[Castiel] Thursday's child has far to go. (childofthursday) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-08-03 13:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, castiel, dean winchester |
Who: Castiel & Dean Winchester
What: Dreaming and talking
When: Friday 8/1
Where: Hospital
Rating: Lowish
Status: Complete
Everyone here at the hospital was really nice to Castiel.
He thought, maybe, it was because he was very polite. Dean was sleeping a lot, and Castiel would keep a silent vigil at his bedside, for the most part. That's when the nurses were the nicest, since Dean wasn't being grumpy and terrorizing anyone when he was sleeping. They brought him coffee and sandwiches and told him he was an angel for all the patience he had. He was fairly certain that this was irony, although obviously unbeknownst to them. He did not laugh, but he did offer little smiles as best he could.
It'd been two days now, and he'd had only left for a short amount of time in order to go home and shower and then purchase every kind of Pokemon game he could find per Dean's request. It'd been pricey, and he'd had to buy another system based on confusion, but at least now he and Dean could play together, even if it didn't really make any sense to Cas. The little animals were kind of cute, though.
He was tired. He kept thinking he'd take a nap when Dean felt better. But apparently his thoughts and his body weren't agreeing with each other, since he'd dozed off completely, little gameboy still on and forgotten in his lap.
Dean woke up to the friggen on a bicycle music, glad that they’d decided he was stable enough to manage breathing without the mask now. Everyone’d got real sick of him tearing that off his face every time he woke up. They’d also gotten sick of him being enough of a terror to any roommates that he’d wound up in a single since it seemed like he was going to be there a while.
Still, groggily looking over at Cas dozed off, little streams of late afternoon sunlight peeking through the vertical blinds was nice, for as nice as anything could be in a hospital. His husband really was beautiful, even if Cas couldn’t properly see it. Particularly now with the light highlighting the fact that his hair was actually brown and not as black as it looked most of the time.
How did he get so lucky?
"You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell, I can throw you back in."
Cas woke with a start, Gameboy falling out of his hands and clattering to the floor with a noise that only served to startle him further. He felt strange, like he had the last time he'd woken from a dream like this. Like less than he ought to be, like something was missing -- his back too light, his insides too empty. Although there was something --
Something different. He couldn't place it. Breathing deeply, he tried sorting himself and his thoughts out.
Dean frowned, sitting up abruptly as though hooked up to IVs and monitors as he was, he might still be able to protect Cas. “Hey,” he said quietly, worry threading its way through even that one word. “Cas?”
"Dean." Cas looked up, and realized quite abruptly that it was possible he didn't deserve such worry from Dean. He had been -- something akin to an asshole in the dream. And now he knew what had frightened his husband so much the other day. The very threat of throwing an innocent man back into hell.
Blue eyes traveled to the floor, and he bent down from his chair to pick up the Gameboy (miraculously still in one piece and without a dent or scratch). "How are you feeling?"
“It happened again,” Dean said, ignoring the question he’d been asked. Cas did it enough to him. It was only fair. “Rise of the witnesses?” he asked, green gaze fixed on his husband.
Running long fingers over the now closed video game like he was possibly just petting it, Castiel frowned thoughtfully at the floor. Less than a complete month had they known one another, and it was clear that hiding truth or uncertainties from each other was mostly impossible. Castiel, in particular, had always been very poor at lying.
"I wouldn't have." He said after a moment. "Never. But I still should not have said that, Dean."
“You wouldn’t have because those weren’t your orders,” Dean said coolly. He settled back down and closed his eyes again, no matter that he was very much awake now. “I don’t think I meant much at all to you at that point.”
That wasn't true. He had taken Dean from hell himself, remade his body with his own grace. But caring for a human, to an angel, was something strange and unheard of all on its own. Of course it wouldn't have seemed like he hadn't meant much. But it wasn't true.
"I'm sorry," he said, because Cas was fairly sure when you threatened to throw your own husband back into hell, you shouldn't really be allowed the chance to explain yourself.
“It wasn’t you,” Dean said softly, cracking an eye open to look at Cas in the chair by his bed. He closed his eyes again and added softer, almost smug, “it was kind of nice to see you so assertive though. Pretty sure even dream me was turned on by all the personal space invading.”
Cas did look up at Dean for that, expression as carefully blank as thoughtfully narrowed eyes might allow. He wasn't sure what to say on the matter, because it was as much a compliment as it was a rub. "I see."
Dean didn’t have to look at Cas to hear the slight annoyance in that tone. “Hey, awful dreams, man. I gotta find what perks I can in them.” He looked over at Castiel. “I don’t need you to be anything more than what you are.” And he’d tell Cas that however many times as it took to sink in. Probably about as many as it’d take for Dean to believe he was a Good Man.
That was likely the case. Cas rubbed at an eye with the palm of his hand and offered Dean a little smile, making clear that he wasn't so annoyed as to not forgive nearly immediately.
Unfolding himself from his chair, he stood up straight, back cracking a little too loudly, and then moved to perch on the spot of the bed next to Dean. "How do you feel?" He asked again, because he didn't want to think about that dream anymore.
“Like shit,” Dean answered honestly. “A little less like shit than before, but still shit. Getting there.” He reached over to take Cas’ hand in his. “When was the last time you slept in an actual bed?”
Fingers curling around Dean's, he leaned a little closer. He'd since managed to figure out how to maneuver the little IV wires in order to sit closer. "You do seem a bit… less shitty." Maybe that wording wasn't right. Well, he couldn't win at anything.
"Tuesday." He hadn't really thought about it. Sleeping seemed less important than sitting and watching Dean, particularly if it was sleeping that required him leaving.
“Go get some sleep in a real bed,” Dean said quietly. “For me.” He rubbed his fingers along the skin of the back of Cas’ hand. “You look about how I feel.” He really didn’t like seeing Cas like this. It hurt as much as the hallucinations still did. Those hadn’t gotten any better. He’d just learned how to hide them most of the time.
Cas tilted himself forward a little more until his cheek was pressed against Dean's shoulder and he closed his eyes. He could have drifted off to sleep right there, if he wasn't focusing so hard. It was strange.
"What if you need me?" He was well aware that Dean was still seeing things -- maybe not as much -- but those green eyes did watch things in parts of the room where there was nothing to watch. No, he couldn't leave. "I caught a little bird pokemon, perhaps I could trade it to you." It was a really smooth subject change, that.
Dean looked over at the door and then let go of Cas’ hand. “Go lock the door,” he said softly. It would be a tight fit, but he was pretty sure he could scoot over enough for Cas to lay on his side next to him, the one without all the tubes.
Pretty sure you weren't meant to lock the doors of hospital rooms, Cas looked a little wary for a moment, before dragging himself up to go do it anyway. Dean, while still sick and feeling poorly, wasn't in any condition where anything terrible might happen, and the nurses and doctors hadn't been coming around too much today anyway.
And if he had to be honest, he just wasn't in the mood to argue. He turned the little lock on the door and then made his way back to the bed, clearly on the same wavelength as Dean was, since he pulled himself up and onto it more than he'd been before.
Dean scooted over as much as he could. There really wasn’t enough room, but it was something Dean was sure they both needed. It’d been too long since they’d really been in anything approaching enough contact. “All the way,” Dean encouraged. “Not the best bed, but it’s the closest middleground I’ve got here.”
It would do, and that was good enough. Cas was sure that even if he had gone home to a more comfortable bed, he wouldn't have been able to sleep without Dean there anyway. This was as good as it was going to get for the time being.
Smooshing close so that they both fit, the brunet pressed his cheek into Dean's shoulder. He had missed this contact. "It's been a week," he said, a little absently.
“I’m not giving you a handjob like this,” Dean joked dryly. He knew what Cas meant, of course, but...but what could he say? At least he’d stopped screaming and trying to tear at himself? It’d been years of drinking so heavy that he was surprised he’d managed to hide how bad it was.
"That was only five days ago," Castiel corrected, because he was too tired to even consider that humor was a thing that existed.
"I meant since we got married." And also since Dean had had a drink, but he was certain Dean thought on that enough without him needing to prompt it. He curled his fingers around the other mans' upper arm and gave a huff of a noise that was possibly a yawn before closing his eyes.
Dean smiled tiredly to himself. He pressed his nose to Castiel’s forehead while he felt a slightly different hum than usual slip through him. “Still don’t regret it?” he whispered. He wanted to kiss him. That was probably a bad idea. They were both too tired for that and Dean was on way too many drugs to not possibly just pass out in the middle.
"No." It was a simple statement, no hesitation. This might not have been like most would have planned their first week of a new life, but nothing about them was very normal anyway. Cas nuzzled a little into Dean's nose and just let his thoughts drift off until he was thinking of nothing at all, and the absence was sort of nice, like a comfortable blanket made up of television static on mute.
While Cas got comfortable, Dean hummed quietly for him. It wasn’t really anything approaching a lullaby, but it relaxed Dean and maybe Cas would like it just on the basis of it being something nice that Dean was trying to do. Hopefully.
Maybe.
He liked it, it was a comfort in its' own right -- both the noise, and the fact that Dean was even up to considering doing things like humming softly. Cas wondered only for a moment if this was a classic rock tune that he did not know before deciding that it didn't really matter.
No, he had no regrets.
"I think I know Czech now," he murmured a little blearily, completely out of context, before actually falling asleep.
Dean didn’t know if suddenly knowing other languages was a sign of Castiel getting some of his mojo in this world or not, but it certainly would explain the different edge to the tingle in his arm when Cas touched it.
Whatever it was, Cas was asleep and Dean was pretty sure he wouldn’t have the answer anyway. It didn’t really matter, because not long after Dean was out cold too. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the simple comfort of this until he had it again.