Probably incredibly OOC, but I need some Destiel fluff before I just kinda sorta implode.
The laptop clicked shut with Sam's encouragement and he pushed himself up from the table, pushing his hair up from his forehead with a frustrated sort of sigh that attracted him his brother's gaze from across the table. Dean had a hand on the book's pages, marking his place with his index finger, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.
"Turning in already?" the oldest yawned, taking a glance to the clock, "It's not even midnight, Sammy. You're getting old."
The man in plaid shook his head with a small smile, his hand cupping his own yawn with a few slow blinks.
"We've been up two days straight, Dean."
From the look he received, Sam could tell the reminder didn't mean anything, so he just pushed in his chair and started for his room. It was a weird thought to him, to think he had a room of his own to return to instead of some hotel one that he had to share like he had grown up with. There was a bed in there that was his, a closet full of his clothes, his weapons strewn about and the little homely necessities that would make it feel… 'right'. The wood of the door might've been scarred, but that made it only that much more accurate.
"Just… try and get some sleep," he paused before he could turn the knob, furrowing his eyebrows towards his big brother with worry etched into the lines the action cast out over his forehead.
The brunette chuckled at the worry, visibly rolling his eyes before he shut the book, turning to look over at the thirty year old with a sort of half-smirk.
"I can take care of myself," he assured, pushing back the book and standing up from the table.
To further assure the long-haired man still staring, he even pushed his chair in and took a few steps towards his own room.
"See? Turning in," he tauntingly grinned, pushing open the door to his own room with a bit of finesse to continue his teasing.
Sam didn't look any more convinced; if anything, he was more worried now. The older of the two sighed, puffing out his cheeks and sharply exhaling to blow off his irritation. He held his brother's gaze as long as he could, but it only ate away further at his nerves.
"What?" he snapped, one toe of his boot in the room.
When the silence held, Dean took a step into his room, stopping again as his brother finally said something while opening his own door.
"Don't stay up all night praying to Cas. The guy needs a break."
In a second, Sam found himself staring at the flat of a slammed and locked door. There wasn't a nerve left to strike. His shoulders slumped, a hand running up through his hair again before he took the hint and closed his door behind him.
It was two in the morning, and he was still awake. Two hours of staring blankly at the back of his eyelids was long enough. Frustratedly, he got up from bed and threw his legs over the side, walking past his discarded boots and his shirt to the chair he had at his desk. He didn't sit. A bit of aggression to the movement, he swung the chair around and put its legs to the wall, turning it so whoever sat there would be looking at the bed. Emerald eyes trained on the chair hopefully, the corners of his lips tugging down.
"Hey Cas," he murmured to the dead air, glancing up at the ceiling slowly. "I know you're… you're busy doing angel stuff… but… I want to take you up on the whole… watching over me thing. I uh, miss you, buddy…"
He waited, hoping, praying, but he felt the broken sigh part his lips before he even willed it. Anything bad he'd ever said to the angel—he took it all back. He would take back every word if it would bring Castiel back. Striding back to the bed, he glanced at the hardwood by his shoes and found himself kneeling on it, placing his hands together under his nose.
"Dear… Castiel… please… please be okay. Amen," he breathed, for lack of better words before he crawled back into bed.
What seemed like hours passed by—maybe it was just a minute, he couldn't tell—that he laid there and listened for the beat of wings, but eventually unconsciousness dragged him under and the silence encased him like a cocoon.
When his wings furled in tight, the angel tensed to find his chair had already been put into place, his eyes growing wide as he glanced to the figure curled up on the bed. A breath of a smile flit over his vessel's lips as he watched Dean Winchester's chest rise and fall in a perfect rhythm, giving him cause to quietly sit in the uncomfortable wooden chair, his trench coat flowing over the edge.
"I'm okay," he moved his lips, big blue eyes catching whatever bit of light they could manage to stand out against the darkness.
Setting his calm fists to his thighs, the angel straightened up and trained his eyes on the dark outline across the room, each breath taken only when it had to be. Castiel knew he shouldn't be there. He had been telling himself that every night that he managed to catch the Winchesters sleeping, but he never left until he noticed them start to flicker awake. He wanted nothing more to protect them, which was why he avoided them when they were conscious. He couldn't hurt them.
Once he had watched over Sam, but that was merely because that night, Dean had stayed up through it all praying to him. Mostly, he stood watch over the older Winchester because he was the one who needed it. Though he held the best smile, he had adapted it from those forty years in Hell and the one in Purgatory; it was trained to be fake, and it held back all the self-destructive pain that was layered beneath.
He knew the humans in his charge well, and out of them, he knew Dean like the back of his hand. It wasn't a hard thing to do—the brunette tensed, watching silently as the shirtless man turned over in the bed, desperately clutching at his pillow with a furrow to his brow. The room fell silent and the angel stood to his feet, about to go at sensing the consciousness.
"Please… don't… go…" Dean breathed desperately.
The fact that he couldn't get his voice above a breath but it was still that chocked full of hope and relief… there was no way he was going to leave.
"Hello, Dean," Cas bowed his head.
The room was cloaked in a heavy silence for a while, both listening to each other breathe before a small cough from the bed broke it.
"Just going to stand there all night? G… get over here…"
Cas noticed the hesitation as what should've been a command softened to a plea of sorts, drawing his footsteps across the room until he stood beside the bed, gaze softly trained on the brunette. He watched the emerald eyes light up at the sight of him and traced out the ghost of a grin, feeling an uncomfortable pang in his chest at it. They looked at each other for a long time.
"You can get on here, you know. There's room," Dean invited him.
The angel's eyes widened, a bit surprised he hadn't been hit yet, but he didn't fight it as he took a step up onto the bed and stood on the mattress, staring down at the human beneath him.
"Does this ease your discontent with me?" he asked hopefully, tilting his head to the side.
A smile fluidly spilt over his lips at the laughter to leave the brunette's lips. He loved Dean's laugh. It started out breathy, like a gasp, and then it just kind of tumbled out and filled the air, quickly becoming contagious. It was such a rare thing, like a forbidden drug, and the angel could drink it in for hours on end. He just didn't get why it was there now.
"Lay down, dork," Dean managed out, hiding his laughter in his pillow until it subsided, watching as Castiel awkwardly hopped down and laid on his back beside the human, the smile still over his lips. "Yeah, no more discontent; just glad you're here. You okay?"
Not wanting to lie, the angel just nodded, turning his head to examine the worn features in the darkness carefully. The scruff always looked so inviting; it was just enough to draw attention away from the scars and the hollows under his eyes from all the sleep he couldn't get.
"I've been… I've been praying to you for weeks… why show now?"
He tensed as two fingers gently ran over his forehead, smiling a bit easier as he felt the constant dull ache under his eyes lessen and the scar on his forearm slowly patch over. That was always a good thing. He watched the hand until it pulled away, settling barely inches from his own. He contemplated holding it, just to make sure the angel was really there.
"I know; I heard every prayer … I have been… showing… every night that you've slept. I always watch over you. Things in Heaven have been… complicated… so I couldn't risk you seeing me. I was afraid… you'd… be harmed," eyebrows furrowed while he picked out the right words; he uncurled his fist and let his fingers drape over what of the Winchester's hand fell in the path, leaving the brunette to stare delicately.
Distantly, they could pick out rain falling overhead in a bit of a violent passion, but it wasn't needed to make this silence comfortable. The touch was enough to keep them both calm.
"Why watch over me, of all people?" the words parted Dean's lips at 2:55, a good nine minutes since he had curled his hand around what of the angel's he could.
Castiel didn't have to think over this one for even a moment. He had this one written into his operating codes because he asked himself it every time he slipped down from Heaven to join the two on anything. It crossed his mind after every prayer he heard, every plea and every desperate murmuring of his name.
"Because I fell for you, Dean."
The brunette choked on the air in his lungs, coughing until the words set in, his eyes desperately wide in searching the angel's features. It wasn't a joke. He was torn between grinning ear-to-ear and frowning desperately. Another part of him just wanted to hold that face full of scruff and look into those eyes until he had to go.
"You… Cas, you don't… you don't say that… to another… guy…" he tried to cover, but at the furrowing of those thin eyebrows, he melted away with a small smile. "I think I uh… fell for you, too."
Castiel searched Dean's face in confusion, trying to figure out how that was possible. Dean was, and always had been, a human. He had never once been an angel, not yet at least, and never a part of Heaven's rank to begin with. He had nowhere to fall. Did he mean he fell from the bed earlier? How unfortunate. The wounds should've been healed. The thought wasn't given time to formulate before Cas found himself taking in a breath, a freckled nose gently brushing against his before he tasted Dean on his lips.
It was a sharp shot of whiskey, three Budweisers, some cheap drive-thru cheeseburger and a handful of fries with enough salt to compliment a martini. It was desperation and frustration, a way to cope with the loneliness he had been faced with in waiting on a friend to return, whether it be from death of Heaven. It was Dean Winchester, and more importantly, it was a kiss.
It was a gentle calloused hand running along his cheek and a thumb tracing out the lines under his eyes, lengthy eyelashes rubbing against his face and making him smile despite the confusion. It had him raising a hand delicately to keep the brunette from pulling away before he kissed back, turning a bit on his side to make it easier, leaning in and drawing out as much as he could from the slightly chapped lips.
It was 3:21 when they parted. Dean was focusing on restocking his lungs on the breath they had been denied, a grin quiet over his lips and a tremble to his fingers. Castiel watched him intently, running his tongue over his bottom lip to collect some of the hunter's taste, a softer kind of smile on his lips.
"What was that for?" he asked when the brunette seemed to catch his breath.
Dean searched the man's features, almost teasingly because he couldn't imagine why the angel wouldn't know, when he saw how serious he was. It made him grin even harder.
"You said you uh… you liked me…" he awkwardly managed out, trying not to make the situation any more gay than he had to.
The eyebrows furrowed tighter. "I recall saying that I fell for you. I do feel something strong for you, Dean, but that wasn't my word choice."
"You fell for…" the hunter repeated it to himself, tensing as it connected in his mind, "O-Oh… as in you… fell from… Heaven… rebelled… because…"
He groaned, burying his face in the pillow with a dark blush, sucking on his bottom lip once his face was hidden from sight, enjoying the taste hovering on it. Confused, Cas copied him, only he turned his head so he was watching still.
"Yes. I had to pick between you and Heaven many times, and I will always pick you. We have a profound bond," he confirmed, "You said you fell too. What did you mean by that?"
Dean heavily sighed before lifting his head and looking up at his angel, managing a feeble smile.
"I meant I had… those… stronger feelings… for you. I thought you meant…"
He was surprised to see Cas smiling at him.
"I did. I liked that better than Meg. She tasted like Sulfur."
The laughter started again, softly to keep Sam asleep, and it stayed for a while. It wasn't the humor that fueled it—more relief. It was satisfying to draw this kind of reaction from his human at the mention.
"I have to return to Heaven, Dean. I'll be back eventually," he assured the hunter, hesitating before gently pecking his lips.
"Good night, Cas," the brunette grinned even harder.
Then, with a touch, Dean was forced asleep and he was alone until Sam came in four hours later to wake him up.
-F.J. III