Dean can feel the light from the window before he opens his eyes. He allows one to open, and holy fuck, is it bright. So much for just a nap, a couple of hours before he and Sam had to hit the road. Speaking of, where the hell is Sam in all this. Reluctantly, he opens the other eye because it’s weird to be looking at extremely bright light with one eye and spots Sam who is sleeping on the bed next to him, and isn’t that wonderful. Great way to start the day, Winchesters.
He attempts to turn over, his side is getting that numb, tingly feeling from staying in one place for too long, when he feels sharp claws dig into his hip. He groans because really? this is his life?
He stops mid-turn in hopes that the claws with stop. They do, thankfully, and Dean turns his head to get a glimpse of whatever monster decided to give Dean his wake-up call. His fingers slack on the knife he was gripping under his pillow and he sighs.
"Morning," Dean says with a breath of relief. As usual, no response, but the look Cas is giving him says enough.
It registers then, that the sun did not wake him up. He looks over at the window, and it’s most definitely still dark outside. No, it was Castiel, and shit, is he glowing?
"Uh, Cas," Dean questions, and gets two paws digging in deep as an answer accompanied with a low, urgent growl. Dean takes that for shut your goddamn eyes because Castiel is getting brighter, and Dean knows what happens when you look into that creepy angel light.
Eyes shut, Dean experiences nothing except the feeling that room is lit with whatever Castiel is giving off and Dean feels scared. He hopes, prays-if he’s honest, that Castiel will turn out okay.
Suddenly, that two pounds of fluff has gained what Dean approximates is about a buck eighty.
"You can open your eyes, Dean," he hears, and Dean does. He fucking does quick because Castiel is right there, in Jimmy’s vessel, and he’s sitting on Dean’s side.
"Get off," is the first thing Dean thinks to say because tact was never a strong suit of his and Jimmy’s body is fucking heavy.
Castiel obliges and looks embarrassed, and that’s not how Dean meant to make him feel. Castiel shuffles back, awkwardly-obviously, and Dean sits up, quick as ever and grabs on to Castiel’s wrist.
"You’re back," Dean exclaims in awe. He tugs hard, pulling Castiel atop his body and hugs the angel tight. "You’re really fucking back," Dean cheers happily into Castiel’s neck.
Castiel is stiff against Dean, most likely unsure of what’s going on, but Dean is not deterred. “I never left, Dean.”
"I know, but you’re not a cat. You’re you," Dean gasps, still giddy with delight, the angel still draped over him in this make-shift attempt at a hug.
"My true form is approximately the size of."
"The Chrysler building, I know. But you know what I mean," Dean explains. Dean rolls from underneath Castiel and stands up, hand gripped to the angel’s wrist once more and pulls him up with him. Dean looks over at Sam’s sleeping form before saying, "Fuck it," and kisses Castiel, really kisses him. Castiel doesn’t respond at first, but then his lips are parting, hands sealing over Dean’s hip, and Dean lets out a moan.
"The fuck," Sam groans sleepily. For a moment, there is silence save the sounds coming from Dean and Castiel. "Oh, you’re back," Sam says, and then, "And kissing Dean. Of course."
They don’t break, no, Dean fumbles with Castiel back onto the bed. “Okay then,” Sam announces to whoever’s listening, he suspects no one. “I’ll just get another room.” He shuffles to the door, “I’m glad you’re, you know, you again”
"Me too," Sam hears Dean add, and Castiel chuckles, "Thank you, Sam. I am as well." And then there’s more kissing, but Sam leaves because the world doesn’t have enough bleach to clean up after that.