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The door thumped against the wall as Castiel shouldered it open, bouncing off and hitting him in the side as he tried to sidle in. He was carrying five books stacked one over the other in his arms, each one thick and heavy, so when the door knocked into him he staggered back a bit from the weight. Righting himself, Castiel balanced the books on one hand while using his other to push the door open again, this time more gently to prevent it from slamming into his face. His strength sometimes caught him off guard even after so many years in a human vessel, where the amount of force he used in handling everyday objects was diminished a considerable amount whether he wanted it to be or not.
Shutting the door behind him with the same hand, Castiel brought his load over to Dean’s desk and dropped all five books onto the wooden surface with a clatter. A pencil bounced from the vibration and fell to the floor, rolling under the desk. Castiel cursed mildly under his breath and bent down to reach it, leaning his hand on the chair beside the desk to prevent himself from falling over. His fingertips brushed against the pencil, but all that did was make it roll further under the desk. Cursing more colorfully this time, Castiel dropped to his knees. He reached out again, this time grabbing the pencil completely, but as he straightened up his head hit the underside of the desk, emitting a dull thump and a pained noise. The noise came from Castiel, who had carefully maneuvered his head away from the desk to lay it heavily on the chair, face down. He brought his hands up to cradle his head and whimpered slightly as the throbbing began to sharpen and travel through his entire skull. The fragility of humans never fails to astound me, he thought morosely, shutting his eyes to concentrate on the source of the pain, gradually spreading his grace towards the area to diminish the aching.
“Cas?!” a rather panicked-sounding voice called out from the doorway. Footsteps quickly made their way towards him and Cas picked his head up from the chair as he felt a hand rest against his back, side-eyeing Dean who was crouched a little behind him. “You good?” Dean asked, concern lacing his voice. Castiel nodded slightly, using his arms resting on the chair to pick himself up from the ground. Dean’s other hand found its way to Cas’ arm, helping him up.
“I hit my head on the desk,” Cas muttered, holding up the pencil. “The pencil fell.” Dean had to take a second to connect the dots, and as understanding dawned on his face he seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh, his lips tightening and his eyes shifting to the side to focus on something other than Cas' disgruntled face. Castiel frowned at him and dropped the pencil back on the table. Dean coughed behind him, clearing his throat.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked. There was a note of amusement in his tone but it was filled more with genuine concern now. Castiel assessed himself quickly, realizing that his grace had fixed the headache while he was distracted. He told Dean as much, reaching over to pick up the topmost book from the pile and opening it to where he had bookmarked it a few minutes ago in the library. Dean hummed in understanding behind him, hooking his chin over Castiel’s shoulder to peer at what he was doing. He snaked his arm around Cas to flip back the cover of the book he was holding and groaned, seeing the title.
“A Complete History of Aquatic Monsters in Central America?” he read aloud, squinting slightly. “What, a list of all the lake and river monsters swimming about in the middle of the US?” Castiel flipped the book back open, turning the pages to the index to show Dean.
“Yes, something like that. Though it doesn’t list them but rather explains their point of origin and periods of development dating back to the Mesozoic period.”
“Meso-what?” Dean asked, scrunching up his face to squint at the small print. “No, never mind. A more important question would be why are these books here? There is a library, you know.” Castiel rolled his eyes.
“Yes, Dean, I got them from the library… The books are here because it’s getting late and I’d prefer reading them in bed next to you rather than alone in the library.” Dean’s face softened slightly at this, a small grin taking over his mouth.
“Aww, you old sap,” he said affectionately, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Cas’ jaw. Castiel’s mouth quirked up at the gesture. He leaned back slightly, resting the back of his arm against Dean’s chest.
“Old, yes. Sap, no,” he corrected smoothly, finally snapping the book shut and pulling himself away from Dean, walking around him and over to his own side of the bed to place it on the nightstand. Dean chuckled behind him, murmuring “sap, no my ass” under his breath as he shuffled through the papers on his desk to clear up more space for the books. Castiel watched him, hands on his hips, as he tried to lift all four books off the table with one arm to grab a piece of paper from under the pile, grunting from the effort. He finally managed it, letting out a rough breath from the exertion.
“Damn, that’s heavy,” he muttered, smoothing the paper out in his hands and placing it aside with the rest. Castiel winced slightly, hoping he hadn’t placed the books on anything too important. He hadn’t really been able to check the table for a clear space beforehand as the books had mostly obscured his view.
Just then Sam’s head poked around the doorway, hair all over the place and a bunch of research notes clutched in one hand. He had a rather harried look on his face as if someone had trampled over his books, ripped out the pages, and then thrown them in his face or something.
“You guys turning in?” he asked, stifling a yawn.
“In a bit…” Dean started, eyeing him. “What happened to you? You look like a mad scientist whose experiment blew up in his face. What's wrong with your hair?” Sam self-consciously ran his finger through his hair at the comment, looking confused.
“There’s nothing wrong with my hair,” he muttered sullenly.
“He fell asleep while reading,” Cas interjected from behind them. ‘I woke him up when I dropped one of the books in the library. The sound scared him, I presume, which would explain the look. The hair, on the other hand…” Cas paused, giving Sam a once-over. “There is no explaining the hair,” he finished mildly. Sam squawked in indignation and Dean gave a bark of surprised laughter, throwing Cas a look full of pride. He had been secretly trying to teach Castiel the best ways to insult Sam’s hair and he was glad to see it was working.
“Whatever,” Sam huffed, throwing his hands up. “I’m going to bed, and I hope your pillows are hot on both sides.”
“Thanks, Sammy. Always appreciate the kind words,” Dean said in response, grinning. “Close the door behind you, would you?” he called out as an afterthought as Sam turned to leave. Sam grunted and slapped his hand on the light switch, throwing the room into complete darkness before shutting the door behind him.
“Brat,” Dean’s voice called out from somewhere in the dark. A few seconds later Castiel heard a thump and a weak “fuck” coming from where the desk was. He hastily turned on his bedside light, illuminating the room in a soft, warm glow. Dean, he soon realized, had hit his hip against the desk’s edge while trying to make his way towards his own light.
“I think your desk has it out for the both of us,” Cas said, smiling slightly. Dean moaned in agreement as he sat down heavily on the bed. Cas sat down on his own side, turning his torso around and leaning over to place his hand on Dean’s hip. He directed his grace towards the bone and muscle, soothing them out as gently as he could. Dean sighed in relief almost immediately and patted Castiel’s hand in thanks.
“Sam would say you deserved that,” Cas said, withdrawing his hand. Dean got up from the bed, giving his hip an experimental poke. Seemingly satisfied with the results he toed his shoes off and started to take off his pants, folding them up and throwing them over the chair.
“He probably would, even though you were the one who insulted the hair.” Cas made a puzzled sound in the back of his throat.
“I didn’t insult his hair…” he started, cocking his head to one side. “Merely pointed out a fact.” Dean shrugged his flannel and shirt off, chucking them over onto his pants, and then dug under his pillow for the shirt he wore to bed.
“Oh I don’t know, Cas,” he said, pulling the shirt on. “It sounded like an insult to me. Not that it matters. That hair had it coming. Glad to see you’ve taken a leaf out of my book.” Dean finally pulled back the covers on his side and slid into the bed with a soft groan, feeling the sore muscles around his back finally start to relax. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and hunts were getting more and more taxing in the long run. Castiel studied him for a bit, leaning back on his arms. Dean’s eyes were closed, head resting on his pillow, and he looked relatively peaceful. Maybe even for the first time that day. His breathing was soft and even, making his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.
Dean shifted suddenly and snapped his eyes open, peering back at Cas.
“You coming in here or what?” he said, frowning at him. Castiel sighed heavily and stood up, doing the same as Dean had a moment ago, the only difference being that Castiel took more time to fold up his clothes properly. He wasn’t wearing his trench coat (it hung next to Dean’s jackets on the coat hanger by the closet) so taking his clothes off and putting on new ones took only a minute or so. Castiel placed his shoes neatly by the end of the bed and finally crawled in, arranging the sheets above himself carefully.
Castiel usually didn’t take off his clothes at night, but Dean insisted that when in bed he had to get rid of his coat and pants at the very least. They were, quote, “annoyingly rough and in the way” whenever Dean tried to snuggle up to him in the middle of the night. Castiel had gotten used to the nightly routine of getting ready for bed in the end, but he did still find it tedious at times. Dean had told him to stop being a baby.
Dean hummed in content as Castiel’s weight settled in beside him, but the sound quickly turned into a whine as Castiel reached over to the bedside table to grab his book.
“Really, Cas?” he groaned, lifting himself up on his elbows to give Cas a better ‘are you serious right now?’ look. “You’re gonna read that book now?” Castiel puffed his cheeks out in annoyance.
“I told you that I was going to read, didn’t I?” he said, rather petulantly.
“Man, I thought you meant, like, tomorrow morning or something… Not right now.”
“Well, you were wrong. I’m going to read right now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Dean opened his mouth to retort, seemed to contemplate something, and then just sighed instead, giving up and dropping himself back on his pillow, crossing his arms over his chest. Castiel rolled his eyes and opened his book to the marked page. There was silence for a while, the only sounds being the rustle of a page as Castiel read and Dean moving about noisily every few seconds, making pointedly annoyed sounds as he tried to find a more comfortable position. Eventually Dean got back up on his elbows and, reaching over, slapped his hand on the book, pushing it down onto Cas’ lap.
“I can’t sleep with the light on,” he hissed as Castiel shot him a glare.
“Then put your hand over your eyes,” Castiel retorted, trying to tug the book out from under Dean’s hand.
“No, that takes too much effort. Will you just go to sleep already?”
“I don’t want to sleep… And anyways, I’m on the best part right now—will you please move your hand?”
“What ‘best part’? There is no ‘best part’ in a book about the history of water lovin’ beasts, Cas.”
“Well you wouldn’t know, would you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Cas didn’t reply, having finally gotten the book free from under Dean’s hand. He quickly rolled over with the book so that Dean wouldn’t be able to take it from him.
“Oh no you don’t,” Dean snapped, pushing himself up into a sitting position and throwing himself over Cas to grab the book. Cas gave a loud and rather surprised oomph sound as his breath was knocked out from Dean’s weight landing on his side.
“Get off,” Castiel gritted out, clutching the book tighter to his chest in a vain effort to delay the inevitable. Dean ignored him completely and grabbed the book from the bottom edge and yanked at it as hard as he could. The book slipped free from Cas’ grasp and Dean let out a triumphant “hah” sound, leaning back and holding it over his head as Cas turned around to try and get it back. The book was quite heavy, though, so Dean’s arms eventually fell to the side, the book thumping softly beside his head. Seeing an open opportunity, Cas climbed over Dean, reaching for the book. Dean was too fast for him, however, and the book was pushed completely off the bed, landing loudly on the floor.
“Dean,” Cas moaned in despair, dragging himself over to the edge of the bed, half on top of Dean.
“Cas,” Dean growled back, latching both his arms around Cas’ torso to try and tug him away from the book as much as possible. Castiel was heavier than he looked, though, so Dean spent half the time trying to breathe past the additional weight on his chest. He swore loudly.
“Cas, staying up this late isn’t healthy, you know,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t you want me to be healthy? Don’t you care about me?" Cas dug his elbow into Dean’s side, ignoring the blatant guilt-tripping.
“Oh don’t start—you always go to bed late. It’s only when I’m trying to read something that it becomes a problem.” Dean grumbled something about that not being true, and Castiel craned his neck back to shoot him a glare. He turned his attention back to the book almost immediately after, stretching his arm out as far as he could, fingertips barely brushing the book’s spine.
They struggled against each other for a second more until Cas finally gave up, letting his hand drop, and dragged himself back to his side. Both of them were panting heavily by that time and Dean’s arm was pinning Cas down across the chest to keep him from moving. Castiel weakly patted the arm in an effort to get Dean to loosen up and Dean pulled his arm back and flopped it over his own chest with a strained breath. The air between them was hot and muggy and they were both exhausted, even Castiel.
Castiel didn’t technically need to sleep; no angel did, but occasionally he chose to allow his human mind to shut down by withdrawing his grace from that particular area. He enjoyed being in bed with Dean, and while staying up beside him as Dean slept was perfectly fine in his book, enjoyable even, he sometimes felt the need to sleep beside Dean and experience waking up with him in the morning. Feeling Dean stretch beside him through the haze of sleep and giving him a light kiss to wake him up. Pulling himself deeper under the covers as he listened to Dean moving about the room, protesting grumpily as Dean tried to get him out of bed by poking him in the side and goading him with promises of coffee. Groaning as Dean flopped over him, refusing to move until Castiel, quote, “got his lazy ass out of bed.” Sometimes Castiel just wanted to dream. It was such a human experience, sleeping, and yet Castiel couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. He had been in a vessel for far too long to care. He wanted this; he chose it. He was planning on living his life with Dean in the best way they possibly could, what with their lifestyle of hunting monsters and the occasional ‘big bad,’ as Dean liked to put it, and that included sleeping once in a while.
Castiel groggily switched the light off once he caught his breath, dropping himself and Dean into pitch black. He knew Dean had a victorious smirk on his face even without being able to see him, so he reached out with his foot under the sheets and gave Dean a sharp kick in the shin in retaliation. Dean gave a muffled grunt of pain that almost immediately dissolved into a laugh. He turned towards Cas and tugged him closer to his own body, peppering light kisses down Castiel’s neck and into the dip between his collarbones. He whispered an apology against Cas’ shoulder (“Sorry, angel o’ mine. Please forgive my horrendous, outrageous sins” “mmm you are forgiven, Dean… But you do owe me a morning coffee now” “whatever you wish, sunshine”) rubbing small circles into his side with his thumb, right under his ribcage. Castiel sighed and melted into the touch, deciding then and there that perhaps reading at night was overrated when they could be doing this instead. He slipped his own hand underneath Dean’s shirt and brought it to rest at Dean’s back, trailing his fingers along the curves of his muscles, tracing them up and down his spine. His fingers occasionally bumped against the bones, forming a staccato-like rhythm. Dean’s other hand was resting at Cas’ ear, gently running his fingers through the shorter hairs at the back of Castiel’s neck, curling them around the strands and tugging lightly.
Castiel felt a sudden, almost overwhelming rush of affection for this man beside him. He couldn’t sense an ounce of uneasiness or discomfort from Dean’s soul but rather soft waves of calm, trust, and love that drifted outward and enveloped everything they touched. Castiel’s breath shuddered out of him and he shut his eyes to try and control his heart before he started outright crying from the barrage of emotions. It had taken him and Dean such a long time to get to this point in their relationship. They had struggled through so much together; they still did, but the simple fact that they could have a moment of peace some nights, just the two of them in each other’s arms, was enough to give Castiel all the strength he could ever need.
“Dean,” Castiel murmured into the quiet, breaking his own train of thought, “I thought you were tired.” Dean kissed him under his jaw.
“Hmm no, I think I can stay up a tiny bit longer,” he mused, nipping lightly at Castiel’s ear. Castiel shivered involuntarily and pressed his hand more firmly into Dean’s back. He detected the note of amusement in Dean’s voice at the irony of his statement, but he ignored it just this once. Eventually, Dean settled against Cas, letting his body drop down over him. He tucked his head into Cas’ neck and breathed in deeply, exhaling in a soft puff that trickled over Castiel’s neck and chest. Castiel relaxed against Dean in return, curling his arm higher up Dean’s back and leaning his own head against Dean’s. He finally allowed himself to drain his mind of his sleep-preventing grace, slowly lulling himself to sleep with Dean’s heartbeat against his own.
Though not before mumbling, “Maybe you’re the old sap” as a final jab.
Dean grunted.