouth to correct him, but Cas was faster, continuing, “Humans need sleep, Dean. I know that.”
Even the passing reference to Cas’s time spent as human, when Dean all but abandoned him, sent a fresh jolt of guilt and pain burning through Dean’s chest. He swallowed down the rest of his feeble excuses, feeling a lump form in his throat. If Cas wanted Dean to sleep that badly, then Dean owed him this, at least, and Dean was tired, anyway, and sick of waking up alone and sweating and choking on screams.
“There’s no way for me to get out of this, is there?” Dean forced out, meeting Cas’s unflinching blue eyes. “Alright, Cas, take me to bed.”
They didn’t speak while Dean was getting ready for bed. He changed into a thin t-shirt and slipped off his jeans. His headphones sat on his bedside table, as if staring him down, reminding him of all the sleepless nights he’d spent pumping music into his ears because if he let the silence last a little too long, the bad memories and the nightmares and the self-doubt and self-hatred and guilt would become to creep in and blot out any chance of actually sleeping.
Just one more thing he’d keep from Sam and Cas, Dean thought, shoving them into a drawer. He crawled into bed, feeling slightly childish as he pulled up the covers around himself. He felt the mattress dip as Cas crawled in beside him, having traded his classic ill-fitting suit for something softer. It almost felt strange seeing Cas without his trench coat and suit, like Dean was staring right at Cas’s vulnerable, human soft spots, a piece of him that Dean wasn’t supposed to see. But then again, Cas was the one in Dean’s bed helping him face the nightmares of Dean’s own creation, so maybe Cas wasn’t really the one being cracked open and exposed, here.
For the first five minutes or so, it was as painfully awkward as Dean had been expecting.
After that, though, Cas seemed to relax, and Dean did, too. Cas’s chest was warm where it was pressed up against Dean’s back, one strong arm wrapped around Dean. If Dean listened closely enough, he could make out the steady pattern of Cas’s breathing over the gentle hum of the fan.
“Hey, Cas?” Dean’s voice came out as a rough whisper, and he felt stupid, like a girl at a sleepover.
Cas’s arm tightened around Dean’s chest, and goddamnit , it wasn’t fair that the gesture made Dean’s eyes sting with tears and his skin burn where it touched Dean’s skin.
“Yes, Dean?” Cas prompted.
Dean swallowed. He was going to say something along the lines of “never tell Sammy about this or I’ll use the angel blade hiding in my nightstand”, but the words got caught in his throat. Too forcibly light and too fake to make it past the knot of raw feeling in his chest that had developed from the minute Cas touched him.
“When I said you had to buy me dinner first…” Dean had no idea why his sleep-deprived brain was dragging him there– no, that wasn’t fair. He knew exactly why. “That was a joke. I’m not expecting anything.”
Cas probably didn’t think he had been, and now Dean had probably made everything weird again. Well, weirder than it already was, with Cas holding onto Dean like he was something precious to be guarded, in Dean’s bed, in the middle of a cold, lonely Bunker.
“Taking out someone to dinner,” Cas repeated. “That means a romantic date, right?”
Between Dean’s dry throat and his fluttering stomach and the heat radiating off his face, he was beginning to think Cas was right to stop him from drinking more. “Yeah, Cas, it means a date.”
Cas was quiet for a long time. Everytime he exhaled, Dean could feel it fluttering across the back of his neck, sending a fresh wave of bright sparks dancing along his spine. Cas was right about one thing– he certainly wasn’t thinking about nightmares and past mistakes; he was too busy being tuned into every tiny movement Cas made.
“I’d be willing to do that, too,” Cas breathed out, while Dean was on the precipice of sleeping, and the words themselves should’ve sounded slightly begrudging, but they were spoken with such a soft reverence that Dean could feel the knot in his chest unraveling, spinning out into something simple and warm and happy.
It’s the best sleep that Dean has gotten in years. He didn’t even open his eyes when he first woke up, his senses slowly filtering through the film of pleasantly drowsy warmth that enveloped him.
The first thing he noticed was that Cas’s arm was still wrapped tight around him. The realization made his heart skip a beat and his chest tingle warmly. He wasn’t sure if it was really a surprise or if he was just happy that Cas stayed.
The second thing he noticed was that he must’ve shifted at some point in the night, because instead of being turned away from Cas, his head is resting on Cas’s chest. One of his own arms was thrown over Cas’s chest, one of his legs slotted between Cas’s. None of that compared, of course, to the gentle tickle he could feel in his scalp.
Cas was playing with his hair, threading his fingers through it. It felt really good, in a way that Dean couldn’t describe. He didn’t know how to begin to feel about it, or even how to react to it, except to bury his face further into the crook of Cas’s neck, letting out a soft sigh that he would’ve found embarrassing if he could actually think.
“How did you sleep?”
Dean lifted his face off Cas’s chest, his bleary green eyes meeting Cas’s endlessly steady blue gaze. “Good. Really, really good. Thanks, Cas.”
He half-expected Cas to leave the bed right then and there, his job complete. God knows Dean would’ve left immediately, had he been in the same position. But Cas made no movement to leave, and it just sent more sparklers twirling through Dean’s gut, shooting off a warm, pink glow that settled deep in his chest, something Dean couldn’t carve out even if he wanted to.
“Sam stopped by while you were out. He said he thinks he found a case.”
Dean was so far gone, long since melted into a puddle of sappy goo in the safety of Cas’s arms, that he barely even registered the idea of his younger brother walking in on him and an Angel of the Lord cuddling together in his best. “Tell him it can wait. You promised you’d be willing to take me out to dinner.”
Dean could see the beginnings of a smile pulling at the corners of Cas’s lips, and all at once, he knew if this was all there was to the rest of his life, he would be happy.