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this is one of those 'has absolutely no bearing on the plot what so ever- I just really love writing' bits of this story.

There was so god damned much work to catch up on down at the shop. Nick was thoroughly enjoying hiding from it. A few years back he'd rented out a room in an art studio down near the college. It was his own little work space where he could paint and avoid responsibility. Work knew how to get a hold of him if they needed him- they had his cell phone number, and maybe one of the guys knew the address, which was more than Nick's own bother knew about it.

Castiel might have had an inclination that Nick did most of his painting somewhere outside of the apartment form the years that they'd lived together, but true to his best baby brother's nature, he'd never really asked about it.

And as a summoning went, thinking about his brother for even a second meant that Nick's phone lit up, but he couldn't even hear the ringing over the music he was blasting so he grinned to himself and swished his brush through the little mud colored jar of turpentine on his shelf and went back to painting.

Almost two hours later he got up to stretch, turning down his music a few decibels and looked around the sprawling room, checking to see if anyone had snuck in while he was involved. He tended to get a little lost while he was painting, the head phones and deafening music didn't help either.

It was a small studio, he shared it with three of the Masters students from the college. One sculptor and two painters. None were here now, and he honestly couldn't remember if any of them had been when he'd come in earlier. He'd been pretty out of it all day.

He also blamed Sam and that mouth of his for the distraction- but hey, Nick was by no means complaining.

He paced for a bit, turning away from his painting and all the little preliminary sketches tacked to his wall. The front door rattled and he just about jumped out of his skin, turning to see Nari, one of the painters letting herself in, balancing her paint box and two tall paper cups of coffee.

"Break?" She offered and Nick immediately came over and helped her.

"Yeah, thanks." Ok, so it had to be late at night by now, and she must have stepped out for a bit. It meant that the small Korean girl had been in here earlier and Nick just hadn't noticed her.

"It's coming on." She nodded to his cluttered corner as she tossed down her paint box. "Me and Dianne were admiring him this last week. We call him 'The Perfect Man'."

Nick snorted softly into his coffee, burning his tongue and laughing a bit. "I do too."

"I want one of those sketches when you're done."

He tipped his coffee to her in a salute. "Gladly." They made small talk for a bit while she messed around with her pallet (apparently she'd left half her paints at home and had to go back and get them), how were classes, did you see what Aaron was working on in his corner, those are some real nice love bites, didn't know you had a girlfriend. Normal little things to catch up with each other. Nick didn't tend to come around to the studio during normal hours. He was a nocturnal creature and only got to visit with the students sharing his space once or twice a month.

Nari eventually had caffeinated herself enough to go back to the kaleidoscope of colors that had been laid out in a way reminiscent of a cityscape. Tall, hard lines. It was too bright for Nick, but it wasn't his painting and she hadn't asked for his critique.

So he went back to his corner, glancing at his phone to get the time of night- but all he saw was eight missed called. Christ. What now? Was the shop on fire?

He tapped the screen again.

Every call was from Castiel.

Nick called his baby brother, throat feeling a bit tight in anticipation.

The phone picked up almost instantly, but there was no greeting, just sharp breaths.

"Cassy?"

"I keep hearing a noise under my bed."

Nick glanced sidelong at his phone for a heartbeat. "What?"

"A noise, Nick. Like a scratching." He sounded on the verge of panic. "Like there's a possessed doll down there with a kitchen knife, cutting little holes in the mattress and she's going to stab me."

Very quietly, but very quickly, Nick went outside with his phone- not wanting to have this particular conversation where someone could hear them. "Are you high?"

"No. It's," Castiel took a forcibly slow breath, shaking just a bit. "it's like in the movie I saw last night."

"I thought there were car chases and explosions in your movie."

"That was the first one. The second one was, it was kind of scary."

Nick sighed, it was the evil dentist movie all over again. Terrible flashbacks to Castiel's late teens when Nick had made a grievous mistake of showing his kid brother how much fun horror movies could be. "There's not a doll with a knife under your bed, Cassy. Go to sleep."

"I can't sleep in here with that noise."

The noise that he was in all likelihood completely imagining. "Then go sleep on the couch."

"If I get out of bed she'll cut my hamstrings." Castiel whispered in something that sounded almost like anger. Like how dare Nick try to encourage him into such suicidal action?

"What the fuck kind of movie did he take you to last night?"

"Nick,"

"I swear to god that there's nothing under your bed."

Silence hung between them for almost too long. "Can you come check?"

"I'm- I'm not home right now." They lived less than a mile apart. On any other night Nick would have gone straight over. He scrubbed the back of a wrist over his forehead. "You want me to stay on the phone with you for a bit, until you feel better?"

Until you calm the fuck down enough to go back to sleep?

"I'm not going to feel better. I can hear the scratching."

"It's probably just a mouse."

"I don't have mice." He said sharply.

"Maybe it's a turtle." Nick suggested easily.

"How would a turtle get into my house?"

It was a struggle not to ask the more important question of why a turtle would be under Castiel's bed with a knife.

"Could be a trained monkey, carefully writing out the complete works of Shakespeare with a quill pen… for authenticity."

Castiel sighed in annoyance.

Nick smiled to himself and continued to make a fairly outrageous list of possible suspects until Castiel was chuckling and yawning in turn. Eventually he stopped responding altogether and Nick went back inside, not hanging up yet, keeping the phone to his ear for a few more minutes until he was sure that his brother was well and truly asleep.

Once he was positive that the crisis had passed, Nick set his phone back on the desk and returned his coffee, reminding himself so easily that he really didn't like Dean. Nick didn't like anyone who made it hard for his brother to sleep.

Likewise, he didn't like anyone who kept him from sleeping.

Two hours later, when he was finally back at home and climbing into bed, when his phone started ringing again, Nick liked Dean even less.

He flatly refused to go to Castiel's. He loved his brother, but it was almost five in the morning. The sun would be up soon. All he had in him at that point was to convince his brother that if, nothing else, the nightmare that he'd just had and the scratching noise couldn't hurt him once the sun hit the horizon.

They both managed a bit of sleep after that point, but it wasn't anything of quality, and each time Nick's phone lit up the midnight darkness of his room- every damn night that week when Castiel called him in a nightmare induced panic- he found himself hating Dean a bit more.