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“I don’t know why I’m helping my competition.” Crowley grouses as he lifts Cas’s arm over his head.
Sam’s eyes snap up scanning between Dean and Crowley. He takes Cas’s shoulder from Crowley and eases Cas onto Dean’s bed in the Bunker. Dean helps to guide Cas’s unconscious body, never looking up but feeling Sam’s eyes.
“Hey, uh Sam?” Dean doesn’t take his eye off Cas’s bloodied face. “I forgot his jacket in the car. You know how his is about that thing. Can you get it for Linus here?” Dean settles into a chair next to the bed.
“Uh, sure.” Sam’s eye flick between Crowley and Dean again before he exits.
When Sam’s feet can’t be heard anymore, Dean tears his eyes away from Cas. “Thanks.” He breathes at Crowley.
Crowley shrugs. “He can be useful. Tell ‘em I was right.”
Dean’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.
Crowley smirks, “You’re not my type.”
With a tilt to his head and an almost imperceptible smile Dean adds, “Anymore.”
“Touché.”
“I’ll always treasure our Flickr album.” Dean gently laughs.
“Oh don’t bother. See ya ‘round Karaoke King.”
Crowley snaps his fingers and disappears only moments before Sam returns. Dean schools his face, feeling guilty. He’s not supposed to have fond memories of being a demon- let alone fond memories of the King of Hell.
“Where do you want it?” Sam asks holding out Cas’s trench coat.
Dean stretches out a hand and Sam passes it to him. He folds up the jacket and holds it a moment before placing it on the bedside table.
“How did Crowley know how to break the guard dog spell?” Sam drags a chair from near the door closer to Cas’s motionless body.
Dean snorts, “Apparently he had someone in his pocket who’s not to fond of Rowena.”
“Oh well that’s useful.”
“No I mean, he had someone in his pocket. A hamster.”
The brothers share a smirk in disbelief.
“Even for him that’s just weird.”
In the silence that falls Dean can feel his brother’s curiosity about Crowley’s quip.
He takes a breath, not wanting to say anything but feeling like secrets have always been their downfall. No more secrets, about anything. Dean silently promises himself. “When I was a demon-”
“You don’t have to.” Sam stops him.
Dean nods, grateful for Sam’s interruption. Okay, no more secrets starting now. Dean amends.
♡
Dean keeps vigil at Cas’s bedside. Leaving only to attend to basic needs. Even then he tries to hold his bladder for longer than he should. All he can think about is the last time they saw each other. Desperately wanting to erase that memory, he starts sipping whiskey as he waits for Cas to wake up.
Sam pops his head in occasionally, but generally leaves them alone and Dean’s grateful for that.
“You need anything?” Sam says at the door, concern drawn on his face.
“Why isn’t he awake yet, man?” Dean laments instead of answering. “I thought he got his mojo back.”
“Magical illnesses are different. He’ll wake up.” Sam offers then asks again, “Want anything?”
“Not unless you know the number for Madam Pomfrey.” Dean buries his face in his hands, not caring that he just outed himself as a Harry Potter fan.
“Kay, I’ll be back in a bit. Got my cell on.”
Dean waves one hand at his brother without turning around.
Thinking with his head down, Dean looks at the side of the bed. Once Crowley and Sam left them alone Dean carefully stripped Cas of his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers. Dean slipped his favorite soft grey t-shirt over Cas then slid the covers over his limp body. Now as Dean stares into space, his eyes are drawn to the bed frame. It’s crooked and sticking out a little. Dean has to fix it. He wants Cas to be comfortable and have everything he needs, and having the frame slightly jutting out is not right. Dean crouches by the bed trying to push the frame back in, it feels stuck. He lifts it a little and shoves. As the metal slides back into place, it slices his left hand. Dean hisses at the sting.
He goes to the sink to rinse the cut, but is greeted by the bloody rags he used to clean Cas’s face. He should have thrown those away, but he didn’t want to leave the room. Maybe he could launder them and get the blood out, but every time he’d use those rags he’d think of Cas. Dean knows he didn’t cause this round of blood, that was from the spell, but it doesn’t matter. It makes him think of the library. Dean quickly runs his hand under the water and grabs a towel to press into his palm. He turns away from the sink, not wanting to leave the room and not wanting to deal with the bloody rags.
Dean arranges the chair Sam had sat in, so he can prop his feet up. He doesn’t expect to sleep, but he tries to get a little comfortable. When sleep doesn’t come, as expected, Dean checks his hand- no longer bleeding- so he tosses the towel behind him and begins to rearrange the room. He moves things around on his shelves and takes artifacts down. He rummages around and finds a mostly empty box and starts piling things in it. The first to go is his antique porn. He’s making room for Cas, even if he only half admits it to himself.
Once the porn is boxed up, Dean starts taking down his weapon collection. Seeing Cas with a bunch a weapons around him frankly makes Dean sick. On one of his quick trips out of the room, Dean grabs another box. He’s not sure what to do with the objects once he’s packed them away so he slides them into a dark corner of his room, and returns to his seat next to Cas.
Dean stares at Cas’s hand. It’s lying still on the top of his blanket. He wants to hold that hand, to grab those fingers and never let go. The longer he looks the more it pains him to withhold the contact. Dean places a hand on top of the bed, inches away from Cas’s fingers. He slides his hand until their pinkies touch. Then acting on pure need Dean slips his hand on top of Cas’s and thread’s their fingers together. The thrum of need slightly ebbs, and Dean breathes out a sigh placing his forehead on their clasped hands.
♡
Dean falls asleep hunched forward onto Cas’s chest still clutching his hand with his other arm thrown over Cas’s stomach. He awakes later sitting up stiffly and a little embarrassed. On the chair next to him there’s a glass of orange juice and a slice of apple pie carefully arranged on a tray. Sam’s been in the room. Sam saw this. But instead of waking Dean, his brother left food. The juice is an odd choice, but Dean suspects it because he hasn’t been eating and Sam is trying to get nutrients into him anyway he can.
Dean glances over to the bedside table where Cas’s folded jacket sits under the lamp. It’s covered in blood stains.
“When you feel better we’re getting you a new one and tossing that thing.” Dean holds their hands up and starts to bring his lips near Cas’s fingers until he realizes what he’s doing. Before his lips touch Cas, Dean aborts his movement. Instead, he lets Cas’s hand graze the side of his face. Dean closes his eyes as that need to be close returns. He squeezes Cas’s hand and drops their threaded fingers back down to the bed.
He doesn’t want to take advantage of Cas. Just because Dean wants to kiss him (and he’s just realized how much he wants to) doesn’t mean that Cas wants that kiss. Dean feels guilty for even holding the guy’s hand. With a lump in his throat, Dean loosens his fingers. He doesn’t want to let go but knows he should since Mr. Comatose doesn’t have a say in it. Dean takes a breath and slowly slides his fingers away. Hating the loss of touch, Dean reasons that keeping his hand on the bed isn’t bad. Maybe a little creepy, but he’ll deal with that guilt later. Dean leans forward on to his forearm and rests his head, careful to not touch Cas. He’s so tired, but he refuses to move. His stretched out hand lies near Cas’s without touching, causing Dean’s heart to ache.
The touch makes his heart jump. Cas’s hand grasps at Dean’s threading them together.
Dean sits up, his pulse beating in his ears. “Cas?” His hoarse voice breaks. “Cas?” Cas doesn’t move. Only his fingers tighten their grip on Dean’s hand.
Dean’s reddened eyes threaten to leak and he gently leans on Cas’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He mumbles into the grey cotton t-shirt. “Cas, come back to me man.” With a shaking breath Dean adds, “I need you.”
As tears blur Dean’s vision, Dean forgets himself and throws his other arm across Cas. “Please come back. I need you. I need you here.” Dean’s fingers grip the fabric on Cas’s shoulder. “I love you.” He whispers.
“I love you too.” Cas’s gravelly voice responds.
Dean’s heart leaps. He’s afraid to look up until he feels a hand on the back of his head. Timidly lifting his head Dean leans into Cas’s touch.
“I missed you.” Cas continues, threading his fingers into Dean’s hair and gently pulling him closer.
Dean’s eyes are wide as their noses touch. “I missed you so-” His voice breaks and tears stream down his cheeks.
Cas tilts his head capturing Dean’s lips with his own. Their lips slowly pull away from each other as Cas sits up and shuffles over so Dean can sit on the bed next to him.
They stare at each other trying to process what has happened. Dean is human. Again. Cas is an angel. Again. And as Dean thinks about Cas leaving now that he’s well, his eyes well with tears. Again. He’s an angel of course he won’t stay. He has things to do. Dean tells himself, but there’s a mantra of Please don’t go. Please don’t go. Please don’t go. running though Dean making his heartache.
Cas’s eyes turn from relief to sorrow. Dean sees the change and steals himself for the inevitable.
“I regret every time I’ve left.” Cas pulls Dean closer and wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders. “I’m staying as long as you’ll have me.”
Dean’s heart skips a beat as he returns Cas’s hug.
Cas is propped up on the headboard and Dean leans against Cas with his head buried in Cas’s neck. Dean grips tightly not wanting to let go, worried about what will happen if he does.
Cas laughs into Dean’s neck, “Was Crowley here?”
Dean lifts his head up and Cas mirrors so they can look at each other. Dean smirks, “Yeah, he fixed you. And, uh,” Dean’s voice trails off.
“What?” Cas prods tilting his head, making Dean’s heart melt.
“He says to tell you he was right.” Dean continues in a slurred mumble, “I’m not his type or somethin’ like that.”
Cas laughs and pecks Dean cheek, “Good.” He kisses Dean again this time softly on the lips then adds, “He said you were my boyfriend.”
Dean heart leaps. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They breathe into each other connecting their lips with a gentle slide of tongue through the seam.
“Hey Dean?” Sam peeks his head in then quickly retreats with a call back, “Glad you’re awake Cas!”
Dean smirks then continues pour his heart and years of longing into Cas’s lips.