Dean's phone buzzed by his ear, waking him up. He stretched briefly, orienting himself to his surroundings before he realized where he was. From the library he heard the faint voices of Sam and Cas talking.
"Shit!" he said, looking at his phone. How are they already up?
He quickly got up and made Cas's bed, hoping his hasty job of it wouldn't attract any notice. Then, he peeked his head out, peering down the hall before booking it back to his room. He shut the door behind him, breathing heavily as he leaned against it.
That was close, he thought, fully awake now, his heart beating in his chest. He got dressed, and after calming himself down a bit, he went to the kitchen for breakfast.
When he arrived, it seemed that Cas and Sam had migrated there, talking about a possible case. Dean was glad to hear it. I need to get out of the bunker, he thought. He looked at Cas. Badly.
"What's going on?" he asked, alerting the two men of his presence. They both turned, looking surprised, and Dean eyed them curiously.
"What?" he asked, looking at them, his face equally searching. The two appeared guilty. "You two look like I just caught you looking at porn. What's up?" Both men glanced at each other, and then looked at Dean, Cas finally piping up.
"It's nothing," he said, "we were just talking about a possible case Sam came across this morning."
"Great," said Dean, grabbing a piece of bread and slotting it in the toaster. He turned back towards Cas, leaning his back on the counter, his hands gripping the edge. From here, he had a clear vantage point of Cas. The angel hadn't changed from last night to today, a feat Dean was sure he hadn't accomplished. He ruffled his own hair in response, feeling the bed head acutely beneath his fingers. He probably looked like a mess. But not Cas. The angel's hair was untidy, he supposed, but it was working for him. Or at least it was working for Dean. He found his eyes following the stubble along the angel's jaw, down his throat, and to his shirt. Well, not his shirt. Dean's. And every time he saw Cas in his clothes. . . Well, it was a new kind of torture.
"Dean?" Cas asked, bringing the hunter back from his musings. Dean felt his face go red as he realized he'd been staring and it hadn't gone unnoticed by either man.
"Yeah," he replied, turning to grab his toast, trying to look nonchalant.
"You ok?" Cas said, coming and putting a warm hand on Dean's shoulder from behind. Dean's breathing increased, and he shoved it off lightly, walking past Cas to get a plate.
"Fine," he said, smiling back over his shoulder awkwardly, then plopping himself in a chair, he started to eat his toast without any toppings, not making eye contact.
Cas furrowed his eyebrows, but continued. "Ok," he said. "Well, like we said, we think there is a new case." Dean finally looked up having downed his breakfast in five bites. He was still chewing when Cas said, "Demons, we think." He put a paper down in front of Dean, and Dean scanned it, eyes furrowing. Demons, he thought. It had been awhile since they'd fought a Demon. He didn't know exactly what had happened between he and Crowley, but there had been a strange understanding between the hunter and the king of hell. But not anymore, he thought, looking at the news story of a brutalized family. He needed this, he admitted to himself. Almost as much as he had when he'd had the mark, but in a different way.
"Where?" he asked, the excitement starting to make its way to his chest. Cas leaned over him, close enough that Dean could feel his body heat. The angel reached his hand forward, pointing the front page of the paper. He turned to Dean, his face close, and Dean looked at him in surprise. Finally, Cas confirmed his conclusion. "Dean," he said, "the Demons are here."