Work Text:
Multi-POV
Sam appeared in the doorway with the look of someone who had seen too much in a single day.
He was holding a cotton pajama set — the striped one Dean stubbornly refused to wear because «it’s not hunter-appropriate.»
The other was the very image of a sleepless angel: sitting by the bed, fingers intertwined, eyes fixed on Dean as he slept, curled up in his nest of blankets and pillows.
«Cas?»
Sam’s voice was more gentle than ironic.
«You should... change. And get some sleep.»
Castiel looked at him as if he’d just suggested a dark ritual.
«I don’t need sleep.»
«I know.» Sam handed him the pajamas calmly. «But Dean does. And he sleeps better if he feels someone near. It’s... an Omega thing. It’ll be good for you too.»
The angel hesitated, staring at the fabric in his hands.
«I don’t see the connection between my comfort and Dean’s wellbeing.»
«That’s exactly why you need the pajamas.»
Sam gave a faint smile, then added, more serious:
«Stay with him tonight, Cas. Trust me. Nothing weird — just... stay. And if he wakes up, be there.»
Castiel lowered his gaze, then nodded.
«All right.»
Sam turned to leave, but before closing the door, he murmured — half weary, half fond:
«And please, no mystical experiments in the nest. And if something happens... I don’t wanna know.»
The click of the door left behind a heavy, unreal silence.
Castiel looked at the pajamas as if they were an alien artifact, then — with the precision of someone following a divine command — he changed.
Dean’s clothes were slightly big on him, and the soft cotton felt strangely reassuring.
Dean was sprawled diagonally, one arm hanging loose, hair damp with sweat, face relaxed.
The scent of his heat was slowly fading, replaced by something warm and domestic — coffee, leather, soap, and something deeper... something that was purely Dean.
Castiel sat on the edge of the bed.
Then, uncertain, he settled beside him. He adjusted the pillows and blankets with a kind of surgical precision he didn’t know he possessed.
Finally, he lay down next to the man.
The impact of that warm body beside his was immediate.
Dean’s slowed heartbeat seemed to pull him along, as if it wanted to force him to breathe at the same rhythm.
Every time the hunter moved, Castiel’s vessel reacted strangely.
His skin tingled, his Grace pulsed faintly.
Dean turned in his sleep, pressing his face against Castiel’s shoulder. He instinctively clung to him, sighing as if finally at peace.
He mumbled something incoherent — then his name.
«Cas... You came back...»
The angel held his breath.
His fingers moved on their own, brushing a strand of hair away from Dean’s face.
A simple gesture. Too human.
Dean woke with a start, breathing fast, mind trapped between dream and reality.
It took him a moment to realize where he was.
And then he saw him.
Castiel, staring at him just inches away. Eyes bluer than ever, even in the soft glow of the nightstand lamp.
Cas.
In his bed.
Wearing pajamas.
His ugly pajamas.
Sam was gonna pay for this.
«What the hell— CAS?!»
He sat up so fast his heart nearly jumped out of his chest, his face burning red.
«What the hell are you doing in my nest?!»
Castiel looked at him with that same infuriating calm that could drive saints mad.
«Sam said I should stay. He deemed it useful for me to sleep here.»
«Sleep here—? In what kind of parallel universe is that a good idea?!»
Dean pulled the blanket tighter around his chest, as if it could protect him from the absurdity.
But his skin was burning.
Too close. Too alive. Too him.
He was completely exposed. No way to run, no way to protect himself from his own instincts.
His Alpha was in his damn nest!
He’d dreamed of this — in far too many ways — and now it was real.
Too damn real.
«You fainted and were restless. Your body temperature was rising,» Castiel explained softly. «Now you appear calmer, and the fever has gone down. It proves that physical contact between Alpha and Omega stabilizes you.»
Dean stared, incredulous. «Are you giving me a scientific report while you’re in my bed?»
The angel tilted his head, perfectly serious. «Yes.»
Dean shut his eyes, rubbing his forehead.
«Christ, give me strength.»
The silence that followed wasn’t just awkward.
It was full — dense — like a breath held too long.
Castiel shifted slightly, trying to make space, and his hand brushed Dean’s.
A tiny contact. But enough.
Dean’s body reacted as if struck by lightning.
A low sound escaped him — half growl, half moan.
The heat he thought had faded surged back, a tremor that wasn’t just anger or desire but a dangerous mix of both.
He wanted to yell at Cas to move away — but he couldn’t. And he didn’t want to.
He looked at him.
Castiel looked lost, his eyes filled with something Dean had never seen there before.
His breathing was uneven; his expression, disoriented.
«Every time I touch you...» he whispered, as if revealing a secret. «I feel... something I can’t understand.»
Dean should have laughed, made a joke, anything to break the moment —
But he didn’t.
His hands trembled. His heart was in his throat. His cheeks betrayed him, hot and red.
«You don’t need to understand it, Cas. You just need to... stop looking at me like that!»
Castiel didn’t stop.
Their eyes met, found each other, and got lost again.
The scent of Alpha and Omega thickened the air, logic dissolving between them.
Dean gave in first.
Just a tiny movement — a few centimeters, then another.
Instinct took over.
Shame blurred into need.
He grabbed Castiel’s shoulders and kissed him.
When their lips met, Dean trembled, a small sound escaping him.
It wasn’t a clean or careful kiss — it was a collision, a stumble of breath and repressed desire.
A kiss that tasted like fear and home.
A kiss that shouldn’t exist — and that’s why it was real.
Castiel followed his lead, hesitant, like a man learning to breathe for the first time.
And Dean guided him — silently, clumsily — his hands shaking, his heart racing too fast.
It was awkward and imperfect, noses bumping, Castiel’s fingers at Dean’s nape because Dean had placed them there.
When they finally parted, the air felt different.
Charged. Alive.
Dean ran a hand over his lips, breath ragged.
«Shit... don’t say anything, Cas. Please.»
He wanted to sound tough — but it came out as a plea, soft and trembling.
The angel didn’t reply.
He just looked at him with that clear, unshaken gaze, as if everything that had just happened finally made sense.
Dean turned his back to him and switched off the lamp. At least that way Cas couldn’t see the smile he couldn’t hide — or how red his ears still were.
«Just... stay where you are, okay? Don’t ask stupid questions. And don’t analyze anything!»
Castiel nodded quietly.
His heartbeat synced once again with the man lying beside him.
In the dark, the angel whispered, only for himself:
«I’ll do as you ask. I’ll stay.»
Dean took his arm and pulled it around his waist.
«Then... stay, you idiot.»