The grocery store was packed. Dean calculated the days of the week in his head, finally realizing it was a Saturday, which explained the shopping rush. It wasn't uncommon for Dean to forget what day it was. They seemed to blur together, the passing hour's only distinguishing characteristic being whether or not a certain angel was around. And, for the most part, Cas was. Except at night. It made sense, Dean noted to himself. Angels didn't sleep. He had to be doing something with his time while the two hunters caught some shut eye. But the truth was that Cas wasn't the only person who had trouble sleeping at night. Dean had suffered from insomnia since Cas arrived, with the exception of being black out drunk. Besides this tactic, Dean had only found one other way sleep. . . I can't think about this right now, Dean thought, pushing his cart forward in search of Orange Juice.
The grocery store music played mellow tunes in the background as Dean grabbed random packages from shelves and refrigerators tossing them distractedly into the cart. He turned a corner and saw Cas rummaging through the fresh fruit, inspecting it for bruising. Dean positioned himself slightly behind one of the isles in order to watch the angel without being seen. He smiled as Cas rapped on a watermelon with his fist, then shook it in the air next to his ear before putting it back. The poor man looked helpless shopping for fruit he would never enjoy consuming. Yet here he was, spending his Saturday with the two of them, looking pleased to be included in their mundane human chores.
Cas looked Dean's way, and for a moment, he thought the angel had spotted him spying, but instead the dark haired man walked a few steps forward, reaching up onto a shelf in Dean's direction. Cas's hands wrapped around something, and he started smiling shyly. Curious, Dean leaned away from his hiding place to see what the angel was looking at. When he did, he blushed as he watched Cas place the gigantic berry pie into his basket. He found himself smiling tenderly at the angel, and, as if on cue, Cas caught him, returning the expression. How does he always do that?Dean wondered, abruptly ducking back behind the shelves as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. Embarrassed, he quickly found Sam and rushed them through check out, not speaking as he loaded the groceries into the trunk of the impala.
On the car ride home, he tried to stop himself from looking at the angel in his rear view mirror, unsuccessfully. Sometimes he thought it might be easier if Cas wasn't around. And yet, the thought of him leaving made Dean sick. No, he'd rather have him here, even if he didn't feel the same way. And having Cas near him was always the best option, no matter the form their relationship took. He looked at the angel's messy hair as he stared out the window and Dean came to the conclusion that he'd always take Cas in any form he comes. After all, he thought to the angel in the back seat, I'm in love with him. And the moment he thought it, Cas's eyes met Dean's, his blue stare intense. Dean looked away a little spooked, reminding himself that angel's can't read minds to try and calm himself down.
It was midnight when Dean heard the door to the bunker creak open and close again. The hunter often wondered what Cas did on his long nightly walks. And, though Dean would never admit it, the thought of Cas wandering alone in the pitch black of night made Dean worry. It had been awhile since any of them had experienced any attacks, and the bunker had proven to be secure. . . still, Dean had seen Cas covered in blood too many times to assume they were ever completely safe. But Cas left every night, and Dean had finally started to come to terms with it. Cas was as close to them as Dean could ask, and if he needed a little nighttime autonomy from the hunters, then Dean couldn't blame him. So, the hunter squashed his desire to follow the angel, just as he did each night, and attempted to relax into his bed.
He tossed and turned lightly for a few minutes, before sitting up running his fingers through his hair, exasperated. Every night he tried to fall asleep before he would finally admit to himself what he needed. Sighing, he quickly grabbed a pillow, peeking his head out into the hallway, checking for signs of Sam. He crept through the corridors, feet padding quietly on the cold floor before reaching his destination. Furtively, he opened the door to Cas's room, walking to the bed. He spied Cas's trench coat hanging in the closet, the tie draped over the hook of the hanger. The room had started out empty, but over the months Cas had spent there he had started to accumulate some possessions of his own to put in the room, most of them from Dean.
Dean pulled down the covers of the neatly made bed, crawling inside. Cas had never slept here, but the whole room spoke of him. Dean nestled inside the blankets, breathing deeply, finally allowing himself to relax inside his cocoon of Castiel. He set his phone alarm to wake him up early so as to be gone before the angel returned, then shut his eyes. He vaguely remembered thinking that he hoped he would never be caught before he drifted easily to sleep, his dreams blanketed with images of grocery stores and pie.