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Beta'd by WithinHerHeart :)

Sleep.

Sleep was always a source of fascination for Castiel, even before he had ventured onto Earth. Angels didn't sleep, and even in their vessels, it wasn't necessary, but some still preferred to because vessels have difficulty surviving without rest. He'd tried it once before; loved the floating feeling that just carried you away from your problems that consumed your reality. It was pleasant enough, although he wasn't overly fond of the hazy curtain that covered his mind in the first few minutes of waking.

But even better than sleeping, was watching Dean sleep.

It had become a routine for him, since Dean had been pulled back into the world of supernatural. With the war in heaven, this was…a comfort. If Sam was there, which wasn't very often, he would watch from a distance, hidden in the shadows of the motel room, and when he wasn't, it gave him the opportunity to get closer, to get a better look; to examine every crease and groove and angle of his ruggedly handsome face.

During the day, the man was tense and paranoid, weighed down by his expectations of himself and everything he has seen. In his sleep, it was like he was free.

He was completely relaxed as he drooled against his pillow. He slept on his stomach, Castiel had found out, with one hand hidden beneath the pillow whilst the other was bunched up beneath his chin, clutching the duvet in a tight grasp. The sheets fell down the curve of his back, revealing tantalising and scarred skin to Castiel's greedy eyes, and the outline of his splayed legs were prominent through the fabric. One bare foot peeked out at the end of the bed.

Dean was vulnerable, that was what Castiel thought, and it was such a contrast that, he wasn't sure; maybe he wanted to protect him? Watch his back when he couldn't do it himself? It seemed like a better reason than he liked to watch him sleep (which he found out was something human's considered "creepy").

But when he heard Dean's sleep cracked voice break through the heavy silence, all thoughts of excuses, an explanation of his presence in the mortal room, completely fled his mind. His mouth was strangely dry and all he could do was stare through wide eyes, frozen in place at the foot of the bed.

Dean was blinking tiredly up at him, a small frown on his face as his brain struggled to catch up with current events. He yawned and rubbed one eye with the back of his hand.

"Cas?" he said again, "Are you going to stand there all night?"

"I, um, I could sit down if you prefer?" Castiel offered nervously, gesturing towards the stare bed that should be taken by Sam.

Dean shook his head slightly, as much as he could without sitting up. "No, Sammy will be back soon." He shifted backwards slightly, clearing a spare beside him, "Join me."

"I'm…I'm sorry?"

"Cas, don't make a big deal out of it and get into the bed," Dean breathed out heavily.

Castiel took a hesitant step forward.

"Clothes off Cas," he reminded the angel carefully.

He paused, and was overcome with feelings he didn't quite understand. One that made his heart pound against his chest, his stomach churn and his hands shake when he tugged his trench coat from his body.

Dean had closed his eyes again, settling onto his back, and Castiel fumbled with his shoes and after a moment, his trousers as he tried to take in as much as he could of the scene before him; as if he couldn't get enough.

He awkwardly climbed into the free space; his body tense, arms stiff at his side, and he glanced nervously at the man beside him, who cracked one eye open and chuckled throatily.

"You're supposed to take your tie off," he teased.

When the battle worn hands, calloused from years of holding weapons, hovered in front of his face, Castiel's breath caught. He watched with wide eyes, barely breathing, as they carefully unwound the silk tie, pulling it gently from under his collar and tossing it somewhere beyond the island of the bed.

Dean's body was hot against his, enticing a shiver to run through his body, and he licked his lips nervously. Strong arms were thrown across his chest, one leg straddling his waist, his foot encouraging the tense limbs to part slightly, intertwining them. One of his hands slipped beneath the fabric of his button up shirt to stroke across the unmarred skin, urging the angel's body to relax. Castiel did so with a shaky breath, instinctively leaning into the curve of Dean's body.

Dean tiredly nuzzled his face into the crock of Castiel's neck, inhaling the earthly smell, his hands flexing teasingly around his hips. There was a moment of silence where Castiel wasn't sure what he was supposed to do.

"Sleep," Dean murmured the order against his skin, his breath heating the area, and Castiel's eyes fluttered to obey.

Sleep was an intriguing thing, although he never really understood it until then, with Dean's body pressed so tightly against him, their breathing slowly syncing. The warmth, the comfort, the safety of sleep, and more importantly, sleep next to someone you care about, was wonderful and overwhelming and…perfect.

Castiel's breathing deepened, lips parted and eyes closed and finally, he slept.