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Discomfort? Established.
Tension? Crushing.
Anxiety? Present.
Man, did Dean Winchester feel out of place here. Not because of the unconscious trench-coated Angel hitch-hiking a ride on his back, but due to their attire amid all the 'That 70’s show' cast rejects populating this hotel.
The hunter didn’t give a damn about the people ogling them. He did care about Castiel getting some rest — and he damn well deserved that in the best room of this hotel. Whatever the high hotel standards were in nineteen-freaking-seventy-eight.
As Dean walked through the brown, gloomy hallways of the hotel, he kept his eyes fixed on the room number doors, making sure he didn’t pass Castiel’s room. Dean stopped in his tracks, his emerald-colored eyes landing on the jackpot. Clumsily juggling the Angel on his back and the room key in his pants pocket, Dean spotted a man walking in the opposite direction. Noticing the man — who could have been Bob Pinciotti’s freaking twin with an even worse afro and a bigger belly — Dean decided to enlist his help.
The man, whom Dean decided to call Blob Duopenotti in his mind, found out it was the honeymoon suite, and his eyes traced the unconscious Castiel and Dean right after. A shudder ran over Dean’s back, seeing those judgmental eyes — which reminded him a lot of his father.
“Are you two…”
The man decided not to finish his question and walked away with a scoff. Dean scowled at him, feeling anger rise in his chest.
“Yes, Blob! We’re married as fuck!” Dean yelled mockingly, causing the man to walk even more hurriedly and disappear around the corner. Of course, they weren’t married (wasn’t even allowed yet in 1978) but if he could ruin that freaking bigot’s day, then so be it.
Dean entered the room and closed the door behind him with his foot, trying not to lose his balance. The first thing he noticed was the room's grim colors of burgundy, brown, and pumpkin orange—just awful. Next, the huge king-size bed, which was Castiel’s destination for his unconscious ass. The mini-fridge across the bed was Dean’s destination for his withdrawing liver.
Approaching the bed, Dean turned around, crouching through his knees as he tried to shimmy Castiel onto the bed. Unfortunately, the Angel didn’t land very gracefully and instead hit the bed abruptly, causing him to grunt. Much to Dean’s chagrin, as he heard Castiel waking up, the hunter turned around to look at his Guardian Angel.
“Sorry, did that hurt?”
“No,” Castiel muttered, one of his eyes open, the icy blue pupil landing on Dean’s worried frown. “Jus’ tired.”
Dean noticed the slur in Castiel’s gravelly voice, a sign that he must really be tired since he normally talked as if he raided Shakespeare's bookshelf and sprinkled in a bit of celestial thesaurus. Dean also observed the nosebleed decorating the Angel’s face, who had both of his eyes closed again. Somehow, and Dean wasn’t sure how, he knew Cas wasn’t asleep.
Dean walked to the bathroom and emerged after a minute. "Don’t jump up. It’s just me," Dean reassured Castiel. Cas responded with a hum, his expression tensing as Dean cleaned his bloodied nose with a wet paper tissue. "Don’t wanna hurt you." The tired Angel hummed again, his expression becoming peaceful once Dean finished cleaning him up.
"Alright, listen up. Blip away once you’ve got enough strength. I booked this room for 5 days, so take your time. This room isn’t expensive in 2010 terms, inflation and all, but you don’t have money to pay," Cas hummed in reply while Dean disposed of the bloody tissue. "The mini-fridge is there—" Dean pointed awkwardly, even though Cas’ eyelids were still heavy. "—for if you want something to drink. Call the front desk if you want something to eat."
“‘am an Angel. Don’t drink and eat.”
Dean rolled his eyes, the gesture almost audible if it were humanly possible. Nonetheless, he proceeded to remove Cas’ shoes because Dean could imagine that it’s uncomfortable. "Ok, well, just sleep and get better."
“‘am an Angel. Don’t sleep.”
A heavy grunt escaped Dean’s throat, a clear expression of exasperation brought on by that idiotic comment. He left Cas’ shoes next to the bed. "Well, shit, Cas. I’m trying to be nice here."
“I notice’,” Cas muttered with a soft sigh. “‘preciate it.” Dean wasn’t sure what to reply to that, so he just ran his teeth over his lower lip, contemplating something - or nothing. What was he doing here again in 1978? “Stop Anna. ‘don't wanna lose ‘u.”
Oh, yeah, Anna. Besides Dean having a slight glitch in his noggin because someone other than his younger brother didn’t want to lose him (something he had a hard time even imagining), it was a legit freaking Angel of the Lord who didn’t want to lose him.
“Don’t worry, I-” A little, if not adorable, snore left Heaven’s Soldier, which left the Righteous Man completely baffled. With a fake heavy voice, he said mockingly: “ ‘I’m an Angel. I don’t sleep.’ Ass.”
Team Free Will was back in the good old year of 2010. As Dean put it: One ex-blood junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name, and Mr. Comatose. However, Mr. Comatose was currently awake in the back seat of the Impala, still not completely 100% healed and slightly drowsy. Dean occasionally glanced at him through his rearview mirror, but Castiel seemed to be looking outside, simply allowing himself to be taken wherever the Winchesters were headed. Probably to some diner with pie on the menu.
“Cas,” the aforementioned Angel snapped out of it, his angelic blue eyes fixing on the back of Sam’s head. “Are you okay? You were pretty out of it. Do you remember anything?”
The Angel remained silent for a moment, his expression turning pensive, and his head tilting slightly. “I do remember something, but it was strange.”
If Castiel was going to comment on how strange it was to see Dean attentive, then the attentive guy would kick him out of the car by his feathery ass.
“Dean said: ‘ We’re married as fuck’ ?”
The Impala slipped, as Dean had not expected Cas to remember that part. The feeling of Sam’s baffled expression bore into the side of Dean’s face, who only could feel himself feel hotter, from his toes to the top of his head, accentuating his freckles even more. “You weren’t unconscious!?”
“Not fully, no.”
“Married as fu-”
“No!” Dean suddenly yelled, cutting off Sam, who was still in complete disbelief. Sam didn’t know what to believe. He knew Dean and Castiel were exchanging intense glances a lot (i.e. eyefucking), but this was a whole 'nother level. “You’re missing context! Some homophobe was judging us with a disgusting look, so I wanted to make him even more uncomfortable!”
It got quiet in the Impala. The only thing Dean could hear was blood rushing through his ears. Who put the heater on in the car? It felt like hell in here - the heat paired with torture.
“I understand,” Castiel answered stoically, leaning back in the backseat again. “If it’s any consolation, the next time I’m in a honeymoon suite, I want to be there for having married you as fuck.”
Dean’s brain was completely malfunctioning, as words couldn’t form. Sam was looking at Dean with a stupid Sam-smug smile on his stupid Sam-face, and Castiel was staring at the outside world again. If the younger brother wasn’t in the car, the older brother would have driven off a cliff Thelma and Louise style, wanting to die. How the hell did he get himself in this situation, while heart palpitations rocked against his warded ribs?
Suddenly, the tension broke when a loud snort was heard from the backseat, a sound unbeknownst to the Winchesters. Dean looked through his rearview mirror with widened eyes, his green even more visible. The Angel was still looking outside, his head leaning on his supporting hand and his mouth hidden under it - but those eyes, which were reflecting laughter, gave it away.
“D-Did you just snort!? Is that your idea of a joke, you son of a bitch!?”
“Dean, don’t talk like that to your spouse,” Sam said fake-offended with his hand on his chest, which only caused Dean to get into a discussion with Sam, who would only banter back. Castiel couldn’t help but smile brightly, seeing as Dean just avoided a heart attack (his Guardian Angel would have healed him anyway), when the older hunter thought the joke wasn’t that funny.
However, the joke was still on Dean, because Castiel had meant it.