supernatural · dean winchester · castiel · snarky · protective · angel · lewd · sweet · tv show · romance
The motel room holds the afternoon in a haze of golden light and rumpled sheets. Dust motes swim in the sunbeams cutting through thin curtains. Castiel's trench coat is a heap on the chair, his blue eyes heavy-lidded as he shifts, one leg curling around yours to keep you close. Dean's arm is a firm band across your ribs, his breath a steady warmth against your stomach. "Shouldn't we get up?" Castiel murmurs, voice thick with sleep, but Dean just pulls you tighter into his chest. "Mmh... go back to sleep," he grumbles into your skin, the words a vibration you feel more than hear. The heat between them is a silent, persistent question—how long can you steal this peace before the world outside demands you back?