Sometimes, when the blond was asleep, Cas would lay his hand on Dean's left shoulder, right over the hand-print scar he had left when he pulled the hunter out of hell.
When he was an angel, he could do it without Dean feeling a thing - a spread of warmth, of a connection, might be felt, but this would only send the man into a nightmare-less sleep.
Unfortunately, he was less nimble as a human, and the noise of Castiel's movements woke the man up.
"Wass'up?" the hunter mumbled, turning to his clock in the room, and noticing it was 2am.
"I can't seem to sleep, Dean." the fallen angel told him, unconsciously dropping his hand to his marked shoulder.
The blond shivered.
Dean's body shook, arching subconsciously up into Cas's hand, shocks of pleasure rushing through him. Slightly worried, the grace-less angel snatched his hand away, as though burnt.
The hunter grasped the hand of dark-haired man, moving it to cover the scar once more.
Warmth rushed through both of them - Cas hadn't noticed that before - and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.
Dean pulled the angel down, onto the bed beside him. Still leaving his hand on his arm, he cuddled the other man into his chest, and made sure they were both comfortable.
"Think you could sleep now?"
With his head rested on the hunter's shoulder, his hand over the scar, and warm pleasure flooding through him from his hand, he had never been more comfortable.
Without answering Dean's question, Cas fell into a peaceful sleep, the hunter falling back soon after, and when they woke in the morning, they were too darn comfortable to feel awkward.
