Little Things

Chapter Seventeen

It took a while for Dean to sleep, adrenaline still rushing through his veins, but the sound of Cas doing his homework, followed by his deep, steady breathing as he slept allowed Dean to relax enough to drift off. His dreams were dark and suffocating, however, and he woke up trembling.

He sighed and pulled his duvet over his head, curling into a ball and ignoring the rest of the house waking up.

Cas paused by his bed, but decided against disturbing him, and left the room.

Dean stayed in bed as long as he could, but eventually his racing heart and shaking limbs demanded movement from him, so he threw some clothes on and hurried downstairs.

'Hey, how was your date?' Mary grinned as he reached the kitchen.

Dean shivered. 'I don't want to talk about it,' he muttered, opening the door to the garage.

'Do you want any pancakes?'

'No thanks,' Dean called, closing the door behind him and getting to work.

First he organised all the tools, then jacked up the Impala and fussed underneath it.

The door opened again and Dean heard John's voice.

'What are you doing down there, bud?' he asked.

'Changing the brake pads,' Dean grumbled.

'You know I changed those last week, right?'

'Yeah, well you did a crappy job,' Dean snapped, voice cracking.

'Okay, I'll leave you to it.'

Dean didn't stop until he was completely exhausted and covered in grease. He showered, scrubbing his skin raw, then sat at his desk to pretend he was doing homework. Cas was already in the room, sitting on his bed with the curtain open, and a sudden longing to rest in Cas's arms ached in Dean's chest, drawing tears to his eyes.

'Damn it,' Dean muttered, wiping his face.

'What?' Cas asked.

Dean cleared his throat, but couldn't look at Cas. The concern in his voice hurt Dean's heart, and he couldn't stop the tears dripping down his face. 'Nothing,' he croaked.

Cas didn't say anything else, but got up and went downstairs. The room felt colder without him. Dean sighed and rested his head in his hands, elbows on the desk. He stayed that way until Cas returned to the room and approached the desk.

Dean looked up and saw Cas holding two mugs.

'I hope I made it how you like it,' he said, placing the hot chocolate he made on the desk.

'Thanks,' Dean sniffed.

'I'm here if you want to talk.'

Dean nodded, a lump in his throat. Cas went back to his side of the room, and Dean took a sip of his hot chocolate. It wasn't the tight hug he wanted, but it warmed his heart.

By Monday morning, Dean felt just as awful as he had done all weekend, only now the all too familiar dread sat in his stomach. If it hadn't been for Cas's small nudges and encouragements, Dean would have just skipped school, but the encouraging smile Cas gave him as he climbed on the bus kept him going.

'Whoa, you look like hell,' Jo said as Dean sat down.

'I feel it,' Dean muttered, sighing and leaning against the window.

'What's wrong?'

Dean shrugged and closed his eyes, blocking everything out but the cool glass of the window, and Cas's thigh pressed against his.