When Dean finally, finally, manages to turn the shower off and dress himself, he's used up all the hot water. Guilt drags at him as he wipes the mirror to look at his reflection for the first time in days. He's drawn and haggard, skin pale under his tan and his eyes are bloodshot. He looks bloody awful, like he was run over by a train, a train that decided to come back for a second go. He didn't think it could be possible to feel worse than he already does, but then his gaze falls to his chest and his visible collarbones make him screw his eyes shut in distress. He's far too skinny these days, but eating right and taking proper care of himself haven't been on the agenda for a long time. He's been doing the bare minimum to get by, and it's taken its toll on his body. He wonders if Cas has anything to eat, and in that same instant wonders where his wallet is and how he can pay Cas back for his hospitality. His mind wanders to the beautiful shirtless man lying asleep in bed, with his child cradled in his arms. Cas is a good person, that much is evident. Too good for Dean to be around. He should leave before his darkness seeps into another innocent life.

He makes an attempt to tame his wet hair then, as the smell of breakfast becomes stronger in the steam-filled bathroom, gives up and dresses slowly, shakily, on legs that don't feel like they can hold his weight. He still feels ill, like a bad hangover combined with the flu, and has to brace himself on the wall as he wanders towards the kitchen, determined not to fall and embarrass himself any further. He follows his nose, follows the smell of coffee and bacon, and finds Cas in the kitchen with his back to him, standing at the cooker and humming an off-key tune to himself, oblivious to Dean's presence.

He stares for a moment. Stares at the white t-shirt hugging Cas' back with the holes at the seams, well-worn and well-loved, the collar stretched wide and almost hanging off one shoulder. Stares at the grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, a stripe of tanned lower back showing. Stares at the dark curls at the nape of his neck, at the way his hands move confidently and with purpose as he cracks eggs into a bowl and adds sugar and flour - pancakes, Dean's hazy brain supplies and instantly his mouth waters. He just stares. Then, feeling awkward and intrusive, coughs, and Cas turns to him with a smile that will devastate Dean's dreams for the rest of his life. Fuck if Cas isn't absolutely perfect. What the hell kind of utopia has he walked into?

"You're up!" Cas has a smudge of flour on his lower lip. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Awful. "Thanks to you." Dean smiles, but it's brittle and his body aches with pain. Cas, worried, pulls out a stool and gestures for him to sit down at the opposite side of the wide breakfast bar and plonks a glass of orange juice in front of him.

"Here. You must be half-starved, I could barely get you to eat or drink a thing. Pancakes with bacon and maple syrup OK?"

"Sounds…" Heavenly. "Great. Thanks."

"No problem. Five minutes and they're yours." Cas busies himself again at the cooker, and Dean watches the waves crash on the beach outside, absently twisting his hands together. He has a hundred questions - no, strike that, a million. Where is he? Who is Cas and why did he help him? What happened? Is Cas single…? No, Dean, not the time. Not now, not ever. You hear me? Never.

A movement to his left startles him, and he's drawn to a large pair of blue eyes peeking out from the side of the breakfast bar, framed by scruffy dark hair and a shy smile. Dean smiles back, and the little boy hides with a giggle, before poking his head out once more to look at Dean. Dean, who has to look away because he weirdly feels like he might cry. He's distracted momentarily by Cas saying no to something and he wonders for a second if it's directed at him. But no, the other man is looking at a spot a few feet below him, hidden by the breakfast bar, and Dean has to double take to make sure he isn't imagining it. Nope, Cas is definitely talking to someone, telling them no, that they have to wait, and Dean wonders which out of the pair of them is going mad. Because it seems like Cas is talking to his child, who is very definitely making silly faces at Dean from a good distance away on the other side of the kitchen and is definitely not down at Cas' feet. Seconds later, the mystery is solved.

"William!" Cas' attention is suddenly drawn to the little boy, who giggles and covers his mouth with both hands. Dean can't help but smile at him. "Stop bothering Dean, he's exhausted and needs to take it easy. Go and sit down, please."

"Billie, daddy, not William." A very small voice comes from somewhere near Castiel's feet and, as Cas notices the confused furrowing of Dean's brow, he leans down and scoops up a second little boy, identical to the first in every way, who stares at Dean with wide eyes for just a second before burying his face in his father's neck. Cas laughs quietly, shifting the kid so he's resting on his hip, one strong arm under his bottom so he doesn't fall, leaving his other arm free to continue making breakfast. Dean does a double take, looking between the two identical little boys, then back at Cas.

"Holy shit, there's two of them."

Billie lets out a pleased giggle, and Cas' lips tighten almost imperceptibly, and it takes Dean a moment to work out what he's said.

"I mean… oh crap, sorry Cas, I didn't mean to swear. Aw shit, I just did it again, didn't I? Oh god!" Dean leans his elbows on the counter and buries his face in his hands, flushing with embarrassment. Way to go, jerk.

"It's all right, Dean. Don't worry about it." He peeks through his fingers at Cas, who is smiling warmly at him. "And yes, there are two of them. That's Billie, making silly faces at you, and this one is Lexie. William and Alexander really, but they seem to have an aversion to their full names." Cas smirks, shifting his kid in his arms again, and the little boy peeks at Dean, then hides his face again "Lexie is pretty shy, but he'll come around. That one," Cas points to Billie, who has walked up to Dean and is tracing patterns on the back of the chair next to him, staring up at the stranger in his house with apparent fascination. "Will keep you entertained for hours." Cas pauses, then says as an afterthought, "You don't mind kids, do you?"

"No, of course not." Dean is aware of the tremor in his voice, and coughs to try and cover it. Hopefully Cas will think it's down to his illness and nothing more. "Twins, wow. They must keep you busy. You and your… wife?"

Cas doesn't say anything, just continues to cook breakfast with holding Lexie in one arm. He does everything so deftly with one hand that it must be a familiar experience for him. At Dean's feet, Billie taps him on the knee.

"Can you swim?"

"I, uh, guess so." Dean twists his fingers together, anxiety rushing through him. He has no idea how to converse with children; Cas makes it look so easy. The smell of bacon is making his mouth water, and he refrains from asking how long breakfast will be. He's already taken too much advantage of Cas' goodwill.

"Daddy let us swim in the ocean yesterday." Billie proclaims proudly. "Well. I swam. Lexie doesn't know how."

"Yes, he does." A clatter draws Dean's attention, and he turns to see a plate stacked high with freshly-made blueberry pancakes topped with strips of crispy bacon, all drenched in maple syrup staring up at him and his stomach gives an interested growl. "Here, Dean. I hope it's all right." Cas sets Lexie down behind the counter somewhere and busies himself with making the twins' breakfasts. "And I think 'swimming in the ocean' is a slight exaggeration, Billie. Paddling is more accurate."

"We swam, daddy." Billie sounds cheerfully exasperated, and Dean can't help but smile around a mouthful of the most heavenly pancakes he's ever tasted. Fluffy, buttery goodness, and the sharpness of the blueberries combined with the rich sugar of the maple syrup is his new favourite combination. He can't remember the last time he ate so well.

"All right, you swam. Now, come here and get your food before I eat it all. And don't steal your brother's."

In a flurry of energy and movement, Cas finally seats the kids at the table with their food in front of them, cut up into bite-sized pieces, and snags his own plate. Instead of sitting down, he stands by the cooker, leaning his hip against it, and eats with his fingers. They all lapse into silence for a while, adults watching the kids as they swap bits of bacon and pancakes until they're happy with the contents of their plates. Dean notices how Billie gives Lexie more from his plate, and he's reminded of his own brother back home. He used to share his food with Sammy all the time when they were growing up. Sam, he reminds himself, not Sammy. He hasn't been Sammy for a long time now; he's Sam the Human Rights Lawyer, and Dean hasn't seen him in months. He swallows around a lump in his throat, and chugs most of his juice in one go. Cas is there refilling it before he even realises it's almost gone.

"How are you, Dean?" Cas sucks sticky maple syrup from his fingertips, simultaneously reaching over to wipe Billie's hands with a damp cloth.

"Feel like I lost a round with a freight train."

A cup of coffee materialises as well, and Dean thinks he could get used to this. He wraps his hands around it, soaking in the warmth and rich aroma, and feels his tense muscles relax just a fraction. There's something innately calming about Cas' house, and Dean is soaking up that calm like a sponge. He hasn't felt anything close to peaceful in a long time.

"I can't say I'm surprised. You were really ill; I almost admitted defeat and took you to the hospital a couple of times. But the storm has been terrible, and I didn't want to risk the coast road, not with you in the state you were in, and these two wouldn't have been much use." Cas gestures to his kids with the incline of one shoulder. "What were you doing wandering about in the middle of a storm, anyway?"

And there it is. Dean had hoped that more of the morning would go by before the questions started, but no such luck. He supposes he owes Cas an explanation since the man has basically been his full-time nurse over the last however many days. But when he opens his mouth to answer, the words stick in his throat and, to his horror, his eyes fill with tears. Cas studies him for just a second, then leans over and whips his plate away.

"I'll get you second helpings. You need to get your strength back up."

It's such a deft change of subject that Dean should feel relieved. Cas isn't pushing him. And normally, he would be able to push away a wave of emotion and keep his usual cheerful mask fixed in place. But whether it's the remnants of his fever taking its toll, or it's something to do with Cas' magnetic presence and the concerned blue of his eyes, but this time Dean can't stop the tears. He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose and ducks his head so hopefully nobody will see. He feels moisture track down his cheeks and inhaling becomes difficult through a blocked nose. The sound of a chair scraping back provides a welcome distraction, but he can't look up. He's riding an edge, seconds from losing it completely and descending into a full-blown hysterical crying fit, and that wouldn't make the best impression. He draws a shaky breath, but before he can let it out a tentative touch to his thigh makes his eyes snap open in shock. One of the twins, Lexie if Dean is correct in his assumption, is staring up at him with wide eyes, the same shade of blue as his father's. Dean opens his mouth to say he-doesn't-know-what, then he notices the little boy's outstretched arm. A beige stuffed rabbit is being held out to him, a rabbit with soft floppy ears and a pink nose. He takes it slowly, filled with a strange sense of wonder.

"Bunny doesn't like people feeling sad." Lexie's voice is softer than his brother's. "He will look after you."

It's such a simple gesture that it chokes Dean up and he can't reply. His other hand comes up to his mouth, to stop a sob escaping, and Lexie smiles shyly up at him, patting his leg in an attempt at comfort. Then the little boy turns and walks back to his chair, and Cas helps him back up into it with a strange, loaded smile at his lips. He looks emotional himself, and Dean can't look at him any more because he's barely holding it together himself and if Cas cries then he certainly will. He touches the bunny's velvet-soft fur, flattened from years of hugs, and is unable to explain the slow retreat of his tears.

Dean eats the rest of his breakfast with a stuffed rabbit on his lap, while the children talk and laugh and Cas watches them all, always there with a smile or a fresh glass of juice, a damp cloth for sticky fingers and even a blanket when Dean starts to shiver. Whatever any of them need, Cas has it.

After breakfast, Dean goes back to bed again. His body needs more rest, and Cas actually has to help him down the hall since his legs have turned to Jell-O. He tries to give the bunny back to its rightful owner but Lexie won't take it; he shakes his head but doesn't say anything. It's Billie who pipes up.

"Lexie wants you to look after Bunny today. He will help you feel better."

"Thank-thank you," Dean stammers over his words, unsure what to say or do, but he's saved from elaborating further as the twins wander off outside onto the deck, hand-in-hand, and busy themselves with their toys.

"Come on." Cas' arm is warm and secure around his waist, and Dean falls onto him gratefully. His legs can't hold him up for much longer. "Let's get you back to bed."

Cas flits around the bedroom making sure Dean is settled; he draws the blinds so it's dim but not dark, opens the window to let the fresh air in, and brings a cold, perspiring glass of water to the bedside, which Dean downs in one. It's replaced immediately.

"Are you all right?" Cas' voice is sweet and low from the doorway, his hand on the doorknob, and Dean just nods. He's back in bed, blankets drawn up to his chest, and he's already feeling sleep tugging at him.

"Cas?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. You have no idea… how much this means. You not kicking me out right away. Thank you. So much."

"Don't worry about it."

There's something in Cas' eyes that Dean wants to chase, but his eyes are slipping closed against his will. He thinks Cas says something else, but then he's tumbling into dreams accompanied by the sounds of the ocean and the feel of a soft stuffed rabbit clutched in his tired hands.