Dean woke up with a start, bleary and a heavy head, his joints achy, feeling an awful lot like hungover. He'd only had that one beer. And his surroundings were unfamiliar. Where the flying fuck was he?

He sat up slowly, taking in the fact that he was in an actual building, and checked the other bed on the other side of the room. It was empty. His heart informed that somebody important should’ve been right there.

Clad only in his boxers and t-shirt that he slept in, Dean wandered into the small kitchen, finding no one there. He ventured out of the open door, swallowing down the feeling of anxiety creeping into his bones.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas was sitting on a foldable chair on the patio, a mug dangling precariously in his hands, and Dean could relax again, the memory of this place returning with the sight of Cas being right here with him.

Coffee. Nothing else registered in his brain and it itched at him like a motherfucker. Four-oh-four page not found.

Cas stood up and walked over to Dean, thrusting the mug into Dean's hand; “Hold this. Don't go anywhere.” Cas winked before disappearing inside, while Dean obeyed and held the mug with both hands, staring unseeingly into the dark void that was black coffee.

Cas was back just moments later with another mug and a thermos which, hopefully, was full. Otherwise it was doubtful Dean could get his eyes open all the way today.

After handing the other mug to Dean, Cas produced another chair seemingly out of nowhere and flicked it open one-handed. He gestured for Dean to sit down.

“Where is everybody?”Squinting to see straight, Dean made a slightly flailing grabby motion towards the thermos, but missed his target. 

Opening the container, Cas gave him a worried look but poured the coffee without argument. “They went to shoot some scenery coverage for the show. Helicopter, remember? Dean. Dean! What's wrong!?”

And Dean's world tilted.

He woke up to Cas kneeling down beside him on the floor and swiping a cool, damp cloth over his brow. “What happened?”

“You fainted, fell off the chair. I was afraid you hit your head. And you're burning up.” Cas helped him up and supported him as he stumbled. The sturdy form of Cas and the arm around his waist were a blessing since he felt dizzy the moment he was rising on his feet.

Pausing to reorient Dean every few steps, they managed to get him to his bed.

 

The production's doctor, a severe looking man with white-gray hair and some biblical name, had given him paracetamol and drew some blood. He'd informed that it'd have to be sent to a laboratory for further testing as the instant CRP test had come back inconclusive. All Dean could do was wait and feel awful in more ways than one.

Cas had been hovering over him for hours now. He'd been going back and forth, bringing Dean food and drinks, and generally fussing around him until Dean had reached his breaking point and snapped at him, asking if Cas was going to wipe his ass for him too.

And then Dean felt like the biggest dick on the planet when Cas looked like he'd been slapped, a quiet “ You took care of me when I needed it ” his only response before leaving the room. Meek was a look on Cas which Dean could happily live his life without. In all honesty he didn’t even know why he was being an ass. He just felt like shit ran twice over, and his nerves were on the edge with the pounding headache and the constant chills that he couldn’t stand to be touched.

Feeling marginally better, Dean got out of bed on shaky legs, leaning heavily against walls to keep vertical and tracked Cas down. Dean found him standing outside, apparently staring at nothing.

Regrouping and steadying himself, concentrating hard, Dean went to Cas wordlessly, begging for forgiveness with everything he could muster on his face. He sought Cas's eyes, slowly sliding his hands over Cas's arms and further around his waist. Seeking permission, Dean held him loosely, and once Cas's eyes softened, Dean kissed him softly, just pressing his lips against Cas’s for as long as it took for Cas to return the kiss.

“Are we okay?”

“We're okay,” Cas nodded. “I keep forgetting I'm not responsible for your well-being anymore.” He turned and went back inside, leaving Dean to find his own way back to his bunk with a frown on his face. Okay so they weren’t okay.

It was a relief when Cas came into their room with a glass of orange juice for Dean and a refreshed mug of coffee for himself, and sat on the edge of Dean's cot.

Cas wagged a deck of playing cards between his fingers. “I hope you play.”

Dean shrugged. “It's one way to pass the time.” 

“Are you feeling up for it, though?”

“I’m feeling better, but I’d rather just lay down for a week,” Dean confessed, feeling physically weak and mentally anxious. He wanted to right his attitude towards Cas’s care now that he was more clear headed. “I’m sorry for being a jackass, Cas, I really am. I’d’ve done the same thing for you in your place. Thank you for caring.”

“Of course I care,” Cas huffed, clearly incinced by the insinuation that he was acting out of anything but affection. “We need to rearrange some furniture around here so I can show you.”

Dean leered the best he could, a glint in his eye despite his current slightly terrifying medical issues. They didn’t even know if it was contagious. Should he be in quarantine? “I don’t think I’m up for that, but check in again after I’ve got this bug out of my system.”

Cas chuckled, amused and so very soft, and Dean’s growing worry faded into nothing when Cas kissed him slowly, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and just held him.

Cas pressed his forehead against Dean’s with half-shut eyes, speaking in hushed tones through his smile. “Though I will be taking up on that offer, that’s not what I had in mind,” and he rose up, turning to his own cot.

Dragging the thing across the room, causing a screeching noise that would rival a banshee, making Dean’s head feel like there was a blacksmith hard at work inside his skull, Cas motioned for Dean to get out and out of the way, and pushed the cots together.

With the sides being metal and impossible to lie down on, Cas arranged their mattresses sideways on the cots, tucking the sheets in to close the gap tightly, the hard metal side was as good as gone, creating a queen sized bed comfortable for two.

Cas grinned and bowed, making the ‘you’re most welcome’ motion with his arm as Dean climbed on, laying on his side back against the wall.

For a second Cas looked pissed off like an angry bee. “Why didn’t we think about this last night?”

Dean chuckled, patting the bed. “Exhaustion? Whatever it was, we can make it all better now, if my angel would care to join me.”

Cas went happily, snuggling up, burying his face into the crook of Dean’s neck and nudging his knee between Dean’s thighs like second nature, getting as close as he could into Dean’s open arms.

A minute passed, and Dean felt like something was seriously off. He started to get antsy, so uncomfortable he squirmed and Cas seemed to be shifting and stirring too.

“Is this okey?” Cas asked, pulling back to look into Dean’s eyes, worry written all over his face.

“Yes, of course, abso-fucking-lutely." Dean cupped Cas face with his hand. "But I feel kinda…” Dean shook his shoulders, demonstrating his discomfort and paused to search Cas’s honest eyes, then plowed ahead recklessly. “Wanna get naked? It’s just that–”

“Yes! Way too many clothes,” Cas said excitedly, both of them realizing exactly what was wrong. 

After a hasty wriggling and shucking and tossing of t-shirts, pajama pants and boxers, they cuddled back together, Dean feeling a whole lot better when Cas’s thigh slotted between his legs and he could feel the skin of this amazing man. Suddenly everything felt right.

Dean smiled when he heard Cas sniffing around at his neck and pressing a kiss there. He got it. Dean himself had become addicted to the very scent of Castiel, and the happiness of it being mutual bloomed in his chest like an African daisy opening and reaching for the sun in the morning.

They fell asleep there, their bare flaccid cocks nestled between them. This was about intimacy. Closeness. Comfort. And Dean felt like he belonged like he never had before. Exquisite. Awesome.

 

African tick bite fever. It was a mouthful, but nothing that a couple weeks of antibiotics wouldn't deal with and Dean was set to fly home as scheduled. Which was tomorrow.

Why did it have to have such an ominous ring to it? Why did it feel like he’d rather stay here for a little longer, maybe go see some sights with Cas?

In the plane their seats had been set in different rows, so Dean had to deal with his bubbling fear of flying on his own. He already hummed Metallica in his head, had been since boarding, and he knew it would be audible in a moment.

It would have been bad enough even without the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, how everything was different now that they were out of South Africa. Maybe the goddamned Vegas rule applied. What the fuck was he going to do?

They hadn't talked much on the way to the airport, or at the terminal. Cas seemed to be in a quiet, contemplative mood, and Dean didn't want to bother him, drawing a blank on what to say or do in a situation like this. Their adventure was over, they were going in completely different directions once they landed.

So Dean sat in his seat, bile rising in his throat out of pure phobia, fear of many, many things regarding Cas, and the horror of uncertainty. Dean mulled it over and over in his head. Did he want it to end? Was there even anything between them to really end? He sat up straight and tried to find Cas's head among the passengers. 

He couldn't locate him. Dean stood up and headed for the toilet. 

Seeing Cas on the way would be just a happy accident.

He had to shove himself past a steward, and when he got to the seats Cas was sitting at, he found the man leaning his forehead against the seat before him, having found a comfortable enough position to be fast asleep. Dean left him to it, too uncertain. What would he even say if he woke Cas up? He went to take an angry piss and returned to his seat without looking at Cas on the way back. Maybe it would be easier this way.

 

Back on US soil, Cas was suddenly right there , waiting for Dean to get off the plane, face tired and irritated and clothes rumpled. They went through customs and walked together to the luggage carousel in silence. 

The burdening silence hung heavy in the air, making it difficult to breathe, but every time Dean tried to say something, the words died in his throat. He drummed a nervous beat to the seam of his jeans.

Their bags arrived way too soon and Cas hauled his luggage off the conveyor belt, then picked something out of his jeans pocket and wordlessly pressed it into Dean's palm. A piece of paper.

Walking away backwards, rolling his suitcase with one hand, Cas made a finger gun with the other and winked with the saddest smile Dean had seen in his entire existence. Then he turned around, just another person milling about in a nondescript airport.

Dean felt like screaming. He would have, if his mouth hadn't gone numb and his tongue felt thick like it had been stung by a wasp. He'd seen the pictures of the poor dogs sharing that fate. His heart twisted while feeling like it ripped in two.

He opened the folded paper with shaking fingers, almost ripping it.

It had a phone number scribbled on it.

Xx Castiel

Dean fished out his phone and cursed it into the deepest pits of hell when it took too long to turn on. His heart hammered inside his rib cage when he dialed the number, and pressed the phone to his ear. Chances were Cas's phone wasn't on either. 

Maybe Cas hadn't meant, like, right now.

Well, It was too late now, since it was already ringing. Dean had to clutch his chest at the rustling sound after the third ring notifying him that he was connected.

“Hello?”

Definitely Cas. “Don't ever leave me like that again, Cas. I swear to god you gave me a heart attack.” The chuckle on the other end was downright angelic to Dean's ears.

“Dean, are you still at the luggage carousel?”

“Yes?”

“Stay there. Don't move. Don't hang up.”

“Okay, I'm right here, staying right here, though I'm not sure why.”

“I'm there now.”

Dean looked with suddenly blurry eyes to where Cas had vanished just moments ago and blinked hard, swallowing thickly. His breath hitched. Cas looked absolutely disheveled, hair sticking out in every direction like he'd been running his hand through it nervously. He was willing to bet he wasn't much more presentable himself.

Cas walked briskly over to Dean, a wide smile doing all the gorgeous things to his face that Dean loved so, so much, putting away his phone only when he was two steps away.

In stark relief to how careful and aloof they'd been with one another during the past day, they crashed into an embrace.

It was only after capturing Cas's lips in a long kiss that Dean realized he'd been paralyzed to the core with terror of not having this anymore. They were suddenly so far removed from having lived in each other's proverbial pockets for three weeks, it was hard to wrap his mind around and put it all into perspective. Reluctantly, he let go when Cas started to pull away.

“I want to take you on a second date,” Cas blurted, eyes wide with a hint of fear and a lot of trepidation.

“Can we stay at a motel for a few nights after that?” Dean smiled, a huge swarm of butterflies taking flight in his stomach.

“Sure,” Cas flashed a relieved, if a tired grin. “I don't know what your intentions are, but I should warn you. You've already seen me naked.”