"Cas…just stop talking for a second okay? Can you listen to me for a minute?"
"No, Dean, you must listen to me. I need to tell you that I ca-"
Beep, beep.
This morning, just like the rest of his mornings recently, Dean woke up wrapped around his pillow. Or, as Sammy had put it, cuddling his pillow. What had gotten into him? He was sure as hell he didn't fall asleep that way. Plus he couldn't shake the feeling he'd been having weird dreams. Dean never remembered his dreams, but he's been learning to understand the frustration of people who wake up with wisps of their dreams left and cannot seem to catch hold of them.
When he told this to Sam, he received nothing more than a scoff.
Grumbling, Dean stood. He paced across the room and stretched his arm out behind him to grab the door handle. Once he was successfully alone in the bathroom, his shirt came up and over his head. Having spent nearly his whole life in motel rooms, he blindly reached into the shower for the tap and twisted it on, before knowingly timing a minute for the water to heat up. Sliding off his track pants he felt Cas's hand print burning. Straightening at lightning speed, he stared into the mirror but the scar was almost gone, just as it had been a minute ago.
Sighing Dean sidestepped into the lukewarm shower water and pulled the curtain shut behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the water slide down his face. Dean leaned toward the jet of water set him off balance for when Sam knocked at the door. To stop himself from falling, he slashed out his arm at the tile wall and regained his balance.
The door creaked open and Sam peeped in.
"Can I brush my teeth? You're taking forever."
"I just got in! But, ya, I guess, whatever," Dean said, still holding the wall. He put up his other arm and curled his back muscles like a cat. "So what do you really think?" Dean heard a spitting noise.
"About what?"
"What I said earlier…"
"You sleep like you're dead, Dean, while the rest of us have to deal with insomnia. So, I think its time you dealt with some sleep problems. Plus, I don't even know what your talking about with all this 'forgetting your dreams' shit."
"No, you know exactly what I'm talking about. It's the worst feeling in the world. Or it is when all you can remember is a trench coat, but I don't even want to go into that." Dean mumbled half hoping Sam would hear him and half hoping he wouldn't.
"Did you say something?"
"No."
After dropping in on the Winchesters, Castiel sat alone on the creaky park bench. He was watching the small human children enjoy their weekly break from school. Pondering any question to distract himself, without much success. If weeks begin on Sunday, why is it called the weekend? Or do weeks begin on Monday? Why are little boys always mean to the girls they like? What if a little boy liked another little boy? Even if Dean tells him he looks like a pedophile when he does this, the guilt-free souls of the hyperactive children help him clear his head. Somehow, Dean always makes him feel like a good long head clearing. Dean and confusion have basically become synonymous to Cas.
Last night, and a handful of times before that Cas watched over Dean while he slept. He tries to stop himself because he knows how it looks, but it has become a very trying task for him. The first time, he had innocent intentions. He had hoped to catch Dean before he fell asleep, but missed his opportunity to converse with the human. He almost left when he heard a moan from Dean. The urge to observe, to feel Dean's dream for himself overpowered Cas. He knew he shouldn't. It's not fair to Dean. Nonetheless, he promised that a glimpse would be more that enough, assuring himself that Dean was probably dreaming of Lisa. The room shifted, it was brighter and warm, but the same place. Castiel was confused. There was no one here. Then he heard Dean breathing heavier than usual. Spinning on the balls of his feet, Cas turned towards the Dean-noise. What he saw froze him. He didn't know what to think, much less feel or do. Sitting next to Dean with his hand on Dean's thy and their foreheads pressed together was the same man that appeared when Cas looked in a mirror.
Dean knew something weird was up with Cas, and it had to do with him. He wanted to fix it whatever it was. How? Well he was still working on his plan. He just knew that Cas' awkwardness level has gone up by ten percent, which is pretty impossible since Cas is permanently stuck and one hundred percent awkward. Dean decided to corner the angel next chance he got and force it out of him.
His chance came when Sam asked Dean to pull into a dingy roadside bar for a celebratory drink, after the finished the job they had been doing.
"I'm not really in the mood Sammy…"
"Dean Winchester refusing a drink? Now we're really screwed. Well, I'm going anyways. Wait here for me."
Dean watched Sam clamber up the steps to the door. Dean took a huge gulp of air and glanced around the Impala. He grabbed a wrapper off the floor and- wait am I seriously cleaning? For Cas? Okay then…
"Cas? If your not too preoccupied with all your angel shit at the moment, I'd like to talk… can you come down? Please?"
There was an absence of anything for a second, but when Dean blinked, Castiel appeared from thin air. He was wearing his usual suit, backwards tie and trench coat. But he looked different. Dean couldn't quite put his finger on it…
"Dean?" Castiel's husky voice cut into the silence.
"Oh, ya, s-sorry. I just wanted to ask you what's up. I mean you've seemed kinda off lately and I want you to tell me what's wrong. Oh God, I'm a walking, talking chick flick."
"Chick flick, Dean?" Castiel never failed to need more explanations.
"Never mind. What is going on with you though?"
"Well to be entirely honest, you are the thing that is causing me distress."
"Ya, I- wait, what?"
"Don't be mad, I did not mean to see this, but let me show you a dream you had two nights ago."