Dean was well aware of what sleep paralysis was. He'd never known anyone that suffered from it personally, but there had been a special on it on TV one time and he actually sat down and watched it. It was kind of freaky and he was thankful at the time that he didn't have the condition. He supposed that was as close as he could describe what he suffering from now. He was laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling of his own bedroom as the room echoed with that horrible beeping sound. He couldn't lift his arms or legs, unable to even lift his head. All he could manage was to look around the room slowly, trying to understand what the hell was going on. Everything looked normal, his bedroom exactly how it was when he'd laid down to go to bed after coming in from the bar. He was blaming this on the alcohol and swore he was never going to drink again if this was the kind of shit that he had to deal with afterward.
While he wasn't too fond of not being able to move, it didn't seem all that bad, there were no horrible images of monsters looming over him trying to rip him apart. Just that damned beeping sound coming from seemingly nowhere, a sound that he was slowly becoming more and more familiar with and that bothered him more than not being able to move. When he heard the bedroom door creak open, he tried to look down to see who the hell was coming in, maybe it was Castiel, coming to check on him. Then he could wake him up or something, he was a doctor, he would understand what the hell was going on with him. He made a mental note to ask him about the weird dreams the moment he woke up. But the small view he had of the door revealed nothing but the dark hallway beyond it, no one was coming into the room that he could see and he could feel his heart rate pick up as well as the incessant beeping. The door continue to creak open by some unseen force and Dean realized this was where his sleep paralysis was about to take a turn for the worse. It was going to be some kind of damn horror show he wouldn't be able to escape.
When the door finally stopped opening, he could see straight down the dark hall, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to work words out of his throat. He couldn't seem to open his mouth either and all he wanted to do was scream for Castiel to come and help him, slap him awake, something. There was a cool breeze that brushed over his skin, causing little goose bumps to spring up everywhere it touched and he wished he had pulled the blankets over himself when he laid down. Something ice cold wrapped around the wrist of his injured hand and he wanted to jerk it away, but he remained still. It took him a moment to work his eyes over to that side of the bed, his heart thudding pathetically in his chest when he realized there was a woman standing beside his bed. She was dressed in dark gray scrubs, holding his arm up gently over the side of the bed, the same damn nurse he'd seen at the car lot when they picked out Castiel's Infiniti. She pulled a syringe from the pocket on the front of her scrubs and Dean panicked. She was going to stick him with something and there was nothing he could do to stop it. In his mind he wash thrashing back and forth on the bed, screaming at the top of his lungs for help until his throat burned, but his body never responded.
He never felt the needle enter his skin, but he could see it, right in the crease of his elbow, watching in horror as she pushed the plunger down and withdrew the needle slowly. She just stood there hold his arm from a second, glancing over her shoulder toward his dresser before she gently laid his arm back down and slowly made her way back out of the room, closing the door as she went. He thought that maybe things would get better once she left, but the edges of the room started to fade the longer he laid there, a numbing cold running up from the crease of his arm and across his chest. He was afraid that it was going to stop his heart-the beeping the filled the room growing louder and louder again and suddenly he couldn't even breath. He just laid there on his back, gasping for air silently, frozen and petrified that he was about to die alone in his bedroom.
"Dean! Dean, please wake up!"
He was mildly aware of someone shaking him, strong arms gripping his shoulders and a voice shouting for him to wake up. He opened his eyes slowly, his head pounding with a hangover threatening to turn everything into a painful experience, but he forced himself through it to focus on the being that was hovering over him. Castiel was staring down at him, worry etched onto his face and Dean just blinked up at him in confusion. He had left him passed out on the couch, so why was he now in his room? He tried to think back to the night before, going over every detail of them coming into the house to be sure they hadn't ended up in the same bed somehow.
"Cas? What are you doin' in here?" he muttered, reaching up to brush his had over his face, hissing when he realized it was his wounded hand.
"You were calling out in your sleep Dean," Castiel whispered, stepping back once he saw that he was indeed awake. "You were...shouting. I thought something was wrong. When I knocked you didn't answer, I apologize for coming into your room like this but-"
"No, it's fine, it's-" He sighed heavily, pushing himself up into a sitting position and realizing his jeans were all twisted around his waist uncomfortably. Apparently he had been thrashing around in his sleep pretty badly and he wondered what he must have looked like when Castiel burst into the room. "-had a nightmare, I guess. Couldn't move and there was something in the room. I dunno, can't remember it now."
Castiel was standing back against his dresser, his arms hanging tensely at his sides as he watched Dean shift around on his bed. He still looked worried, blue eyes trained on him intently even when Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched. They sat there for a long time in silence, Dean blinking up at him blearily before he shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
"I had a nightmare, it happens, Cas. Don't look at me like I'm dyin'," he huffed, frowning a bit when Castiel's eyes flickered off to the side suddenly. He refused to look back up at him, even after a few seconds passed and Dean slowly pushed himself up onto his feet. "You hungry? I'm hungry..."
He walked out of the room, adjusting his jeans as he walked-probably looking like he had something shoved up his ass-but he really didn't care. By the time he made it down the hall and into the kitchen there was no sign of Castiel following him. He was probably seriously freaked out, trying to figure it out from a medical standpoint and it was then that Dean realized it must have been really bad. Maybe he'd had a seizure or something in his sleep? As much as he really didn't like being poked and prodded at, he was going to have to make a doctor's appointment to get himself checked out. It would give him some peace of mind that he wasn't going crazy and seeing things that weren't there.
"Dean, you should sit down and rest," Castiel said suddenly, Dean glancing up from the fridge to see him standing at the edge of the kitchen rigidly.
"Rest? Dude I just woke up," he chuckled, pulling out a packet of bacon and the eggs. "I am rested."
"No Dean, your nightmare-whatever that was-you were screaming. It sounded like someone was murdering you in your own bedroom." Dean just shrugged his shoulders, pulling a pan out from the cabinet and set it on the stove top to start cooking. But before he could even turn the stove on those same strong hands wrapped around his upper arms and wheeled him around to face the dark haired man in his kitchen, Castiel glaring at him seriously. "I said no, Dean. You need to sit down for a moment. I will cook breakfast if you'll just, sit down. Please."
There was an unmistakable tone of worry in Castiel's voice, his blue eyes locked with Dean's in a continued plea that he just listen for once in his damn life and take care of himself. It wasn't really like him to listen to anyone else, but he found himself nodding halfheartedly, stepping away from the stove and toward the living room. The two rooms were separated by a breakfast bar, Dean stepping around it and headed straight for the couch. The blanket that he had laid over Castiel the night before was folded neatly over the back of the couch again and Dean carefully slid over the arm and fell over onto the cushions so that he was laying on his side, staring blankly over at the black television screen. He could hear Castiel messing around with the pan on the stove, apparently cooking breakfast like he had promised and Dean frowned lightly. He was making breakfast for him like he was a kid or something and there was nothing he could do to go against it. Not with Castiel looking at him the way he did. Sighing heavily, he reached over to paw at the remote on the coffee table, knocking it off onto the floor with a curse before he managed to pull it closer to himself and turned the TV on.
By the time Castiel made it back into the living room carrying two plates of food, Dean had shuffled through every channel he could, knowing damn well there was nothing on early morning television worth watching. It took him a moment to push himself up into a sitting position on the couch, taking a plate from Castiel as he settled down on the opposite end of the couch with his own identical plate. The eggs and bacon looked pretty good and Dean ate quietly, watching the news for lack of anything better. They were talking about weather and traffic and generally boring shit, Dean glancing over at Castiel when he'd finished eating, realizing that he had barely touched his own food. It looked like he cut it up and just pushed it around his plate aimlessly. Maybe he had a hangover and the thought of food was making him sick?
"You alright?" Dean asked, leaning forward to sit his clean plate on the coffee table. "You hung over or somethin'?" Castiel shook his head no, scooping up a forkful of eggs and cramming them into his mouth as if to prove his point. He glanced over at Dean for a second, dropping his eyes to his plate when he saw Dean staring at him. He seemed uncomfortable about something now and Dean couldn't help but think that was his fault. "I'm sick, aren't I?"
The question escaped his mouth before he really had a chance to think it through. Castiel's eyes flickered back up to his face, his features set into a mask of worry and Dean could tell that Castiel knew something he didn't. He was apparently sick, just like he'd suspected all along and Castiel had seen it first hand that morning. He opened his mouth to say something, closing it just as quickly and Dean just nodded. Of course he was sick. What kind of healthy person blacked out for days on end with only fragmented memories to gauge how much time had passed and was seeing things that weren't there? He was sick or crazy and he'd rather be sick. Sick meant there was a medication for it, that maybe he could take something to make it better. Being crazy wasn't something you just popped a pill to get rid of.
"Dean-" Castiel coughed, drawing his green eyes back over toward him. "-you are not sick. You just-your body is under a lot of stress at the moment. Which is why I was so insistent you rest. I can see you pushing yourself past limits no one should ever push themselves. The hours you keep at your job, your sleep schedule. You must take better care of yourself or else...you will end up seriously hurt someday."
"I'm already taking time off work for my stupid hand, what else am I supposed to do, Cas?" he asked seriously, gesturing to the house around them. "I got bills to pay, just like you. I've gotta work."
"I realize that, but you have to find a healthier way of going about it," Castiel sighed, sitting his half empty plate onto the coffee table beside Dean's. "Maybe we could do more things, go out more often. Something to ensure you take a break from work. Would that be something you would be interested in trying, Dean?"
Dean just blinked over at him, Castiel's face so serious that he thought for a moment that maybe he had misheard the words coming out of his mouth. That or he had taken them completely out of context. It sounded to him that Castiel was asking to go out with him more often, like, dating. The two of them. And he wasn't exactly sure how to respond at first. He turned the words over in his head several times, trying to work out some other way Castiel could have meant them, but he just kept coming up with the same conclusion.
"Go out more often?" he asked quietly and Castiel nodded his head. "With you?"
"Yes, with me," Castiel said evenly, squinting his eyes slightly. "Unless you would prefer not to-"
"No! No, I mean, that would be alright. I guess," Dean gasped, throwing a hand up to stop him before he went on. "I wouldn't mind. I was just, you know, makin' sure I heard you right."
Castiel smiled softly and nodded again, sliding off of the couch to collect their plates and made his way into the kitchen. Dean could hear him running water in the sink, no doubt cleaning what he'd used and he thought about going to help, but he was sure he would just be yelled at again to go sit down. So he sprawled out on the couch, leaving enough space at the end for Castiel to sit once he came back and settled in to watch the television again, as boring as it was. He paid more attention to the sound of Castiel washing dishes, smirking to himself at how domestically pleasant it was. Maybe a bit of rest wasn't such a bad idea after all...
Dean's days started to all blend together in ways that no longer worried him. Once he was released to go back to work by a very wary Castiel, he settled into a healthier pattern that consisted of six hours at the garage with a lunch break at the mid-point. Castiel made it a point to always bring him food every day at noon like clockwork or else they'd go out and get something together. Then after work he would return home, sometimes with Castiel, sometimes without before showering and heading out to meet him at the Roadhouse or some other place Castiel wanted to try in town. Even when Castiel's hours got in their way, he would leave work and come straight to Dean's house where they would laze around on the couch watching crappy TV. Most of the time that ended with Castiel falling asleep on his couch and he was simply too peaceful to disturb. Dean would just drape the blanket over him and turn off all the lights and let him sleep until his alarm on his phone woke them both in the wee hours of the morning. He would hear Castiel knocking around for a moment in the living room before leaving and he'd just roll back over to go to sleep, but not before texting him to have a good day at work. It would usually warrant him a mockingly angry text to go back to sleep and some ridiculous thing that Castiel had explained was an emoticon heart. Something the nurses at the hospital had showed him and Dean teased him for days over it. Still, it was something that always made him smile, as cheesy as it was.
More and more, Dean was finding himself at peace with his life. Things that used to anger him at the shop just didn't seem that important anymore. When he couldn't finish a job before quitting time due to unforeseen complications, he would just pack it in and leave anyway, resolving to work on it first thing in the morning. Bobby and Ash had teased him for the first few days about being domesticated, but he really didn't pay them any attention. After a while they just seemed to accept that it was just the way Dean was now and it was in all honesty for the better. He wasn't as worn out anymore, he had more time to do the things that he liked doing, like fishing. With Castiel of course. Tonight it was dinner at Dean's house. It was no secret to anyone that Dean could cook, he never really cared for it until he entered his adult years and it no longer felt like a chore. He had the entire thing planned out so that he was just putting the steaks on the grill when Castiel walked through the door. He was off at six which would give him an hour to hit home to shower and change then be at Dean's house by seven-ish.
Just as Dean was pulling the roasted potatoes out of the oven he could hear the front door opening and he smiled brightly as he set the pan on the back of the stove out of the way and grabbed for the plate of seasoned steaks he'd set out on the counter. When he turned to see Castiel entering the kitchen, he stopped for a moment to take him in. Of all the times he'd seen Castiel aside from that first day, he never looked like anything other than perfection, but now was a whole other level of perfect Dean instantly found addictive. His hair was still wet from where he had showered, sticking up in random directions where it normally laid flat. He was wearing a white oxford shirt that stopped short of being buttoned up all the way and he was actually wearing jeans. He jerked to a stop mid-step, gawking over at the dark haired man with a lopsided grin as he set a bottle of red wine on the counter.
"Hello Dean," he sighed happily, nodding toward the plate in his hands. "Do you need any help with that?"
"No-no I got it, could use some company though," he muttered, eyeing Castiel up and down. "You look nice."
Castiel glanced down at himself, realizing that his shirt was still unbuttoned and instantly reached up to correct it. "I apologize, I was in the middle of doing laundry when I left for work this morning. This was all I had."
Dean just chuckled softly, shaking his head as he headed for the back door, holding it open with his foot for Castiel to join him. He'd already had the grill pre-heating, sitting the plate on the side so that he could open the lid and grabbed for the tongs hanging off the side. Castiel stood diligently at his side, more content to watch than to actually cook, as he carefully laid both steaks onto the hot grill. They'd gone out for steak once before and it was pretty convenient that they both liked their steaks medium well so they'd both be done at the same time. Once he closed the lid he turned to look Castiel over again, reaching out to undo the buttons he had quickly fastened back in the kitchen.
"I kinda like the disheveled look," he mumbled, smirking when Castiel flushed a bit and fidgeted a bit in place. "You don't have to look all professional all the time Cas. It's just me, you don't have to try and impress me."
"Of course," Castiel sighed, smiling at him softly. "I know that, it's just a habit I cannot seem to break."
"I can see that, but really," Dean said with a light whistle, stepping back to gesture to him. "You look hot like that."
Castiel's cheeks flushed a darker shade of red, his smile growing into an uncontrollable smirk and Dean couldn't help but grin at him again. He was adorable in ways a grown man shouldn't be and Dean loved every second of it. With the steaks sizzling away, he nodded back toward the house, following Castiel back inside and watched him intently as he grabbed for the bottle of wine and held it up for Dean to look at. He really wasn't a wine person, but he'd told Castiel he'd give it a chance sometime when they'd gone out for dinner last time. The dark haired man had been staring across the restaurant at a woman drinking the dark red liquid out of a glass and seemed enthralled by it. Dean was a beer and whiskey kinda guy, no way around that, but he'd be willing to give it a try for Castiel's sake.
"It's a Marsala, the sales associate at the store was very helpful in recommending it for a first time red wine," Castiel muttered, watching Dean closely as he took the bottle and turned it over in his hands to read the label. "She mentioned it was on the sweeter side."
"Well, let's give it a go!" Dean chuckled, turning to his silverware drawer and digging around for a moment before he found the corkscrew he only ever used for champagne that first year in his house when his brother had stopped in and demanded they celebrate New Years together, only to find out he really didn't even need a corkscrew to open champagne. He peeled off the foil around the neck of the bottle, fiddling with it for a moment before he managed to get the corkscrew imbedded into the cork far enough to pull it back out. "You pour and I'll go flip the steaks, you know where the glasses are..."
Castiel nodded, taking the bottle from him as Dean moved toward the backdoor again and went to flip the steaks. By the time he made it back inside Castiel was standing with two of the brand new wine glasses Dean had snuck out and bought for just this occasion, though he'd never admit that out loud, both filled with a small amount of the deep red liquid. They were just going to try it first, see if they actually liked it before they went hog wild and started filling glasses to the brim. Castiel held one of the glasses out to him and Dean gladly took it, bringing the lip of it up to his nose to sniff it. It certainly did smell sweet, Dean shrugging a bit as he brought the glass to his lips and tipped it up, taking the entire thing in one swig. It was indeed sweet, but it had a strong bite to it and Dean wasn't quite sure he liked it. He didn't say anything though, watching Castiel drink his slowly. The moment he had downed the red liquid, he sat the glass down on the counter and stared at Dean for a long time before he made a face and shook his head.
"It's not what I expected it to be," he coughed and Dean laughed lightly, nodding a bit.
"Yeah it's uh, different, that's for sure." He moved over to the fridge and pried it open, reaching down to grab two bottles of beer and held them up for Castiel to see. "You want a beer instead?"
"Yes please."
It wasn't very often that Dean had dinner at his dining table, but today he made an exception. Castiel set the table as Dean dished out the food onto the plates and they sat down across from one another in the silent living room, just staring over the table at one another. Normally when they were out having dinner there was so much ambient noise that it didn't really seem to affect them, but there in his small house, there was nothing to buffer the quiet and Dean fidgeted in his chair. It shouldn't have been that difficult to sit there with him, especially after all the weeks they had spent together, but Dean just couldn't take it. He slid out of his chair and moved over toward the radio in the front room and turned it on. It took him a moment of fiddling with the stations to find one he liked, leaving the volume on low enough that it just gave some added atmosphere to the room. It wasn't anything romantic, just a classic rock station, but when he slid back into his seat he felt a little more comfortable.
They didn't talk much during dinner, washing the dishes together side by side so that their shoulders bumped together whenever Dean passed him a dish to rinse and dry. It was simple and easy, quiet. And it was something that Dean had never known he was looking for until that moment. Just someone to spend a quiet evening at home without arguing or complaining. When you could walk into the house, pissed off from a day of work and find that person, hold them, and it would all melt away instantly. Because outside of them, nothing really mattered. And when things got bad, they could just curl up on the couch with one another and forget about everything else. Which was exactly what they were doing now, except without really curling up. Dean was sitting at the end of the couch, sipping a beer when Castiel flopped down next to him in the middle and just sat there silently. He was holding his own beer bottle in one hand, dangling it between his knees as he stared at the blank TV screen and Dean thought for a moment that he should turn it on, but they had the radio going already.
It wasn't until the song switched over to something slower that Castiel turned in his seat to say something and Dean's body apparently decided it was a good time to make a move with or without his consent. The moment they were facing each other he leaned forward, pressing his lips against Castiel's and the man went rigid. He couldn't for the life of him understand why he'd done it, why he even thought it was a good idea in the first place, but he couldn't take it back now. He just sat back quickly, staring at Castiel wide-eyed and waited for whatever fallout was about to happen. Castiel was just staring over at him, his mouth hanging open a bit like he wasn't sure how to respond. He could see the gears turning in the guy's head and he had a good feeling that it wasn't going to end well. Maybe he'd punch him, because he was sure he wasn't going to slap him like a woman would have, but either way would have been an understandable response.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he muttered after Castiel remained quiet for longer than he was comfortable with. His blue eyes scanning over his face in confusion. What else could he say? He was sorry. There was a very good chance that he had just ruined whatever strange friendship they had by making it sexually awkward. He didn't even really like guys, sure he'd joked about it several times before-there was that one guy he made out with at a party back in high school where he was drunk off his ass, but in his defense he was really attractive. And Castiel was far beyond the scope of mere attractiveness. He was something else entirely and Dean was helplessly drawn to him for whatever reason.
"N-No, Dean," Castiel muttered suddenly, sitting his beer on the coffee table and instantly reaching over to grab Dean by the hand. He looked troubled, scooting closer on the couch so that their legs were touching. "I have never-I wasn't sure how to respond."
Dean frowned a bit, his hand involuntarily tightening around Castiel's even though it felt like something far more intimate than he should have been allowed to do. The man beside him didn't back away like he thought he would, there was no retaliation of any kind, he just pushed himself closer to Dean so that their faces were barely an inch apart. Dean could feel his breath hitting his face and what he had said finally sank into his brain. Castiel had never what?
"You've never what? You've never had someone kiss you before?" Dean asked, the question escaping him before he could think to hold it back and when he shook his head no, Dean seriously wanted to know what the hell was wrong with the rest of the world. Not one person had ever kissed him in his entire life? It didn't seem possible. "Well, that's just fucked up."
Since there hadn't been much in the way of rejection and Castiel was willingly leaning into his space, Dean decided that he needed to amend the whole "never been kissed" thing, closing the space between them and kissed him again. Castiel remained rigid beside him, the entire thing was awkward-like kissing a plank of wood-but Dean refused to give up. Pulling his hand free of Castiel's, reaching up to cup his cheeks gently and carefully tilted his head a bit so that they weren't nose to nose. It gave him a little more room to work with and Castiel seemed a little shocked by the change in position, opening his mouth a bit so that Dean could slip his tongue into his mouth. Castiel made a surprised sound at the sudden intrusion, but he didn't pull away and finally he relaxed against him, pressing his tongue against Dean's tentatively. It was clear by their slow pace that he really did have no experience in kissing, but that really didn't bother Dean. Sometimes, teaching was half the fun and Castiel was a fast learner. It didn't take him long to start pushing back against him, groaning into Dean's mouth, a hand gently pressed against Dean's chest and he could feel Castiel's fingers hesitantly twisting into the fabric of his shirt like he wanted to pull Dean closer but wasn't sure that he should.
When he forced himself to pull away for the sake of getting oxygen back into his lungs, Castiel actually leaned with him for a second before he realized what was happening and drew in a shaky breath himself as he sat back a bit so that they could just breath. He was still staring at Dean with wide blue eyes, like he was shocked over what had just happened, but there was a small smile settled on his lips that told Dean he was entirely happy with it. "That was okay?" he asked quietly, watching Castiel closely as he nodded almost instantly. "Good. I thought it was pretty good too..."
Castiel nodded again and before he could really think about leaning over and kissing him again, he suddenly had a lap full of the dark haired man, his normally steady hands shaking as he pawed at Dean's shoulders, trying to pull him closer into the kiss that he was feverishly pressing against his lips. It was easy to feel the desperation in his motions, the years of neglect clinging to him like he'd never once been touched in tenderness his entire life. If Dean was given half the chance, he would make sure that he was given all the much needed attention he deserved. Every ounce of happiness he could manage to fit into each kiss and touch.