It's In Your Eyes

O.P.T

Castiel's POV -
Waking up is hard. Too hard, if you ask me. Every part of my just wanted to give up and stay peaceful and safe in the cocoon of this meat suit. Just stay locked away from the world, less literally this time. Or more literally, depending on how you see it...

But I can feel it. Something. For the life of me, I have no idea what it is. It's just a sort of tingling in my fingers, brought about by contact. A touch. And I do desperately need to see who it is, here, with me.

My mind is all in pieces, struggling to slot things together in a normal way. I know I'll be pleased with what I find when I open my eyes from everything my senses are picking up. But my mind refuses to form a picture. Refuses to prepare me.

I can smell leather and honey and books. And it's all so familiar. And it's all so perfect. And I want it closer and stronger, to see this phantom scent, so I fight and battle and force my muscles to try.

And I open my eyes.

Deans POV -

He squeezes my fingers weakly, my chest clamping in on my heart when it lurches, and I look up from my book into his bright blue eyes. I can't pinpoint one feeling, because I'm feeling them all. So I just let myself stare back down into those oceans, just to feel the comfort from them for a moment longer. The fact that he's awake is enough. Just enough...

"Hey there, sleepy head." It's a silly thing to call him, but he smiles softly and that warms my cheeks.

"He-ey-" His voice is scratchy, gravely and extremely quite, staining from lack of use. He looks a little frightened but I just tighten my grip on his hand and hold my glass of water out to him, my book open on my lap. He gulps down half of it with a contented sigh, trying again. "Hey..." It's a little better. "How long have you been here?"

"Oh. Not too long..." I shrug. I'm lying through my teeth though. I've been here every second I could, holding hands and barely moving for hours, even to go to the bathroom. It's been almost two days. They said the fever was bad but I was starting to get really scared. Even when they assured me he'd be fine. I'm just glad I was here for him waking up so he wouldn't be alone. He doesn't appear to pick up my fib, looking down at his toes, wrapped up in the blanket. Just two little points.

"So, how is everyone?" He stares down at them like his life depends on it and part of he wishes I'd told him how I'd barely left his side.

"They're fine. We miss your company." He looks up at that and I nod, my heart softened by how insecure the motion is. It just asks, 'Why would you miss me?' "Yeah, Charlie's been here loads." We'd camped out by his bed both nights Cas had been in here. She'd be scared, but some how she'd acted all strong. Like she knew she had to, for me. But how could she know that?

"Really?" He looks shocked but really pleased and he glances round. Probably looking for her.

"Yeah, but she had to do a thing right now." Even I don't know what the thing it, but from the way she'd been acting, all fidgety and distracted, it was important for her. So I hadn't pried when she had fallen silent.

He keeps smiling, shifting his gaze down shyly to our interlocked fingers. I hadn't realised them get tangled. When I go to move my hand away, though, he tugs it back stubbornly.

I can't help but smile a little, turning my eyes up just in time to see him watching me, blush-reddened cheeks lifted high around his own openmouthed grin.

But his eyes droop heavily, his head lolling forwards a little.

"Cas, I'm glad you're okay, I- I was... scared..." I watch him tilt his head like a confused kitten.

"Scared. Why?"

"Because... You were out for two days. Just sleeping." His expression changes.

"But. I'm so tired..." He says past a yawn and I want to be closer to him. I want to be as close as two days ago, before this. I want to be as close as I can get and feel his feverish heat. I settle with leaning in a bit more.

"Of course you are. Your body has been fighting a fever. You'll be exhausted." Cas turns on his side, curling up a little around my hand and pulling me, unintentionally, even closer. "Rest now." I say over him, looking back into his wide eyes that get smaller with every second that passes, the lids like lead.

"I don't want to..." He mumbles, his words fluffy and cloaked in sleep.
"You should rest. Do it anyway... For me." I murmur when his eyes are completely shut. His tight grip slackens to the point where his hand would slip away from mine if I let it. I don't.

His breathing is regular, shallow, soft little huffs now. So I lean in despite myself. A quick glance around at the empty room. No one will ever know about this...

"It's okay to sleep, angel..." I press my lips gently, so gently it might as well be a feathers touch, to the curly locks of hair scattered across his forehead. I ignore that every part of my wants more. More pressure, more time, more contact. More connection...

Instead I slip away, pressing my back against the wall outside, sinking down it till I'm crouched, covering my mouth with my shaking fists and just willing my tears not to spill. Why am I crying like this. Why? He smelled so sweet, being that near, feeling him against my mouth, like a breath of fresh air filling, still caught, in my lungs.

And still one stubborn tear insists on falling.

One. Pathetic. Tear.

Castiel's POV -

I blink and I'm alone in the big infirmary. Dean's nowhere to be seen. My throat feels smaller than when I woke earlier.

I roll onto my back sharply and my foot hits something. The corner of this something jabs my ankle and I let out a grunt, a soft hum of pain over my throbbing head spreads up my leg a little bit. So I boost myself up into a position that resembles sitting, only less upright, kicking and tugging the offending item up the bed towards me.

I heave it onto my lap, it's heavy and chunky. It's a book.

"A diary..." I correct myself quietly, gazing down at the little padlock and key on the opening side, holding it secure. A note on white paper sits on top.

'Why are you always sleeping when I come to see you? Get better soon bro. - Gabriel'

I fold it twice, carefully, tucking it next to me. Then I turn my attention back to the diary.

It's beautiful. Big, square and thick, with soft leather shaped into wings and swirls and hands. It's a deep, olive green, grey and brown and the pages are clearly yellowing. I could run my hands over it for hours and feel comforted by the earthy scent around it. It reminds me of Dean.

I remember how I used to keep diaries when I was younger. I'd filled them all from cover to cover until my dad refused to buy me any more. He thought they were too feminine a hobby. He didn't realise they are one of the only things keeping me together. Keeping me sane...

I think maybe Gabriel remembers. I think he cares, even if he would never admit it. And I think, perhaps, he's worried about me.

This is the perfect gift. I hug it to my chest before picking up a pen from the little table next to me and fiddling with the tiny lock. It's perfect...

"Thank you Gabe..."