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It's around 2:30 am, Dean feels a bit cold but he'll make do until they reach their next motel. In the seat beside him his brother is snoring lightly against the door on his side of the car, a tiny spot on the window fogging up with each exhale.
The car is gliding over wet asphalt with a soothing speed, and the radio is turned down to a minimum to let the two other passengers rest. Well, the passenger in the backseat doesn't need rest, but Dean has noticed that the guy has started closing his eyes when they drive at night. He's still a bit off, pretend-sleeping, but his back still as rigid as it ever was. Dean chuckles quietly as he takes a look in the rear mirror.
He speaks, almost whispering not to disturb his brother's sleep.
“You can relax, y'know.”
“I am relaxed, Dean”, Cas says without opening his eyes.
Dean shakes his head with a small smile and the song changes. Fleetwood Mac. Nice.
“No-one's gonna shoot you if you slouch against the backseat, Cas.”
Castiel opens his vividly blue eyes and meet Dean's green ones in the mirror for a quick second.
“Ok.”
Dean has his eyes on the road again, but he hears the leather squeak a little, and when he takes another look in the mirror Castiel lays back against the seat with his eyes closed.
No-one knows, but these moments are some of the most precious to Dean in his otherwise chaotic life. Him, with his hands on the wheel, his brother resting his enormous self beside him, their friend the angel awkwardly trying to imitate human sleep in the backseat, and some good old seventies rock on the stereo.
The car swiftly rolls by the big sign that reads “Welcome to Arkansas. Buckle up for safety.”, and Dean nods ever so slightly and sighs.
Another twenty minutes now and he will be face flat in a limp, worn out pillow in an old motel smelling of cigarettes, misery and cheap soap. He felt his shoulders relax as he sped up a little.
He couldn't wait.