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Castiel awakened to a pleasant pressure on his chest and an unpleasant pressure on his ankle. He glanced down to see Dean's arm lying casually across his torso and further down his ankle was peeking out from under the covers, considerably swollen.
"Jesus," he huffed, wincing in pain. He turned his head to look at Dean's sleeping figure. His freckles were highlighted in the soft sun beaming through the window, his dark lashes swept aesthetically against his cheeks.
God, last night had been fun, but Castiel suddenly felt unsure of himself. He was lying in bed, next to this beautiful, smart, kind man and holy fuck he'd put out on the first date, that's all Dean was probably interested in, what with his crazy intern schedule and Castiel's troublesome mouth.
Castiel glanced down at his ankle again and thought ruefully of his brace, cast aside somewhere in the far off lounge room; there was no way he was gonna make it out. Dean was gonna wake up and things would be awkward and tense and Dean would be too polite to kick Castiel out but the intention would be clear as he--
"Mornin' Cas," he felt warm breath tickle his neck as Dean's voice came out all sleepy smoke and sex and Castiel shuddered lightly.
"Hey," he whispered, glancing back at Dean, who was smiling up at him, his green eyes shining. Dean's peaceful look quickly morphed into horror.
"Jesus, Cas, Christ, I'm so sorry!" He blurted out. Castiel prepared himself to be subtly kicked out with a white lie like 'I forgot, my mother's funeral starts in an hour, I have to get going!' but it never actually came. "I'm so sorry, I completely forgot about your ankle!" Dean sat up, running his hand through his spiky hair. He crawled down the bed and padded to the lounge room, Cas' eyes drawn inevitably to his naked butt as he went.
Castiel watched him with curiosity as Dean came back into the room, grinning guiltily and gently sliding Castiel's boxers over his feet and up to his hips before fitting the brace back onto Castiel's ankle. "Can I get you some ibuprofen?"
Castiel shook his head bemusedly as Dean carefully climbed on top of him and leant in for a slow, slightly stale kiss.
"Sorry," Castiel breathed as they broke apart. "Morning breath."
"S okay, dude," Dean winked, rolling off Castiel and standing beside the bed, "you got time to hang around for breakfast?"
Castiel frowned slightly as he sat up, before looking up at Dean with his big, blue eyes. "You want me to stick around?" He asked, confusion thick in his tone, watching as Dean pulled on a pair of sweatpants.
"Of course!" Dean said immediately. "'Less you don't wanna," he added as an afterthought, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
Castiel watched Dean carefully for a moment before nodding slowly. "A-alright. Yeah. Breakfast would be good," he smiled timidly. Dean was endlessly endeared by how Castiel could go from a pro dirty talker, to the shy, insecure man in front of him. Dean bent over and kissed Castiel's forehead.
"Okay, then," he held out his hand to help Castiel out of bed. "You right, buddy?" Dean asked as Castiel tried to stabilize himself by putting weight onto his sore ankle. Pain shot up his leg, blurring his vision for a moment, but his ankle didn't give out so, holding onto Dean, Castiel walked out to the kitchen. Dean sat him at the small table and gently lifted his leg so that his ankle was resting on the chair across from him. "You reconsidering those painkillers?"
Castiel shut his eyes, assessing the amount of pain he was in, between his ankle, his backside and, to some extent, his throat, "Actually, I think I would like some, please Dean."
"Of course," Dean reached up to the small cupboard about the stove's exhaust fan and pulled out a small packet. He popped two pills and placed them on the table in front of Castiel and fetched him a glass of water.
"Thank you," Castiel smiled, swallowing the pills as Dean raided the fridge. Dean pulled out a large packet of bacon, a carton of eggs and a bowl of batter. He saw Castiel's raised eyebrows and shrugged.
"I always have pancake batter on hand," he grinned placing the items on the bench.
"Can I help?" Castiel offered feebly, knowing full well his ankle kinda shot that horse in the face. Dean just chuckled and shook his head.
"So what kinda teachin' you interested in?" Dean asked, plugging in the waffle iron and putting a pan on the burner.
"I started off wanting to be a high school teacher, but then I remembered my high school experience and found myself not particularly wanting to return," Castiel wrinkled his nose and Dean smiled at him fondly, "so I decided early childhood; kindergarten, first and second grade."
"'S long as we keep you away from the happy gas, I think you'd make a damn fine kindergarten teacher," Dean flashed a smug smile as he started cooking.
"I'm never gonna live that down, am I?" Castiel sighed mournfully.
"Not as long as I'm around," Dean chuckled in response, and Castiel found he wouldn't mind the constant reminder, if it meant spending more time with Dean.
"So, Doctor Winchester, huh?" Castiel asked curiously. "How did that come about?"
Dean leant against the bench, arms folded casually across his chest as the food crackled and popped behind him.
"You want the truth or the manly reason?" Dean asked weightily.
"The truth, obviously," Castiel rolled his eyes, a wide grin stretching across his face.
"Doctor Sexy," Dean mumbled, so quiet that Cas almost didn't hear. Almost.
"What?" He let out a confused chuckle.
"I wanted my life to be a romantic hospital drama, okay?" Dean admitted, blushing.
"Oh my god!" Castiel spluttered, not even trying to contain his laughter. "And?"
"And here we are," Dean mused.