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When Dean awoke that morning, with Cas in his arms (they were spooning), he absolutely could not lie and say he was uncomfortable or disappointed to be in that particular situation. He didn’t even feel awkward when Sam saw the two of them entangled as they were, Dean still running his hand gently through that messy brown hair. He wasn’t sure how long they remained like that, and he didn’t care. Castiel was peacefully sleeping in his arms. After all the pain and tragedy this ex-angel has been through, he can at least have these few restful hours. Because, after all, he was the one to seek out Dean’s bed. The older Winchester could only conclude that Cas had grown incredibly cold, as his newly human body did have a hard time adjusting to temperatures like that.
Maybe another hour went by with Dean still languidly carding his hand through Cas’ hair while he continued sleeping, breathing slow, deep, easy breaths. One hour for Dean to realize exactly how head-over-heels in love he is with the man currently in his arms - a fact which he has known for a long while, but only just discovered the depth. One hour also for Dean to panic. After all, Cas only just came into his bed to get warm. He definitely didn’t sign up for Cuddling 101 with Dean Winchester. He’s human now, and Dean’s taking advantage of him. His best friend. That he has completely non-platonic feelings for. Who was once an angel of the Lord.
This is bad. Very, very bad.
Dean’s internal freakout was interrupted by his bladder, reminding him about the call of nature. Carefully, he detached himself from Cas to go relieve himself. After checking the time and realizing it was almost nine, he decided then to take a quick shower. He was only in the bathroom for twenty minutes tops before returning to his room and a now very empty bed.
Damn, he thought. Disappointment flared through him that surprised him a bit. No. This is for the best. It’s better this way. And it was. He knew that Castiel could never love someone like him, so waking up to discover himself with the hunter wrapped around him could only lead to awkward questions. Now Dean just had to make sure that things were not going to be awkward. He could do it - he could pretend this had never happened. After all, Cas probably didn’t know that they were cuddling. He was probably asleep before Dean spooned him. Yeah, he could believe that.
Yep, he could do this. After all, he is Dean “Mr. Repression” Winchester.
After stepping into the kitchen and actually seeing Cas in the light, Dean almost lost it right there. The guy had clearly just gotten out of bed without taking and heed of his appearance. First of all, he was still dressed in Dean’s sweats, which did all kinds of things to the hunter that he didn’t want to admit. He was still wearing the trench coat, which was now very wrinkled from having slept in it. His raven hair, which was usually messy, was in absolute disarray now - a combination of sleep and of Dean’s antics with it. Finally, he was seated at the table, grumpily glaring at his coffee mug like it had started another apocalypse.
Damn. Grumpy Cas, in my clothes, with the trench coat and sex hair. I am so screwed. But Dean was, if anything, determined and stubborn. So he slapped on a smile and said, “Morning, Cas.”
“Good morning, Dean,” the ex-angel replied in a sleep-husked voice, turning his blue eyes on the hunter. Dean poured himself of coffee and took a seat beside him. “Where’s Sam?”
“He took a case with Jody Mills.”
“Oh.”
And that was the end of that. Cas still did not have nearly enough caffeine in him to carry out a full conversation, so the two simply sat in, what Dean was glad to note, companionable and comfortable silence. After that, Cas took a shower himself, and they just did that which they did every day - research, news searches, banter, bad jokes, and misunderstood references. Neither of them mentioned anything about the incident, and the day went on as un-awkwardly as days usually do.
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Cas, as usual, wasn’t fully certain as to what was going on. He knew that Dean had said his name when he wrapped himself around him - there was no way that he could make it sound any other way, for it had been so clear. That led him to believe that Dean had wanted such intimacy to take place just as much as he had. However, after being sound asleep and cozy warm for the rest of the night, he awoke to an empty bed. He sighed deeply. Of course he misunderstood the situation. Dean didn’t want him. Why would he? He was a failure of an angel. Hell, he wasn’t even an angel anymore. He screwed up, again. Now Dean was probably mad that Castiel had invaded the sanctity and privacy of his bed.
Cas heard the shower turn off and decided it was best to leave before Dean returned in order to at least try to save their friendship. First he needed coffee. He was sure that Dean would yell at him when he found him, or at least ask him why he was in his bed. The hunter, however, didn’t mention the incident at all over coffee. He didn’t even act unusual in any way.
Cas didn’t say anything either. He wasn’t going to bring it up if Dean didn’t. So he waited. And waited. All day. Nothing.
He just did not understand.
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When Sam returned to the bunker that night after clearing up the vamp nest with Jody, he expected to find Dean and Cas wrapped around each other, touching, cuddling (not that Dean Winchester would ever admit to that), kissing, or maybe even doing... other bedroom activities that would require Sam to invest in copious amounts of bleach. What he did not expect to find them doing, however, was just regular, normal stuff. They were both in the library seated at one of the tables surrounded by discarded pizza boxes and empty beer and water bottles (three guesses as to which beverage belongs to which man, Sam thought). Cas had been studying an ancient tome and Dean had been studying Cas (though his laptop was open in front of him and was probably supposed to be the object of his eyes). When the two heard Sam enter the room, they both turned to look at him. "Hey guys."
"Heya Sammy," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck, a tell Sam knew to mean that his brother was embarrassed, probably at having been caught staring.
"Hello Sam," the ex-angel greeted. "Did everything go alright?"
Sam looked between them, still amazed at the truly stunning levels of repression sitting in front of him. "Yeah, it was just fine. Well, as fine as crap is in our life. There turned out to be four vamps, but Jody and I iced them. Took a few hits, nothing too bad." He paused.
Dean was nodding. "Glad everything was good, man. It's good to see you hunting now, after the trials and everything."
"Yeah. I feel good." Sam cleared his throat, thinking about what he really wanted to ask then deciding to throw caution to the wind. "What have you guys done today?"
Dean was glaring at the underlying question, while Cas, as usual, didn't notice. "We've only dealt with more of the same," he deadpanned, while Dean began rubbing his neck again. "Research, aggravating human needs." Castiel glanced at Dean. "Aggravating humans," he said in a jocular tone, or at least as close to 'jocular' as the solemn ex-angel gets while offering one of his small half-smiles directed at the older Winchester, who met his eyes for a half second with a smile himself before awkwardly breaking eye contact and choosing to stare at the keyboard of the laptop.
Sam had to close his eyes for a moment to ward off the eye roll he felt like giving. Yep, those two idjits were acting normal.
These two are unbelievable, he thought. He's used to seeing this kind of thing between them, but now he just didn't seem to have the tolerance for it. "You know what? I'm going to go grab a shower. I think I've got dried blood on me. I'll eat later."
"Alright, Sammy. Make sure you take good care of your precious hair. Get it nice and shiny and soft," Dean joked, which earned him a classic bitch face.
"How can Sam grab a shower? Where does he plan on taking the shower?" he heard Cas ask Dean behind him. Sam chuckled to himself, before sighing at how clueless they both were.
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Three days. So far, it had been three days since they had spooned. They had all stayed at the bunker during that time. The tension that had always been present between Dean and Cas seemed to intensify every day. Sam wasn’t sure who’d crack first: Dean, Castiel, or himself when he pushed their faces together and demanded they made out.
At this rate, the younger Winchester would put money on himself.
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Dean was actually aware of the tension now (which is, in itself, a testament as to how strong it is). He had no idea, though, what to do about it. His fantasies were thrilled, but he knew it was pointless. He was (relatively) content to simply allow the tension to fester. But, at the end of the third night, a new twist was thrown in to this plan.
It was around three am when Dean heard the noise. His trained hunter instincts picked it up instantly, even in slumber, while it was in its infancy. He stayed still for a second, heart pumping fast, before hearing it again. Instantly, reflexes kicking it, he grabbed his gun and followed the sound, which he quickly discovered to be Castiel’s room. Dean pushed the door open without knocking and heard the sound again.
Screams. Not extremely loud, but painful nonetheless.
The man was writhing on his bed. He was having a nightmare.
Dean placed his gun on the nightstand and sat next to the ex-angel, gently shaking him awake. When he opened his eyes, breathing erratic, Dean knew that whatever had been plaguing his subconscious had truly been troubling. He began rubbing Cas’ arm comfortingly, whispering, “It’s ok, Cas. I got you,” over and over until his breathing calmed.
“Thank you, Dean,” he said after a while, and Dean felt a warmth bloom in his chest. Cas then looked away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry to have woken you. I know sleep is something you don’t get enough of yourself.”
“Don’t apologize, Cas, it’s ok. Your night is important, too. I know nightmares are troubling.” He smiled gently at Cas, who tentatively returned it. Belatedly, Dean realized his hand was still on his shoulder and was no longer moving. He removed it and stood. “Good night, Cas. Sleep tight.”
He made it two steps before Cas stopped him. “Dean, wait.” He turned to see Cas now sitting up in bed. “Will you - would you stay? Please?” Even in the dimness he could see Cas’ big blue eyes had taken on the sad puppy quality. After a split second, though, he shook his head. “No, forget I said anything. I’m sorry.”
Dean took a step closer to the bed. “I’ll stay, if that’s alright with you.”
Cas did that adorable head tilt. “Why wouldn’t it be alright? I asked you to stay.”
Another step. He now sat back on the bed, face about a foot from Cas’. “I gotta be honest with you. The other night? When you came to my bed? I woke up, and, well… we were cuddling.” He swallowed.
Cas still looked confused. “I know that, Dean. But you were gone when I woke up.”
He actually sounded a bit sad at the statement. “Well, I-I didn’t think you knew. And if you did, I didn’t think that you’d appreciate it. I practically took advantage of you, even in sleep.”
At this, Castiel shot him one of his own personal bitch faces. “Dean, I think you forget that, though I am human now, I was an angel. I guarantee you, if I didn’t want something to happen, it would not happen.”
“Yeah, well I liked it too.” Cas’ face softened. Dean chuckled. “Huh, I guess we were both confused. I guess this is why they say to ‘use your words’.”
“I would like to try it again, with both of us well aware.” Again with the puppy face.
“So would I.” Cas scooted over to give Dean some room. He lifted the covers and placed himself underneath. This time, they were both facing each other. They entangled their legs and wrapped their arms around the other tightly, unwilling to separate. Their noses were an inch apart.
He wasn’t sure what brought about the sudden courage, but then Dean was closing the gap between them, stopping mere millimeters from the other’s lips. Cas’ breath on Dean’s lips was sending pleasant chills down his spine. When he next spoke, their lips brushed. “Cas, can I kiss you now?” His voice was no more than a breathless whisper; Dean didn’t want another misunderstanding.
“Yes,” Castiel replied, just as breathless and quiet. Then Dean brought their lips together, finally. Finally. It was perfection. Though Cas’ were slightly chapped and cold, they were still completely soft and melded perfectly with Dean’s. It was sweet and slow, like the wind on a spring day. They broke apart after what may have been seconds or hours, Dean wasn’t really sure. It was only a kiss with lips, but it still fulfilled Dean in ways he didn’t know he needed. They rested their foreheads together, breathing each other’s air.
“I love you, Castiel.”
“I love you too, Dean Winchester.”
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The next day, when Sam caught them kissing in the war room, he was beyond elated. At long last, the tension was resolved. He was so thrilled, he almost didn’t know where to start. Almost.
A lot of people now owed him money. It was a good day.