Finding Faith [Destiel Love Story]

Chapter 12

Sunlight seeped in through the window, creeping up on Dean the next morning. The beat of the light in his eyes was what initially woke him. He opened his eyes, only to have to squint in order to see clearly. He rubbed his face, then lifted his arms in a stretch. He looked over to Castiel.

The ex-angel was laying on his back, eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. Dean openly stared at him.

"Good morning, Dean."

Startled, Dean looked away. "Uh, mornin'." He spared a couple fleeting glances back. "Are you okay?"

"No," Castiel stated. "It feels like there's... this man trapped inside of my head, trying to beat his way through my skull."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, that happens." Rising to his feet, Dean stretched out his back. Falling asleep on a chair was completely different than snuggling into the memory foam on his mattress. He relaxed his shoulders, heading for the door. "I'll get you some water, Cas."

Slowly, Castiel moved into a sitting position. "I'll go with you." He paused, waiting for the room to stop spinning, and then got to his feet to follow Dean down the stairs.

"How do pancakes sound for breakfast?"

"I've never had pancakes."

Dean grinned, entering the kitchen. "Well we're gonna fix that." He took a glass out from the cupboard and poured some water into it.

Castiel frowned, lowering himself into the dining room chair. He watched in silence as Dean slid him the glass. "Here," he said. "If you don't like the taste of water then life's gonna be a bitch for you, man." Dean turned back to start on the pancakes without waiting for a response.

Castiel watched him. He took a drink of his water, set it down, and just stared. The ex-angel didn't even bother with turning away when Dean caught his eye several times during the process. It was... awkward for Dean, though he'd come to find out that Castiel was basically the definition of awkward.

After setting the batter into the pan, Dean paused to look back at him. He frowned, opening his mouth to say something, and then immed iately shut it again.

Recognizing the concern in his eyes, Castiel tilted his head. "What's the matter?"

"Nothin'. It's just..." He swallowed a lump in his throat, turning back to the stove. "It's good to have you back."

"I feel the same way." Castiel looked down at his lap, then back toward Dean's figure. "Though I don't believe that's the only thing on your mind."

Dean didn't say anything. He flipped the pancake over and stood there, waiting for the damned thing to cook. Suddenly the whole process took a lot longer than he remembered.

"If you need to talk about it," Castiel said, "I will listen to you."

"I'm fine, Cas."

"Dean..."

"Just... drop it. Okay?"

For a long moment, the entire house fell into a tense silence. It was still, quiet, and Dean was left to think about everything on his own. What was supposed to happen now? He couldn't just continue as if Castiel wasn't losing all of his Grace. They needed to find a damn wish of his and they had to do it fast before the process got worse. To think this was all his freaking fault. What a great friend he was.

"Dean."

He tightened his grip on the spatula. "I said to drop it, Cas."

"No, it's not that. I..." Castiel paused. When he wouldn't continue, Dean turned to look at him expectantly. Castiel was frowning. "I'm cold."