Day 17: Spooning

Title: Feelings Better Left Unsaid

Summary: Cas has trouble sleeping; Dean decides to help.

Notes: This is set in season five (surprise, surprise, I know; I'll try to broaden my horizons season-wise for these oneshots from now on). I have a better Destiel fic depicting spooning named "Serendipity In Your Arms" that can be found on my profile.

Rock, paper, scissors.

"Shit!"

Sam smirked, arching an eyebrow, "Really, Dean? Scissors again?"

Dean scowled, "Shut up." He heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping as he passed the drowsy angel and headed for the bed, "C'mon Cas. Looks like you're bunking with me tonight."

He could practically feel the ever oblivious angel cocking his head, "Dean, I don't wish to make you..." He cut himself off with a long yawn, "Uncomfortable."

"Don't worry about it," Dean murmured, ignoring Sam's smug look and sliding under the covers, "I used to bunk with Sammy when we were kids all the time," He smirked at Sam, "He was a cuddler."

"Whatever," Sam said, rolling his eyes as he turned off the lights and retreated to his empty bed, "Let's just go to sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow to interview the first vic's wife."

"Yeah, deceiving a mourning widow is exhausting work." Dean joked hollowly, trying to keep his pulse at a calm, heterosexual level. He hated how his body continued to betray him whenever it came to the trench coated angel. Ever since that night after the whorehouse failure, his attachment to Castiel had begun to run deeper than just friendship. So sharing a bed with him for a whole night? The best and worst possible thing to happen in this fucked up shit-storm Dean unfortunately called his life.

He stiffened when he felt Castiel slide into the other side of the bed, and he turned his back to him just so his treacherous dick didn't get any ideas.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Cas said softly, and it broke Dean's heart a little. He was such a good guy (you know, for a dick with wings, of course); he didn't deserve the cold shoulder Dean kept giving him in a vain attempt to satisfy his sexuality crisis.

"Not your fault, Cas," Dean whispered, forcing the tension to leave his body, "You didn't ask to lose your grace." I took it from you, he left the words unspoken but by Castiel's long release of breath, he knew the angel's thought-raping power was still in full-effect.

"Nor is it yours."

Dean let those false words cradle his fragile, guilt-ridden heart as he fell asleep.

"Dean."

Dean groggily shook his head and turned, fading back into sweet unconsciousness.

"Dean."

"Dammit, what, Cas?" Dean growled, careful to keep his fumed voice down in fear of Sam waking up (ever since he found out Lucifer could make a guest star appearance in his dreams, he'd been fighting tooth and nail to stay awake as often as possible, which even Dean knew couldn't be healthy).

He turned around and sucked in a sharp breath when he was met with tired, pleading eyes. He felt his anger fade as the edge in his voice softened, "What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep," His voice was raw and defeated, the misery coating his tone chipping Dean's heart, "Please, why can't I sleep?"

Dean sighed, "You just need to relax, Cas. It's like—oh, what is it called?—meditation. You used to do that kind of shit in Heaven, right?"

Cas paused, his shining blue coloring in contemplation, "Yes, to some degree."

"Well, what do you do to release the tension?"

"I curl my wings around my form to provide a sense of comfort and security."

"Then do that." Dean told him with a yawn, his eyes drooping shut in light of the merciful resolution.

"My wings cannot manifest on this plane of existence," Cas informed him before he paused, his voice quietening to almost inaudibility that if Dean hadn't been barely a foot away from him, he would have missed it, "Besides, I am, uh...losing my wings along with my grace. As my grace continues to drain away, my wings are slowly fading from existence. It's a rather...painful experience."

And it's my fault.

Dean sighed, heat flooding his cheeks as an idea occurred to him. God not only exists, he groaned to himself, he's also a vindictive dick.

"Dean, what are you—" Cas began in bewilderment as Dean gently pushed the angel over on his side.

"Just...don't talk about it. Ever." Dean growled in his ears, ignoring how the angel shivered as he wrapped his arms around the other's body.

Under his gruff (yet oddly tender, much to Dean's chagrin) embrace, the tension melted from Castiel's body, the angel muttering out a quiet "Thank you" before drifting off.

In the veil of the darkness, Dean smiled, his heart swelling with emotions he wished he wouldn't feel while spooning his friend.

Sam woke up with a loud, content yawn, smiling serenely as he slid out of bed and stretched.

"Hey Guys, how'd you—" He cut off when he turned and found the two men still sleeping, their bodies so tangled together Sam couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Sam furrowed his brow at the sight, "Huh." He was tempted to wake them up just to see Dean's face crimson in mortification, and he took a step forward to do just that—

"Don't," Castiel's gruff, drowsy voice made Sam halt as the angel opened his eyes to shoot him a soft, vulnerable look, "Please, just...don't."

Sam sighed, deciding to take pity on the angel, "You gotta tell him sometime, Cas. Trust me, bottling up your feelings like that...it never works. It only hurts you in the end."

His gaze sharpened, "I seldom take romantic advice from a man who was significantly deceived by the demon whore he was fornicating with."

Sam glanced away with a hurt expression, trying to chase away the guilt that gnawed punishingly at his heart, "That's low, Cas."

The angel's glare softened, and he at least had the decency to look ashamed at his cross words, "Sam...I just don't wish to ruin my peaceful relationship with your brother. Along with your friendship, it is one of the only things that keeps me from spiraling in despair at dire times like this."

Sam paused before nodding curtly, moving towards the door, "I'm gonna go get us some coffee. Just prepare yourself for Dean's stereotypical, straight-guy freak out when he wakes up."

It was only when Castiel felt the Impala pull out of the motel parking lot and drive away did he close his eyes again and lean further into Dean's embrace, feelings better left unsaid brewing in his heart.

Author's Note: Review, follow, favorite.