Dreams Still Haunt
Title: Dreams Still Haunt
Author: xephwrites
Characters: Dean, Castiel, Sam (Gen)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 644
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: blanket for s4 and s5, but nothing specific.
Summary: Two years later, Dean still dreams about hell.
Warnings: Cuddling, mild schmoop, falling!Castiel.
Notes: This is written for the hoodie_time Dean focused h/c schmoopfest, prompts #1 - hugs/cuddles and #2 - bed sharing.
~*~*~*~*~
It was Castiel’s night to sleep on the couch. Seeing as how most motels don’t offer three beds, and charge an outrageous price for cots, the three decided to rotate.
Castiel didn’t mind this couch. It was more comfortable than most he’s slept on. And he especially didn’t mind being accepted as a member of the Winchester family. It made losing his Grace a little easier to bear.
Sleep didn’t come too easily to Team Free Will. They have so much to carry, and it’s hard for any of them to turn off their brains. Most night, the three of them drink heavily to let sleep wash over them. Tonight, they were all so physically exhausted that alcohol was not needed. Exorcising a dozen or so demons can really wear you out.
Castiel was a light sleeper, most likely because he was still new to sleeping. The slightest noises often woke him. Waking to the sound of a muffled whimper was no surprise.
Castiel stared at the dark ceiling, waiting to see if he heard the noise once again. A few moments later, he heard the sound again, accompanied by movement from one of the beds. He sat up to try and see the brothers in their beds in the darkness.
Sam was sprawled face first on his, snoring softly. Dean was curled up in a ball, twitching and breathing heavily.
“No more!” Dean whispered, curling in on himself more. Castiel’s chest ached a bit. Two years later, and he was still dreaming about Hell.
Its times like this that Castiel misses his Grace the most. Sure, he missed the comfort of feeling his brethren, but he can no longer soothe the pain of his friends.
Friends. The concept of having friends is still mildly foreign to him. He’d had family, shield-mates, companions and charges, but never a friend.
Dean’s movements on the bed became more pronounced, as did his soft, pained noises. Castiel rose from the couch and quietly padded over to the older Winchester’s bed. Out of habit, he placed two fingers on the center of Dean’s sweaty forehead. Dean stilled at the touch, but his face was still contorted in pain.
Castiel lightly ran his fingers down the side of Dean’s face. Dean pulled away from the touch and touched his forehead to his knees. Dean rolled over on to his other side, turning his back on Castiel.
Hesitating, Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder and began to rub in small circles. Castiel watched as some of the tension left the hunter’s body.
Castiel jumped as Dean’s hand covered his and pulled the angel onto the bed. Castiel crawled onto the bed as best he could with only one hand to steady himself. Dean kept pulling his hand so that Castiel ended up lying on the bed, chest pressed to Dean’s back. Dean relaxed once Castiel had settled and turned to bury his face against the angel’s chest. Castiel rubbed the hunter’s back.
“You’re not there.” He whispered into his ear. “You’re here, safe with us.” Dean nodded as he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Dean was still trembling.
“whashappenin?” Sam mumbled from his bed, his head lifting from the pillow. Castiel shook his head at the younger Winchester and made a soothing “shh” sound in Dean’s ear. Sam nodded and buried his face into his pillow again.
Castiel continued to rub Dean’s back gently until he felt the hunter’s breathing even out. One arm snaked around Castiel’s waist and held him tight.
“Sorry I woke you.” Dean whispered against the cotton t-shirt.
“Its okay, Dean.” Castiel whispered back, his hand now running up and down the full length of Dean’s spine. “Don’t apologize for your dreams. Ever.”
Dean replied with a soft snore. Castiel rested his cheek on the top of Dean’s head and closed his eyes.
~*~*~*~*~
join the fun!
A Dean-focused SCHMOOPFEST!
Powered by graphicdesignschooldirectory.com .
Author: xephwrites
Characters: Dean, Castiel, Sam (Gen)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 644
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: blanket for s4 and s5, but nothing specific.
Summary: Two years later, Dean still dreams about hell.
Warnings: Cuddling, mild schmoop, falling!Castiel.
Notes: This is written for the hoodie_time Dean focused h/c schmoopfest, prompts #1 - hugs/cuddles and #2 - bed sharing.
~*~*~*~*~
It was Castiel’s night to sleep on the couch. Seeing as how most motels don’t offer three beds, and charge an outrageous price for cots, the three decided to rotate.
Castiel didn’t mind this couch. It was more comfortable than most he’s slept on. And he especially didn’t mind being accepted as a member of the Winchester family. It made losing his Grace a little easier to bear.
Sleep didn’t come too easily to Team Free Will. They have so much to carry, and it’s hard for any of them to turn off their brains. Most night, the three of them drink heavily to let sleep wash over them. Tonight, they were all so physically exhausted that alcohol was not needed. Exorcising a dozen or so demons can really wear you out.
Castiel was a light sleeper, most likely because he was still new to sleeping. The slightest noises often woke him. Waking to the sound of a muffled whimper was no surprise.
Castiel stared at the dark ceiling, waiting to see if he heard the noise once again. A few moments later, he heard the sound again, accompanied by movement from one of the beds. He sat up to try and see the brothers in their beds in the darkness.
Sam was sprawled face first on his, snoring softly. Dean was curled up in a ball, twitching and breathing heavily.
“No more!” Dean whispered, curling in on himself more. Castiel’s chest ached a bit. Two years later, and he was still dreaming about Hell.
Its times like this that Castiel misses his Grace the most. Sure, he missed the comfort of feeling his brethren, but he can no longer soothe the pain of his friends.
Friends. The concept of having friends is still mildly foreign to him. He’d had family, shield-mates, companions and charges, but never a friend.
Dean’s movements on the bed became more pronounced, as did his soft, pained noises. Castiel rose from the couch and quietly padded over to the older Winchester’s bed. Out of habit, he placed two fingers on the center of Dean’s sweaty forehead. Dean stilled at the touch, but his face was still contorted in pain.
Castiel lightly ran his fingers down the side of Dean’s face. Dean pulled away from the touch and touched his forehead to his knees. Dean rolled over on to his other side, turning his back on Castiel.
Hesitating, Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder and began to rub in small circles. Castiel watched as some of the tension left the hunter’s body.
Castiel jumped as Dean’s hand covered his and pulled the angel onto the bed. Castiel crawled onto the bed as best he could with only one hand to steady himself. Dean kept pulling his hand so that Castiel ended up lying on the bed, chest pressed to Dean’s back. Dean relaxed once Castiel had settled and turned to bury his face against the angel’s chest. Castiel rubbed the hunter’s back.
“You’re not there.” He whispered into his ear. “You’re here, safe with us.” Dean nodded as he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Dean was still trembling.
“whashappenin?” Sam mumbled from his bed, his head lifting from the pillow. Castiel shook his head at the younger Winchester and made a soothing “shh” sound in Dean’s ear. Sam nodded and buried his face into his pillow again.
Castiel continued to rub Dean’s back gently until he felt the hunter’s breathing even out. One arm snaked around Castiel’s waist and held him tight.
“Sorry I woke you.” Dean whispered against the cotton t-shirt.
“Its okay, Dean.” Castiel whispered back, his hand now running up and down the full length of Dean’s spine. “Don’t apologize for your dreams. Ever.”
Dean replied with a soft snore. Castiel rested his cheek on the top of Dean’s head and closed his eyes.
~*~*~*~*~
join the fun!
A Dean-focused SCHMOOPFEST!
Powered by graphicdesignschooldirectory.com .