Take Care of My Baby

Dean and Castiel are awakened rather gracelessly the following morning. They had returned home at the early hour of 1:30 and had planned to spend the day in bed, basking in one another's warmth. Instead, a pounding on the bedroom door just eight startles them into the land of the living.

"Piss off," Dean groans, burying his face into the muscle of Castiel's back in hopes that it'll take him away from his troubles.

"Dean this is serious! Open the door!" It's Sam's voice on the other side, and he sounds urgent.

"Nothin' is important enough to get me outta bed before noon."

"This is. Now open up or I'm comin' in!"

"He won't do it," Dean mumbles against Cas's skin, tugging the blanket up over the two of them.

"Maybe you should go see what he needs," the younger man says softly, rolling around to face his lover. "Sounds important."

"No. I said we were gonna lay in bed all day, and goddammit, we'll lay in bed all day if the world ends," he says sleepily, pulling Cas closer to him. The other man can't help but think that, for a man who promised multiple times that he doesn't cuddle, he sure enjoys it.

And really, the gesture is incredibly sweet, so Castiel doesn't say anything. Perhaps Sam really is just being overdramatic. The bed is warm, and he likes the touch of Dean's skin against his own, so he settles into the sheets.

Just as the two begin to drift off to sleep again, the door comes flying open. They're startled awake and up into a sitting position. In the doorway stands Sam, dressed nicely but looking absolutely frantic.

"What the hell did you two do last night?" he demands, his chest heaving. It's a testament to the severity of the situation that he first doesn't tell the two men to cover themselves - even though they're only shirtless - and that Dean doesn't respond with his usual, 'sure you wanna know?'.

"We went out to the meadow and had a picnic and fooled around," Dean says.

"Dammit, Dean," he groans running his hands through his hair. He starts pacing the room quickly. Cas grabs Dean's hand out of a need for physical comfort; if he tried to say that Sam's behavior wasn't worrying him, he'd be lying. "Dammit, you should have known."

"What's goin' on, Sammy?"

"I don't know, and that's what's so frustrating!" he exclaims. As soon as he does so, however, his shoulders fall, and he shakes his head. "Look, get dressed first, then come out in the kitchen and we can talk, okay?"

"Sure thing."

As soon as Sam closes the door behind him, Dean and Cas leap up from the bed and hunt down some clothes. As Cas's are mainly still in the other bedroom, he takes some of Dean's smaller pieces.

"The hell is going on," the older man mutters to himself as he yanks on a pair of jeans. His expression has darkened considerably as opposed to what it had been just minutes before, but he's worried. Worried, because Sam, the kid who can keep a level head in even the most trying situations, is visibly upset. Worried, because Castiel has smoothed his expression into a blank mask like he does when he doesn't want to show signs of weakness. Worried, because anyone in their right mind would be worried when they carry such a secret on their shoulders each day.

"Hey," Dean says, stopping them before they walk out the door. Cas turns to look at him, his blue eyes shut off from the world. The older man holds his hand and says, "It's gonna be okay, whatever it is. I'm gonna make it okay for you."

A faint smile turns up the corners of Castiel's mouth. "Always willing to take the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"That's me," Dean says with a smile of his own.

Cas reaches up and cradles Dean's cheek. "How about you let some of us give you a hand," he murmurs. And then, knowing that Dean is going to say something, he leans forward and presses a long but chaste kiss to his lips. They linger there for a moment, their foreheads pressed together, as they relish the peace. For all they know, what Sam is about to tell them may make that kind of peace impossible to find again.

Then, they part and head off to face reality.

Sam is in the kitchen waiting for them, but he's pacing around in short jerks. Whatever is going through his mind, it's making him go into overdrive. However, when he sees that Dean and Castiel have made their way into the room, he takes a seat at the table, though he's shaking his leg almost uncontrollably.

"So. What's got you so riled up?" Dean asks, cutting straight to the point. "Gimme the whole story. Maybe that'll calm you down."

"I was in church with Jess and her family, and when we sat down, a couple people were givin' us the stink-eye. I didn't think a whole lot of it, since I didn't know most of the people, but when we were leaving, Cas's brother - Gabriel, I think it was - pulled me to the side and started telling me that there were rumors going around that someone caught you two, y'know," he makes a vague gesture with his hands, "out in the meadow."

"What the hell?" Dean demands, confused. "Who saw us?"

"See, that's the thing. Nobody knew where the rumor got started. I started askin' around, acting like I was more angry that someone dared say something about the fabled Dean Winchester."

The man in question rolls his eyes. "What'd you find."

"Well, it was no one in town, that's for sure. I kept askin' around, but nobody seemed to know. And then I got to The Roadhouse, and get this: Jo said it was a couple of drifters that are here to race you."

"Yeah? Who are they? I'll clean their clocks," the man growls.

"Cool it, Dean," Sam warns, knowing that his brother is prone to act on impulse when it comes to someone threatening people he cares about. "Jo didn't get their names, but she said they called themselves 'leviathans'. They got a whole gang, just a real big bunch of hot shots."

"She tell you how they said they found us?" Dean's question is asked through grit teeth. He's trying not to blow his top in front of Cas, not because he wants to keep a good impression, but because he doesn't want to do anything until he gets some input from the man.

"Said they were walkin' around out in the woods, looking for a place to bring their girls, and then they found you two."

The room falls silent after everything is out in the open. It'd be a lie to deny what happened, but the only person Dean is willing to admit such a thing to is Sam. Everyone else in the world can, for all he cares, keep their noses out of his business. It's his biggest fear, something he knew he's have to confront when he entered this relationship: someone, somewhere, was bound to find out about them, and there's a damn good chance that that person wouldn't be happy about it.

He'd just hoped that he could prolong that discovery.

Dean doesn't know that he's set his head down on the table until the air around him becomes hot and oppressive. He rises once more, feeling a little more level-headed and capable of dealing with the situation. Before him is his younger brother and one of the smartest men he knows. Sam is accepting and loving, and there's a good chance that he'll be able to help them figure out a way to fix whatever needs fixing.

And then Cas. Cas is next to him, all concerned blue eyes and set jaw. Dean doesn't know what he expected to see, but Castiel looks like he's ready to take on the world if need be. He doesn't think he gives the man enough credit. Cas has a mix of composure and a desire for action that Dean wishes he possessed.

"I really don't know what to do," he admits, placing his hands palm-down on the table. "Well, nah. I know what to do, but it ain't pretty, and I have enough sense to let you two talk me down."

"Thank god," Sam mutters to himself. It earns a roll of Dean's eyes, but all three are glad that Dean isn't going to go out and make things worse.

"I think," Cas starts slowly, saying his thoughts aloud as he puts them in order, "we can play this off."

"Cool. How?"

"A hot shot rolls into town looking for the best racer in the west coast, and he gets frustrated. He sees a group of boys out in the woods, drinking and being rambunctious. So he makes up a story," Castiel says.

Dean and Sam are silent for a moment, but then a huge, proud smile breaks out on the former's face.

"Goddamn, Cas, that's genius!" he exclaims. Castiel is overwhelmed with the simple pleasure of impressing the man, even though Dean is looking at him with such incredulous reverence that he ducks his head.

"This could work, Cas. This could really work. I was at home yesterday, so I could say I tagged along, and it'd blow his whole story outta the water," nods the younger Winchester, staring off into the distance as he debates the relative merits of what they'll be telling people.

"You didn't make too big of a fuss, did you? Didn't incriminate yourself right outta the gate?" Dean asks, just a bit of a teasing tone in his voice.

"Nah. Just made them think that they were wrong for defaming you," Sam grins.

It never fails to amaze Castiel how quickly the brothers can recover their camaraderie after a testing moment. For his own part, Castiel can still feel his pulse racing and the worry churning in his stomach. Maybe, he thinks, the Winchesters have just learned how to stow their emotions in their hour of need, left to be dealt with at another time.

"So, what?" Dean asks. "We got an immediate plan of action?"

The younger Winchester shrugs and says, "Act normal."

"You sure?" He eyes his brother suspiciously, as if Sam would ever intentionally lead him wrong.

"Yeah. If you keep it cool, everyone'll probably cool down, too. And I bet it'll piss off the assholes who started the whole thing."

"Good. Let 'em stew until I beat their asses in the race," Dean says with a wicked grin, nudging Cas. He looks so damn happy that Castiel has a hard time not smiling back at him. It's easy to forget the rest of the world with Dean there by his side.

"Hey, while you're here... can I talk to Cas alone?" With those words, Sam turns the conversation back to its previous gravity. Dean's smile fades almost instantly, but he nods anyway.

"Sure thing, Sammy. Send 'im back to bed with me when you're done," he says, trying to sound cheery as he claps Sam on the shoulder and walks out of the room. However, the two other men know that he's probably just as worried as anyone would be.

"What do you need?" Castiel asks once he hears the bedroom door shut.

"It's about your family, Cas," Sam starts, trying to breach the subject gently. He leans forward on the table in earnest, but he keeps his voice gentle.

Despite that, Cas bristles. He knows that Sam sees the tensing of his shoulders and the pursing of his lips. "What about them?" he asks.

"When I was talking to Gabriel, he... he misses you, Cas. And he's not the only one. Anna, Lucius, they miss you, too. They're worried. You should give them a call at least, just to let them know that you're okay." The younger Winchester chooses his words carefully. The subject is like a minefield, and if he approaches it wrong, the whole thing can blow up in his face.

"They know that I'm safe," is the only response Castiel can muster. He's twisting his hands in his lap, just waiting for the conversation to be over.

Sam's shoulders fall in exasperation. "It's not the same, Cas. It'd be - it'd be like if Dean took off for the weekend and didn't call. You'd be worried sick."

"Yes, but my family knows I'm here," he persists.

"Yeah, and they had to hear that from a stranger," Sam says with a voice slightly raised. When he realizes that he's getting louder, he softens his tone. "Look, I know Michael and Zachariah are, well, dicks, but it doesn't look like your whole family was. All I'm saying is think about it. Okay?"

"Okay," Cas relents.

Sam smiles at his words. "Great. Now get back to Dean before he pitches a fit about me keeping you too long."

"Thank you, Sam," the man says as he stands from his chair. And he truly means it; Sam's words have not been wasted air. While Cas wants to put off speaking to his family for as long as possible, he knows he can't do it forever. And it is a bit of a comfort to know that he is missed.

"'S no big deal," he shrugs as he gets up and begins busying himself with something in the refrigerator.

Cas pauses in the doorway for a moment to smile at him, but then he's off to Dean's - their bedroom. The thought fills him with a peculiar warmth; he wonders if this is what it will always feel like, being with Dean. He hopes so.

When he enters the bedroom, Dean has already divulged himself of his clothes and is lying comfortably back in the sheets. When he hears Cas come in, he puts one arm behind his head and grins.

"Sammy keep his hands to himself?" he teases, making grabby-hands at Cas with the arm not behind his head. The man makes his way to the bed, greeting Dean with a kiss as he sits up.

"Mmm, yes he did," Cas says against the soft curve of Dean's lips.

Dean's hands slide under his shirt, tugging it over his head. "Good. But I'm not gonna," he warns. "You still up for spending the morning in bed?"

Castiel doesn't agree with words, but he tugs off his pants and crawls into bed next to Dean. He settles himself into the crook of Dean's arm while dragging the blankets back over the two of them. The world may crash down around them, but they'll be damned if they forfeit the small comforts while they can take them.

"What'd Sam wanna talk to you about?" Dean asks as he pulls Cas into his embrace. "'Less it was too private."

"He said I should talk to my family."

"Huh. You gonna do it?" Dean turns to look at Cas, his green eyes full of concern. Not the concern that comes with worry, but with care.

Cas shrugs. "Yes, I think I will."

"Well if they give you a hard time, just know you always got me to fall back on," he says, pulling the man closer to him if such a thing is even possible. He finds himself never wanting to let Cas go; there's nothing he'd like better than to keep Castiel in the protection of his arms, to just bury themselves in blankets and stay in bed forever, because here nothing can hurt the man he loves.

He doesn't miss the little smile that traces over Cas's lips as the man begins to fall back asleep. Dean stays awake just to savor the moment, and he wonders where his life changed. Months ago, he never would have been caught dead cuddling, let alone with another man, and here he is. It should bother him how easily he's slipped into this routine, but he can't find any reason why it should. So maybe he's got a reason to come home at night rather than stay late at the garage to work on his baby, and maybe he's got a reason to be a little more careful when he's racing. So what? Maybe a little reevaluation of the things he thought he knew about his life is a good thing.