The best laid plans of archangels and men…

Dean woke up slow and easy, which was pretty unusual for him. Hey, any day he didn't wake up screaming was probably a good one. He snuggled in closer to the body next to him, using the arm he had already thrown around their waist to pull them flush against his chest. A mess of short hair tickled his nose, so he nuzzled into a strong neck instead, chin tucked against a heavy jacket collar worn soft with time and wear. Breathing in, his senses were flooded with the scent of clean laundry, with a healthy dose of man and just a hint of something spicy and unknown under the surface. Something in a small corner Dean's subconscious seemed to waving a red flag urgently, but for the moment Dean elected to ignore it. For once, Dean felt safe. A comforting heat seemed to have taken residence in his chest, easing his aches and tension. Dean smiled, content to doze for another few minutes, before a gravelly voice pulled him kicking and screaming back to reality.

"Hello Dean." That was weird. Cas greeting rumbled through his chest, almost as if…Shit. The little red flag was now a big ass warning siren in his brain as he scrambled away from the angel, who seemed distinctly undisturbed by their apparent all-night cuddle session. Failing to keep an eye on the edge of the bed, Dean soon found his ass hitting the carpet with a loud thunk as he tumbled off the small double. Cas sat up, adjusting his coat serenely as Dean rubbed his sore butt, with a hand that he just noticed was blessedly handcuff free.

"Hey!" he said, "The cuffs are gone!"

"Yes," the angel agreed, "It would seem the curse depended on a certain time elapsing, rather than a counter spell. They unlocked of their own volition a little while after you fell asleep."

"Awesome," Dean admitted, enjoying use of both wrists to push himself up from the carpet, "But, uh, you didn't have to stick around all night once the cuffs were off, you know."

"By that point we were firmly entwined," Cas informed him, "It would have been…difficult to extricate myself without disturbing you."

"Jesus Cas," Dean exclaimed, "Why didn't you just wake me up?" He could just picture it, laying all over Cas while the angel just took it, not knowing how to extricate himself from the situation. He could feel the color rising in his cheeks yet again.

"I actually found the experience to be quite pleasant," Cas shrugged with a smile, "I find your presence a calming one, and you slept without any of the disturbing dreams you have described in the past, so it seems to have been beneficial for both of us. We should do it more often."

"We should-what? No! I mean-" Dean's mind was a muddle of feelings. He was still in 'diffuse the awkward' mode, which apparently not necessary because Castiel didn't find their sleeping non-platonically in the same bed awkward at all, which only made it more awkward, because what was Dean supposed to take away from that? Maybe Dean occasionally slipped into the 'what if' daydream, but he didn't expect the angel to reciprocate. Cas didn't, Cas couldn't-could he? Cas was standing now, examining him from across the bed, leaving Dean feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"You're uncomfortable." Cas wasn't asking him a question, but the angel's brows were knit in confusion. The soothing warmth in Dean's belly was long gone, replaced by churning guilt and his own healthy dose of confusion.

"Yeah Cas, I…" Dean didn't know how to say what he meant. That hunters and angels don't cuddle? That these feelings he was having were wrong, not normal? None of the words sounded right on his tongue.

"In Purgatory, we would often sleep side by side," Cas continued, "We kept each other safe, 'watched each other's backs', you used to say. Why is this any different?" Castiel didn't move, but Dean still felt a need to raise his hands as if to ward him off. Cas examined Dean's defensive position; head tilted in the expression that Dean wished didn't make the bottom drop out of his stomach.

"I don't know Cas, I just…" Dean could not deal with this right now. "This isn't Purgatory, ok?" The last part of that came out harsher than he meant it to, and Cas took a step back, guarded eyes not able to cover the hurt that Dean could see blossoming there.

"I see," was all the angel said, "My apologies." For a moment their gazes locked, and Dean caught a glimpse of something ancient and pained behind the serene blue. Then Cas was gone in a rustle of feathers, leaving Dean alone in his bedroom.

"Damn it," Dean muttered, flopping back down onto the mattress. The handcuffs, still tangled in the sheets, dug into his spine uncomfortably. Dean fished them out, throwing them across the room with probably more force than necessary. "Damn it!" he growled again, kneading his eyes with the butt of his hand. Dean didn't know what to think anymore. With a huff he sat up, pulling out his cell to text Sam an update, it still being too early to knock on his door. Sam could come find him when he woke up if he wanted to compare notes. Dean let his thoughts chase themselves around his head for a few more minutes before he got dressed and headed for the library. If Dean was gonna start questioning everything he thought he knew about himself, he may as well get some reading done in the meantime.