Midnight Rider

bound to keep on riding

Morning came with a pleasantly horrendous hangover for Dean. The back of his eyes burned, his throat was dry, his hands shook, and when he tried to cough, it came out silent. He realized it was actually still night when he cracked an eye open to see his curtains were ebony.

And that's when he noticed the even darker figure standing at the foot of his bed. He acted like he was still asleep, breathing shallower and keeping his position.

He was sure he had locked his door that night, just like he always did. Dean suddenly remembered Cas had brought him to bed. He might not have locked the door when he left, though he did know how Dean was about the locks.

When his door opened, he knew it was Cas's silhouette. "Gabriel. What are you doing in here?" he asked in a fierce whisper. Dean's breath hitched, and he tried desperately to keep his surprise quiet. "How did you even get inside? I locked the door," Cas added. His voice was a little closer. Dean could make out rustling as his grabbed Gabe's arm and pulled him out of the room. The door shut with a gentle click.

----------

Dean woke again to the smell of macaroni. His clock read 11:45 in bold red, the light streaming into his room sending pulses of pain behind his eyes. He gave a groan as he sat up, rubbing at his temples with rough pressure and attempting to somewhat awaken himself. Another glass of water and aspirin greeted him as he shifted to set his feet on the carpeted floor.

He downed the drink in a few seconds, the tightness in his throat easing a bit more with each sip.

After fishing in his drawer for fresh pajama pants, he made his way to the kitchen without a shirt on. The smell of cheese made his stomach growl. His head was pounding with the beginnings of a migraine, and he found himself wishing for a knife to plunge into his chest. Maybe that would stop the sudden, fluttering pain blossoming there.

Gabriel was asleep on the couch, chest moving steadily as he breathed. Cas moved around the kitchen without a sound, socks on his feet to muffle his steps.

"Smells good," Dean dropped his voice to say. Cas looked up at him, eyes wide with a hint of fear in his gaze.

"T-thank you," he managed to say. He shifted in his spot, unaware of where to place his hands. Dean could tell he was debating whether to tell him about last night or not. Whatever he decided, Dean would have the information already filed away in his memory vault labeled Never Fucking Bring Up Again.

"Dean, last night -" Cas cut himself off and shook his head. "Gabriel was in your room. I forgot to lock the door, and I apologize for the problem. I took him out when I discovered he was no longer on the couch. I'm not aware of how long he was standing there, and I am terribly sorry."

Dean shrugged and patted Cas's shoulder as he moved to sniff the pasta. "Well, he didn't wake me up, so, no big deal. Just don't let it happen again," he warned. He heard Cas's sigh of relief and couldn't help but feel guilty at lying to him.

Then again, Cas knew nothing of Dean's past. He never trusted the man enough to tell him. Dean barely trusted his own brother enough to tell him anything.

"I suppose you are hungry?" Cas asked, spoon now in his hand as he stirred the macaroni.

"Aren't I always hungry, Cas?"

Cas's face contorted with something akin to laughter and he let out a rough bark that Dean supposed was a chuckle. It made his stomach twist into much welcomed knots. "In that case, this is almost ready. Will you wake Gabriel for me?"

"I'm shirtless," Dean said.

Cas looked at him, serious as ever. "I noticed. Why does it matter?" he asked.