What if Dean sleeps better when Cas is around?
I know, I know. All he needs is his four hours. And that’s all he “needs” because he’s trained himself to be a light sleeper. To be on constant look out for danger, to protect Sam. And maybe that’s why he’s irritable most of the time, because that’s not rest. He’s exhausted.
But with Castiel around, an angel, who doesn’t sleep, Dean finds himself napping when he usually wouldn’t.
Like at the bunkers dining table, Cas and Sam are going over the lore. Dean’s eyes start to ache so he leans back, crosses his feet at his ankles, his arms over his chest, and allows himself to doze off.
When he wakes what feels like a couple minutes later, Sam is no where around but Cas is still there, in the same spot, just sitting there. Not reading, not watching Dean, but just sitting, just being.
“Hello, Dean,” he’ll greet as Dean sits up, rubs his face, and checks the time to realise he’s been asleep for half an hour.
“Where’s Sam?” He asks sitting up straight and looking around.
Dean breathes and relaxes and when Sam returns, they eat and continue research
Between cases Sam and Dean would do movie nights. They’d sit on the couch in front of the TV, Sam’s Netflix loaded, and a big bowl of popcorn between them. Sometimes Cas would join, and everytime he did, Dean would nod off towards the end of the movie.
Like tonight. Cas picked a sappy Disney movie, Dean’s not even sure he knows what it’s about but his eyes have been closed for most of the movie. Cas is into it, and Sam hasn’t complained.
There’s been a few times now Dean has jolted himself awake, his head lulling then his eyes closing heavier, and heavier, until his jolts himself up again, this time bumping Cas, knocking the bowl of popcorn slightly, a few kernels littering his lap.
He mumbles a sheepish, “sorry,” and sits back upright. But he feels it happening again. He leans his head back, but that hurts his neck so he repositions himself slightly hunched and arms crossed.
He feels Cas lean into his side a bit, their shoulders touching now. Dean swallows the butterflies and sinks into the couch a little further, his head now in line with Cas’ shoulder. He leans to his right and ever so slowly, sinks his head onto the support next to him. He closes his eyes and within seconds he’s asleep, and drooling slightly, on Cas’ shoulder.
He doesn’t wake until the movies down and Cas taps a hand on his thigh, gently stirring him out of his slumber.
During a hunt they go back to their motel to get some rest. Sam falls asleep very quickly, his big brother watching over him. Dean tosses and turns for an hour and a half before he walks to the bathroom to splash some water on his face.
He stares at his exhausted face in the mirror, bags under his eyes, hair a mess and sighs. He runs his damp hands through his hair and walks back out. Sitting at the edge of his bed is none other than Cas, examining the gold knife on Dean’s bedside table.
“Hello Dean,” he greets quietly, placing the knife down and looking his way.
Dean huffs out a sigh and gives him a weak smile, walking over and sitting next to him.
“No progress?” He asks probably already knowing the answer.
“Most nights,” Dean admits truthfully, his cheeks warming at the admission.
Cas nods, “I’ll watch over you,” he says matter of factly.
“That’s not necessary,” Dean chuckles scratching the back of his neck nervously, but Cas had already risen off of Dean’s bed and towards the kitchen.
Dean sat still and listened to the sound of the angel making himself comfy at the little round table before he allowed himself to get comfy in the bed.
Dean tucked himself in, shut his eyes, and listened as Cas read through one of Sam’s books they he had left out, the pages turning every couple of minutes until he fell asleep.
They were driving back to the bunker, a 13 hour trip. Dean can feel himself having to squint every couple of blinks to keep the tired out of his eyes. They’re only half way through but they didn’t sleep the night before.
“Dean?” Cas asks from the passenger seat, worry tracing his voice.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says pulling the car over when the bank opens up wide enough.
Sam stirs in the back and sits up, “my turn?” He asks sleepily.
“Yeah,” Dean sighs and gets out of the car, stretching wide. He wipes his face and waits for Sam to peel himself out of the back seat.
Cas gets out too and Dean shoots him a questioning stare, “I would like to sit with you.” Is all he says.
Dean feels his face flush, “dude, the whole point is so I can lay down and sleep.” He says as Sam stretches, and downs a bottle of water. He hands another to Dean who takes a few sips before lidding it.
“Okay,” Cas says as if the situation was obvious to him and still gets into the back.
Sam looks at Dean, eyebrows high and a smirk plastered on his face as he chuckles and takes his seat behind the wheel.
Dean rolls his eyes, sighs, then wipes his hands down his face before climbing into the back.
They take off and Dean leans his head against the window closing his eyes, but every now and then a bump in the road knocks his head off and it’s starting to become uncomfortable. He lifts his head up and leans back. It’s not as uncomfortable but his neck hurts in this position. He sits back up and rubs his eyes.
He looks over to him, his left arm is resting along the back of the bench, his right beside him in his lap, his hand taps his thigh twice gently.
Dean swallows and looks out his window, his heart suddenly pounding but the need for sleep is so strong. He looks at Sam who doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to them then back to Cas who looks out his own window as Dean turns to him. He sighs a little, feeling less pressured without Cas’s intense gaze on him.
He licks his lips and glances at Sam one last time and, yep, he’s definitely not paying them any attention. So Dean scoots closer to his door before he lays down, his head rested on Cas’s thigh. He lays as still as possible, waiting for any mocking, or laughing, but it doesn’t come.
He allows himself to breathe more deeply before he shuffles around, getting more comfortable. He scooches his head up a little further so his neck is supported by Cas’s leg and tucks his arms under his chin. He breaths out and immediately feels himself relax.
He’s almost asleep when he feels Cas’s fingers on his head, gently massaging the scalp then running his fingers through his hair. It’s heavenly, and makes the weight in Dean’s eyes feel heavier and without any effort, he falls asleep to Cas playing with his hair.
When he wakes it’s light out, and there’s a weight along his side. He blinks and sits up before he realises Cas had his arm resting on him. He feels the blush rush to his cheeks and down his neck as Sam greets him, “good morning, sleep well?” With amusement tinged in his voice.
Dean doesn’t reply to him but damn he feels well rested despite the ache in his hips. He looks around him and notices the familiar sights of Kansas. They’re probably 40 minutes away from being home. “Breakfast?” Sam asks as they pull into a parking lot of a locally owned diner.
They pop in and order the special: bacon, eggs, avocado, sausages, with sourdough, and coffee of course Cas sat there patiently sipping his coffee, not that he needs it but he knew Dean would finish it after his own (which he does). And before they know it they’re on the road again, Dean driving, Sam in the passenger, and Cas in the back behind Dean, one hand braced on the back of the chair and if every now and then a finger brushed through the hairs on the back of his neck, they didn’t talk about it.
The rest of that day was spent showering, and scrubbing the dirt and blood off of themselves followed by some lounging around. They watched movies, ate too much, and knocked off early. But Dean couldn’t sleep. He laid staring at the ceiling for quite some time, tossed and turned for hours before the early hours of dawn crept up on him.
He got up, put his robe on and pattered out to the kitchen to start a fresh pot. Cas following moments after, “why are you up so early?”
Dean turned around and leaned against the counter, arms folded, “couldn’t sleep.”
Cas tilted his head and squinted at him slightly, “at all?”
“You could have told me,” he says with a frown.
Dean shrugged. And filled his cup with fresh coffee and sat at the table sipping it, Cas across him. They sat in comfortable silence while Dean caffeinated himself.
The next couple of nights follow much the same. Dean tosses and turns, and only sleeps when exhaustion renders him unconscious in the early hours of the morning. Even then he only gets an hour or two, three max. He’ll wake up before the sun, then shuffle into the kitchen for coffee and sit in silence with Cas until Sam wakes.
“What is going on with you?” Sam asks him one afternoon after he’s tried to clean the dishes and stack them in the microwave. This isn’t the first mishap either. A book was found in the freezer this morning, and yesterday a mug shattered in the oven as Sam started to pre-heat it for dinner.
“Nothing, nothing I’m fine-”
“You’re not fine,” Sam says wiping the plates and putting them in the cupboard where they belong.
“I’m just a little tired, man, nothing a couple of hours won’t fix,” he waves off and sits at the table across from Cas, out of the way of Sam’s cooking.
“You have had a total of 5 hours and 43 minutes sleep in the last 4 days,” Castiel announces without lifting his head from his book.
“And who’s counting?” Dean asks a little creeped out.
“Seriously, Dean? You’re going to kill yourself if you don’t get a decent nights sleep,” Sam scolds coming over to stand next to Cas, scowling down at Dean.
“I’m not trying to not sleep, I can’t help it!” He yells back.
“Well how can we help you?” Sam asks taking a seat. Dean can’t look at the concern on his little brothers face. He looks to Cas who appears to be just as concerned, his deep blue eyes gazing at him so intently, Dean decides to look at the table and shrug.
“We could try some tea? De-caf, obviously, or see if Rowena has some minor spells?” Sam rattles
“No. No witches, no magic,” Dean objects immediately.
“Tea it is. And no screen time after dinner,” he says getting back up to attend to their meal.
“I could help?” Cas suggests quietly.
Dean feels his stomach flip. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed, “nah man, it’s nothing I can’t handle,” he says pointedly not looking at Cas.
Deans situation isn’t brought up again but after dinner, and clean up, Sam turns all of the overhead lighting off, leaving a few low light lamps and brews a camomile tea. Dean drinks is unwillingly and tries to stop the fuss from Sam.
Cas left while the boys ate, and come back with what appeared to be lavender scented…. Well everything. He got body wash, shampoo, candles, moisturiser, room spray, hell even a body oil.
“Jesus, Cas, what am I going to do with half of this stuff?” He says inspecting the body oil.
“Use it,” he replies simply, and Dean rolls his eyes, “I’ll smell like a chick,” he says lifting up the room spray.
“No, you will smell like lavender.”
Dean rolls his eyes and downs the last mouthful of his tea.
He rinses he cup and places it beside the sink before coming back and grabbing the bag of goods off of the table, “I guess I’ll… use these… now,” he says awkwardly and heads for the bathroom.
Sam bids his goodnight and thanks Cas for his help with Dean with a clap on the shoulder.
Dean will not admit it out loud, but the body wash and shampoo actually smells pretty good. Once he finishes, he rubs a little bit of the moisturiser on his chest and shoulders but he’s not using the body oil, god damnit.
He changes into his sweats and an old shirt and padders his way down the hall and into his room. He only startles a little when he sees Cas sitting at the end of his bed.
“Whatchya doing?” He asks placing his dirty cloths in the hamper in the corner.
“I will watch over you tonight,” he says simply.
“No. Thank you,” Dean says awkwardly standing in front of Cas.
Cas cocks his head to the side and stands, “I don’t understand. You tend to sleep better with my presence near, yet you are so adamant on me not being here.”
“Yeah well… you… I- I dunno, it’s creepy,” he deflects and walks past Cas to sit on the edge of his bed, hiding his burning face from Cas’s gaze.
“What if I stay only until you fall asleep?” Cas offers.
Dean wants bad to say yes, to admit that he has no trouble sleeping with Cas around. That he can’t stop thinking about Cas running his fingers through his hair, or massaging his scalp. But he can’t.
“Cas-” he starts to protest again.
“Why won’t you let me help you?” Cas asks again taking a step closer to Dean.
“Because I-” but he can’t continue.
“Please?” Cas pleads softly.
“Fine,” Dean says in a huff, “but no angel powers,” he says.
“Then how would I-” he stops suddenly and his gaze softens, “oh.”
Deans body is on fire now. This is so embarrassing, “you know what. No. I change my mind. I’m fine,” be says and lays in his bed and faces the other way.
He feels the bed dip beside him, the clunk of shoes being taken off, some shuffling, then a knee digging into his back. But then there’s a hand in his hair and another rested on his waist and he squints his eyes closed as hard as he can to stop the emotions spreading in his chest.
“Is this okay,” Cas asks softly.
Dean hums a “mhm,” not trusting his voice to come out even. Cas’s fingers apply firm pressure from the base of his skull all the way to the top, then he gently runs his nails back down. He does this a few times before changing directions, sometimes gently pulling at his hair as he runs his hand back down.
Dean fights sleep hard. Because he’s never had someone touch him like this, so gentle, and sweet, and without asking for anything in return. Without any ill intention, without any expectation of him. Cas touches him to simply help him drift off to sleep. And it hits Dean hard, how much this angel must care for him to sit here for as long as it takes for Dean to slip into slumber.
His eyes prick and sting and then there’s a warm trace from the corner of his eye, down his cheek that sinks into his pillow.
“Dean?” Cas whispers. But he doesn’t reply.
“Are you alright?” He asks again, his hand stilling.
“Yeah,” Dean whispers back.
“Are you sure,” Cas asks leaning forward a bit.
Dean nods and Cas continues again.
Dean fights sleep a little more before he feels himself start to drift off and Cas’s hands leave him.
“Okay,” Cas says but gets up still.
“Please stay,” he whispers, not wanting to beg any louder.
“Of course,” Cas replies. There’s a ruffle of clothes and then the flick of the light switch. The room plunges into darkness and then there’s the weight in the bed again. Only this time, there isn’t a knee in his back, but a warmth of another body laying beside him. Cas pulls the blankets up over them, then he’s pressed up against his back, an arm snakes around his waist and dangles over his belly, tracing light swirls into the fabric.
Dean keeps his eyes shut and slows his breathing and after he calms down he drifts into a peaceful slumber.
