Title: Castiel in the Bunker
Chapter: Lessons with Dean
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam, Kevin, and Cas. Dean/Castiel.
Spoilers: All of season 8.
Warnings: None
Summary: After giving up on the trials, Sam and Dean find Castiel lost, empty, and human. They take him back to the bunker to their broken hunter family. Kevin is livid. Sam is sick. Dean is worried. Yet, all three men find time to teach Castiel something new about being human. They bond through their lessons with Cas.

A/N: This fic exists purely to be shameless Bunker Family fluff, emphasis on Cas being an adorable human. The Dean/Cas is pretty minimal (or not?), so you can ignore it if you don't like it. I don't really have plans to play up the Destiel... yet. There's probably going to be three chapters of this fic. This work is also inspired by "Hunter Lesson" by ~glaringstar on DA and the conversation that transpired because of it. This fic takes place after "Sacrifice." Enjoy!

Lessons with Dean

They found Castiel on the side of the road on their way to the bunker. He was staring up at the sky, his eyes wide and pained. Long after his essence had been ripped from his body and all of his brothers and sisters had fallen from the sky, Castiel remained, staring up at the stars. He was in such a state of shock that he didn't hear the Impala tear to a stop behind him. Dean ran out, calling his name desperately while Sam rested, half-awake in the car.

"Cas! You okay? What happened?" Dean shook the other man gently by his shoulders so he would focus on his face. Castiel finally stared at Dean, aghast.

"He took it," Cas whispered, quivering. "My grace. He took it… It's my fault they all fell. I was the final piece. It was me… Again… It was me."

"What'd you mean – ?" Dean inhaled a breath, dismayed by the anguish in Castiel's large, clear blue eyes. He knew exactly what Cas meant, but he wasn't ready to believe it. Metatron. "Metatron did this."

"I don't feel well. Being human is so very… tire… some…" Castiel's eyelids fluttered slowly before he swooned.

"Shit! Shit, shit!" Dean cursed, managing to catch Castiel before he hit the ground. Sam peaked his head out of the window and saw his brother propping Cas up by hooking his arms beneath his shoulders.

Castiel was graceless and Dean didn't know what to do. All the angels had fallen and he didn't know what would become of them. He was beyond furious at Metatron for having deceived Cas and rendered him into a hollow, weakened shell of himself. Quietly, to himself, Dean mused, "Sammy's in the car, maybe dying. Cas is human."

A human that just fainted. Cas fainted.

"Must be Thursday," Dean grumbled and dragged Castiel to the Impala. He dumped him into the backseat and dialed Kevin's cell phone to fill him in on the situation. Sam stirred and questioned Dean about Cas, but he was still too unwell to pay attention for long. Sam heard Kevin's voice screaming from the other end of the phone line.

"What do you mean you didn't close the gates?!"

The conversation that transpired between Dean and Kevin over the phone was exhausting to listen to. It was full of shouting and rage, but by the time they reached the bunker, Kevin was ready to receive them. When he saw Sam, Kevin frowned.

"You look like shit," He said to Sam.

"I think I'm dying," Sam groaned softly and pitifully.

"You're not dying! Nobody's dying! You didn't finish the trials, so you'll be fine," Dean growled and hurried to open the door to lift Cas out of the backseat of the car. Kevin heaved a heavy sigh and joined Sam to help him hobble towards the bunker. It was odd to see such a gigantic man so helpless.

"Thanks, Kevin…" Sam sniffled. "I'm sorry. I should have done it anyway. I should have gone through with it. All the work you did to translate the tablet…"

"Save your breath," Kevin replied.

This wasn't what Dean had imagined would be the conclusion of their mission to close the Gates of Hell. They had checked the church after watching the angels fall from the sky. Crowley had disappeared. They didn't know if he was a human or a demon or if he had run away on his own or with assistance.

Dean felt awkward carrying Castiel because he was normally such a strong being. The former angel was out like a light, half-draped over his shoulder. Dean could only be thankful that they were all still alive. He had to believe that Sam would get better and that he could keep Cas safe.

"You really think there's another way?"

"Yes! There has to be, Kevin!"

Castiel woke up on what he thought was a couch. When he cracked his eyes open, he realized he was resting on a vintage chaise longue that Dean had dragged into the main room of the bunker. The frame was of dark, ornately carved wood and the cushions were ivory colored with patterns of ivy stitched into the cloth. The Men of Letters certainly had style.

"My mother died. My girlfriend died for this!" Kevin railed, not caring that Sam was in a horrible state, listening to every word he said. The excuse that Sam would have died if he had completed the trials had not gone over well with the boy that had lost the people closest to him for the same goal. "No offense Sam, but if our places had been switched, I would have done it."

"Well, we can't go back now!" Dean argued. He hadn't given a single thought to Kevin's sacrifices when he had talked Sam down from surrendering his life. In spite of everything, Dean couldn't regret having Sam alive. "What's done is done."

"What's done is done," Kevin mocked. "And now you want me to translate another tablet you can ultimately ignore."

"Dean, it's okay," Sam groaned when he saw his brother ready to go into another tirade with Kevin. "It's not fair, Kev. Nothing's fair. I would go back now if I could, but I can't. I'm sorry. But, you're the only one that can help now. If that tablet has anti-angel spells like the demon tablet had anti-demon spells, we could use them on Metatron – "

Sam's vision blurred momentarily. Though he continued to live, he also continued to feel ill. He guessed the effects of the trials would take a while to be reversed.

"You okay?" Dean asked Sam and his brother nodded. Fixing his attention back on Kevin, Dean said, "We've got bigger fish to fry than Crowley right now. This Meta-asshole's taken over Heaven. You've gotta help."

Finally, Dean noticed Castiel was awake. He stiffened at the sight of his newly human friend. Kevin and Sam's eyes were drawn to the chaise longue, following Dean's line of vision. Conscious all together at last, they made for a wretched foursome. They were sick, livid, depressed, and confused. Cas took in Sam, languishing in a chair. He noticed how agitated Kevin was and how vexed and incensed Dean was. The first thing human Castiel offered to the conversation was to Sam. "I'm glad you're alive," he said.

Sam smiled the tiniest smile he could muster, "Right back at ya."

"Alright, I'll do it," Kevin grumbled. He eyed Dean suspiciously. "But I'm staying here and I'm taking the big room."

"That's Sam's room!"

"It's okay… You can have it," Sam said, knowing that they both owed Kevin more than they could ever give. As soon as Sam was well enough he would do whatever he could to make Kevin's stay more comfortable. "You said so yourself, Dean. We should have had him stay with us a long time ago. He's the prophet. He should have the biggest room. We have lots of other rooms for me to pick from."

"You even think about dumping me on another boat, and I'll walk. With the tablet." Kevin huffed and stalked away from all the other men.

Cas moved gingerly, like he was afraid he would break all his fragile human bones if he made just one wrong move. It felt unusual to faint. He felt slow, feeble, and disorientated. "Thank you…" He said to both of the brothers. "You didn't have to take me in."

"The hell we didn't," Dean remarked.

"I've just caused another monumental problem that's going to effect humanity on a global scale."

"It wasn't your fault, Cas," Sam said. He knew Cas didn't think he deserved asylum after having had a role in causing so much trouble yet again, but Cas didn't belong anywhere else. "You didn't know Metatron was manipulating you."

"I never know," Castiel swallowed. "That's exactly why it's my fault."

Naomi had been right, Cas thought. He had come off the line with a crack in his chassis. To be so stupid, he was certain he must have been dropped on his head as a child. Repeatedly.

"Alright, that's enough. I can't have the two of you, with all of this – " Dean sputtered, gesturing between his brother and Cas, "Self-loathing. Sammy, you're alive, and I wouldn't have you any other way. And, Cas – Cas, you… I'm glad you're here. We'll find out exactly what's going on and we'll get Metatron, I promise you."

Dean had been prepared to never see Cas again. He had been prepared to have his best friend apart from Sam seal himself off in another realm forever. All he had wanted was to ask him to stay, but he hadn't. Now was not the right time to express joy that instead of being severed from him for eternity, Cas had become human. Dean knew having his grace removed had to be a deeply traumatic event, but he had to make Cas see the bright side of things. "You've got us. We want you to stay here," Dean said, "And being human isn't all that bad."

"Some of my best friends are human," Cas responded wryly in a quiet tone. He couldn't feel his wings, not even broken, burnt nubs. Cas felt like his wings had been surgically removed, without leaving a trace that they had ever been there.

"Look, we'll get your wings back," Dean promised. "But in the meantime, we've got a lot of other stuff to do. Don't worry, we'll help you with, uh… human… stuff."

"Sam needs more help than I do," Cas stated and got up to approach the Winchesters. As much as his heart broke from having lost a piece of himself violently, he was more concerned for Sam than he was for himself.

Sam squirmed as Castiel invaded his personal space. "I wasn't sure if I was getting better, but I don't feel like I'm dying anymore. Sitting here has helped."

Cas touched his face, wishing he still had his powers. "You're hot," he remarked.

"That thing you said," Dean interrupted. "About Sam being changed. About him being damaged beyond anything you could fix…Well, he's gonna get better now, right? He stopped the trials so he ought to be good."

"I don't know, Dean," Castiel answered. "I can no longer sense things as I could before. There's hope for him. Feeling better is a good sign. I'm sorry I'm not more help… not anymore."

Cas touched Sam's forehead again, trying to will his powers to come back. Nothing happened. He felt nothing but sweaty skin under his fingertips. Sam frowned up at Cas. "Maybe I should just sleep."

Heal! Castiel frowned, jabbing Sam on his cheek and then his neck. Dean stopped him by grabbing his hand. "All the poking in the world isn't going to bring your powers back," Dean said. He loved Cas for trying, but it was sad to watch. "You need rest too. Lie back down on your fainting couch. I'm going to set Sammy up in his new room."

"Fainting couch?" Castiel asked, flustered. Sam glanced over to the chaise longue.

"Yeah! Isn't that what they call 'em?" Dean blinked. "'Cause the ladies with the corsets in the old days would swoon and have special couches just for fainting. That's what that thing is."

Dean pointed at the chaise longue. He had remembered a few of the tidbits of information he'd learned in one of his history classes before dropping out of high school. The bunker was full of all sorts of historical objects and Dean was proud whenever he could properly identify one and the historical significance attached to it. "History, damn it," Dean said, growing frustrated by the lack of interest Cas and Sam showed. "We've got an old timey couch. You know what? Never mind."

Cas sauntered back to the 'fainting couch,' self-conscious that one of his first acts as a human had been to faint. His cheeks were colored red, and he concentrated hard on staying alert.

Dean helped Sam out of his chair. Before they left the main room, he addressed Cas, "Just don't go anywhere, okay? Stay put."

Castiel moved on from fainting, to crying. In his effort to refrain from fainting again, Cas had focused his mind on the awful events that had transpired. He wept softly, wishing he had done everything differently. He had already been responsible for the deaths of so many angels and now he was also responsible for making all the remaining angels fall from Heaven just as Lucifer had fallen. Even when he tried to make things right and correct his previous errors, his plans backfired. Everything was a disaster.

These events would have been difficult for Castiel to reconcile emotionally in his angelic form, but his new human body couldn't tolerate his sorrow and disappointment without having a powerful physiological response. He hadn't moved from the white couch because he realized any decision he made on his own was a bad decision. Cas didn't even trust himself to get off the couch to explore the bunker without causing another life-threatening situation for at least one plane of existence. He sat crying alone for a long while, until Dean's boots appeared in his line of vision.

Dean's voice, level and strong, reached his ears. "You want to talk about it?"

"I can't stop. I don't know how to make it stop," Cas croaked, looking up at Dean in a panic. He was appalled with himself and surprised at the lack of control he had over his body. He wiped his face furiously. Dean closed the space between them and cleaned his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"You don't have to stop."

For a few seconds, Castiel cried harder than before. Dean slumped down beside Cas and silently let him cry all he wanted. Periodically, he turned to wipe his face with his shirt sleeve until Castiel's human tears had just about soaked all the way through the cloth. Dean was exhausted. He was tired of fighting, worrying, and feeling the need to fix everything. He wouldn't have been surprised if Abaddon crashed through the roof riding a ball of fire at that very instant because almost everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong. Their troubles never ended and they had all failed in very different ways.

"It's okay, Cas," Dean said. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and drew him close. "Cry all you want."

"I don't want to cry at all. I wouldn't be doing this if I could control it. It's disgusting."

"I didn't mean it like that – " Dean sighed. Of course he knew Cas didn't want to cry. He looked Cas in his watery eyes. "Hey, it's not disgusting, okay? I've cried before. Sammy cries. Kevin cries. It's just another human thing. You'll get used to it."

"I don't want to get used to it."

"I don't want you to either," Dean admitted. In a weary voice, Dean questioned Cas, "How're you feeling overall? How's your noggin'?"

"My what?" Cas drew in a sharp breath and then remembered Naomi's drill. Dread crossed his features for an instant and his entire body stiffened. He contemplated Dean's question. "Still connected to my spine."

"That's a good thing," Dean remarked. They had very few good things to work with at the moment. He knew it was a sensitive topic, but he went on. "If you're human, that means you're going to be totally free of all that prodding, doesn't it?"

"Naomi's dead."

"Well, there you go. You've got a brain of your own then. And if your brain wants you to cry, you let yourself cry." Dean strained to smile. He got up and reached for several napkins that were resting on the table. He cleaned Castiel's face more thoroughly, going as far as to wipe his nose. "You need to blow?"

Cas didn't understand the question. He puckered his lips and blew a quick gust of air on the napkin. Dean burst out laughing with a harsh, pained laugh.

"What did I do?" Castiel batted his eyes in confusion.

"Nothing. You feel better?"

"Yes," Cas answered. He felt raw inside – spiritually flayed – but his tears had halted completely. He felt safe in Dean's company, like he had never felt safe before. "I'll be fine."

"Good." Dean leaned back on the antique couch and rested his eyes. Against his will, he slipped into a sudden, fatigued sleep. Castiel stayed awake, watching over Dean.

When Dean opened his eyes about two and a half hours later, he was startled by Castiel's nearness. Cas had remained by his side for the entire duration of his fitful nap. Unlike all the other times he had complained about Cas watching him sleep upon waking, Dean was quiet and looked back at Cas with curiosity. This time was different because Castiel was tired in a perceivably human way. He looked down at him not like an alien being looked down at a fascinating species, but as a worn-out nurse looked down at a beloved patient.

"Still with this?" Dean rubbed his eye. "You're gonna keep watching me sleep even when you're human?"

"You told me to stay here."

"Yeah, but, that was a long time ago. Aw, shit. I should get you a bed."

"I'm not tired."

Dean didn't believe him for a second. By now it was probably the wee hours of the morning, but he wasn't going to argue with Cas if Cas didn't want to sleep. He didn't mind spending the earliest hours awake with Cas. "You want a beer? I'm having a beer."

The two humans drank a six-pack between them, barely speaking a word. After they finished their beers, Dean broke out a new bottle of whiskey. They weren't celebrating having survived. They were coping. Dean hadn't used alcohol to cope in what seemed like forever, but that day seemed like a good exception. He kept thinking about the Gates of Hell and of all the suffering he had put his brother through. Metatron, Abaddon, and Crowley crawled through his thoughts like waking nightmares.

"Dean, I'm… I think this whiskey is more… It's stronger?" Castiel slurred and swayed, putting his glass down on the kitchen counter. "Was it always like that? It's good."

"Oh, man, I forgot. You can get wasted now." Dean wiped his hand over his face and grinned wide. He'd gotten Castiel drunk without even trying.

"I don't want to be wasted. No, wait. I do. Just a little bit." Castiel reached for the bottle, but Dean stayed his hand.

"Ease up, compadre. You've had your fill."

"I like drinking. S'good."

"Nope. Nuh-uh. It's closing time."

"Let me have my human things."

As much as Dean loved drinking with Cas, he shook his head and denied him any more alcohol by hiding the bottle up high where Castiel couldn't reach. The ex-angel tried, but Dean blocked his access to the shelf with his body. For a handful of seconds, Castiel attempted to push past him in vain. "Cut that out," Dean chuckled, trying to keep Castiel from climbing all over him to get to the bottle he desired. Suddenly excited, Dean gasped, "You know what we should do?"

"Vodka shots?"

"No," Dean put his hands on Cas' shoulders to keep him from pawing at the bottle of vodka nearby that had caught his eye. "I'm going to teach you how to shoot."

"A gun?" Cas asked. "Right now? Is that a good idea?"

"It's the best idea."

Dean got lost on the way to the firing range and he blamed it on the bunker being too big. It was a labyrinth, Dean complained. The truth was that the whiskey was also affecting him more than usual. After so many months of drinking in moderation, Dean was tipsier than he normally would have been, but he wouldn't dare admit it.

"Cas, you're human now, but that doesn't mean you can't take care of yourself. That doesn't mean you're weak." Dean remembered the way he'd once told Castiel he was nothing more than a baby in a trench coat without his powers. This time, he was determined to shape Cas into a bona fide hunter, just like them. Dean revealed a closet full of weapons. "You'll just have to protect yourself the human way. It's a good way."

"Can't I just use my sword?"

"You'll use your sword and your gun! Tomorrow we'll pick you out a couple of guns, just for you, 'kay?" Dean tapped his chin in thought. "You'll also need a tattoo, pronto."

"What? Why?"

Dean tore at his shirt, revealing the part of his chest marked by his anti-possession tattoo. Understanding dawned upon Castiel. "Oh."

Unexpectedly, Dean's hands gripped the sides of Castiel's face. The Winchester was absolutely serious in his tone of voice, gravely affected by worrisome thoughts. "Cas, I don't know what I would do with myself if you ever got possessed."

Cas shuddered at the thought. He felt more nauseated at that idea than he could have ever felt by any amount of alcohol in his system. "You would have to exorcise me."

"No. You will never get possessed. I won't let it come to that. You understand me?"

Cas nodded and Dean let go of his face. He was already thinking of all the ways he could further secure whatever room would be Castiel's bedroom. The entire bunker was warded against everything, but he had warded Sam's room and his own room with double protection just in case. Cas' room would likewise be an impenetrable fortress.

Before long, Dean had selected a handgun and was demonstrating all the important features to Castiel. He showed him the safety and gave him some basic pointers on how to wield the weapon carefully. Dean was a professional. He could handle any weapon competently whether he was half-dead or half-drunk. He knew every weapon they owned backwards and forwards and was totally at ease in his explanation. 'Point and shoot' was no longer a sufficient instruction for training Cas on guns. Dean gave him a thorough run down.

"You remember that sawed-off I let you borrow once?" Dean asked. "Same thing, more or less. But today, we'll be shooting at this paper target dude instead of monsters. It'll be a piece 'o cake."

Dean loaded the gun and prepared it for Castiel. He guided him to line of the firing range and set the gun down for him. Nervous, Cas fidgeted under Dean's scrutiny. Everything they were doing was so foreign to him. Angels didn't train using guns. "Dean, are you sure about this?"

"You can do it."

Castiel picked up the firearm and looked at the target. Quickly, he set the weapon back down. He tugged at his tie. "I'm hot."

"What?" Dean stared, frowning. "You're not making excuses are you?"

"No, it's just that I…I can feel temperatures. It's strange. I'm not used to it." Cas licked his chapped lips. Dean saw a thin sheen of sweat above his upper lip.

"You're wearing too many damn layers. This ain't coat weather. You don't have to wear this all the time."

Dean started to help Castiel out of his trench coat. Once he was free of the bulky overcoat, he felt more comfortable, but not comfortable enough to pick up the weapon again. Cas groaned and ripped off his suit jacket. He didn't bother folding it nicely. Rather, he threw it on the floor, panting with relief. "Oh, that's better."

Without his overcoat and suit jacket, Dean thought Cas looked naked. The Winchester watched, entranced, as Cas rolled up his sleeves. "Do you want to take off your tie too?"

"No, it's fine. I'm ready now." Cas stepped forward and boldly grabbed the handgun. He narrowed his eyes at the target and fired once. The bullet embedded itself into the wall about a foot away from the paper.

Dean thought Cas looked like a movie-sexy secret agent, but he certainly couldn't shoot like one. He forced himself not to laugh at or tease Cas. "Hey, it's okay. Not bad for a first try. You'll get it."

Despite Dean's words, his big miss shattered Castiel's confidence. The weapon felt cumbersome in his hands. He wasn't sure how to stand or aim, even after instruction. Dean stepped into his space to help, just as he was contemplating giving up. Dean wrapped his hand over Castiel's to help him aim and steady the weapon. He adjusted Cas' posture with a gentle hand at his hip. Dean was close enough for Cas to feel his breaths brushing over his skin as he explained how to stand in greater detail. Unwittingly, Dean's fingers trailed over his midsection, stroking over the skin of his abdomen. Cas hadn't even realized his shirt had hiked up around his torso until he felt Dean's hot fingers grazing over his stomach.

"U-Um," Cas gulped. Dean had touched many times before, but never lingered quite so long, especially not with his hand on his waist. His small touches felt better than Cas thought they should have. His every nerve blossomed blissfully in an unfamiliar way.

"Shh, focus. You got this."

Determined not to let Dean's lessons go to waste, Cas focused on killing his paper enemy. He would have to take care of himself in the future so Sam and Dean wouldn't have to. He would need to learn how to wield the barbaric, unsophisticated weapon in his hands to the best of his abilities. He fired.

The first shot hit inside the target's shoulder. Dean helped him adjust, remaining unnecessarily close. The next three shots fired landed closer to the inside of the target's chest. Dean cheered, "Good job! Now try for the head."

Cas shot the target through the eye and snickered with delight. He shot again and hit the corner of its skull. When he put the weapon down, Dean sang praises. "Beautiful! See! I told you you'd get it!"

"That was… fun," Cas said the word like it was a new concept to him. "More fun than I thought it would be."

All of the sudden, Dean was embracing Castiel. He didn't say anything. He just held Cas firmly to his body. Dean couldn't remember the last time Cas had said something was fun. Maybe he never had. Dean was overwhelmed by many emotions, including those aroused from the thought of being able to show Castiel ways to have fun. After suffering so much, Cas deserved some honest human fun.

"Dean?" Castiel turned in Dean's arms. He remembered the way Dean had embraced him in Purgatory. He had felt the same relief at seeing Dean that Dean had felt upon seeing him. This time, he hugged back. He breathed his heartfelt, whiskey-scented gratitude. "Thank you."

Dean squeezed him tighter, wishing he had the nerve to ask him to never leave again.

"When I saw the sky the way it was, I thought about you," Dean admitted, unable to let Cas go. "I'm so glad you're okay. I'm so glad you didn't… that you didn't burn."

Cas buried his face into Dean's neck. He didn't have the heart to tell Dean that he had spiraled from the sky just like the rest of his angelic family had. He knew their pain because he had been engulfed in flames for part of his journey to the earth. Thankfully, he'd been unconscious for most of his fall.

"You'll always be an angel to me," Dean whispered.

After what he had done to Heaven, Cas wasn't sure if he deserved to bear the title 'angel.' Castiel tried hard not to cry again. He wasn't confident that he could control himself if Dean kept talking, so he changed the subject. "I think I should return to the fainting couch."

Dean insisted that the couch would not do. They took many detours on their way to find Cas a place to stay. First, they stopped by Sam's new room to peer in on him. He was sleeping heavily and color was beginning to return to his face. The sight of Sam resting made them both feel more at ease. Kevin's room was adjacent to Sam's. The light was on, but the door was closed firmly. Dean felt sure that Kevin was probably awake, but he didn't disturb him. He had never intended to burn any bridges with the young man and he knew he would have to mend their relationship soon if they had any hopes of working as a team.

When Cas expressed a desire to shower, Dean led him to his room. Originally, Dean had allowed Sam to take the biggest room in the bunker in exchange for taking the room with the biggest attached bathroom. There were communal showers in the facility, but Dean's room had a massive, private ornate bathroom fit for a king. Before allowing Cas inside, Dean hid the razors, remembering that Cas had once expressed suicidal thoughts. Dean wanted to protect his friend's newfound mortality, but he also didn't trust Cas to shave himself. That would be a lesson for another day.

"Okay, here she is." Dean gestured around the finely decorated room.

"It's impressive."

"Men of Letters, right?" Dean shrugged. He pointed at the towel rack. "The blue one's mine. You can have the one with the 'C' on it."

Castiel blinked at towel hanging on the rack especially for him. The monogrammed towel was white with an elaborate, curling 'C' sewn on the corner with black thread. Dean cleared his throat. "I didn't buy that. I guess some guy that used to live here had a name that started with a 'C.'"

Charles? Cameron? Chester? Calvin?

"That's convenient," Castiel said, honestly. Human for less than a day and he already had his own towel.

"So, this is the shampoo and there's soap in there…" Dean explained opening the shower to show Cas everything. "This one's for hot water."

Castiel placed a hand on Dean's arm and tilted his head incredulously. "I'm human, not stupid."

Dean inhaled a breath. "I know that. I was just making sure."

"Thanks, Dean. I can handle the rest."

"If you need something – anything – I'll be out here." Dean blushed and hurried out of the bathroom. He left the door open and Cas didn't feel the need to close it. Having the door open really did soothe the Winchester even though showering was not an inherently dangerous task.

Okay, clothes. He'll need clothes. Dean listened as the water turned on and then went to his dresser to find clothes suitable for Cas. He had an abnormal amount of plaid, but somehow thought the plaid wouldn't suit Cas. He decided on a dark gray t-shirt and a navy button-up shirt. He selected a pair of old jeans and hesitated before his underwear drawer. Is it weird if he wears my underwear?

Dean puzzled over his question with trepidation. Letting Cas wear his underwear would be taking things a step too far. Yet, they were about the same size and he had a lot to spare. In the end, he pulled out a pair and mixed it in with the set of clothing he'd picked out for Cas. Just this once!

Dean thought Cas' clean ass deserved clean underwear. Another day they could afford to get Cas his own things, but it wouldn't hurt to clothe him with his own wardrobe for now. Castiel evidently had no patience for long showers. He emerged with his towel around his waist moments after Dean had picked out clothes for him.

Upon seeing Castiel in the dim light of his room, Dean's breath hitched in his throat. Cas was either lazy or incompetent at toweling because his hair and most of his body was still sopping wet. "This is… This…" Dean clutched the clean clothes and shoved them in Cas' direction. "You can wear this. It should fit."

Cas took the clothing with a smile and a 'thank you' and set them down on the bed. When he removed his towel, Dean darted out of the room like it was on fire. "I'll be right back."

Privacy is a human thing. He's got to learn. You've gotta learn. Dean paced in the hall before rushing to the kitchen to get some water. He was almost completely sober by now. Thinking about Cas, he poured a second glass of water to make sure he wouldn't get a hangover tomorrow. Dean returned and knocked softly on the door before gently opening it. He saw Cas' towel draped over a chair and the man himself snug in his bed. Dean almost dropped the glasses in his hands.

"Cas!"

"Yes, Dean?" he returned, groggily. There was only one pillow and he had taken it. Dean closed the door and entered the room to place the glasses on the nightstand. Cas was peering at the picture Dean had of his mother.

"This is my room."

"I know." Cas knit his brows together, not seeing a problem.

"I was just letting you borrow my shower. I was going to put you somewhere else. You need your own room. Where am I supposed to – " The more Dean argued at Cas, the less he wanted to kick him out. Castiel's eyelids were falling and he looked so comfortable in his bed. Adorable. His hair had already gotten his pillow wet.

Damn it.

They had slept side-by-side in Purgatory. Though Dean had enjoyed it, he thought that the earthly plane needed to work with separate rules. On the other hand, his room was the most protected of all the rooms apart from Sam's and Kevin's. If Castiel stayed with him, Dean could be certain he would not be in danger. Dean swallowed. "Okay, you can stay."

"That was the plan," Cas answered. Dean wasn't sure how to take that, so he responded with anxiety.

"Just don't tell anyone!"

"Good night, Dean."

Helplessly, Dean watched Cas shut his eyes. He clenched his fist and wavered before taking a place on the other side of the bed. "Night, Cas."