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Castiel was enjoying living with the Winchesters. He hunted with them, laughed with them, he made and shared memories with them. Everything he had ever wanted in terms of friends or family, he had. Sam, the amazingly-tall hunter that Cas dared call his best friend – aside from Dean, of course. Dean’s title was different – “boyfriend.” The word was still foreign to Cas, but he definitely liked it. They’d been official for about six months now, but everyone knew that they had been a thing long before that.
For once, in the Winchester’s world, everything was going smoothly. No imminent threats of doom, no major enemies after them – they had movie nights, Dean barbequed a few times a month, Sam was going steady with an attractive hunter that he had met a few weeks back, and Dean and Cas were spending a lot of time together. They had all fallen into a nice routine. When a case floated their way, or another hunter needed help, they killed some monsters but aside from that, they were all enjoying a rather domestic, apple-pie life. Aside from having the king of hell over for dinner once a week, everything was (arguably) normal.
But normal didn’t mean everyone was happy, all the time. Dean had his grumpy days, Sam had his angry days, and Cas had his bad days. Cas’s bad days were arguably the worst – simply because everyone hated seeing an angel of the lord sulk around the bunker in one of Dean’s oversized shirts with a can of whipped cream in one hand and a box of cookies in the other. Sadly, they were also the most common. They were normally cued in by one of two things. One; a fight between Dean and Cas the day before. They rarely fought, but when they did, it was over petty things – and they always made up, soon enough. But Cas hated conflict, and even though he didn’t go out of his way to stop any from happening, he hated when it did. Two; nightmares. Cas was prone to nightmares – who wouldn’t be, with his past? His were bad, though. Since he had turned human for that short period of time, he had been forced to do normal things like sleep, eat, shower, urinate – and he hated most parts of it. He was dismayed to find when, even after he got his grace back, that even though not eating wouldn’t kill him, it became extremely unpleasant if he went without food. The same thing happened with thirst. And, well, since he drank liquid, the human vessel it entered into had to expel it somehow. The showering was more of a request – by Dean. “If I’m gonna be sharing a bed with you, you can’t smell like...that...all the time.” He didn’t mind too much. Besides, he hardly ever showered alone. Sleeping was his favorite of the human activities he had to endure – eating was a close second. But, sleeping was warm, cozy, comfortable, pleasant and generally nice – except for those somewhat rare occasions that he had nightmares. With sleep meant dreams, and dreams meant nightmares. Boy, he hated nightmares.
His least favorite nightmares were the ones that had to do with Dean dying in a multitude of ways. Those were also the most common.
Cas lurched up, tearing himself from the loose arm around his waist and flinging the comforter draped over him, off. His mouth was open, a scream dying in his throat and his pale blue eyes were wide and terrified.
Every muscle in his body was tense, the image of the knife plunging through Dean’s neck still vivid in his mind as he stared at the wall opposite Dean’s bed.
He instantly twisted around, sighing immediately with relief as soon as he saw Dean’s form – propped up on his elbow and rubbing his eyes, but very much alive. Every time he had one of those nightmares, he just had to check beside him and make sure that his love was still breathing.
“Cas?” Dean’s voice was thick with sleep, his green eyes half open. “You okay?”
His breathing beginning to steady itself, Cas nodded. “Y-Yes. I am. It’s just another nightmare.”
Dean sighed, his lips turning into a frown as he reached out his free arm for Castiel. He gently grabbed his left upper arm and tugged until Cas was laying down in the bed again, this time facing Dean. He was wearing one of Dean’s old band t-shirts and some boxers because “No, Cas, you can’t wear your freaking trenchcoat to bed.”
The hunter moved the elbow he had been propping himself up with and laid down properly, placing one arm securely around Castiel’s waist and the other reaching for his hand. He laced their fingers together, tucking their hands between them as Dean looked into Castiel’s still mildly-alarmed eyes.
After every nightmare, it took Cas a few minutes to come back to himself as the initial fear and shock wore off. The first time that he had a nightmare, Castiel had been so scared that he bolted outside of the bunker and stood in the middle of the dirt road, tears staining his face as his feet turned blue as they plunged into the snow. Dean was awoken by the door slamming shut, and had drawn his gun just to put it away as soon as he saw Castiel. He had helped the terrified angel inside, drawn him a warm bath and cuddled up next to him for the rest of the night. Cas didn’t have any more nightmares for a few days, after that.
Almost two minutes later, Cas suddenly shivered and turned into Dean’s touch, tucking his knees up and curling into Dean’s chest. The hunter sighed, taking his hand off of Castiel’s waist just to pull the comforter up around them again. He then reached his free arm under it and found Castiel’s upper body, draping it over his shoulders and carding his fingers through the messy hair at the back of Castiel’s head. Pressing a soft kiss to his hairline, Dean’s nose remained pressed into the fruit-smelling, raven-colored locks on top of his angel’s head. Cas always insisted on buying the best-smelling shampoo in the store, because “If you’re forcing me to wash my hair, I want it to smell like strawberries.” Dean had replied with a laugh, but put two of the red bottles in their basket. He pretended to find it odd, and teased Castiel about it a lot – but secretly, he loved the smell. One of his fondest memories was when Cas had come running into the bunker’s kitchen as Dean was making breakfast, spitting a mouthful of pale pink conditioner into the sink before exclaiming loudly “That does not taste like strawberries.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Dean murmured gently, his breath softly ruffling Cas’s hair.
The angel was silent for a few seconds, but soon pulled his head up to look at Dean. He nodded faintly. “A vampire. It stabbed you in the neck, and it was able to because I wasn’t paying attention.”
Dean sighed, tightening his grip around Cas. “It’s okay, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know, but...”
“Mhmm.”
A few seconds of silence followed, and then Dean spoke up. “I love you; you know that, right? I’ll never stop loving you.”
Castiel smiled, his pale blue eyes still locked with Dean’s spectacular green ones. “I know. I love you too.”
Dean pressed a loving kiss to Castiel’s tousled hair before tucking his chin on top of the dark brown curls and closing his eyes. Castiel mumbled a faint “goodnight” before he closed his eyes, too. Together, the two men drifted off to sleep – safely wrapped in each other’s arms.
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