Dean fell asleep first. He lay on his jacket on the floor, still wearing his jeans and t-shirt, though he had kicked off his shoes before he'd crashed. He was using his folded up flannel shirt as a pillow, and draped a holey blanket across his middle. None of this had appeared to bother him at all - he'd been all smiles until the day had caught up to him and his eyes had closed. In sleep his smile lingered, his cupid's bow lips curving sweetly. His long eyelashes brushed his freckled cheeks. He seemed at peace.
Castiel watched him in silence. He lay on the couch as Dean had insisted, warmed by his trench coat. He had refused to sleep unless Dean had taken the blanket. They had argued good naturedly until the deal seemed fair enough to both of them, then settled down. They had chatted briefly, watching through a gap in the curtains as the moon came up and cast its silver light across them. Cas thought the moonlight had made Dean's eyes unfathomably deep, and had felt a faint pang of disappointment when the hunter had closed them for the last time.
Cas wriggled a little, moving onto his belly so that he could drape an arm over the side of the couch. It was low to the ground, and the former angel's fingers rested on the cold, hardwood floor, inches from where Dean's calloused hand lay.
He took a surreptitious look around, glancing across at where Sam lay on the motel bed. Sam had won the toss and gone straight to sleep, leaving the other two to the couch and the floor. There was a lot of floor that Dean could have chosen to sleep on, Cas realised. He was pleased he had chosen to keep close.
Cas walked his fingers across the floor, watching Dean's placid face. Ever so slowly he took one finger and brushed the sunkissed skin on the back of Dean's hand. The hunter didn't stir. Emboldened by this, Cas gently rested his hand in Dean's, feeling his warmth. He wished he had the confidence to do the same when Dean wasn't unconscious.
Castiel yawned. Reluctantly he pulled his hand back, resting his fingers where they barely kissed Dean's, and closed his eyes. He hoped he would dream as he usually did, about a different life where he and his best friend became more. Perhaps one day his dream would be reality, but not today.
For a while gentle snoring filled the dark motel. All was still, and quiet, and peaceful. Outside the world rushed by, but in this room the three inhabitants were blissfully unaware.
All too soon the sun arose, and cast its golden glow through the gap in the curtains. The warm ray fell across Dean's face first, causing his eyes to flutter until he woke enough to open them. At first he was alert, unsure of his surroundings, until his gaze fell upon his former-angel friend. He let out a small sigh and settled back onto his makeshift pillow.
Cas was snoring gently, his lips parted slightly and curved into a contented smile. Dean studied him, drinking in his pale skin and dark, unruly hair. His eyes fluttered gently under their lids, and Dean thought of the sapphire blue he never thought he would come to admire so much. He wondered if Cas was dreaming, and what he was dreaming about.
Cas' arm dangled over the side of the couch, Dean noticed, and his fingers were close. He glanced over at his sleeping brother, then slowly, hesitantly reached out a finger. He brushed the milky skin on the back of Cas' hand, breathing out only when his friend did not stir. With a little more confidence now, Dean rested his hand gently inside Cas', relishing the way the touch seemed to make him feel safe, and at home. He just wished he could do it all the time.
The sun continued to rise, and eventually fell across Castiel's face. The sweet summer's light made the man look as if he glowed, as if his purity could not be contained by mere skin. The hunter's heart swelled at the sight.
Disturbed by the light, Castiel stirred and began to wake. Quickly Dean took his hand away and pretended to sleep, locking away the few contented moments he had just stolen. One day, he promised himself. Just not today.