Losing The Wise
Dean's eyes are fuzzy when he finally opens them. Castiel sighs in relief, moving to drape his housemate's jacket over his shoulders, before helping him out of the dentist surgery with a wave to the sunny receptionist.
"Hello, Dean. How're you feeling?" he says quietly, not wanting to make Dean jump or anything. He keeps an arm about his shoulders to keep him steady as they walk through the car park towards the bus stop.
"Sthummin' in ma mouth." Dean frowns, whining like a grumpy child as he reaches up to inspect the huge amount of padding that is causing him to make noisy sucking noises as his saliva rolls unbidden towards his lips.
"No, Dean. No, don't touch that, that needs to stay there." Castiel chides gently, pulling Dean's hand away from his mouth, and then quickly snatching the other when Dean automatically reaches up again. They play this game of whack-a-mole with Dean's hands just long enough to test Castiel's patience. He stops abruptly, moving to stand in front of his friend and holding both wrists down by his sides.
"Stop it!" His voice begins stern, but melts into a huff of amusement when he sees Dean's confused face. He makes another disgusting sucking noise and tries to smack his lips together, and Castiel can only smile warmly in response. The nurse said that he had to keep an eye on Dean, that he was substantially medicated, and that he might want to keep a camera trained on him just in case something viral-worthy were to happen. Dean was gazing about the car park looking entirely lost, and Castiel tilted his head, trying to get into his field of vision. He laughed again when Dean's eyes flew wide,
"Casth! What're y'doin' 'ere?" he slurs happily, his hands flapping clumsily in an attempt to grab him for a hug. Castiel avoids that though; Dean's not entirely in control of his actions. What if he were to pull Castiel too tightly in to a hug and accidently disturbed the wounds in his mouth? He didn't want to cause Dean any pain, so he just settled for a platonic shoulder pat, trying to ignore the drunken hurt in Dean's eyes at the rejection.
"You've just had your wisdom teeth removed, Dean. I'm here to take you home." He smiles, trying to cheer him up. Dean's emotions were zig-zagging all over the place, as his face suddenly breaks out in a stuffed-cheek-not-quite-normal grin.
"Aww, Casth, y'alwayth 'ere to look afta me." He gushes, curling himself around one of Castiel's arms and snuggling into his shoulder. Castiel looks off to the left, as if looking directly into a hidden camera with a face of dread. This was going to be a long journey home. He pulls Dean along with the arm that Dean has taken hostage, encouraging him to start walking again.
"Yes, I am aren't I? I don't think I get paid enough." He jokes, grabbing Dean's elbow to steady him when he trips more than once over his own feet.
"Do I pay 'oo?" Dean frowns, "I don' 'member doin' 'at." He shakes his head like a child, and Castiel just tries desperately to school his expression; a sort of frown-smile with a lot of blinking.
"No, Dean. It's a figure of speech." He replies, guiding Dean carefully over the knee-high barrier separating the dentist car park from the pavement.
"A figure o'sthpeec" Dean mumbles to himself. He still doesn't let go of Castiel's arm, even though it makes getting over the barrier pretty difficult. He just bends over the distance, pressing his chest tightly against Castiel's outstretched arm. Castiel looks about, embarrassed, as people at the bus stop watch his best friend making a real meal of stepping over a foot-high bar, clinging to him for dear life. He throws some apologetic glances, a few hurried motions at his mouth as if that'd explain everything. It doesn't, if the frowns on the strangers' faces are anything to go by. Dean finally rights himself, his arms wrapping tightly around Castiel's again. He forces himself to concentrate on anything other than the fact that his arm is pressed flush against Dean's entire torso, which is radiating an almost in-human amount of warmth that Castiel just wants to sink himself into like a warm bath. He has to concentrate on anything but that. Dean is not in his right mind, and his actions right now, no matter how endearing albeit slightly irritating, are no reflection of who he is or how he feels. Castiel snorts as his brain compares this Dean to the Dean he's used to living with. The Dean that man-spreads obscenely next to Castiel on their sofa, dragging on one-too-many beer bottles and clapping Castiel across the shoulder with each loud, confident bark of his laugh. That Dean and he are polar opposites; Dean is definitely an alpha in most situations. He winds people right around his little finger in five seconds flat, and he knows he's dripping with charm, oozing confidence and self-esteem. Girls from college, boys from college, teachers, parents, nurses, police officers, they all fall prey to Dean's easy smiles, his intense gaze, his cutting wit. Normal Dean can wiggle himself out of, or into, pretty much anything he sets his all-too-generous heart on. When Castiel laughs, it's a sort of breath-y huff that never lasts too long; when Castiel talks, people don't tend to laugh as much as they do when they're listening to Dean. Castiel is the friend who's there for the drunken friends to vent to, he's the one who gets the water and holds hair back from falling into the toilet bowl. He's the one always apologising profusely for the actions of others. He's the one who always gets the 'aww, Cas, that's so sweet of you,' when, really, all he's hoping for is a 'do you want to maybe… stay for a coffee?' and that just sucks so-
"'Choo thinkin', Casth?"
Castiel shakes his head, looking at Dean, who's just fixing him with a giddy, unfocused stare. He's standing there as if waiting for Castiel's permission to walk the few feet to the bus stop.
"Oh. It's nothing." Castiel smiles, pulling Dean along with him, sitting him on the bench when they get to the bus shelter; shaking his arm free of Dean's grasp. Dean tilts his head to the side, fixing his eyes on the pavement in front of him, making another ludicrous sucking noise before raising his eyes to met Cas'.
"Hey, Casth?" he says, kicking Castiel's shin with his shoe, probably a little harder than he'd intended. He winces, but holds Dean's gaze,
"Yes, Dean?"
"Y'ever think… like… the sthky isth… like… it'th thso blue, y'know?" he gazes just past Castiel's eyes, spittle glistening on his lips. Castiel snorts as he watches Dean try to catch it with his tongue and failing miserably. He goes cross-eyed in concentration. Castiel kneels in front of his friend, shaking his head and chuckling, dabbing Dean's lips with a handkerchief.
"Yes, it's pretty blue, Dean." He concurs.
"Y'such a good fwend, Casth. 'M glad we're fwendsth." Dean smiles. Castiel stands, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder just in case his friend begins rocking forwards and doesn't stop.
"I often wonder why we're friends, but yes, Dean, I'm glad too." He smiles, looking up and down the road for any sign of their bus home. His head snaps back to Dean at the feeling his hands clawing at Castiel's arm through his coat.
"Why?" he asks, his eyes suddenly endlessly sad.
"Well…" Castiel clears his throat, "We're a bit of an unlikely pair, aren't we?" he smiles, wanting to reassure Dean that while he doesn't understand why they're friends, he's full-to-the-brim with gratitude that they are.
Dean gasps far too dramatically (Castiel is half-way surprised he didn't choke on the gauze bunched up in his cheeks), stumbling to his feet,
"Casth! Tha'sth our busth!" he shouts happily. Castiel sighs heavily, wiping the spit that Dean had just sprayed against his cheek. He flags down the bus, closing his eyes when he feels the warm pool of his heart melting when Dean's arms wrapped slowly around his again.
When they're settled for the long bus journey home, Dean is consumed with curiosity about his mouth again. His fingers are fluttering by his lips, the bulge of his cheeks, his eyes looking confused when Castiel smacks his hands away for getting too close.
"Wha'sth in ma mouth, Casth?" he whines, "I don' 'ike it."
"Don't you remember, Dean? You've had your wisdom teeth out. You mustn't touch your mouth. Stop!" he groans, holding Dean's hands in his lap by the wrists. Dean doesn't seem to mind, though. Maybe he hadn't noticed. Instead he looks a little panicked.
"What's wrong?" Castiel asks, worried that maybe the pain medication is beginning to wear off.
"Di… Casth, did I losth ma wisth?" he cries, followed by several long, disgusting sucks at the gauze. Castiel can't school his face into anything other than that you give to a child when they say something so unbelievably adorable.
"Did you lose your wise?" he repeats, trying not to laugh. Dean nods quickly, then his eyes bug out, like his surroundings were spinning too fast for him to keep up. Castiel laughs, stilling his friend with a hand to the shoulder. He's pretty sure he's touched Dean more in the last twenty minutes than he has in the last two years, but he's not about to start complaining.
"No, Dean, I don't think you lost your wise." He grins warmly, squeezing Dean's shoulder.
"Y'stho great, Casth." He mumbles. Castiel cocks his head to the side, with a cocky grin,
"Someone's got to look after you, you great lummox." His hand falls from Dean's shoulder, but he feels compelled to drag it down Dean's arm instead of just letting it fall. Dean's eyes fall closed at the touch, and he hums. Castiel is blushing, he knows it but he doesn't want to acknowledge it, so he tries, for the hundredth time today to ignore it.
"'M glad it'sth 'oo. Love 'oo, Casth." He breathes happily, his eyes still closed. He's leaning close to Castiel's shoulder, and though Castiel pushes him back to sitting upright, he's grinning from ear to ear. It doesn't even matter if Dean doesn't remember what he just said when the drugs wear off. Dean loves him. Dean loves him.
"Love you too, Dean." He whispers, not knowing if he's hoping for Dean to remember or forget he ever said that.