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Dean should’ve seen this coming.
Or maybe he shouldn’t have.
Last night’s scene had ended on a wonderful note. Cas had fed Dean fruit right from his fingers, had stroked his hair while they cooled down in the nest, had made sure he had plenty of fluids in his system. Dean was pretty far gone right up until the end of the night when they had settled in to sleep. And Cas had taken care of him so, so well.
But when he wakes up, Cas is gone. Already, a knot ties itself in his gut, chest fluttering with anxiety. He rolls over onto his back, digs his knuckles into his eyes to get the sleep out. Something is… off. He feels untethered, and not in the fun, floaty way he does when Cas is there to take care of him. It’s more of an unsteadiness, an unease.
There’s a sticky note on the bedside table, telling Dean that Cas has gone to work, that he’ll be back before dinner, and Dean feels his stomach roll. The scent of his alpha is all over the sheets, and it’s strong from being just slept in, but it’s just… it’s wrong. It’s not fresh enough, not right from the source.
He curls up under the covers, a whine stuck in his throat. He’s safe in his nest, he tries to reason. Cas had held him for hours last night, made sure he had everything he needed, but now Dean is grasping for anything to keep him grounded. This is not how he wanted to start his day.
His inner omega retreats into itself the longer he lies alone. Cas left , and that’s all that seems to matter right now.
He scents Cas’ pillow and sits up. His head still feels cloudy, like he hasn’t fully come up from his headspace yet, and he whimpers into the silence of the room. It’s quiet, too quiet . He reaches for a corner of the nest, kneads it with trembling hands. He really, really wants Cas.
He goes around the entire perimeter of his nest and adjusts everything, pushing here, pulling there, but by the time he’s done, his head isn’t any clearer. If anything, he feels worse. He cleaned up the nest for his alpha, and he isn’t here.
Shivering, he gets out of bed and grabs his phone from the nightstand, glancing at the time.
10:33.
Cas has been gone for three hours already. His throat aches. Tears collect at his lashline, and when he blinks down at his phone, a few escape, dripping onto the screen. Fuck it, he’s gonna call him.
He pulls up Cas’ contact, holds the phone to his ear. It goes straight to voicemail. Shit.
A sob climbs its way out of Dean’s chest. He shakes with it, tries calling again. Voicemail. Dean takes a deep, trembling breath, and reminds himself to keep breathing. He opens his messages and sends a text to Cas.
I think I’m dropping.
He chews on his thumbnail, stares at the words, hiccups wetly. After a moment, he types out another message.
I don’t know what to do.
He tosses his phone onto the bed and shuffles into the kitchen. His glass of water is still out on the counter from yesterday, so he rinses it and drinks a full cup. It doesn’t do much to help. Tears flow freely down his face as he leans against the kitchen island, knuckles white where they clutch the cup.
Where is our mate? His inner omega is howling, pacing within him. He rubs a hand over his chest, shudders through a couple of gasping breaths. He lets himself sag against the counter, mind going blank as he watches the numbers on the clock change from 10:36 to 37 to 38 to—
His face is wet.
The glass slips from his fingers.
It collides with the floor, shattering on impact, and he flinches at the noise, snapping back into himself. “ Fuck ,” he cries, shuffling back until he hits the stove. He slides down to sit against the cupboards, face in his hands. He can hear himself whining softly, chest heaving as he tries to suck air into his lungs. There’s glass all over the kitchen floor.
Where’s his phone?
Dean’s stomach lurches, and he presses his face into his knees, smearing tears along his skin. God, he hasn’t had a drop since… Since college. A few years after he first presented as an omega, he was dating an alpha named Alastair.
Dean knows better now, of course, but back then, he still hadn’t gotten the hang of differentiating between intuition and nerves. He didn’t quite catch all the warning signs, not until it was too late. He had gone down for Alastair during one of his heats, had thought he could trust Alastair to take proper care of him.
God , he had been so wrong.
But Cas always takes such good care of Dean, so why is he feeling like this?
He knows he was maybe still a little hazy when they had gone to sleep, but even so, that shouldn’t warrant such a strong reaction to the absence of his mate. Should it? It’s been years, and this is the first he’s dropped since Alastair, so… he’s not entirely sure.
As he sits on the floor, lost in his head, Dean doesn’t register how much time passes.
Just knows that between one gasp of air and the next, Cas is hurrying into the apartment, worry written in the line of his shoulders and the set of his jaw.
Something catches in Dean’s throat, and another loud, ugly sob is knocked loose from him at the sight of Cas. His alpha.
“Dean,” says Cas, and he kneels next to him, cupping his face in strong hands. “I’m here, baby, just breathe. I’m here.”
Dean lets Cas maneuver them so he’s sitting in Cas’ lap, curled against his mate, limbs tangled together. Whimpering, Dean noses along Cas’ shoulder until he gets to his neck, mouthing at his scent gland desperately. A hand comes up to hold Dean’s head in place, fingers scratching at his scalp. He melts at the attention, goes limp against Cas, lets out a long whine.
“Good boy, baby. You’re so good. I’m here, sweetheart. Alpha’s got you.” Cas strokes a large hand down Dean’s back and rests it at the base of his spine, the other still cradling the back of his head. “Just breathe for me, baby.”
Dean shivers against Cas, licking small stripes over his scent gland and exhaling long and shaky into his neck. “Alpha,” he whispers, watery. He knows he’s not in the right headspace, knows that he’s somewhere between submission and something much, much worse.
“I’m here, baby. I’ve got you. Alpha left too soon, hm? I’m sorry. Alpha’s so sorry, baby.”
Minutes pass like seconds, and Dean keeps clinging. He doesn’t make any move to let go of Cas, and when he’s got his breathing more under control, sucking lazily at Cas’ scent gland, Cas clears his throat. “Do you want to move to the nest?”
Dean nods against his neck. “Wanna stay with you,” he mumbles into Cas’ skin.
“Of course, sweetheart. Do you think we can stand together? I’ll be right here.”
Dean hesitates, pulls away, blinks at Cas. His eyes are hazy, Cas notices, and it’s obvious he’s fallen into some sort of headspace. He needs to tread carefully, here. Finally, Dean nods. Relieved, Cas helps them both off the floor, tucking Dean under his arm as they shuffle to the bedroom. Dean has gone back to smushing his face against Cas’ neck, which makes it more difficult to walk straight, but they’re outside the nest before long.
Dean crawls in almost immediately, peering up shyly at Cas. Anxiety lines the span of his shoulders. He’s tense as he watches his mate. “D’you like the nest? I fixed it up fr’you.”
Cas climbs in after him. “I love it, baby. It’s perfect.”
That gets a small smile out of Dean and he relaxes a bit, but his eyes are still brimming with tears, red-rimmed. He snuggles into Cas’ side once they’re both comfortable in the nest. “Sorry I pulled you away from work,” he slurs, quiet. Guilt snakes around his ribs now that he thinks about it. God, how selfish is he to interrupt his mate in the middle of an important job?
Cas presses kisses to both his eyelids, then his hairline. “Hey, none of that. You’re more important. I will always come when you call. Always.” He tugs Dean closer and they nuzzle into each other. “My Dean. So good for me.”
The tears haven’t stopped, Dean realizes. His face is still wet, and when he blinks, a few more silently slip down his cheeks. “Dunno why I feel so bad. You took care of me.”
Cas catches his tears with more kisses. “I shouldn’t have left without checking on you first. It’s not your fault, baby.”
“Feels like it is,” he mumbles, admittedly frustrated to feel that there’s still a lump in his throat.
“I know, honey,” Cas hums into his hair. “Alpha’s got you. You did nothing wrong, sweet boy. I’m so proud of you for calling me when you did. I’m sorry.” Cas’ voice has gone suspiciously tight, and Dean burrows into his neck.
“‘S okay. Thank you.”
Cas lets Dean mouth at his scent gland again, nosing at Dean’s in return. “I love you.”
Dean hums, eyelids fluttering shut. “Love you, Alpha.”
—
At some point, Dean must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing he knows he’s waking beside Cas, the alpha running gentle fingers through his hair. Cas smiles at him when they lock eyes. “Did you have a nice nap?”
Dean smiles back, sleepy, and stretches. “Mm.” His head feels clearer, his chest lighter, and he clings to Cas, warm and content. “Thank you.”
Cas’ stubble scratches at Dean’s skin when their lips meet. “How are you feeling, sweet boy?”
“Better,” he replies, pulling back a bit. He blinks, gathers himself. “More grounded.”
The tightness around Cas’ lips softens, smoothing out. He’s relieved, and it shows in how he lets himself relax into the mattress a little more. “I’m glad.”
Dean adjusts his position on the bed, scooting back so he’s propped up against the headboard. Cas follows. “D’you… D’you think I wouldn’t have dropped if you had been here?”
Cas hums, thoughtful. “I don’t know. Probably. What do you think?”
“I think…” Dean snuggles further into Cas’ side, scenting him gently. “I think I wasn’t fully clear-headed last night when we went to sleep. And I was disoriented when I woke up.”
Cas presses his lips together. He should’ve made sure . His scent starts to go sour with guilt, and Dean notices the change immediately.
“Hey,” he says, a hand coming up to cup Cas’ jaw. “It’s not your fault, either. You didn’t know.”
Cas turns his head, pressing a kiss to Dean’s palm. His Alpha settles at the contact. “You’re right. From now on, we’ll start the scene early if I have to be at work the next morning, okay? That way you’re less likely to drop the next day.”
“Mm, that sounds good,” agrees Dean, eyes fluttering closed. Silence blankets them like a warm hug after that, time passing with each sluggish thought that chugs its way across his mind, and just when Dean thinks he might drift off to sleep again, his stomach growls. Cas giggles, shuffles his feet around so they’re poking into Dean’s shins. Peeking an eye open to glare at Cas, Dean groans. “We should eat.”
“I’ll make you something. Whatever you want, baby.” He leans over to kiss Dean’s forehead, wiggling to the side of the bed until he’s sitting by the edge of the nest. His nose is scrunched up in a grin, but Dean knows his Alpha is itching to take care of him after this morning.
“Pancakes,” Dean mutters, pushing the blankets off. “I want pancakes.”
“Coming right up,” Cas pads across the carpeted bedroom, opening the door before peering back at Dean. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me, okay? Anything at all, I’m here.”
Dean can’t help the way he blushes, his inner omega yipping happily at his mate’s reassurance. “I know, Cas. Thank you.”
Cas gazes at him for a second longer, eyes soft, and then he shuffles out into the hallway, leaving the door open.
Dean is reminded of how lucky he is to have someone like Cas to call his own.