Going Through the Motions

Castiel knew touching Dean to wake him up wouldn't go well, but if Dean hit him upon waking up, it might put him in an apologetic and more open mind set. He hoped.

He reached out his hand and lightly shook his shoulder. Dean's response was immediate his hand locked around Castiel's wrist in a bruising grip, his other hand coming up and latching painfully tight on Castiel's wind pipe. Castiel stayed perfectly still waiting for Dean's awareness to catch up to him hands. As Dean's hands loosened he looked at Castiel in frustration.

"What?" Dean's voice was gravelly and heavy with sleep, but it held no amount of regret. Dean dropped his hand back in to his lap.

"I'll show you where your room is. I thought you might want to get sleep in a real bed." Castiel stood tall and straight and turned his back walking off toward a hall off to the right. He paused at the entrance and turned looking back at Dean who hadn't moved, waiting.

'I'm going to have to go through the motions. All the steps he thinks would come first, or he'll reject his training on principle. I will have to prove myself worthy of his respect though. If he thinks there is no strength in me I doubt he'll open up at all.'

When Dean caught up Castiel reached out lightning fast and gripped Deans chin forcing him to meet his eyes.

"Aren't you going to say sorry for almost strangling me?" Castiel made sure his voice and eyes were hard with an anger he didn't really feel. Dean jerked his chin out of the tight grip.

"Why should I? You woke me up." Dean went to brush past but Castiel was faster and pinned him to the wall hands on shoulders, body to body.

"Because we are both stuck here together. I'm your only way to ever leave here. Why not play nice?" Castiel lifted one eyebrow in question while he stared at Deans impossibly green eyes.

As they stood pressed against each other Dean caught between the wall and Castiel's hold on his shoulders, Dean could feel the heat coming off the smaller man. It felt real, tangible. This man was forcing him to feel, to think, even if it was mundane. Castiel was shorter than him, but he was solid. His smaller frame was lithe with muscle. His blue eyes were drilling into his own, demanding a response. Dean felt the flush of blood rush through his system. His eyes dropped to the pick lips so near his own. The desire to taste them shocked him.

"Yeah. Sorry." He forced the words out.

Castiel had seen Dean's pupils go wide, seen his lips part. Acknowledged the apology with a nod and made himself take a step back. The attraction was there. That was good, now all he needed to do was go through the motions, and make Dean feel the bubbling sexual tension so he would be open to that form of rehabilitation.

Castiel walked further up the dimly lit hallway passing two doors and opened the last door on the left.

"This will be your room. There is a closet, dresser, side table, small desk. The bed is on the far side. The light switch is on your left." After Castiel flicked on the light he stepped off to the side so Dean could go in.

"We'll start in the morning Dean." Castiel's voice, deepened by some emotion followed him into the room, making Dean's stomach clench. The door clicked shut and Dean huffed out a breath.

That bolt of desire surprised him. He had very rarely found a man attractive. He hadn't felt any kind of desire after. He desperately wanted his apathy back, that thick numbing nothingness. He turned off the light and lay fully clothed on the bed as the feelings and memories rushed back.

The pain was crippling, tears started to flow freely, his breath caught in his throat.

'God, I couldn't save him. I wasn't strong enough, I let her kill him. I always took care of Sammy. There's no point in me if there's no Sammy.' Every time Dean though Sam's name his sobbing shook his frame. The silent tears killing him little by little.

Castiel sat outside Dean's door and listened to the shuddering breaths torn from the man's throat. He never cried out, never made a sound. It took hours, but the sound of the harsh breaths evened out until they were the breaths of sleep. Castiel stood up and went in to his room across the hall and sat on the bed. Dean was broken. Didn't have the will to scream his pain anymore.

Forcing him to abandon the apathy he was using as a shield would be painful. He needed to heal though. Dean deserved it, even if he didn't think so. He remembered the therapist's evaluations and sighed.

He stood up and collected the files from the kitchen settling them in his closet. He changed in to pajama pants dropped his court shirt in the hamper. He slid between the sheets and let himself drift off.

His dreams were filled with amazing green eyes and expanses of tanned skin.

Castiel woke to the insistent beeping of his alarm. With a groan he sat up and turned it off.

He felt a tingle of anticipation. Today, they started.