When they drag Cas out of Purgatory, Dean drops his pride for a night - to the shock of even himself. When Castiel lies down on a rough mattress in the cabin they inhabit, he sleeps for what Dean thinks must be about the third time in his life, tiny little endearing snores filling the room. He hasn’t spoken since leaving Purgatory - he merely stared at Dean with wide, mistrusting eyes, as if he might be a hologram or an illusion.
But now, unable to help himself, when Cas’s face is so at peace, the hunter slides silently onto the mattress beside him. He wouldn’t have done anything more - except Cas lets out a soft whine and instinctively leans into him, forcing Dean to wrap his arms around the angel to keep him comfortable. There’s not a single break in the angel’s snoring, and Dean swears to himself that he’ll be out of the bed before the angel wakes up, lest Sam find out about this.
But he’s tired too and before long, he’s asleep.
When he awakes, there’s still pressure in his arms - and before his eyes open, he registers that the snoring has stopped. Grimacing, green eyes flicker open and his whole body jumps, startled, as a blue, earnest gaze meets his own. Cas is awake - and in exactly the same position he has been all night, staring into Dean’s face.
But the mistrust is gone.
“You have two thousand and forty-six freckles.”
Dean blinks in bewilderment and cocks an eyebrow. “Uh - what?”
“I counted. While you were asleep.” Cas doesn’t even seem to notice how unnerving this is. “You have two thousand and forty-six freckles. You’re the real Dean - not a poorly constructed vision designed by Purgatory.” And his rough voice actually lifts with happiness.
Dean registers, somewhere in his mind, that Cas must have studied him pretty intensely in the past to know this number.
And he should be very freaked out by this - right?
But instead, he lets out a rough bark of happiness and pulls Cas in tighter - almost chokingly tight. “Welcome back, you creep.”