Feedback: Makes me happy, just play nice
Disclaimer: They belong to Kripke/McG/et al, and a bunch of other corporate-type ppl, in other words, not me.
Warnings/Squicks: Blasphemy!
Summary: Dean could only have Cas in his dreams, couldn't he?
AN: As I am want to do, the title is shamelessly stolen from the BWO song of the same name.
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Rain fell against the ratty window pane of the no-tell motel the Winchesters were staying at. The rhythmic plip-plop a soothing and familiar melody.
Dean fell onto the bed, face first, exhausted and drained. "Anybody wakes me up for anything less than Armageddon will be wearing their balls as a bowler," he muttered half into his pillows.
From the other side of the room, Sam laughed and shook his head. "I saw a bar on the way in, thought I'd grab a beer; want anything?"
"Sleep," the elder Winchester grunted.
Still laughing, Sam grabbed his jacket and left.
Dean didn't sleep much, not since his 'return'. The dreams and memories were too vivid. But sometimes when the pitter-patter of the rain sang just so, he'd find himself lulled into an almost peaceful sleep. The sound wrapping around him like a well worn blanket, drowning out the past, and making everything new.
"Dean," Castiel's voice ricocheted inside the mortal's head.
Dean burrowed his head further into the pillows, "Go away, Cas. 'm sleeping."
Long moments passed with no response from the angel.
Dean was about to push himself up to look for Cas, when the bed dipped and a warm hand pressed to his back, just below the shoulder blades.
"Rest. I will wait."
Hazily, "Thanks, Cas."
Within seconds, the tormented man was sound asleep. Dean stretched lazily, shimmying back against the warm body curled around him.
The arm around his waist tightened possessively and Dean sighed, melting into the safety and comfort surrounding him. "Cas," he whispered.
"Yes, Dean," soft and rough, like his lover's five o'clock shadow, followed by a nipping kiss to Dean's neck.
He knew he had to be dreaming, there was no way Cas would be in his bed, holding him otherwise. "I'm dreaming again, aren't I?"
"Mmm," the angel agreed, still not relinquishing his hold on the mortal.
"Why?"
"It's your dream, Dean. I only manifest in it. You create the surroundings and the situation."
Dean let out a small chuckle, "So why aren't you running for the hills or striking me down?"
"Why would I?"
Dean turned in the angel's arms, "I'm dreaming about sleeping with an angel. With YOU." His bright hazel eyes searched the angel's face for any reaction. When he saw none, he asked, "You really gonna tell me you don't have a problem with that? Isn't this one of God's big no-no's?"
Castiel stroked Dean's cheek, "Love is never frowned upon by our Father- whatever form it takes." Castiel pressed a tender kiss to dean's forehead. "Sleep now. I will be there when you wake."
The first thing Dean noticed when he awoke was the constant reassuring pressure of Castiel's palm on his back. Turning his head, he opened his eyes; his vision flooding with the calm deep blue of his angel's. "You stayed."
A small smile tugged at the angel's lips, barely there, but obvious to Dean, none-the-less, "As I said I would."
"The dream?"
The hand on Dean's back moved and just as Castiel had in the dream, he gently stroked the hunter's face. "Whatever form it takes."
