inonebasket | (no subject)

Only that has the complete opposite effect of what Dean was probably going for, considering Cas stiffens like a board, lying rigidly with one fist gripping the ice-towel as it drips onto Dean's arm, shirt and the bedspread.

"Relax, willya? And chuck that thing, it's freezing." Yes, okay, this is weird and kind of uncomfortable and kind of gay, but Dean is tired and he knows Cas is tired and they both need to sleep and neither of them are going to manage more than an hour or two of that if Cas doesn't stop fussing over something as stupid as a little bruise.

Big bruise. Whatever. Dean's had worse.

"Let go, Dean," Cas says in what he hopes is a commanding tone. He'd have already shoved him away if not for the. Y'know. The bone bruise and the cracked ribs and all.

Dean scoffs. "I let go, you're just gonna go back to freezing all the skin off my arm and neither of us is gonna get any sleep."

Castiel feels a shot of the same emotion that had him burying the crowbar into the back of the Leviathan's skull and grabs Dean's shoulder, shoving him back against the mattress. That leaves Castiel hovering over him with a glare, trapping him with hands on either side of Dean's head on the mattress, half-kneeling to the side with his waist twisted.

"Don't."

What.

Dean blinks up at him, confused and tired and just ready for the day to be over already. "Don't what? Don't sleep? I thought that was the point of us getting this damn room."

With a push and not another word Castiel climbs off of Dean, grabs the towel and ice from the bed and heads into the bathroom, shutting the door after himself.

"Cas!"

What is even going on? Man, and he thought Cas was hard to understand when he was still an angel.

Screw it. Dean rolls back onto his side. He's going to sleep.

That's good, because Cas is just going to take a moment to calm himself down. He drops the towel and ice into the sink before gripping the sides tightly and hanging his head, leaning his weight on his arms.

No. Before, as an angel, what he felt for Dean had transcended the physical; Jimmy's body, while it had needs of its own, had been more a container than his. With Castiel's Grace, it hadn't wanted for anything.

Now, though.

Cas runs the tap and washes his face quickly, not bothering to pat it dry. He closes his eyes, feels the water drip down his neck and wet the collar of his T-shirt, feels it stick his eyelashes together and creep through the scruffy beginnings of a beard on his cheeks, chin and throat. Calm.

Thankful that Dean hadn't tried to press the issue, Castiel emerges from the bathroom. Hopefully Dean is already out, because as Cas removes his boots he decides to take the floor just to be safe and curls up on his side, back tucked up against the side of the mattress.

Cas is in the bathroom so long that Dean falls asleep, lying on his back with an arm falling off the mattress. He sleeps soundly for a few hours before something jolts him awake. Blinking into the darkness, it only takes a moment or two for him to realize that Cas is not on the bed where he belongs. With a grunt, Dean pushes up on his elbows, peering over the edge of the bed and--yep. There he is.

He reaches down to ruffle Cas' hair. "Hey. C'mon, we talked about this. Floor's not for sleepin'."

Yeah, despite Cas's temper tantrum, Dean had been right. Cas is exhausted, so Dean's fingers in his hair do very little to wake him up. He makes a low sound, a mixture between a hum and a growl, and tucks his arms beneath himself.

Okay, fine, don't sleep on the bed. Stupid. Dean tries one more time before he quits, getting up and dragging the blanket of the bed to drape it over Cas' prone form.

Hah. It's kind of like tucking Sammy in when he'd stay up too late doing research.

Screw it. Dean snags the pillows and other blanket and drags those to the floor, too, lying down nearby. They're inside and warm and if the floor's hard, well, at least there aren't rocks digging into their backs. It's even better than real camping! Despite the minor discomfort of being on the floor, Dean is back out in a matter of minutes.

Castiel wakes a few hours after that, just before dawn begins to pink the edge of the eastern sky. He's warmer than he thought he would be, but still on the floor and it takes him some time to regain enough of his wits to realize what had happened.

It falls into place when he realizes some time during the night, Dean had come down off of the mattress and brought all the bedding with him. And, some time after that, one of them or both of them had shifted and moved until they were tucked together, blankets and pillows strewn about and over and between like a pile of fabric and limbs.

Castiel's lips are two centimeters from Dean's neck. Something in his still sleep-fuddled brain convinces him to lift his chin and press an open-mouthed kiss against Dean's skin.

That is a remarkably human reaction. If Dean were awake--and if he were able to control his freaking out--he'd even be proud. Lucky for Cas, Dean isn't awake, which means his only reaction is to shift and tug Cas closer to himself with a sigh.

Looks like they both sleep better when sharing space. Dean almost looks...content.

Cas isn't quite awake either, not quite coherent enough to grasp the implications of what he's doing. Instead his brain seems to interpret what's happening as some sort of waking dream, and when Dean pulls him closer that cements it.

So, obviously the only course of action available is to kiss a sleepy line down Dean's throat. Just like the pizza man had done to the baby sitter.

Too bad it isn't a waking dream. And too bad Dean is slowly, slowly starting to wake up. He huffs out a sleepy laugh, reaching up to comb his fingers through Cas' hair.

"C'mon, Lis," he mumbles. "Cut it out."

Lisa's hair feels pretty short, huh?

Cas falls back asleep shortly after the admonishment, nose to Dean's collarbone.

Yes. Yes, actually, it does. That's funny, Dean didn't think she'd gotten a haircut--

This is not Lisa.

Dean jerks himself awake, staring wide eyed at--yeah, that's definitely not Lisa--

"Cas." That better not have been Cas making with the necking.

Cas grunts. He's trying to sleep, you idiot. You know, that thing you were yelling at him about earlier?

"Cas. Cas, why are you sleeping on me."

That's not how this works. Dean is not a damn body pillow.

"What," Cas growls, his face against Dean's shoulder until he extracts himself and scoots back, stretching. He blinks, peering at Dean through the dark as he slowly, slowly wakes up. He's still tired and it takes his brain a minute to catch up, but then his brow narrows. "...Dean, why are you on the floor with me?" See, the reason he was on the floor was so that he wasn't next to you on the bed. You defeated the purpose of him sleeping on the floor by doing what you did. You idiot.

"Because you were sleeping on the floor like a lunatic instead of up on the bed where you belong." Dean stretches, rolling his head from side to side until his neck cracks.

"Let's get some breakfast and get moving. I'm driving today." He refuses to hear any argument about it, so there."

...ugh.

Cas really wants to sleep some more, it's barely dawn, but he obediently picks himself up off of the floor without complaint and stumbles over to the coffee maker to make another attempt at the stuff. He picks up the complimentary single-serve packet of coffee grounds and squints at it.

There is absolutely no reason beyond Dean's desire to shake off any lingering that-was-almost-weird for them to be moving this early. They're both tired and could both use some more sleep.

"Cas!" Argh. "Come on! We'll get coffee on the way."

He grabs one of the duffels and hefts it, heading out to the car without really looking to see if Cas is following, just trusting that he ultimately will.

Huh what. Oh.

Cas picks up his duffel and follows Dean, plodding out to the car and stowing their gear before slumping into the passenger seat without so much as a peep. That he hasn't thought to argue with Dean about driving privileges proves that he's too tired to think about it.