The night was calm, a little quiet; but that was fine for the angel.
Sam was asleep, slanting against the long map table. Probably drooling along the corner of his mouth. Books once again were stacked in toppling piles, and the chaos had finally rested with the souls that lay inside.
The brothers had spent so much time running, working, fighting, and dying that once they wound down— there was no waking them up. No escape from the inevitable blanket of drowsiness and exhaustion. That was a human necessity to function and survive.
Of course, Castiel knew little to nothing (experience-wise). Dean in the past had briefed him on the subject; as napping to be this sort of mental stall. Like when a car runs out of gas, and just— exists. Not moving or functioning until it was refueled.
So, if humans were like cars, wouldn't they be able to stay awake forever if they just— drank coffee all the time? Would that sustain anything?
Sam had tried that, Dean, too. And it only benefited for two days. They crashed soon after, nodding off for fifteen hours straight.
Lost in thought, Cas eased himself back into reality, glancing around briefly, while his eyes fixed to Dean. Who was lying a foot away along the armrest of their beaten couch? Snoring heavily like a baby.
The hunter started to shift in his little corner and twitch with uncertainty. Was he dreaming? A nightmare possibly? The angel had no clue, only to watch silently.
His head cocked to the side, eyeing the occasional twitches, quiet groans and flexing muscles. Before Dean's head rocked in Cas' direction that was.
Now, he was no longer a silent observer.
Dean's shoulder collided in slow motion against Castiel's wrinkled trench coat. Back to snoring, hair ruffles, and beading sweat. He reeked of deodorant and a hint of scotch.
Once again, Castiel didn't mind.
The contact was a little odd, yes, but it wasn't unexpected.
Dean's heaving breaths dwindled to a shallow pace, the twitching subsiding. He'd begun to assume because of his mere presence, Dean had unwound a little additionally. A sliver of peace was evident in his face, the relaxed cheekbones.
The human had found sanctuary within the arch of the angel's neck, head resting to where his spiky and matted hair tickled his cheek.
It was a little infectious, though not completely taking Castiel over; he felt a quiet warmth beating inside his chest. A foreign heat dabbled his cheeks.
He simply exhaled through his parted lips, dragging his hand over to the pile of light blankets. Draping it over the back end of the hunter. Gently doing so not to wake him, moving swiftly.
The light gray blanket smoothed out to adapt Dean's clothing. He too exhaled subconsciously, nuzzling just enough for Castiel to shoot a stare.
What was he doing? He was taking care of the hunter, that's what. It came so naturally, so fluent in his mind he'd no longer second-guessed himself of decisions that revolved around Dean in general.
Dean took care of Cas when he was at his lowest points, so, it was only courtesy to return the favor.
Even if it wasn't acknowledged.