3.2K words; Destiel (Dean/Cas), canon!verse, bedsharing, human!cas

Dean loved that the bunker was old. He loved that it was a little dented in places, scuffed in others and broken in the rest. It reminded him of himself and Sam in a way. What he didn't love was that, much like himself, the damn place was always in need of fixing.

The newest problem was busted plumbing. It had flooded almost the whole East wing of their corridor. So now not only did he have to get up at the ass crack of dawn to check out the water damage and plumbing, but he also had to deal with a slightly damp, sleep rumpled ex-angel left stranded outside a flooded bedroom.

Cas was already not a morning person as it was. This morning found him in an especially dour mood, standing around in wet socks and pajama pants at 3a.m. He usually found half past ten to be an unreasonable time for the sun to be up but 3 a.m. was clearly taking things too damn far. It was plain as day in the red of his eyes.

While Sam found some supplies to temporarily mend the pipe, Dean and Cas mopped up the floors as best as they could. They worked in silence all the while but Dean was keeping a close eye on Cas. It was obvious that the other man was growing more frustrated by the second. He had a distinctly smite-y look on his face even if he didn't have the grace to follow through. Dean had been on the other end of that look enough times to know it was time to intervene.

"Hey Cas, y'know I think we've got things covered here. Why don't you go change out of those wet clothes and camp out in Sam's room?"

"Why can't he sleep in yours?" Sam glanced up, "My bed's already kinda small for me."

"Dean's it is then," Cas agreed not having the courtesy to wait for Dean to give an invitation or at least insist that he finish help them.

"Uh, Cas I don't think—."

"I need a shower. I don't want to think about where this water has been," he wrinkled his nose.

Before Dean could protest again, Cas was already on his way to the spare bathroom. He didn't know it was possible for someone to mop smugly until he looked over at Sam. "I don't know what's got you so pleased with yourself," Dean grumbled, "You're getting him tomorrow night." That didn't seem to bother Sam one bit. He just shook his bed hair away from his eyes and went back to cleaning up the bathroom.

** ** **

We are two mature adults stuck in the middle of a dumb accident. Dean smoothened out his sheets and gave his pillows an extra fluff. He ignored the anxious buzz thrumming in his veins at the thought. It's just one night. We can handle one night.

It was not, however, just one night. In fact it took an entire week for the repairs to be completed.

The first night was weird. Cas seemed to ignore any sense of common, sleepover decency as he decided that boxers and socks were all he was prepared to sleep in. Apparently he'd only put on his pajama pants earlier because he was leaving his room to see what was going on. Ordinarily he slept in next to nothing. A fact that was only coming to light right now.

Dean gave an undignified little splutter when he turned around to find six feet and one inch of tanned skin covered in nothing but plaid and white wool.

"Oh c'mon, Cas. For God's sake. Put on some pants...and a shirt."

"Why?"

"Do you need to make this weirder than it has to be?"

"Don't be a child, Dean," Cas rolled his eyes, "There's nothing I have that you don't."

Dean huffed and opened his mouth to say something else, but Cas was already climbing into bed and making himself at home. The ex-angel was too tired to stay awake for long, leaving Dean to just stare at his naked back. It was all lean muscle and smooth skin. Dean frowned and looked away. Staring at Cas like that was doing something funny to his stomach so he figured it was best to sleep facing the other direction.

Night two did not go as planned either. It was Sam's turn to share with Cas and that made matters infinitely worse. It turned out that Sam was such a long limbed, gangly bastard that he had to sleep diagonally just to fit on his bed okay. To say the least, it was an uncomfortable experience for both Cas and him to share a bed. The result was a snippy, tired Cas whose temper was so short that he was perpetually on the verge of punching someone's teeth out. By the end of the day and the fourteenth argument, it was unanimously agreed upon that Cas would be sharing with Dean from now on.

By the third night Dean had mostly gotten over Cas's state of undress, but there was a new problem. Cas snored. And no, not in that funny little way that they did in cartoons. His snores were as rough as his voice and Dean was certain that they could strip the paint off the walls.

Dean could not fathom how he hadn't noticed the last time they'd shared a bed. Maybe he'd been so exhausted that he'd missed it. Maybe Cas had been sleeping in a different position. Either way, he found himself staring at the ceiling for over an hour while resisting the urge to kick Cas awake. When he really could not take it anymore, he turned on his side and reached out to wake Cas. He reached but didn't quite make contact. He didn't have it in him to do it.

There Cas lay, a noisy nuisance with his mouth gaping open and probably about to drool at some point. All in all, he was an unattractive sleeper who he had no right being so endearing in spite of it.

His face was smoothened out by the peacefulness of his slumber. His lashes fanned out over the bags Jimmy Novak had left behind. His face was stubbled with the beginnings of a beard Cas couldn't be bothered to shave. There was an innocence to his face that disappeared when he was awake. Dean couldn't see the usual sadness or regret that lingered there. He rarely saw him this relaxed. He didn't have it in him to wake Cas up. Not when he looked like that.

Ignoring the warm pull and tug in his chest, he turned around with a pillow over his head and forced himself to sleep.

By the fourth night, Dean shoved a brand new pack of nasal strips at Cas. "Read the instructions and use them," was the order. Cas furrowed his brow at them but took a seat and read the back of the box. That night, Dean was pleased to see Cas pottering about the room with a toothbrush in his mouth and the little white strip stuck to his nose.

When he spotted Dean, he made a B-line toward him. "My apologies if I kept you awake last night," he frowned, "I didn't know I snored." Dean chuckled and gave his shoulder a pat. "It's okay. Once that thing on your face works tonight, all is forgiven," he grinned.

On one hand, the strips worked perfectly. On the other hand, that night turned out to be the coldest one yet. Halfway through the night, Dean woke up with a sudden chill. He tried blindly reaching for the blankets, but his fingers found nothing. Groaning and wiping the tiredness from his eyes, he peered at the floor to see if it fell off somehow. Nothing.

Rolling over to the other side, he found what looked like a messily wrapped burrito with sex hair. Y'know if he would wear some clothes to bed, he wouldn't be so damn cold. Dean scowled and tried to untangle some of the blankets from Cas. It barely budged and all he got for his troubles was a sleepy growl. "You've gotta be freakin' kidding me," he huffed, "C'mon man." He tugged again.

A single, blue eye opened and stared at him with all the venom an eye could muster. It startled Dean enough that he let go of the blanket and reeled back a little. He wasn't entirely sure that Cas was even awake. The eye seemed unfocused if not a bit angry. When it closed once more, Dean decided that it would be safer just to hunt down another blanket instead.

So he left the room hugging himself and shivering in the early morning chill. He had to go upstairs to the linen closet but he found two clean blankets that he could use. By the time he got back, Cas was curling closer to his side of the bed seeking left over warmth.

Dean settled himself back in under his new sheets and ignored the way Cas curled his body nearer to his. He most certainly did not pay attention to the cold finger tips splayed out on his back, then his hip. He did not notice the icy pads of Cas's toes sneaking under Dean's blankets or the warm breath puffing onto his neck. There was no reason for his heart to beat as fast as it was. None at all.

By the fifth night, Dean was getting worried. This was like the sixth time Cas had gone to pee in the past two hours alone. Surely no one had to pee that much, right? It wasn't normal.

For the first time, Dean wished that the hunting life hadn't made him such a light sleeper. Every time Cas got up to use the bathroom, it woke Dean. It was frustrating to say the least.

"Okay what is it with you tonight?" Dean huffed when Cas came back into the room.

"I'm sorry," Cas didn't look too pleased about this either, "Urinating all the time is not enjoyable for me you know. I'm not doing it on purpose."

"What did you do? Drink eight gallons of water?"

"No. Beers. Many beers. Sam and I had a few before bed."

"Damn it, Sam."

"Don't blame him. It was my idea. You should get some sleep, Dean. It's late."

He reached over to touch Dean's forehead, much like he used to when he wanted to heal him. A look of sadness and confusion flickered behind his eyes when nothing happened. "Oh. Right," was all he said before his touch slid down. Down past Dean's temple and cheek and jaw. Cas's hand fell to his side but Dean's breath came out shallower than before. "I – uh – I can get to sleep on my own," he forced a smile, "It's okay." Cas nodded but the look on his face made something still in Dean's chest.

Maybe it was because he felt Cas needed it. Maybe Dean was just being selfish. Whatever it was, he didn't protest when Cas curled nearer to him to sleep that night. He didn't protest when one warm leg slotted itself between his. He accepted the body heat at his back and the sense of security he felt, even though he knew Cas was as human as he was.

The sixth night was, quite possibly, the worst one of them all. Cas had fallen asleep during the afternoon and woken up in the evening. The likelihood of him getting to sleep was slim as it was, but Sam – asshole that he was – fed him coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. He had bought a variety box of some gourmet brand stuff that had like 20 different flavors of coffee. It had everything from plain black to vanilla to Italian roast to Brazillian to blueberry to freakin' strawberry mango. Dean eyed the cinnamon roll one with a skeptical gaze and opted out of the taste testing session.

Now it was 12am and he wished he'd stayed. Maybe then he could have talked Cas out of trying every single flavor in the box. Dean thought he could wait out the inevitable crash, but it was taking far longer than expected. At this point he was just hoping Cas didn't get a heart attack from all of that caffeine.

The man was practically bouncing off the walls, scanning the internet and talking in shitposts.

"Dean if wombats excrete in cube shapes, do you think their anuses are square?"

"If there's iron in blood and iron repels ghosts, shouldn't they avoid bleeding hunters?"

"English is so strange, Dean. Did you realize that 'queue' is has four silent letters?"

"Does anyone actually know how much a woodchuck could actually chuck? You know, if said woodchuck could chuck wood I mean."

"Dean, do you think pigeons have feelings? Huh? Dean?"

He was staring up at the ceiling, the lights still on and a glassy eyed ex-angel rattling on and on. "Dean?" Cas shook his shoulder. Dean's face hardened as he turned to face Cas. Ask me again. Ask me again if pigeons have feelings, I dare you. Cas, it seemed, was smart enough not to. "Perhaps I should take the laptop outside," he suggested and left the room when he got no response.

By the final day, Dean looked like crap. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that the repairs were just about done. Tomorrow he would have his bed all to himself and Cas would be back to his own room. If not, he'd have to clean out one of the old bedrooms upstairs that they had never gotten around to cleaning out. At this point he'd had enough.

His pissy mood had everyone giving him a wide berth and it was lunch time before he realized that it had been hours since he'd last seen Cas. When everyone gathered in the kitchen for his homemade bacon cheeseburgers, Sam brought Cas in with him. Dean, in a much better mood after working off some steam in the kitchen, offered Cas a smile with the burger. He knew they were Cas's favorite and he expected a smile in return. Cas barely reacted save for a quiet, "Thank you." The brothers tried to include him in their conversation but he barely contributed a thing.

Dean shrugged it off as the coffee crash or something. But the silence continued throughout the day. Cas spent most of the evening either alone or with Sam. The realization had something dark and ugly twisting in Dean's stomach. In pure Winchester fashion, he pretended to ignore it.

When the pair were ready to climb into bed once again that night, Cas undressed in silence and avoided eye contact. Again, something in Dean's gut reared its head at being ignored. It was childish and stupid but he had never liked it when Cas ignored him. In prayer or real life. As Dean opened his mouth to demand an explanation, Cas crawled into bed and turned off the lamp without a word.

He lay on his side of the bed, nearest the edge. Oh so now he minds my personal space. Even in the wake of that bitter thought, Dean knew he didn't actually have a problem with Cas's night time clinginess. He'd never admit it, but he kind of liked sleeping next to someone like that.

He liked the nearness and the warmth. He didn't feel self conscious anymore when he felt chilly fingers slide under his shirt to rest his belly. Cas didn't seem to mind that his belly had gone a bit soft over the years – unlike the younger Winchester's. Dean didn't tense up at the touch anymore. He face didn't heat up at the contact. He'd come to accept that Cas sought warmth wherever he could get it. He ran hotter and colder with fluctuating speed now that he was human. His grace didn't shield him from the elements. And if the warmth Cas needed was against Dean's skin, well he could get past that.

On this particular night however, Cas was keeping his distance. If he didn't know any better, he'd think there was a barbed wire fence in the middle of the bed between them. So he won't look at me, he won't talk to me and now he can't stand to be near me? The thought stirred up a hurting brand of anger inside him that he shoved away. "Fine," he snapped and hurled himself into bed in spite of Cas's flinch.

Even after laying there for almost half an hour, Dean couldn't seem to get to sleep. He couldn't tell if he simply wasn't tired or if it was Cas's constant tossing and turning. It felt easier to blame Cas's fidgeting so he did just that.

"For the love of—," Dean huffed when Cas rolled for the two dozenth time, "Would you please get comfortable and go the fuck to sleep?"

The distressed sigh was soft and barely noticeable but Dean caught it. He glanced over to find tired eyes staring back at him. "I can't. I'm trying. I'm sorry," Cas murmured and if that didn't make Dean feel a hundred times worse, he didn't know what would.

"What is it, man?" his voice gentled, "You've been off all day."

"I'm fine."

"Parenthesis, you're lying? Yeah, that's my motto buddy. Don't try to bullshit a bullshitter."

"Dean, honestly. It's okay. I'll just...I'll take the couch in the library. It's only for one night."

He was already up and bundling a pillow and blanket in his arms. "Hey. Whoa. No, you don't gotta do that," Dean had to crawl across the bed just to reach out and grab him by the arm. "Stay. Talk to me. What's up?"

"Look, you're tired. I'm tired. It's late. Now's not the time and you should get some sleep. I've kept you awake all week as it is."

"Oh," Dean deflated, "Is that what this is about? You're keeping your distance because you feel bad that you've been keeping me awake?" Cas gave a half shrug. "What you think I'm mad at you for it?" Dean scoffed.

"Aren't you?" he asked with all the arm folding petulance that one could manage while holding an armful of bedding.

"Well I'd have liked more sleep this week, I'm not gonna lie to you about that."

And that was clearly the wrong response because Cas ducked his head a little at the remark. "But it's cool," he added,
"I wouldn't put you out on the couch because of it. Stay. Please." The hesitation was all over his face so Dean took the pillow and blanket from his arms and placed them back on the bed where they belonged.

Dean turned on his side and got comfortable while Cas shuffled around behind him. "You sure you don't want your room back tonight?" Cas asked. Dean rolled his eyes and ignored the question altogether.

At some point when his mind was drifting between sleeping and waking, he felt the familiar presence at his back. When creeping fingers moved to warm themselves on his belly, he felt a smile tug at his lips. He leaned back into the warmth. This was just fine.

"Night, Cas," he mumbled.

He got nothing but a sleepy grunt in return and a nose burrowing against his hair but that was just fine too.