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crime_and_ink Title: There’s Gonna Be An Accident
Author: Sin_Stained_Ink
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel pre-slash.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 671
Summary: It’s the worst kind of exhaustion: the one when you can’t sleep, no matter how hard you try.
Notes: Written for my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hc_bingo card. The card can be found here. Title from ‘Infrared’ by Placebo. Shorter than usual because I'm planning my entry for the gabriel_bigbang!
Masterlist can be found here.
He’s exhausted, and not the usual kind, the worst kind. The one when you can’t sleep, not matter how hard you try, no matter how long you close your eyes and try and think of absolutely nothing. If he wants to, he can call Cas, but he’s already been sticking around at night to handle the nightmares, and it isn’t fair to call him when Dean knows he isn’t going to get any sleep tonight, anyway. He’s been at the old desk that takes up one corner for almost four hours, using Sam’s laptop as a pillow- something Sam won’t thank him for if he finds out- but he has no plans to get up.
The bed’s only a few feet away, but Dean knows there’s no way he’s going to make it. At this point, he’d be lucky to manage to stay upright long enough to get halfway across the room. Driving for almost two days without a break- maybe he should have let Sam drive more than once at the start, but he really doesn’t want to think about that now- hadn’t seemed like a bad idea. In retrospect, he probably should have factored in cracked ribs and the possibility of having to go on a hunt during that time (two hunts: vampires fighting over a city wasn’t his idea of a good time).
Sam snores on in the other bed, sheets wrapped around him like a cocoon, the bandage around his left arm hidden from sight. It’s just a bad sprain, but between that and Dean’s ribs, they’re in trouble if they have to hunt anytime soon. They’re screwed, especially with Cas being less of an angel every day.
Maybe he should call Cas... He gropes in the semi-darkness for his cell phone, finding it under the small pile of books by the lamp.
The soft flutter of wings makes Dean look up, grip loosening on his cell phone. Castiel is standing beside him, looking down at him with a strangely soft expression. The lamp switches on by itself.
“How long is it since you slept?” he asks. Dean groans and turns his head just enough that he can get away from the light, closing his eyes. Cas clearly doesn’t get the message, as he grips Dean’s shoulder and turns him back towards him. “Dean.”
“A few days, okay? It’s not a big deal- I’ve gone longer without sleep.”
Cas’ eyes narrow almost imperceivably. “You were not injured at the time.”
Of couse he went digging through his mind. Dean wonders when he stopped being aware of it happening, because he used to notice; it used to be like something cool trickling down the inside of his skull, pure energy curling around him. He isn’t sure if he hopes that it’s because he’s tired, or if he just wants Cas to know things instead of trying to figure them out in that ridiculously naive way of his.
“You should sleep.”
And then he’s in the other bed, with the sheets tucked up to his chin. Blinking hazily, Dean struggles to focus on Cas as the lamp flickers and the light dies, casting the entire room before he shoves the sheets down.
“Can’t sleep,” he murmurs, feeling the rough sheets scrape against his skin- Cas got rid of half his clothes too- before there’s something softer brushing against his shoulder. It doesn’t feel like it’s really there, not-quite-real, not-quite-human, like liquid energy, like that feeling Dean used to get inside his head. As weird as it feels, it’s warm and comforting, almost like that almost-forgotten of his mom’s lips against his forehead.
Cas perches gingerly on the edge of the bed, still watching Dean.
“That’s still creepy.” He closes his eyes and almost opens them against when he feels Cas’ fingertips against his forehead, warm and softer, lacking the calluses most hunters have.
His voice is quiet when he says, “Go to sleep,” but it feels like he’s speaking from inside Dean’s head before the darkness softens around him.
Author: Sin_Stained_Ink
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel pre-slash.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 671
Summary: It’s the worst kind of exhaustion: the one when you can’t sleep, no matter how hard you try.
Notes: Written for my
hc_bingo card. The card can be found here. Title from ‘Infrared’ by Placebo. Shorter than usual because I'm planning my entry for the gabriel_bigbang! Masterlist can be found here.
He’s exhausted, and not the usual kind, the worst kind. The one when you can’t sleep, not matter how hard you try, no matter how long you close your eyes and try and think of absolutely nothing. If he wants to, he can call Cas, but he’s already been sticking around at night to handle the nightmares, and it isn’t fair to call him when Dean knows he isn’t going to get any sleep tonight, anyway. He’s been at the old desk that takes up one corner for almost four hours, using Sam’s laptop as a pillow- something Sam won’t thank him for if he finds out- but he has no plans to get up.
The bed’s only a few feet away, but Dean knows there’s no way he’s going to make it. At this point, he’d be lucky to manage to stay upright long enough to get halfway across the room. Driving for almost two days without a break- maybe he should have let Sam drive more than once at the start, but he really doesn’t want to think about that now- hadn’t seemed like a bad idea. In retrospect, he probably should have factored in cracked ribs and the possibility of having to go on a hunt during that time (two hunts: vampires fighting over a city wasn’t his idea of a good time).
Sam snores on in the other bed, sheets wrapped around him like a cocoon, the bandage around his left arm hidden from sight. It’s just a bad sprain, but between that and Dean’s ribs, they’re in trouble if they have to hunt anytime soon. They’re screwed, especially with Cas being less of an angel every day.
Maybe he should call Cas... He gropes in the semi-darkness for his cell phone, finding it under the small pile of books by the lamp.
The soft flutter of wings makes Dean look up, grip loosening on his cell phone. Castiel is standing beside him, looking down at him with a strangely soft expression. The lamp switches on by itself.
“How long is it since you slept?” he asks. Dean groans and turns his head just enough that he can get away from the light, closing his eyes. Cas clearly doesn’t get the message, as he grips Dean’s shoulder and turns him back towards him. “Dean.”
“A few days, okay? It’s not a big deal- I’ve gone longer without sleep.”
Cas’ eyes narrow almost imperceivably. “You were not injured at the time.”
Of couse he went digging through his mind. Dean wonders when he stopped being aware of it happening, because he used to notice; it used to be like something cool trickling down the inside of his skull, pure energy curling around him. He isn’t sure if he hopes that it’s because he’s tired, or if he just wants Cas to know things instead of trying to figure them out in that ridiculously naive way of his.
“You should sleep.”
And then he’s in the other bed, with the sheets tucked up to his chin. Blinking hazily, Dean struggles to focus on Cas as the lamp flickers and the light dies, casting the entire room before he shoves the sheets down.
“Can’t sleep,” he murmurs, feeling the rough sheets scrape against his skin- Cas got rid of half his clothes too- before there’s something softer brushing against his shoulder. It doesn’t feel like it’s really there, not-quite-real, not-quite-human, like liquid energy, like that feeling Dean used to get inside his head. As weird as it feels, it’s warm and comforting, almost like that almost-forgotten of his mom’s lips against his forehead.
Cas perches gingerly on the edge of the bed, still watching Dean.
“That’s still creepy.” He closes his eyes and almost opens them against when he feels Cas’ fingertips against his forehead, warm and softer, lacking the calluses most hunters have.
His voice is quiet when he says, “Go to sleep,” but it feels like he’s speaking from inside Dean’s head before the darkness softens around him.
