Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey, how come you’ve got a cane?” came a voice from his elbow. Castiel grit his teeth and kept walking.

“I’m blind,” He said out loud, tapping the thing back and forth along the hallway. 

“But I’ve seen you with glasses on, you’re in my chemistry lab, what are you talking about,” came the voice at his elbow. It was deep and had a bit of an accent he couldn’t place right away. He auto-tilted his head as if to get the information to slot into his head. 

“You’d think with all the politeness the South preaches they’d’ve taught you not to ask invasive questions to strangers.” He stated simply, keeping his eyes focused on his goal. The elevators. Just get to the elevators. The person at his elbow did not stop walking with him, and he kept brushing elbows with him. There was a brief, blessed silence. 

“I’m sorry, I thought we were acquaintances,” The voice sounded hesitant now, and apologetic. Castiel tried (failed) to make his eyes focus on the dark gray rectangle that held the damned elevator buttons. He reached his hand out to brush the rectangle and locate the buttons without pushing them. Well, if the man wasn’t leaving, he could at least be of some help.

“This is the down button, right?” He asked. People putting the buttons next to each other instead of on top of each other was starting to be one of his biggest pet peeves. The man beside him coughed. 

“No, that’s up,”

“Seriously? Could they make this any less intuitive?” He jabbed the button he wasn’t touching and turned to face the man he was talking to. His face was a blurry, mushy blob. “You coming?” The blurry blob moved up and down.

“Thanks,” He said. Castiel rubbed his eyes. Stupid fucking headaches. He could feel every thread of his shirt. He hit what he assumed was the lowest floor button and stared at the changing shapes of light that were indicating what floor they were on.

“Where do you sit relative to me in class? To the left?” No answer. “I can’t see you well, if you’re nodding I wasn’t paying attention.” He turned to face the man. His blurry face blob was a lot pinker than it was minutes ago. 

“Sorry, I was. I do sit to your left.” He said. Which one was he? “In front and left.” The elevator slowed in what seemed like too short of a time. Castiel felt his face move into a confused expression. “What is it?”

“What floor are we on?” Just then, a loud buzzing sound sounded over the speaker. Castiel slapped his hands to his ears reflexively, forgetting he had a cane in his hand and smacking himself in the head with it. “Jesus fuck -” 

“Woah, are you oka-” the elevator jolted. Castiel threw his arms towards the wall and groped downwards, trying to find the bar. Once he did, he leaned against it and braced himself as quickly as possible. 

“Incident Protocol activated. Dialing the main office.” Sounded a robotic voice from the loudspeaker. A dial tone, then a click, then a crackling voice.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Castiel grit his teeth. 

“Nothing. The elevator stopped and we don’t know why,” He said in the direction of the button panel. There was a pause.

“Our feedback says the IP system was manually triggered. I can see you on the camera, there are two of you, did one of you press it accidentally?” Cas rolled his eyes. (Ow.). The man responded for both of them. 

“We don't think so. The ground floor button was pressed when we started going down, but that's about it.” There was a humming sound that came from the speaker. 

“Must be a bug with the system then, may be sensitive or there may be another problem. Unfortunately, these problems take awhile to fix. You’re looking at at least 30 minutes in there until we figure out what’s going on. You’re between floors so there’s no easy way to let you out. I’m really sorry guys, there’s nothing I can do. Police are on their way, the IP calls them automatically. I suggest emailing your professors if you were on your way to a class, or work, prior engagements etc. I’ll be in touch once we get someone to fix this on short notice,” Came the voice. Castiel groaned. He needed water, his earplugs, some food and a break. He took his backpack off and slid down the wall until he was sitting, brought his knees up and rubbed his temples. He let himself rock slightly right and left, just enough to feel gravity in his pounding head. He stopped when he realized it was making his headache worse. 

“You okay?” The man he was speaking to before asked. Castiel startled slightly and opened his eyes to see him sitting across the elevator from him, his head slightly tilted. 

“No,” Castiel said abruptly. His day had gone down the shitter. He had gotten his midterm essay back from his asshole professor, Dr. Adler, who had given him a B (a B!) on it. Resubmissions were mandatory and made the essay grade eligible for a markup, which was great, except for Castiel had no time to rework an entire 13 page essay (which, by the way, who the fuck assigns that many pages for a research paper that isn't a final essay. What an asshole), no matter that it was centered around language and theology. He’d had two hours right after class, though, and started working through it as quickly as possible and, given he had been in classes the previous 4 hours with only a short break to eat in the mid morning, constantly on his computer and trying to process a bajillion different things at once, having grabbed the glasses without the prism in them to help with computer light, he gave himself a headache. Which led to him needing to remove his glasses, and desperately scrounging around his bag for his headache pills (which he couldn’t find, then remembered he’d meant to put them back in his backpack after refilling the portable container. He knew exactly where it was on the table outside his door). That of course, meant he needed to get his spare cane from his on-campus locker. He was going to have to write an email to his Chemistry lab professor excusing him from class tomorrow, and find a section to make it up in. A noise interrupted him. 

“Can I help with any of that?” The noise said. Castiel abruptly slammed back into his body, arms in the air wildly gesticulating, his eyebrows low and presumably angry, and his mouth dry. He withdrew his limbs from the air. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. It’s been a long day. I don’t like being unable to see. I’m used to it, especially now that I have a diagnosis and know that removing my contacts or glasses will help with the headaches, but it's frustrating and clunky,” He said, sighing. 

“Would Ibuprofen help?” The man asked. Castiel considered for a moment before nodding hesitantly. The anti-inflammatory parts of it might. 

“Maybe? I haven't used it in quite awhile,” He said. He scratched briefly at the scab at his temple before remembering himself and dropping his hand. “Why, do you have some?”

“I carry it around with me, I have bad knees that act up if I have to walk around campus a lot,” the man commented while rummaging through his bag. It occurred to Castiel that he still didn’t quite know who this man was. 

“You said that you sit at the lab station in front of and to my left?” Cas asked. It seemed like the man may be nodding but with the fervor he was rummaging through his bag it was hard to tell. “I can’t tell if you’re nodding or not,” he said, mildly frustrated. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m trying to get used to this. Yes, that’s where I sit,” the man said. 

“But the person in that seat is female,” Castiel said. The seating chart had said Deanna Winchester. He had sort of just figured she had short hair. He didn’t have the mental power to devote to the people around him, he had been incredibly focused on making sure he didn’t make extreme, irreparable mistakes. The TA was amazing with his patience. Thank god for the Accommodations Center. Castiel, getting lost in his head, didn’t notice at first that the man across from him had stilled completely, and was facing him, and was quiet. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked. The man withdrew his hands from his backpack slowly. Castiel was put slightly on edge.

“Look. I don’t know what kind of bigot you think you are, or what kind of asshole-”

“I am absolutely not bigoted.”

“I’m not a woman!”

“Yes I can tell, that’s why I’m confused.”

“My name is Dean Winchester,” the man said, probably through his teeth. Castiel stilled, his fingers stopping their tapping, his breathing catching in his chest. 

“Oh. That makes sense. Why hasn’t the school changed your name in the class roster?” he asked. The school seemed to be fairly accommodating when it came to gender queer students.

“My legal name is still Deanna,” Dean said curtly. It’s impolite to pry , came a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Jimmy. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas said. “I’m not trying to pry,” Dean’s posture slightly relaxed, and Castiel let out a breath. “I’m autistic, I don’t do well on picking up on where people’s boundaries are when I can see, your blurry profile isn’t helpful to picking up on posture and anything else. I really am sorry. If-”

“Well damn, Cas, I didn’t know that. I’m also sorry. I keep forgetting you can’t see things like the pin on my shirt.” Cas squinted and could just make out a small light colored shape hidden amidst the black and red checker shirt. He didn’t say anything, feeling a bit out of place in this conversation. “It's a sensitive topic for me. I’m not exactly trans,” Dean paused. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Cas said. It was getting hard to focus on talking. His head was pounding. “We barely know each other right now.” He closed his eyes. The lights in the elevator were too much.

“Alright. Er, I’m nodding. How many of these do you want?” Dean asked. Castiel pressed his thumbs into his eyes and groaned. 

“Fuck, I don’t know. What’s the usual amount?”

“I think two. If you’re planning on taking something else later you probably shouldn’t take more than that,” Dean said. Cas rubbed at the notches in his eyebrow bones, a familiar sense of grounding coming in as his fingers identified the grooves. 

“Alright,” he said. Dean made a hesitant sound that made Cas look up. 

“Here, palm up. I have a water bottle if you want some?” Dean asked. He obediently opened his hand and Dean pressed two small round pills into it.

“No, thank you though.” He swallowed them quickly, trying to let as little of the sickly sweet sugar coating on them dissolve on his tongue. Dean started talking again and Cas quickly fell into a peaceful drift of non-thought, only half-listening the the stories about Dean’s brother, and getting his GED, and going to college late and feeling out of place as a mechanic that just wanted to learn more about running a business. 

The minutes moved on in peace, Dean’s cheerful, unceasing chatter occupying enough of Cas’s mind that he didn’t feel like he was drifting off. Slowly the pain medicine started doing its job, perhaps not perfectly but certainly he felt better than he had. Dean’s voice faded from his consciousness and Cas looked up, slightly alarmed that he didn’t know when Dean had stopped talking. 

“Feeling better?” Dean asked. Cas nodded slowly. “It’s been about 20 minutes. They should be getting someone here pretty soon.” Cas hummed his understanding, tucking his chin on his hands on his knees, shoving the heels of his shoes against his thighs just to feel where they dug into his skin. He closed his eyes. Not much worth seeing anyway. 

“Thank you, Dean,” he said quietly. He could still feel every hair follicle on his body and how it was being bent out of shape by his clothing, but his mind was quieter. “You have a very soothing voice.” 

“Oh. Thanks, I think. Hey, sorry about earlier by the way--” Nice deflection Cas thought to himself. He tilted his head towards Dean and opened his eyes to look at him (hopefully) intently. 

“It’s forgotten. We all have our own things we’re prickly about. I’m sorry for getting agitated about not being able to see you.” 

“It’s forgotten,” Dean said, his unmistakable smile beaming across his face. Cas couldn’t help but smile back. He started feeling around his bag for his glasses, hoping his headache wouldn’t get worse if he just put them on for a moment. The medication had helped, anyway… “Do you need help finding anything?”

Cas startled. “Oh! Um, no. I’m looking for where I shoved my glasses.” He found their case. 

“I thought those made your head hurt?” Dean asked. His confusion was evident in the way he hesitated. 

“I sort of want to see your face. Is that weird?” Cas asked, fiddling with the arms of the glasses when he finally pulled them free. “I don’t have to put them on.” Dean jolted forward. 

“No! I mean, no, that’s fine, go for it, um,” he said. Cas ducked his head. His face heated and he hoped to god it wasn’t as obvious as he thought.

“Oh, um. Right, okay.” He felt like a fish out of water. He screwed his eyes shut, praying he didn’t look as stupid as he felt as he slipped his glasses on. When he opened his eyes there was an immediate pang, his head protesting the pressure he was putting on his eyes right away. But looking at Dean made it worth it. 

His eyes were wide and full of life and concern, a few days of scruff on his face and--fuck, he was--

“Christ, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed, mouth probably hanging open. Dean immediately blushed. Cas started, his brain catching up with his mouth, and he launched forward with his hands out in apology. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I mean-” 

“Don’t apologize, I. Ha. I felt the same way when I walked into our Chem lab.” He said, and rubbed his neck, looking away. Cas’s eyes widened. 

“Oh my god.”

“I mean, it’s not that bad or anything, obviously you didn’t feel the same way and I didn’t want to push, so-”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s fine, obviously, it’s not a big deal, just-”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Figured you’d let me down gen-what?” Castiel looked at Dean intently, pink cheeks, eyes bright, hands fallen to his lap. 

“Are you attracted to men? Specifically me, are you interested in me and if you are can I please kiss you. If you want.” Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times before he got a determined look on his face and leaned the rest of the way forward to kiss him. 

It didn’t last a long time, Cas’s lips were dry and their teeth made an awful click when they collided too hard, but when they pulled apart they were both short of breath. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t think of a reply,” Dean said. He was looking at his hands in his lap, fiddling with the string of his pants. Cas laughed, a little breathlessly, and leaned back against the elevator wall. He pushed his glasses up onto his head, his eyes thanking him for it right away. He closed them before he replied. 

“Ok. I am still having a shit day, so here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to ask for your number, and then we’re going to spend the rest of the time we’re locked in here talking about our crazy professor, then I’m going to go home and recover from the day I’ve had. Then when I wake up tomorrow I’m going to call you, and you’re going to answer, and I’m going to take you on the best date of your life,” he said, “and hopefully take you home afterwards.” Dean stuttered a shocked laugh. 

“Oh, um. Ok! Yeah, that sounds, uh, that sounds great.”

Cas tilted his head towards Dean, rolling his head across the elevator wall. Every one of his hairs squeaked as he moved. “So, can I have your number?”

Dean’s face, much closer and easier to understand, was open and happy. He threw his head back and laughed. “Of course, Cas.” 

Chapter Text

Midterms. 

Fuck midterms. Somehow they were even more stressful than finals. How? Dean certainly wouldn’t be able to explain it. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that with finals, at least, you knew there was going to be an end. After finals, the semester’s over! After midterms, you had another half semester to go before you were free. 

Not only that, but none of the times ever lined up, so what could’ve been a day or two of brick testing which, while having its own problems, would honestly have been preferred , turns into a week or two of forgetting and being surprised you have a four page paper or an in class essay or some 200 question exam or another for midterms. 

Of course, this is how Dean found himself holed up in one of the study carrels on the third floor of the Library Commons on a Wednesday night. Nobody was around. In front of him, an expansive window that looked out onto the campus, dimly lit with flickering lanterns and office lights in other buildings. The vast night sky. A beautiful view, mostly blocked by the desk, all of his cables and devices plugged into the outlets, one expensive bluetooth headphone charging in its case at a time so he could listen to music for hours without being worried about them dying. 

A stack of the books he was referencing to his left, bag of chips on his right, an empty bottle of coke and a screwed up wrapper from the bacon cheeseburger he’d had earlier shoved into the corner, and a discarded water bottle resting atop his backpack. He’d gotten his eating and noisy shit out of the way as quickly as he could, trying not to disturb anyone else and get to working as rapidly as possible. 

The person a carrel down from him had not gotten the memo. 

There was a near constant tapping coming from that side of the room, sometimes accompanied by clicks that Dean couldn’t tell if they were made by a mouth or a clicking thing. Constant shifting. Shit moving, zipping and unzipping, and Dean was supposed to be focused on his research paper goddamnit. 

If he restructured it by switching the orders of two pages it would actually flow a lot better, and there was the perfect opening for the reference he didn’t know where to put earlier. 

The scraping noise of a chair without wheels against carpet sounded loudly as Carrel 2 person starting making their way in the direction of the bathroom. Dean grit his teeth silently. This was a specifically reserved silent study space.  

Perfectly timed, his phone lit up silently with a text from Cas. He grinned and shut his laptop momentarily. 

-> Hey, what’s your schedule for the evening look like?

<- I’m studying in the LC for most of it, I have that paper I told you I forgot about earlier this week

-> Oh, that’s right. Are you free sometime in the next few days though? I don’t really like texting, even if I do enjoy talking to you. 

<- Actually I should be free tomorrow night. I have to hand in this paper by midnight so I probably shouldn’t even be texting you…

-> Such a shame that school responsibilities should take you from my side.

Dean chuckled to himself, covering his mouth with his palm. 

<- I would say never, but we both know I spend more time doing schoolwork than anything else

-> And I would sigh, but we both know I respect you tremendously for it. 

<- How’s the head today?

-> (--_--)

Dean frowned and bit his lip subconsciously, watching the little typing symbol appear and disappear at the bottom of his screen.

-> Honestly, worse than it has any right to be. I forgot to bring my glasses again and spent too long in the library doing work for Adler. I’m holed up in the bathroom now to try and bring it down before I walk home. 

<- Is it a cane day?

-> I don’t think it’s bad enough for that yet. As long as I stay away from screens for a few hours I should feel better. 

<- Podcasts and audiobooks today then. Understandable. Sounds like we both have reasons to be away from chat right now. I can do dinner tomorrow if that works?

-> Only if I get you for dessert!

-> Kidding of course. Tomorrow night works fine, I already have a reservation at that gluten free Thai place you like. 

<- Cas, you sap. I’ll see you then

-> Talk soon x

Dean put his phone face down and stretched his back out. His binder was starting to get itchy and honestly, he probably shouldn’t be wearing it anyway considering how long he’d been in the library just doing work. He scowled to himself and wriggled out of it under his sweatshirt before shoving it in his backpack. Ah what it feels to breathe again. The sound of footsteps coming back from the bathroom drew his attention as he reached for his phone to shoot off one last text. 

<- Forgot to take off binder all day (facepalm) I’ll have to go a day or two without it, pls refrain from commenting on it

He hit send and started looking through the stack of books to find the one he wanted to reference. That one comment’s source was escaping him, and he could remember it nearly word for word so--Carrel 2’s phone pinged. Doesn’t even have his fucking ringer off, the douchebag. Dean scowled to himself. 

He didn’t receive a reply from his boyfriend, but he reacted to the message with a thumbs up. Carrel 2 started packing up, apparently. 

For twenty minutes.

Fed up and frustrated beyond belief, because who the fuck takes 20 minutes to noisily pack a backpack in a shared silent study space, hello, Dean rapped sharply on the wall between them. 

“Would you hurry the fuck up please?” he hissed quietly. “Some of us are trying to get work done, and you’ve been making noise for almost half an hour.”

“Can the entitlement and invest in some earplugs.” came an equally hushed and hissed reply. 

“This is literally a silent study space and you have been doing loud shit the entire time you’ve been here.” 

“You are the only person who would’ve been able to hear any of it.”

“ You could’ve picked any number of other fucking carrels to fidget in! This floor is almost completely empty right now!”

“Then you should’ve packed up and left if it was bothering you so much!”

Carrel 2 was actually right about that. He definitely should’ve just moved. Oh well, no backing down now. 

“And all you would’ve had to do was go down a floor and be jittery and unpleasant to your heart’s content.” This time, the reply was still quiet, but a bit more sheepish and came a little slower.

“I like the desks here.” Dean winced as he immediately recognized the deep rumble of Castiel’s voice. He poked his head around the wall. Cas, who was standing with one of his beaded rings pinched tightly and rolling between his fingers, looked to be on the verge of a panic attack. 

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus. C'mon Cas, let’s go to the bathroom.” 

They detoured to a corner between stacks where Cas sat down and clapped his hands over his ears and rocked back and forth for a few minutes until his face un-scrunched before they got up and stumbled to the bathroom and Dean was able to help him hold his hands under cold water. 

Cas’s voice finally bubbled out. “I’m sorry for distracting you. Or anyone. Honestly I didn’t realize I was making noise.”

Dean sighed. “I’m not gonna pretend I wasn’t annoyed but I was also just looking for any and every distraction. I think my meds have worn off, and it’s too late to take a second dose, so I’m stuck forcing myself to be productive right now, getting distracted five times easier. Honestly, on a regular day the noise wouldn’a bothered me. Jus’ today bein’ annoying.” Cas nodded. 

“You need to get back to work.” 

“I do. But are you okay?”

“I think so.” 

Cas wasn’t making eye contact, but then he rarely did. “Alright, gorgeous. Then I’ll let you go and see you for dinner tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. I want a hug and a kiss before I leave.” 

Dean startled a bit. Cas never really initiated contact after a breakdown like that. Not that he was complaining. He helped pack up Cas’s shit quickly before wrapping him in a hug. Castiel’s entire body melted into his. Dean had to brace himself to fully support them.

They stood like that for another few minutes, and when Cas pulled away he wiped at his red eyes. Dean took his face in his hands and Cas looked at him directly, giving Dean the rare chance to search his eyes and face. Finding nothing important or noteworthy, Dean ducked in to kiss him firmly goodbye. Cas sighed when he pulled himself away, but smiled at Dean contentedly, before looking off to the side and kicking at the ground.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dean Winchester.” 

“I love you too, Castiel Novak,” Dean said, not alien to the odd ways Cas communicated his feelings. Cas looked up to him again, positively beaming, and signed a quick I love you before turning and rushing to the stairs, the tips of his ears bright red. Dean watched after him for a few minutes before exhaling and sitting back down to his beloved study carrel. 

Ugh. 

Midterms. 

Time to get back to work.

Chapter Text

Cozy Noodles, though a fairly unremarkable place from the outside, was easily one of Castiel’s favorite places in the city. It was small but uncramped, well decorated, not overwhelming, kept a consistent and cool temperature, and was plastered from floor to ceiling in various collections of things, from lunch boxes to figurines to posters and license plates. 

Also, the food was fantastic, they had braille menus (which he couldn’t read yet but seriously appreciated), and allergy-aware foods that were absolutely unfairly delicious. 

Long story short, Cozy Noodles was simply the best Thai place Cas had ever been to. 

Not that he was ever going to let Dean know that, because Dean had taken him there on their second date and Castiel had dragged his feet about it because he was absolutely convinced that he would hate it and was immediately proven wrong when he walked through the door. 

Dean, for his part, was not in the least fooled. He was well aware that Cas loved the place and while he didn’t share exactly the same enthusiastic sentiment, he did love that the gluten free options weren’t despicable and didn’t immediately fall apart. 

He finished his research essay quickly, unable to completely drop the grin on his face even despite the grim nature of the contents of his paper. When he finally tipped back on his chair and slammed the lid down on his laptop, it was late, he couldn’t feel his eyes, and there was a constant high-pitched whine in his ears. He threw his head back and breathed slowly through his nose, forcing his hands and forearms to stretch and getting feeling back in his feet. 

<- youre probably not awake rn but i just wanted to lyk im done w my essay. brain fried. missin u

-> Does that mean I can have you back now?

<- ur meant tot be stayin away from screens dummy

-> I’m actually feeling quite a bit better! I got a new migraine medication from that doctor I went to last week and took it in the hopes it would be helpful. When I went home I didn’t do much for a few hours after I took them so I’m okay. I did forget the med has caffeine in it so I’m wide awake at the moment! Please come over 

<- o. ok then. ig im omw?

-> Yes please :))) 

Dean huffed a laugh and shoved his phone in his back pocket, making quick work of the rest of his things in his eagerness to put schoolwork behind him. The walk over to Cas’s flat wasn’t terribly long, but so late in the night after so much time studying and brain completely fried, ringing in his ears, the 20 minutes felt more like an hour. His knees hurt. His back hurt. Every step felt like he was fighting quicksand to get forward. With his headphones dead, he could do nothing but listen to the vague quiet of the night around him. 

By the time he finally got there, familiar building lights buzzing with insects, his vision was blurring. Just a few more minutes. Then freedom. Reprieve. Tomorrow can wait until tomorrow. Dean stumbled on his way into the building over a crack in the concrete that was always right where he wanted to step, and he scowled at the offender before hitting the button to ring Cas’s flat. It took a minute, and Dean had the whole process of Cas unfolding and doing his joint stim routine on the way to the button down to the second he got rung in. He smiled and shook his head. Just one more minute.

That one minute finally passed and Dean collapsed against the unlocked front door, slamming it open and back shut and locking it behind him, toeing off his shoes on the way and dropping his phone with his belt near his backpack. Dean found Cas sitting in a convoluted way that had one knee touching his ear with his foot on the couch and the other braced against the coffee table, squishing him into the corner. 

Dean smiled to himself as he watched Cas palm magnets and spin them in repetitive patterns while watching his latest show fixation. His face had turned halfway to Dean in greeting, and his ears were pink, though he remained focused completely on the TV. Dean walked around the couch to the other side to better collapse onto it, planting his head in Cas’s lap. Immediately he was surrounded by the smell of leather, with soft denim under his cheek, and the cloying smell of Cas’s mild cologne combining with whatever undefinable musk lay deep beneath it. Bone weary, he let the safe smell, cut through with the occasional sharp smell of hand sanitizer as Cas would brush a few fingers through his hair, lull him out of wakefulness. Before he even knew what was happening, he was blinking up and awake, his heart pounding in his ears. The apartment was still dark when he squinted one eye open. Relieved, he smiled tiredly at the owner of the hand and face that was tugging at his skin.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, suppressing a yawn. Cas leaned down and pecked him on the mouth before resuming humming and rocking slightly. There was some sort of medical drama playing that Dean wasn’t paying attention to. “Was I out long?”

“Just a few minutes. Wanted to say hi before you really fell asleep and it looked like you were having a nightmare.” 

Dean took stock of himself, realizing for the first time the cold adrenaline pumping through him. He sighed, the state of his body slamming into his awareness violently. His ribs ached just slightly with every inhale, there was still a whine in his ears, and he let his stinging eyes flutter closed again, and tried to fight the nausea creeping up his throat.

Dean was surprised to feel a tear roll down his cheek a moment later, but, considering, it was probably one of relief. Not a second after he felt it were there fingers with jagged fingernails brushing it away and smoothing down his forehead. 

“Breathe. You’re alright. You’re finished with work for now, you can fall asleep. Though the dulcet tones of House MD probably won’t help, hang on,” Cas said, and shifted suddenly forward. Dean frowned and turned his face into Cas’s stomach to keep himself from falling. Cas pulled back and the TV decreased in volume. “Sorry, had to grab the remote.”

“Muh.”

“You’re alright. Just sleep.” 

Dean woke up again in a strange position on Castiel’s couch, head on a pillow and torso and arms wrapped completely around Cas, drool on the pillow and Cas snoring with his head thrown back over the couch. That was going to kill when he woke up. His phone was beeping with the soft alarm that told him he had class in 20 minutes. It wasn’t a class he particularly cared for, but he fired off an email making up some nonsense about throwing up and not being able to make it to class, he’s so dearly sorry…

By the time he hit send on the email he was wider awake than he would’ve liked, and the stiffness in his neck and shoulders was really starting to set in. He threw his phone in the direction of the kitchen and winced when it clattered loudly. He rolled his eyes. “Honestly I’m not sure what I was expecting with that move,” he muttered to himself, and arranged himself on the ground to start stretching and re-aligning his back and neck. Feet crossed on the seat of the couch and butt up against the bottom of it, his shoulders and lower back slowly losing their tension, he slowly started sinking back into sleep. 

Cas woke up, predictably sore, disgruntled, and with the most incredible bed-head Dean had ever seen. Cas nudged Dean’s feet, which had at this point lost a substantial amount of feeling, and vaulted himself off the couch and into the kitchen, where he immediately began making tea. A few moments later he heard a confused noise come from the kitchen. 

“Why’s your phone in here?” Cas asked, scooping it up from the ground. Good question, Cas, why is it? A yawn shook through Dean and he slowly laid himself on the ground. The hard, comfortable ground. Cool on his face. Why was he awake again? “Dean? Dean, get off the floor.” Dean couldn’t make his mouth move. Suddenly he was being yanked standing by a surprisingly strong grip on his arms, and was face to face with a stony faced, half asleep Castiel. 

“Wha?” Dean asked. Cas raised an eyebrow as he cocked his head. 

“Did you throw your phone in the kitchen?”

“I think so?” he said, and swayed into Cas, letting all of his body weight drop on him. He was so warm, and his hands were so strong, and he looked so good standing there all bossy with his arms held tight. His neck smelled faintly of stale sweat and salt, the products of a night spent, ill-advised, on a couch. “D’you have food? What time’sit?” 

“Late. We slept past noon.”

“Shit. Ah, well. How late?”

“If we start cleaning and getting ready we’ll be able to make our dinner reservations,” Cas said, probably squinting at the clock on the wall. Dean didn’t bother.

“Fhuck. Aight.” he hauled himself standing upright and took a deep breath in, holding it as he rubbed at his eyes. “Okay! I’m awake!” he said loudly, more for his benefit than Cas’s. Cas, for his part, rolled his eyes. 

“It’s a 45 minute walk, you won’t be awake for another two hours, and considering that it’s far too late to take your meds we won’t be leaving on time and will probably take an hour or two of distraction. Reservations around seven.”

That put the time just after three-thirty. Dean leaned up and pressed his entire body back into Cas’s. Cas just looked at him blankly, silently radiating body heat. 

“I love you,” Dean said, wrapping his hands around the back of Cas’s neck and rubbing his thumbs along the apples of his cheeks before kissing him. Cas turned bright pink and looked away. 

“Your phone screen cracked.”

“FUCK!”