after a storm (destiel)

Part Three

But it happens again two days later. Dean makes coffee and pads down the hall in sweats and socked feet to wake Cas. He knocks twice before opening the door, careful not to turn the knob until he's positive that he heard Cas call, "Come in."

He's lying on his back with the sheet just to his waist, one knee drawn up so his foot is flat on the bed. One hand rests lazily on his chest, on his sternum, like he's been caressing himself; the other is concealed beneath the sheet. It's not moving, but it's obvious what Cas was just doing.

"Good morning," Cas says like Dean didn't just walk in on him again, like he isn't still touching himself.

"Uh." Dean stoops awkwardly in the doorway. He really ought to leave or apologize, but what comes out is, "There's coffee."

Yawning, Cas stretches his arms up over his head. "I'd like to sleep some more."

Dean's mouth is dry. "Sure," he says.

Cas's eyes are endearingly puffy and his hair is flattened on the left side of his head from being crushed against the pillow. He's smiling. Watching Cas lie in bed and smile at him is suddenly the most natural thing in the world. Dean forgets why he came in here, can't think past the erratic fluttering in his chest or how loud it sounds every time he swallows. Cas slides his foot down the mattress so his legs are both straight and rolls onto his side.

He pats the space next to him.

Dean hesitates, then shuts the door and crosses the dark room. It conceals the trembling in his hands and the pinprick burn in his neck and cheeks. The mattress dips under his weight when he kneels on the edge, tipping him forward into Cas.

He wraps his arms around Dean, pulling him down onto the bed, and hums against his shoulder. He's groggy and warm and smells so damn good that Dean spends a few minutes just breathing him in. Cas is naked but for the sheet, solid and muscular and letting Dean hold him. Holding Dean. Dean's body immediately responds. He's aroused within seconds, but he only allows himself to kiss the top of Cas's head, run a hand over his bare shoulders. He moans when Cas tugs a hand through Dean's hair. Dean keeps still and holds Cas's scent in his lungs.

They fall back asleep—it's easy to sleep with Cas in his arms—and Dean only wakes up because Sam knocks on the door.

"Hey, guys?" he asks, poking his head inside, like he expected them both to be in here. He doesn't appear surprised to see them together in the rectangle of light from the open door. It falls across the bed, revealing Cas naked to the waist, wrapped around Dean's torso and snoring. It's not like Dean can retcon his brother and erase the last ten seconds, so he doesn't untangle himself, just lifts his head and frowns over Cas's hair.

"What?" He prays that Sam can't see how red his face is.

"I'm running into town for groceries. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good," he says, voice slurred. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine." Sam raps his knuckles on the door jamb. "Go back to sleep. We don't have anything today."

They sleep for another hour before Cas stretches himself awake, absently rubbing his erection against Dean's thigh. Dean sucks in a breath and shivers.

"Oh," Cas says, easing his hips away. "It does that when I wake up."

"Yeah, uh. That happens."

"To you?"

"Mhm. Means you were having good dreams." Dean pats his shoulder, rubbing a soothing circle with his thumb. He scrapes his tongue over his teeth to clear away the taste of sleep. Cas's skin is soft. "Nothing to worry about."