How about K with Dean & Cas?
Sorry, this took so long.
K - On the edge of consciousness
The first time, Dean thinks it’s just a dream. He wakes up and vaguely remembers a man. He doesn’t remember what he looked liked or who he was. It’s just a feeling.
He thinks he might have been in love with him. In the dream.
It makes him a little sad, that he doesn’t remember more.
The next morning, the feeling is even stronger and comes before Dean even really wakes. It’s actually more than a feeling. It’s a presence. When you know someone’s in the room with you and the fact fills you with comfort, safety. Dean rolls over and opens his eyes. He’s alone in the room. It takes him three cups of coffee but eventually he forgets about it.
He’s on the verge of falling asleep. The strange in-between when you’re aware of your surroundings, but your thoughts stop being under your control and drift into dream territory. That’s when Dean hears someone saying his name. It’s soft, affectionate. It doesn’t sound like it’s meant to wake him so he just smiles and finally succumbs to sleep.
When he thinks about it the next morning, it’s a bit unsettling. He convinces himself it was just a play of a tired and lonely mind.
The next time is in the middle of the night. He knows he’s not asleep because he knows he’s in his bed. He also knows he can’t be entirely awake because there are strong arms wrapped around him and he’s sure he went to bed alone. It should be scary but he feels no threat. It’s familiar, comfortable. It’s nice. Even though he doesn’t see the man that’s cuddling him, he knows he can trust him. He can feel soft lips brushing against his neck and fingers pressing into his skin and he knows it’s not possible but it feels so good he can’t make himself do something to stop it.
The horror of it strikes in the morning. There’s an incorporeal man in his house who cuddles with him at night. Or maybe he’s going crazy.
He finds himself lying in bed, waiting for the apparition to come, but it never does, not until Dean’s halfway asleep.
He feels a hand on his cheek, then running through his hair. He tries to catch it and is surprised when his fingers don’t go through thin air but actually wrap around a firm wrist.
"Who are you?" Dean asks. He’s not sure if he says it out loud or if he just thinks it very loudly.
"Castiel." He’s not sure if the deep voice really goes through his ears or if it just appears in his head.
I think I might be haunted Dean texts his brother in the morning. He doesn’t get a reply, which is weird, but he waits.
The man that isn’t really there holds him again that night. Dean lets it happen. It’s nice and he’s lonely.
There’s still no reply from his brother in the morning. Dean checks the message. It isn’t there, he never sent it. Frowning, he decides to call his brother instead. There are no saved contacts on his phone. They must have gotten deleted by some accident. He’ll ask at work if someone can revive them or if anybody has his brother’s number. He should be at work already anyway, it’s getting late. And he hasn’t been at work for some time, has he?
Driving his car feels good. The streets are empty. No other cars, no people. Dean turns on the radio but all he gets is strange mechanical beeping. He turns it off.
He’s alone at work but there’s a car to work on so that’s what he does.
He knows that something’s wrong, but he doesn’t want to think about it. He’s tired. He can’t wait to get on that edge of consciousness, he can’t wait for the man to come.
"Dean," he hears the soft deep voice. There’s a lot of sadness in it. Tender lips touch his cheek. Dean lets out a pleased sigh. "Dean, come back to me. Come back, my love, I need you here."
Dean jerks awake and sits up on his bed. He’s alone.
Come back. Such a strange thing for the ghost to say. Back where? How? What nonsense.
Feeling shaky Dean gets up and walks down the stairs to get a glass of water from the kitchen. The house is so big. Was it always so big? Why does he live in such a big house all alone? Wasn’t there somebody else? His head hurts.
He can’t find the kitchen, there are endless gray corridors instead. Panic slowly fills his mind and his chest tightens.
He doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to be alone.
He sees his bed even though he isn’t in his bedroom. He crawls back into it. He’s trembling, his breath is fast and shallow. Maybe it’s just a nightmare. He squeezes his eyes shut and prays for the calming presence of the man.
His name was Castiel. Dean whispers it into the dark. A warm hand closes around his. He wants to sleep, but he hears the mechanical beeping again. He squeezes the hand back.
The beeping is a heart monitor.
There’s someone holding his hand.
"Cas," Dean croaks out, his throat hurts like he hasn’t been using it in a while.
"Dean!" His husband drops his forehead on their intertwined hands and sobs.
It’s hard to smile, but Dean tries. He lifts his free hand that feels like made of lead and places it as softly as he manages on top of Cas’ head.
"I’m back," he whispers, "you brought me back."
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