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“Where to, Cas?” Dean asks over the hood of the Impala.
Castiel has so many things to tell him, but not one of them would answer this question. So he says nothing instead.
“What do they say?” Dean probs, pulling out of the ER’s parking lot.
Castiel examines his wrist, immobilized by the splint. It doesn’t hurt like before - perhaps it’s due to the painkillers, but he nods, “They said it’s a sprain. It will take a few weeks to heal.”
“Good.” Dean’s eyes stay fixed on the road ahead.
“I am not used to it.” Castiel begins. It’s not clear what he means - the slow healing process, or being human in general. The admission hangs in the air for a while.
Dean doesn’t look at him when he speaks again. “Listen, Cas…” He stalls, gripping tightly the steering wheel, “I have a room. It’s - it’s paid for a few days. You can stay there, you know… Until you sort things out.”
Castiel watches Dean struggling with his words. Pity? Is that what Dean offers to him? Well, this and the fake credit card he gave Cas earlier to cover the hospital bill. It’s embarrassing. But the truth is that a real bed and a hot shower is more than he could wish for right now. He is tired and sore and he needs to wash his clothes.
Also, having Dean around for a little longer seems quite appealing.
“Thank you,” is all he can say.
Dean’s throat works wordlessly for a moment but then he seems to discard whatever is that he wants to say.
The rest of the drive is filled with nothing but silence. Castiel is uncertain if Dean can feel him staring. Еven if he does - there is nothing to indicate it.
Eventually, the former angel gives up. He turns to follow the lights on the road, forehead pressed on the side window.
Being human has been - for one thing - very tiresome.
# # #
The room is narrow, but it looks okay - it’s clean, warm and it smells like washing detergent.
“It’s not much, but the water pressure is great.” Dean hums, ditching his bag on the foot of the broad double bed. “Plus, no one would ask unnecessary questions.”
“Right.” Castiel looks around, not really sure what to do next.
Dean stops mid-tracks and gives him a once over, head to toe, expression unreadable.
Castiel shifts under his gaze, “Can I -- can I use the shower?”
Dean averts his eyes, way too quickly. “Yeah… Of course. Alright.”
Castiel fumbles off his clothes, facing the wall and enters the bathroom.
The shower feels good. He turns the hot water all the way up, as much as he can take. Then he stands under the spray, trying to get his thoughts in some order. His body still feels odd, way too tense despite that the small space is already filled up with steam.
He washes methodically. It’s difficult doing it with only one functioning hand. Plus, keeping the other one as dry as possible. But he takes his time. In the end, he soaps his hair twice in a roll and lets the water run down his back a bit longer than necessary.
Castiel dries himself and wraps the white motel towel around his hips. He stops abruptly, hand gripping the handle. He can feel the panic rising up his chest. There were too many things that frightened him over the past weeks. Too many things he doesn’t understand. But - at this moment - the most terrifying is the possibility of not finding Dean at the other side of the door.
He takes a deep, steadying breath and steps into the room.
Dean’s eyes snap up from his duffle bag. ”Took you long enough,” he mutters and throws a T-shirt in Cas’ direction. “Try this one.”
Castiel slips into the shirt feeling the sting at his left hand as a reminder. It’s a bit too big, a blue one and it has written AC/DC and a thunder drawing on it. Castiel smooths the fabric down with one hand. His throat is tight so what he means to be a ‘thank you’ sounds too hoarse and broken.
Dean nods. “‘s fine. You can keep my spare pair.”
Castiel opens his mouth to object. But he has nothing else to wear until his own clothes are washed up. He looks around. “Where are, uh…”
“Your stuff?” Dean shrugs, “There is a laundromat outside. You can have them tomorrow, all cleaned up. I figured bloodstains would be bad for business.”
Embarrassment heats up the back of his neck while he’s picking up a pair of black boxers off Dean’s bag. They also almost fit, a bit lose, hanging on his hips.
He catches Dean’s eyes on him. It’s strange. He feels naked despite the clothes. It happened too often before, but now he has no control over the reactions of his own body and can barely hold Dean’s gaze.
“You, uh… “ Dean’s eyes shift away, “You hungry?”
“Not really,” Castiel admits. “It’s been a rough day.”
“ You need your four hours, huh?” Dean’s lips curl up but only for a moment. “I wish it could be different for you, Cas.”
“I’m fine.” Castiel lies.
Dean measures him once again, his expression - still frustratingly unbreakable. Then the man steps closer and reaches out to take Cas’ injured hand. “It hurts?” Though the question mark in his tone, it sounds more like he’s stating a fact. “I should’ve come sooner.”
“You saved my life.” Castiel can feel himself shaking.
This body, it needs so much. It reacts unpredictably on almost everything and it’s so easy to hurt. For a former angel - even one who’s been on Earth for years - it’s still impossible to read all the emotions flooding his mind at every moment. He is aware of how biology works. He understands the mechanisms. But actually feeling the blood rush up to his face at Dean's touch is something entirely new.
Castiel licks his lips and Dean’s eyes follow the movement, watercolor green turning into wide, dark pastel. The internal struggle is written all over the hunter’s features for a second. Castiel is grateful for it because finally - finally - there is something he understands.
When Dean speaks again his voice rolls off like a thunder in the space between them, a bit too breathy. A bit too low. “Let’s get you to bed, alright?”
Castiel hums his agreement and allows Dean to lead him to the foot of the bed. He doesn't trust his own vocal cords let alone his legs. Dean guides him into a sitting position, his palm is warm and steady on Cas’ shoulder.
“I’ll hit the back seat for tonight and drive you to work first thing tomorrow.”
Cas’ fingers curl around Dean’s wrist in a desperate attempt to stop the other man from pulling away. “No.” Castiel almost pleads. “Stay.”
Dean stares at him, taken aback, but nods after, “Okay... Alright. I‘m stayin’, buddy.”
Castiel finds himself also nodding along. He releases Dean's hand and lets out a small, relieved sigh. “Thank you.”
“You say that a lot these days, Cas.” Dean rubs tiredly at his eyes and slumps next to him, so close that their shoulders brush. “The truth is that you have nothing to thank me for.”
“You saved my life,“ Castiel echoes. “And you showed me nothing but kindness since then.”
“If there was any way to have you back...“ Dean continues, “With us, I mean. Sam and I.”
“I know.” Castiel lies.
“I’d take it, Cas.” Dean breathes in short, “I swear I would.”
“It’s alright.” Castiel leans against Dean’s warmth without paying attention to the movement. Dean’s arm wraps around his shoulders and tugs him closer. Dean buries his nose in Cas’ mess of a hair and breathes there.
It feels natural. It feels right. It’s exactly what he needs without even knowing that he needs it until now.
He can hear Dean’s breathing - the small rush of air in and out ruffles his hair - and it’s the most calming thing. So he matches it.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Dean’s palm is solid, pressed low on his back.
The seconds are already ticking into minutes when Dean starts to pull away. Castiel makes a weak protesting sound.
Dean chuckles drily. “I ain't slipping with my clothes on, buddy. Move a little, okay?”
Dean throws the covers of the bed out of the way and Cas is slipping under.
Dean works fast with the buttons of his own plaid shirt. Castiel watches him openly this time. He can’t help it. It’s hypnotizing, the way Dean undresses. The light blush that creeps above the hem of his T-shirt. Long, impatient fingers, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down.
He pushes those thoughts away at the moment Dean climbs on the bed and turns the lights off. Castiel shifts on his side and tries to stay as motionless as possible. But then Dean’s arms find their way to him under the covers and the man pulls him against his chest.
His forehead lays on Dean’s shoulder and he lets out a small, content sigh.
“Is that alright?” Dean hums. The sound vibrates down Cas’ whole body.
“Yes,” Castiel can barely breathe out.
“Listen, Cas...The things that asshole said about you…” Dean starts off quietly in his hair, “They’re…”
“They are all true,” Castiel finishes for him.
It’s a mistake, though. Talking means that he needs to take a breath, inhaling the other man’s scent.
And, someone helps him, he likes it.
“Yeah, but ” Dean’s hand squeezes gently at the base of his neck, “This doesn’t mean that you don’t get to live.” He ruffles Castiel’s hair, “You can have a life, Cas. A real one. Away from monsters and hunting.”
Away from me, is what Dean doesn’t say, but Cas can hear it in his tone. It’s terrifying.
He shivers and Dean tugs him closer, bodies flush against each other.
It has been hard. Staying away through those weeks after he has left the bunker. Almost impossible not to call Dean just to hear his voice in not so rare moments of weakness.
But he manages. He does good. He survives on his own.
Until now.
Castiel shifts away an inch, aware that this position has him pressed firmly against Dean’s upper thigh. It’s annoying how little control he has over his own body. All the blood is drained of his brain. It makes him dizzy.
Dean’s palm rests on his hip to prevent him from moving further away. It’s still a gentle touch, but it’s also urgent. Insistent.
Castiel looks up. He can see the outline of Dean’s face at the dim light coming from the window.
“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Dean says and his voice is a wreck.
Castiel shakes his head in the dark and lies. Easily. “You won’t.”
It’s a half-truth, probably. And all Dean means saying that is his injured arm. But either way, it doesn’t matter.
“Goodnight, Cas,” Dean says quietly.
Curled on his side in Dean’s arms, Castiel waits for the nightmares to come. This time though, they seem to stay away. Dean's breathing turns even after a while, so he closes his eyes and listens, slowly slipping into slumber.
Sometime later, Castiel feels a light press of lips against his own and hums, happily reciprocating. Giving the circumstances though, he knows that it’s just a dream.