Castiel visited Dean for two days until he was finally released from the hospital – that Saturday morning. Cas wheeled him outside as Sam held open the heavy doors, and into the morning sunlight they went. It was a warm change that they all took a deep breath of. Cas pushed the wheelchair to the Impala and helped Dean into the passenger's seat, minding his head. The doctor prescribed a ban on vigorous sports and exertion, and told him to get lots of food and sleep until he could walk straight again, but besides that he told them Dean would heal up nicely. Sam paid the bill with some unknown cash well and then drove them home. The whole way Dean whined for a cheeseburger, so they stopped and got lunch for breakfast before continuing on their way. When finally sated, Dean was content.
Sam made sure Cas could carry Dean's heavy frame before he waved good-bye and drove away. As his tail lights vanished, Dean sighed into the cool breeze. "It's good to be back."
Castiel managed to get him inside and safely on his bed without injury. At once Dean lay down, dragging his legs up, boots and all, to bury his face into his pillow. He moaned in happiness as Cas shut the door and an infectious smile bloomed on his lips while he watched.
"Damn it's good to have my own bed back." Dean pursed his lips, eyes shut. "Do I smell… a cute guy?" He squinted up at Cas. "Did you sleep in my bed while I was gone?"
"I… Yes," Castiel murmured guiltily, red blush rushing up his neck. Long lonely nights full of suffocating worry had driven him into Dean's bed, to bury himself in Dean's sheets, and Dean's smell, and Dean's place, as if just being there reverberated with his presence. He'd slept like a baby with the scent of Dean's shampoo on the pillow.
" 'S ok," Dean nodded in understanding from his limp sprawl across the rumple of blankets.
Cas kicked off his sneakers, emptying his pockets onto the desk. "How do you feel?" He questioned, walking over to unlace and pull off Dean's boots. One by one, he tossed them into the corner. Then he went to the window and opened it, pulling up the blinds. A sprawling view of the lake appeared and the beautiful breeze took the stale air out of the room and whisked it away.
Dean sighed. "Like a weakling. A breeze could push me over… if I was standing. I hate feeling this helpless." He grumbled that last part.
"Well, some sun, some fresh air, and some food, and you'll be better than ever. Besides it gives me a chance to look after you." Castiel bent over and pushed Dean's hair off his forehead, peering at his tired childish expression. "You don't have a fever, and you've got some color back. Must be the cheeseburger."
"Does wonders," Dean chuckled, looking up at him. "Come here." He made a lazy motion with is arm and Cas patiently slid into the bed beside him, on his side, and Dean used the last of his energy to twine their legs and pull him closer. They pressed together with their bodies flush with one another's, and Dean's happy sigh was so genuine that it could be felt as well as heard. Their eyes met and swam together. "You know, I heard you. In the hospital." He said quietly.
Looking at him with a shameful flush, Castiel winced. "You did?" His rueful tone brought out a warm smile in Dean. He'd cried pretty pathetically. I mean, it had been pretty rough.
"It did a few things for me." Dean confessed. "One, it made me pissed that I couldn't just sit up and get better so you wouldn't feel like that anymore. Two, it woke me up – I didn't even realize I was asleep until then. And three…" One of his hands slid along Cas's cheek and along his soft ears and into his hair, grabbing it with a kind ferocity as he gazed into his face. "It made me realize just how bad it hurt you. Now, I know you're kind hearted, but it was a real eye-opener to see how upset you were over 'lil 'ol me." Castiel glanced down, and then back up, and stared at him with shy nerves as his eyes soaked up Dean's. He swallowed. Somber, Dean glanced him over. "Now I don't know if there's a line not to be crossed here, but…" He licked his lips. "I think… That is… I'm feeling like I love you, Cas."
A ripple of shock snapped through Castiel, his lips falling apart. He… But…? His brain pitched and whirled, and it was pretty clear in his eyes. Dean gave him a worried look. Cas glanced away, down at his hands, where he had absently curled fist fulls of Dean's shirt between his fingers. "I…" He croaked. "Dean, I…" The heart behind his ribcage thundered with anxiety and elation beyond his most incredible hopes. Not only did Dean… but he also… Wow. "I'm sorry." His throat was closing up with emotion, and he fought it back, swallowing and nodding as he looked back up into eyes as honey golden as aged whiskey. "Me, too. I do too. I mean, you, of course, but…" He trailed off, and Dean wrapped him in a bear hug, pressing his nose into his dark hair. Cas sank into him, slack with relief, and let the crushing warmth of it fill him to the brim.
"You are..." Dean smiled gently against his hair, "So damn cute."
Castiel's entire face was red now. His ears burned with it. Why was he such a goddamn dork? That had been such a big moment for both of them, and that's all he had to say? His face was radiating heat, but not as much heat as the chest he was buried in. He was incredibly happy. Dean was like an outlaw out of a dream and he was in love with him. A little small-town artist. Just some gay kid, from the mountains. It was like something people fantasize about. Like a novel, or a movie. His breath hitched in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut and just tried to relax away the stuffy elation pushing its way through his eyes and nose. His tears had been so over used this week that he wasn't sure how exhausted he would feel if he let any more fall. It was stupid to cry when he was this happy.
"No more of that," Dean murmured, and drew back so Castiel had to look up at him with a pinched, emotional expression. "Relax a little, don't stress yourself out; God knows you've done that enough this week over me." He shifted his hand to Cas's waist, kneading the flesh there. His touch made Castiel's nerves flex and loosen up. "Relax." The dark haired boy shut his eyes. Relax. Relax. He let out a deep breath and let his mind track the motion of Dean's fingers as he settled his mind. No more worries. No more craziness. Just him, and Dean. Relax. It worked too. His heart stopped stammering; even his thoughts were blank.
Finally controlled again, he opened his pre-dawn blue eyes and Dean's lips were a breath away. He just looked on weakly as they snared his own. The taste of soda and musk slid onto his tongue and he reached for more, feeling the familiar shape of his mouth, and drinking in the familiar scent of his body. They kissed with a strange sort of sweetness; one impossible to fake, or recreate. It was a moment they could only share when both were tired and weak - one with feeling and the other in body - without any sort of dirtying lust or pressure. For that moment, they were both happy, and both feeling a chasm of strength they had never experienced before. One that made them feel gripped; locked together forever.