Dean/Cas: Season 11, Maybe

puppycastiel:

“Hey, guys, so I found…”

Sam ambles into the bedroom with his eyes glued to the printout in his hand. He trails off when he glances up, though the scene in front of him isn’t compromising by any means. On the contrary, it’s actually rather cute, and Sam can’t help the smile that quirks on his lips. “I found a case,” he finishes, and his voice is much quieter now, closer to a whisper.

Cas is propped against the headboard, looking sleep-warm in Dean’s shirt and his favorite sweats. It’d taken Sam a while to get used to seeing Cas so casual, but he’d be lying if he said that it wasn’t nice to have the angel finally relax. Cas is holding a book in one hand that he lowers to the mattress to give Sam his full attention. It’s The Motorcycle Diaries, which Sam recommended due to Cas’ recent affinity for memoirs.

Cas doesn’t move his other hand, however, his fingers threading through Dean’s disheveled hair. Dean, meanwhile, most likely unaware of the touch, is out like a light with his head nestled in Cas’ lap.

“Where is it?” Cas asks, in a whisper so Dean won’t wake. Sam huffs a (muted) laugh because he’s a six-four guy and Cas is an angel yet Dean’s got both of them wrapped around his finger. In his sleep.

“Enders, Nebraska. It’s a few hours’ drive.”

“We’ll tell Dean in the morning,” Cas says, and Sam doesn’t miss the way his friend’s gaze flickers down to Dean, brimming with fondness. And as if he senses it, Dean sighs and shifts away from facing Sam. He nuzzles his face against Cas’ cotton-soft stomach instead, while Cas continues to caress his hair, not minding that Sam is still standing there fighting a grin.

“Sure,” Sam replies eventually, and when Cas looks up, his eyes are soft and bright – and happy.

Cas bids him good night and Sam nods before leaving the room. As he shuts the door, he catches a muffled “Mmph, Cas…? You comin’ to bed?” and stifles a laugh when Cas answers, “We’re already in bed, Dean,” clearly amused.

There’s a few words that follow, something like “smart ass” and laughter, the rustle of bed sheets and pillows. Sam shakes his head as he heads down the hallway toward his room, and when he passes a photograph that Cas framed and hung a few months ago, he smiles at the woman and says,

“Dean’s doing great, Mom. He’s figured it out.”