Actions

Work Header

Bless this Mess

Chapter Text

Castiel was very disoriented. Dean had a hand on his low back and was shepherding him out of the diner door speaking softly and moving with slow fluidity. Castiel felt like he was floating and at peace, but Dean’s motions were dripping with the silent, big-chested nonchalance he donned whenever he became aware he was being tailed. Castiel didn’t feel anxiety about the thought that unknown enemies were trailing them, but neither did he feel especially trusting of Dean’s handle on the situation. He just didn’t care. It was nice.

“Cas?”

Dean had the Impala’s door open and was looking at Castiel with gentle expectation. Cas’s brain supplied the context that Dean wanted him to get in. But Cas’s body was bobbing gently on waves of endorphins, and his sparingly few movements oozed out of him from some unknown instinct unbidden. He couldn't help Dean.

“Cas, would you like to get in the car? I can take you somewhere to rest.” Dean spoke slowly and gently, with a lightly lilting tone. It made Castiel want to sleep.

Cas took several top-heavy steps toward Dean, touching at his arm with the barest pressure. He felt as if his face hadn’t moved in hours, and his gaze felt locked on minutia in the middle distance, several bushes in a pebbly space by the diner door. His face was the tiredest part of him. His throat felt much larger than usual, choking him lightly and throbbing a little in the same slow pace as his jaw, temple, and the space between his eyes. Maybe he had been drugged. It was a nice drug. But he was getting much too tired.

Dean slowly touched the two fingers Cas had left on his arm. Cas had forgotten about those. Stroking the fingers for a moment, Dean then progressed to taking Cas’s hand lightly and squeezing it. He ducked to try to catch Cas’s eyes, his face smoothed into simple expressions to match his slow, easy questions. “Hey Cas, I’d like to help you into the car. Can I touch your shoulder?” Cas nodded. “Ok, can you bend your knees a little for me? That’s it. You’re doing good, just breathe.”

Dean buckled Castiel into the passenger seat. Castiel’s unmoving face was pressed up into Dean’s pulse point for a minute, and the wave of familiar scent brought Cas a wave of warm comfort. Dean would take care of him.