The Last Spark

Chapter 8

Dean looked up as a familiar noise reached his room. Judging by the repetitive knocks on the ceramic surface, and a coffee machine hiss, somebody was working at the kitchen washing the dishes and making a cup of morning coffee. It took a while for Dean to finally yawn and crawl out of the covers when the realization hit him.

Someone was working in the kitchen.

Someone.

Cas.

Cas is home.

He rushed out of the room, completely ignoring the keen headache that seemed to catch up on him as fast as he got up.
He missed Cas all these days and this teeny tiny pain in his head was the last thing that could stop him from beating the crap out of the angel for ignoring his phone calls that long.

But as soon as he walked in and the silhouette of the dark haired man caught his eye, he remembered why he's always acting so weird around this divine creature.

"The guy is literally a Greek sculpture" - Dean kept reminding himself. Even wearing that baggy formless sweater and light pink pajama pants he still looked like he belonged at the museum. But instead he was there, in a bunker, wiping the plate clean and not even noticing the staring man behind him.

The soldier of God, bravest angel in the garrison couldn't stop sneezing as he got the plate even a bit close to his face. His allergies to dish soap were something that Dean found very cute, comical and sad at the same time and he couldn't decide which point was the most accurate.

If just a minute ago Dean wanted to yell at Cas and tell him he was a complete dumbass for making Dean worry for him all that time, now all he wanted to do was nothing more than to make the angel feel better.

So without any delay he walked up to Cas, and, resting a head on his shoulder, grabbed a sponge with Cas' hand on it.

- Stop torturing yourself, dumbo, let me take care of this - Dean whispered in a hoarse voice feeling Cas whole body shrank in surprise.

- Dean? - he turned so that facing the man. His messy hair covered a good quarter of his face, - I didn't hear you getting up.

- Yeah, well, I didn't hear you coming back so we're even.

Castiel got out of Dean's personal space as he managed a tired smile.

- I'm glad you forgot it.

- Forgot what? - Dean asked, crossing his arms on his chest, - Did anything happen?

- Nothing you should be worried about, - Cas said, walking up to the coffee machine, - You had a fever so that's probably why you are having a hard time remembering things. We just talked for a bit and I helped you get to bed. That's all.

Cas may be a very old and powerful celestial being but he certainly is a terrible liar. Dean surely said something very embarrassing and Cas tried his best to act like it was nothing in order not to make Dean feel even more ashamed of himself.

"What if I told him about the Greek sculpture thing?" - Dean's inner voice clearly wasn't helping him. What if Dean started a whole tirade about the beauty of Cas' eyes or mocked him for having these adorable tiny curls next to his ears? What if Dean annoyed Cas with a full Bon Jovi analysis (again) by describing every member of the group and somehow knowing everyone's zodiac sign? Was it his and Sam's drama? Favorite pie flavor? Retelling of Scooby Doo episodes? Or maybe Dean asked Cas to wear his ugly sweater more often?

Out of all these things he hoped he didn't do the latter one.

So Dean tried not to tempt fate by asking Castiel about last night and decided to suppress this inner voice the most effective way he knew. By putting something edible in his mouth.