SPN episode codas (Destiel)

11.02 - Form and Void

It's the warmest he can find: thick gray wool, army grade. Musty. Not the softest, but the goal is to get Cas's body temperature up. Dean shakes out years of dust and wraps the blanket around him. Cas thanks him through chattering teeth.

Both his eyes are hemorrhaged, his shirt bloody and torn–Dean hasn't asked yet. He keeps a careful distance, gun at his hip, blade in sight. He trusts Cas but something's not right. What I have, you can't help me, Cas said on the phone. Well. What he's got right now is hypothermia, a roof over his head. Two people who care a hell of a lot about him.

Sam makes tea. Dean rolls his eyes at the mug Sam proffers, opting for whiskey. Neat. Knocks it back, welcoming the burn in his stomach, temporary distance from the day.

Cas has a cut on his forehead that Sam dabs with peroxide. They try to pretend he isn't miserable, taking out their laptops to catch up on strange headlines, anything that could give them insight into the Darkness. Cas's fingers tremble against the blanket where he clutches it; his face contorts with pain and he mentions a spell. His tea goes untouched.

"I'm gonna grab a shower," Sam says after a while. Dean's fairly certain he says it as an excuse to leave the room, sidestep the elephant in the war room in the form of a mound of books, evidence of a fight he hasn't cleaned up yet, but he doesn't say anything when Sam gets up. He ought to put on a maid's outfit himself.

"Can't you..." Dean taps two fingers against his forehead when they're alone. Closes the laptop. Cas shakes his head, eyes cast to the floor.

"No. Hannah tried and wasn't able to heal me."

"Oh, yeah? How's she?" Dean says. He infers the answer from Cas's silence. "Sorry. I know you two were...close."

"Not as close as I'd thought."

"You wanna tell me what's going on?"

Cas shakes but does, ending with the question of what he is, what he's become.

Dean crouches next to his chair. "Who cares what they think, Cas?"

"They're my–were. My brothers."

"Yeah, well, you know what I believe about family."

Cas's tears appear red before they fall.

#

"So I'll get you set up in your own room tomorrow, but you're bunking in here tonight. I'll take the couch." Dean switches on the light, opens his dresser and roots for something Cas can wear. Comes up with sweatpants, a long-sleeved tee.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Cas shivers in the doorway, back lit by the hallway light. He draws the blanket around him. "I'd recommend you restrain me for the night."

Dean shrugs one shoulder, throws the covers back. "I usually get a couple dates in before I get kinky." Cas chuckles, though it dissolves into a coughing fit. Dean waits until it calms, then motions to the clean clothes. "Look, I promise I'll slap some chains on you if you get out of hand, but right now I don't think you're capable of much."

"I don't want to hurt you," Cas says.

"Makes two of us."

He turns his back while Cas changes, until he gets into the bed and stops moving. Cas lies shaking in the negative of Dean's usual spot, head resting on the pillow Dean doesn't use, knees drawn up to his chest. Wrapped in the blanket underneath the sheet and comforter. Sometimes, Dean believes in signs.

He tucks in behind Cas fully clothed, on top of the covers. Pulls Cas back against his chest. Drops his face to Cas's neck, the gray blanket wrapped around him. He can overthink this in the morning.

"Glad you came home."