Dean Winchester is Saved. (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} perditionfree) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} valarlogs,@ 2013-08-31 22:20:00 |
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What: Movie night, cuddles
When: 8/31
Where: Their house
Rating: Rated A for adorable (low/no warnings.)
Status: Complete
It was nice to have a day off with Dean. Nothing crazy, just Castiel, Dean, and an easy day sitting around the house. Morning had started off a little rocky -- Cas was sore in more ways than one, but mostly his hangover from the night before was a terror. He'd spent more than a little amount of time in Dean's lap, being dramatic and drinking tea.
As the day went, so did the headache, and now he had to admit he was feeling quite a bit better. Dinner had been made, and he'd done an awful lot of cleaning.
If Cas had to admit it, one of his favorite things was cuddling with Dean on the couch while they watched movies that were actually just very bad. Dean always picked, and this time was no different than usual -- this movie was B or C quality at most, and the actors were very acting very hard. Not good, just hard.
Dean was dreaming on the couch, all curled up with his head in Castiel’s lap and those fingers in his hair. His father was dead. Well, missing, but most likely dead. Look out for Sammy. Kill him if you have to. Dean never would.
Even in the dream, even whimpering and shifting, those fingers kept him calm. Almost like he was aware of them while he slept.
Dean really did sleep through bad things and nightmares more quietly than most people probably did. Castiel was sure he'd wake up from those things with a half a shout on his lips, or maybe just a half a shout in his sleep. But no, there Dean was on his lap, twitching a bit like a little dreaming puppy. It was enough where he wasn't even sure his husband was dreaming anything too strange, wasn't sure if he should wake him up or not.
Threading his fingers through Dean's (soft, conditioned) hair, Cas almost lazily regarded the movie, mostly over by now, before leaning forward as best he could in his current position and pressing a kiss to Dean's temple.
It was the kiss that banished the dream, or at least stopped it from starting over again. Dean was still sleeping, yes, but he’d gone all calm and still save for his breathing. The dream shifted and he found himself holed up in a treehouse in a massive oak just him and Cas. They had all the time in the world. Cas was telling him stories he couldn’t quite hear between kisses. He didn’t know where their clothes were, but that didn’t matter.
Cas was touching him with wings and feather-light fingers, giving Dean every ounce of devotion on the dream as he did in waking life. It made Dean feel like a god.
Which was probably fair, because even in waking life Cas tended to regard Dean as something above human; better, higher, more important. He was the center of everything, the only bright beacon in an otherwise dark universe. Sometimes, Cas wasn't even aware he was doing it.
Pleased that Dean had stopped squirming in his lap, Cas went back to playing his fingers through his hair and watching the very bad film until he was completely over and the credits were playing along with a very bad pop rock song. It'd been awful, and significantly less fun when Dean had zoned out and stopped making fun of it. Still, one of their better evenings so far.
He ran a thumb almost absently over Dean's freckles -- light little things that Cas loved fixating on. "Dean."
Dean’s eyelids slowly fluttered open as he took in not the credits, but Cas’ face. There wasn’t a better sight in the whole damn world to wake up to than that. He smiled, still too caught up in the relaxation of sleep and that good dream (which he couldn’t remember, but knew he liked,) to put up his guard. Castiel was beautiful and Dean could lay there and be soppy about it all day long if he wanted. (He kinda did.)
It wasn't hard to return that smile; Castiel knew it for what it was - unreserved and beautiful. His own was probably similar. He wasn't the sort to smile often, but he was fully aware that he had one meant only for Dean and it was brighter than all the rest.
"Hello," he murmured, offering another little stroke of his thumb against those freckles before moving his hand away.
Dean caught that hand before Cas could pull it away and brushed a kiss against the back of it. “Did they kill megalodon?” he asked, no matter that he already knew the answer. He’d seen that movie way too many times. He just wanted an excuse to lay there for a little bit in this little peaceful pocket of the world. Him and Cas. What more did he need?
“They did,” Cas agreed, tone that just off-monotone of his, although it was clear he was amused. “But they did not notice another lurking in the depths. I believe they intend on making a sequel.”
He turned his hand in Dean’s grip, cupping his cheek with his palm. “You have horrible taste in movies.”
Dean smiled as he closed his eyes again, turning into that touch. “Sometimes you just need a bad movie. Just be glad I didn’t put in the Nazi zombies.” The dream came back to him slowly, not the good one, the one before it. He pressed his nose against Cas’ wrist and tried not to think about it.
And he was sort of glad. "That sounds ridiculous." Dean's nose tickled against his wrist but he did not move away. "Are you still tired?"
“It’s amazing,” Dean countered. “Yeah, ‘n you’re comfy.”
"Okay," Castiel said it like that was all there was to it, like if Dean wanted it, he'd just sit on this couch forever just to be comfortable. Settling his head back on the rest of the couch he petted Dean's hair and considered the ceiling.
If Dean was that kind of guy, he would have purred. Instead, he just made a content noise that bled into one of protest while he sat himself up reluctantly. “C’mon, you can be comfy upstairs. Prolly comfier without pants on.” Castiel’s belt was going to be an issue eventually. He reached for the remote and shut off the tv. Bed. Bed and no clothes and just laying there for a while listening to Cas breathe like each damn inhale and exhale was for Dean alone. Fucking perfect.
A little puff of breath through his nose was the only noise of acquiescence that Cas gave, but it seemed good enough. He stood, stretched almost languidly (for him) now that he was free of Dean's weight on his lap. Really, he wasn't tired yet, but he was always happy to just share space and silence with Dean.
Dean padded in stocking feet up the stairs, still groggy from his nap. Bed was a good idea. That was less a nap and more a prelude to sleep.
When he got to their room, he stripped down to his boxers and flopped directly in the middle of the bed on his stomach. Cas could move him as he saw fit.
Which was not at all. Cas was slower, properly putting away clothes before wriggling onto the bed next to Dean, choosing to just take the little amount of space to his left instead of pushing or shoving. Burying his nose in Dean's shoulder, he smiled. "This is nice." He made it sound like it wasn’t usual, like they didn’t stay on more often than not.
Nose pressed against his skin, Dean smiled and shifted not only to get more room, but to pull Cas closer against him so he could kiss him. “Haven’t hallucinated in a whole two days.” It was progress. He’d been really worried about it when they were at Lucifer’s bar.
That news was good, good enough where Cas saw fit to offer another kiss-- longer, happier. It would be a relief if that was over, and not only because the angel didn’t much like slapping Dean with no warning. "That is hopefully encouraging."
Dean stole another kiss both because he could and because he really just liked kissing Cas. “Fingers crossed,” he murmured. “Pretty sure I’m done with him showing up in my dreams too.”
Cas took the extra kiss just because he could, and he liked it when Dean kissed him. He hummed out a little noise of approval and squirmed over a little until he was half on top of the other man. “Good,” he said, although he knew that wasn’t the end of bad dreams by far -- not for them.