InsaneJournal

Who: Dean & Cas
Where: Their room, House Free Will
When: July 4th, morning
What: Dean wakes up! It's cute, Dean's crazy hungry, everyone's happy. (And fyi, residents of House Free Will got a giant breakfast buffet this morning.)
Status: Complete!
Warnings: N/A

Castiel watched over him. He didn't need to sleep or eat. He brought Princess to the room so he could stay at Dean's side while making sure the rabbit got necessary care, and he was responsible enough to call the shelter and tell them he'd return when Dean awoke. He saw people come and go, mainly Sam, and settled in as Dean's quiet, steadfast guardian angel. This wasn't just where he was needed. This was where he wanted to be, and he didn't want much else than to be at Dean's side. So what happened if he lost him? Even though Dean was alive now, he wasn't immortal. Dean had said it himself; in a few decades he'd die, even if he wasn't killed. Human lives were short and finite, and Castiel had watched millions of them live and die over the centuries. Brief lives that sparked up in an instant and then they were gone, even when they weren't cut short by violence. Dean would grow old, his body would wither, and Castiel would remain unchanged. He'd lose Dean, and live for centuries beyond that. Would he forget? Castiel had a vast, expansive memory, but there were still things that faded after a few thousand years. He told Dean he'd give it all up. He hadn't been lying. When Dean stirred, Castiel was in a chair that he'd dragged over to the bed, leaning back in it with his feet up on the mattress. If he dozed he would have been dozing, but instead he was gazing pensively out the window while Princess slept in his lap. Dean had been asleep since Bulgaria. The whole process was understandably exhausting, between the cure itself and the alteration of the Mark. He wasn't comatose so much as just... taking an extended nap. He was still laying where they'd put him down, although Castiel had been nice enough to take off his shoes and his flannel shirt. The bruise on his face where Cas had punched him and the track marks from the needle going into his neck were long gone, thanks to a little healing. He looked good, even if he was unconscious. He looked alive. Waking up was a drag. While he slept, he had bright, vivid dreams, none of which he could remember once he started crawling toward consciousness. Dean was awake long before he moved; his limbs felt heavy at first, the rest of his body protesting before his brain was ready to be fully present. But there was no emptiness in him, no burning black void, no supernatural tug at his heart or his soul. Well. Unless you counted the emptiness in his stomach. Dean Winchester woke up human, healthy, and starving. When his eyes opened, even the light coming in through the cracks in the shutters was too much for him; he threw an arm over his face and groaned, rolling onto his side to get away. Castiel blinked, lifting his head and looking over. He tried not to smile, but he failed, and there was an unmistakable fondness in his voice when he said: "Hello, Dean." Of all the first things to hear, Dean couldn't have done much better for himself. He squinted in Cas's direction and gave him a groggy smile. "Hey, Cas." Cas nodded once. Someone else might have rushed to Dean's side and hugged him, might have taken his hand, might have sobbed about how upset they were, but Cas just offered a small nod of acknowledgement. It wasn't stoic, it wasn't unfeeling. There was emotion behind his eyes, there was just the faintest smile, and it spoke volumes. I'm glad to see you. You're finally up. I love you. But he didn't say a word; all he did was nod. Dean gradually sat up, rubbing his eyes before he was ready to really open them. The grogginess was starting to fade, and what was left felt… really good. He wasn't usually one for a good night's sleep, but for the first time in a long time, he felt rested. His body felt right. When his vision cleared, he finally looked over at Cas and was struck quiet. Cas had been with him during the cure (and things had been said that Dean was still processing), and he'd bet real money that Cas had been sitting with him since they got home, too. Some walls had broken down between them and Dean found that he didn't feel as exposed as he thought he would. And he didn't know what to say, other than, "Come here." Castiel gently put Princess down and he swung his feet off the mattress so he could stand. He was already close to the bed, but he moved closer by sitting down beside Dean. He'd taken his shoes off, along with his trenchcoat and tie, and he was in dark slacks and a white shirt that had come untucked a while ago. "How are you feeling?" he asked, brow furrowing as he looked Dean over. He reached out, brushing the backs of two fingers along Dean's forehead. Instead of answering, Dean went in for a hard, grateful kiss, bracing his hand on the back of Castiel's neck. He probably had morning breath, but… too bad. Cas braced one hand against the mattress and the other against Dean's jaw, pulling him up into the kiss. Since Dean didn't answer his question, Castiel sent a pulse of healing energy through him anyway, a sudden rush of warmth from his kiss and from his touch to ease any soreness he felt and alleviate any aches. When he finally pulled back, Dean ran a hand through Castiel's hair and gave it a tug. "I need a shower. I'm starving. And you are…" He couldn't finish it. He just smiled. "You stayed." Castiel pulled back an inch. "Of course I stayed." Despite everything Dean said. It had hurt, of course it had -- and it only hurt because there was truth to it. But he didn't need Dean to tell him any of it; he already knew. "...Yeah." It either wasn't the time for heavy conversation, or he didn't know what to say, because he changed the subject to, "I should go get pretty again. I have wicked morning breath." Dean kissed Cas's cheek before pulling away entirely to drag himself off the bed. Cas watched him, staying seated on the edge of the mattress. "I should tell Sam you're awake," he said. "He'll want to know. You seem … all right." He was wary to say all right, uncertain as to whether it was really true. "I'm human," Dean said, like he wasn't finished processing it. He stretched and made a satisfied noise. "I'm more than all right." And when he saw Sam again, he wanted to look it, too. "Tell him he better be hungry, because I'm making a goddamn buffet." And Cas smiled. "I'm glad to have you back, Dean." This was the Dean he knew, the one he fell for. As attractive as Dean had been as a demon, he'd been manipulative and aggressive. He hadn't been human. He hadn't been Dean. "Glad to be back," he replied, with full awareness of how hokey it sounded. He really meant to just leave, but he ended up coming back to Castiel for a quick kiss before he finally hightailed it to the bathroom. "Meet you downstairs?" Cas caught Dean by the arm when he started to move, tugging him back. He didn't do flirty, or the kind of gentle touches that Dean's previous partners might have given. He pulled him back, stopping him in his tracks, and for a second he paused, just watching him. "Don't ever do that again," he said gruffly. "I'm not planning on it," Dean replied, surprisingly comforting. "Gotta let go of my arm, Cas. Promise I'm not going far." It took Cas a moment. He'd been watching over Dean for days. "I'll … clean up the kitchen," he said, finally letting go of Dean and watching him expectantly. Apparently he wasn't going to disappear unless Dean was safely in the bathroom. Dean kept expecting to hear the sound of Castiel's wings fluttering him downstairs -- and never did, because he was being watched. He got to the bathroom before he turned back and offered, "Would it make you feel better if you were in here with me? Hm?" Cas unfastened a button on his shirt. "Yes." Dean just smiled and shook his head. "Then get your ass in here already."