And i will walk on water

Chapter eight

Castiel didn't tell anyone about Dean's falling-asleep-on-an-angel stunt, but then again, he didn't have to. Dean woke to the warm, heavy weight of a blanket draped around him, the even warmer angel still pressed firmly against and supporting him, and the sound of Bobby's gruff voice not far off. The blanket and the angel made Dean want to burrow deeper and sleep some more, but Bobby won and Dean could feel the haziness of sleep clear from his mind as the old man talked. The early morning sun helped.

"What in the Lord's name have you done to him?" Bobby was asking, in a tone that Dean was glad wasn't directed at himself.

"I haven't done anything to him," he heard Castiel reply above his head, and it amused Dean that he sounded almost defensive. "He fell asleep."

"So you let him sleep out here?"

Castiel insisted, "I would not have let anyone harm him."

"I wasn't worried about anyone harming him, you idjit angel," Bobby snapped. "You may not, but we humans catch colds, you know, and it can get pretty chilly at night, even in the summer."

Dean couldn't help it. He forgot to be embarrassed or cramped from sitting here all night and actually giggled (it was a manly giggle, naturally). Then he blinked open his eyes to see Castiel turn his head and look imploringly down at him, like he wanted Dean to save him from Bobby. Dean looked past him, up at Bobby's glaring expression and frowning beard, and then back at Castiel, and laughed again, silently this time but also harder, his body shaking against Castiel's as he sank lower to hide behind him. Of all the ridiculous things Dean had ever woken up to, Bobby lecturing an angel like he was a naughty schoolboy might just take the friggin' cake. Castiel gave him a faintly despairing look and turned back to Bobby.

"I would not have let any virus harm him either," he said carefully. "And he has a blanket to combat the temperature drop."

"Oh, quit arguing and justifying, what are you, a Winchester?" came Bobby's annoyed response. "It ain't right, sleeping out here on the porch like some homeless schmuck."

Castiel did as he was told and didn't argue, and Bobby huffed. "Idjit boy probably deserves an idjit angel," he muttered to himself as he went back inside the house, screen door clanging shut in his wake.

Dean would have smiled at that if he hadn't still been laughing, and now Castiel turned to him and said sourly, "You owe me extra ice cream for this."

***

After Dean had gone in to wash up and change (he avoided Bobby's study), he took Castiel to the convenience store for ice cream. He bought two cones for Castiel, one chocolate and one strawberry, and one chocolate cone for himself. Castiel seemed more than appeased now that he had an ice cream cone in each hand and was licking them alternately, and it was Dean's turn to be annoyed.

He'd foolishly thought giving Castiel twice the amount of ice cream would lead to twice the amount of mess, but the damned angel's ice cream wasn't melting at all, while Dean sat beside him on the porch once more, wondering suspiciously if his own ice cream was melting more quickly than normal and trying to catch the little streams of melted chocolate with a napkin. A bit of it dripped onto his jeans anyway.

"Don't you dare say a thing," Dean groused, pointing a sticky finger at Castiel in warning.

Castiel only licked smugly at his perfectly frozen ice cream in reply. Dean gave him a dirty look and tried to wipe the ice cream from his jeans, but only really succeeded in smearing it. He gave up eventually and just as more of it came dangerously close to dripping off the tip of the cone, Dean shoved the last of it into his mouth. It didn't quite fit and made his cheeks puff out sharply, and parts of the cone dug uncomfortably into his gums as he tried to chew it, but apparently it was enough to make Castiel smile, so Dean figured it had to be worth it.