inonebasket | (no subject)

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.

Dean's idea of breakfast is coffee and a burger from a nearby diner. It's greasy as hell, but he devours every bite, making some remarkably obscene noises in the process. Oh yes, Dean does love his burgers. Cas gets his own share; Dean pays for both.

"You're lookin' worn. How much you been sleeping?"

"Enough." Because he is not dead or hallucinating. Cas picks at his food before requesting a carry-out box, placing his leftovers inside.

"People who get enough sleep don't usually have dark circles under their eyes." Dean gestures, circling his fingers around his own eyes for emphasis. "You're not still stressing yourself over these bruises, are you? I told you, they'll be fine. And you can share the bed, it's not that big a deal."

"We had this discussion yesterday, Dean." Remember, you ordered him to relax and Cas said he'd work on it? It's only been like twenty hours, he needs a little more time.

"I'm just saying." Dean waves the waitress over for another order of fries. Why the hell not, they're good! "I'm starting to get a little worried about you, Cas. Forget bouncing back the way you did when you were all angel'd up, you're not bouncing back the way a human would."

Cas tilts his head, a little confused. Even when he'd looked next to dead as an immortal being, Dean hadn't been so concerned. This can't just be Dean's natural predisposition to playing the caretaker.

"...Dean, what is it?"

Immortal being the key word. He hadn't needed to worry about Cas dying because Cas couldn't die. As soon as they returned the souls to Purgatory, Cas was supposed to be fine. Now that he's human, though, it's a whole different story and Dean is intimately aware of the effects of too little sleep and too little food on the human body.

"You get sick and die on me, I am gonna kill you, that's what it is."

So that's it. Castiel shifts his weight, moving the box aside to lean on his elbows on the table. "...maybe we should take-"

Cas, unfortunately, doesn't get to finish because at that moment the waitress comes over with their check, grabs the back of Castiel's head and slams his face into the table with a sick crack noise.

Dean might not have picked up on the waitress being a little funny, but he reacts immediately, reaching over the table to yank her away from Castiel.

"Cas!" Doesn't take a genius to know they've managed to walk into trouble, though he's not sure why trouble waited until they were done eating. The waitress cackles when he flings her across the suddenly empty diner. "Cas, you okay?"

Judging by the blood pouring down his face and the way his hands shake, probably not. Cas spits out a gob and coughs; his nose is obviously broken.

The waitress is quite suddenly in front of Dean and grabs his wounded arm in a crushing grip, wrenching Castiel away from him and throwing the ex-angel to the floor. She stomps a foot onto Cas's chest and pushes Dean back into the booth. "Sit down, tiger. We're going to have a talk."

Edited 2011-11-23 05:30 (UTC)

Dean grits his teeth in pain and falls into the booth more than he's pushed into it. There's nothing he'd like more than to decapitate this bitch--and him without his machete.

"Don't you touch him!" If he weren't cradling his arm, he would be up and beating the shit out of her. Dean flicks his eyes down to Cas--oh man, he doesn't look good--and back up to the waitress. "I swear, lady, you do anything else to him and I will tear you a new one."

Between the blood oozing down the back of his throat and the unusually strong foot pressing into his solar plexus, Cas is having some trouble breathing. He glances around, looking for something, anything he can use, but their silverware is on the table and the only thing he has nearby is a napkin and their bill. Castiel coughs and spits out more blood, gritting his teeth and screwing his eyes shut as he claws futilely at the waitress's ankle. Not now. Not when Dean needs him, he can't be useless now-!

The waitress seems unaffected by their panic, however, and just raises a brow at Dean as if to ask 'really?' "Shut your pretty mouth and I won't put my foot through his ribcage. I said I wanted to talk to you, and talking is what we're going to do. Understand?"