Neon Lights

Chapter 47 - Burn

•Castiel's POV•
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December 31, 1968
New Year's Eve
9:04 a.m.
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I woke up with a start, accompanied by a rather loud noise of terror. There was that nerve-torturing ringing in my ears again, the one that made me shake and become unable to focus on my surroundings. Everything is blurred, faded, unreal.

Alone, alone...all along I have been nothing but alone, as I am now. My mind buzzed with thoughts like these, making noise like angry hornets that blocked out a pounding voice that came from just behind my head. So close, that voice, and so vaguely familiar, but I can't hear it. I can't decipher it, can't crack its code. What is it saying? What is this ancient dialect? What does it want?

Everything moved in slow motion. The voice behind me stirred the bleary fog that seemed to consume me, but only just barely. Not enough for me to hear it, know it, learn it. Not enough for me to realize who or what it is, or why it's here, or what it wants.

Slowly, the buzzing hornets subsided and the fog that had me seemed to unravel its hold. "Cas? Cas?" I could hear it now. Something, some voice I know. There's a touch I recognize - shaking me, gripping me tight...

Him.

"Cas, turn to me. Look at me," he pleaded, gently jerking my shoulder. I took a breath in and flipped to look at him, blinking guiltily. He kissed me quickly, holding it hard and full of worry and relief.

"I'm sorry, Dean," I murmured, "I-I don't...it just...it happened and I..."

Dean brushed my overgrown bangs sideways off my forehead, "Cas, shh. Don't apologize. It's okay."

I whimpered helplessly into his chest, and he held me tight and close. "You want to shower? Would that make you feel better?"

I nodded lightly, cuddling into the soft fabric of his pajama shirt. My actions gave the message of yes, but not just yet. He got the hint.

Dean rubbed slow, soothing circles with his thumb, his hand splayed out on the small of my back. My shirt rode up a little bit, just enough to allow his warm palm to meet my overheated skin.

We stayed there for a while - cuddled up in a bundle, Dean occasionally kissing the top of my head. No matter how bad the terror is after a nightmare, he always knows just how to make it better.

"Okay. Let's shower now," I said quietly after about twenty minutes. All that time, Dean never said a word. He didn't rush me, or even give off the vibe that he wanted to. He remained there in complete silence, comforting me and seeming content doing so.

He lifted me up, carrying me bridal-style with a silly grin on his face. I played with the short strands of hair just above his forehead while he brought me to the bathroom, letting me down gently on the small bathroom rug. He shut the door and stripped off his shirt, taking a step closer to me.

He helped me strip down, ignoring my complaints and grumbles of "I can do it myself..." I felt a little self-conscious when he pulled my boxers off, even though it's not a new process.

He kissed me reassuringly before taking his own boxers off with his pajama pants. To be honest I didn't know where I was supposed to look - straight into his eyes is disconcerting, at his lips is asking for it, at his neck is needy, at his chest is even needier, and don't even get me started on how needy staring at his dick would be.

My eyes instead trailed down the plain shower curtain, along the tub, at the tile floor, at the soft rug beneath my feet. Dean chuckled at the blush I could feel splayed across my cheeks, which only made me blush harder.