5. Chapter 5

Castiel had done a lot of reading before he approached Dean, but his research included more than just details about the lifestyle he was trying to introduce to his stubborn nestling. Thanks to the internet, he had stocked the cabin with as many basics as he could find, mostly because he wasn't sure what Dean would want to eat now that artery clogging diner food wasn't on the menu morning, noon and night. He was aware of what Dean's favorites were, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that Dean wouldn't demand some input.

For the time being, though, it seemed wiser to give Dean as little opportunity to fight back as possible. Dean was off balance now, too preoccupied with assessing the situation to really throw the kinds of tantrums Castiel suspected weren't too far off. It was best to keep him that way for as long as possible. So he put together a simple meal of porridge, toast with strawberry jam and a glass of milk. Dean frowned when he saw the porridge, gingerly poking at the mess with his spoon.

"I don't like porridge," he said quietly, looking up at Castiel through his eyelashes.

It took every ounce of stoicism Castiel possessed to not openly melt right then and there. In his pajamas, with his hair still messy and his eyes hazy with sleep, Dean was way too adorable. "How about if we add some honey?" he suggested, already moving to grab the ingredient from the cupboard. He opened the jar and added a generous spoonful to the porridge.

Dean studied the new addition for a long moment before he gave the bowl a slow stir, tasting the contents cautiously. His nose wrinkled but he apparently deemed it acceptable, because he began to eat. Castiel stood back and watched him, surprised by the warm feeling in his chest. Knowing that Dean was here, being fed and cared for, instead of searching for a hunt alone was something that he had often longed for over the past two years. Finally, he was getting the chance to protect Dean Winchester.

Not that he harbored any illusions that this would be easy by any stretch of the imagination. Like any seasoned hunter, even while he ate Dean was busy taking everything in. That was evident in the way that his eyes kept darting around the room. He was no doubt trying to figure out exactly how far Castiel planned to take this, and only then would he decide how he was going to counter it. It was an admirable tactic, even if it wasn't going to work this time.

The spoon clanked against the bottom of the bowl and Dean yawned, trying to hide it by taking a big bite of toast. Castiel smiled. He'd already planned for a nap to become a part of Dean's daily routine. Both Dean and Sam had been running on way too little sleep for too long. Getting four hours a night - or less, considering how often Dean woke up screaming lately - put unnecessary stress on their bodies, and even though Castiel had healed that damage when he'd resurrected Dean, that would not last forever.

"Take your milk into the living room," he said, moving forward to pick up the bowl and the half-eaten piece of toast. He didn't try to make Dean finish it; Dean had eaten something and that was good enough for now. "I'll put a movie on for us to watch."

"Okay," Dean said, and he was still frowning but he didn't voice whatever was on his mind. He stood up, took the glass of milk and walked into the living room. A moment later, Castiel heard the television go on.

He took his time cleaning up the kitchen, wanting to give Dean a little time to himself. The first couple of weeks would be the hardest, he knew, but he thought that it might become a little easier after Dean had his first few tastes of grace. Dean would be more vulnerable then, and Castiel was hoping that the process of becoming an angel, something that was not human and thus not governed by the strange human convention of morality and what constituted as socially normal, would help.

When the kitchen was practically sparkling, he walked into the living room to join his nestling. He'd made sure that the furniture in the room was plush and comfortable, and Dean had curled himself up into a little ball on the couch. He was propped up against the arm, but his head was tipped back and his eyes were half-lidded. Castiel shot a quick glance at the screen, not surprised to see that there was an action movie playing. Lots of shooting combined with sexy girls in practically no clothing.

The remote was sitting on the coffee table and he picked it up, switching the channel to something more age appropriate.

"Hey," Dean complained.

"You need a break, Dean," Castiel said, not budging in the slightest. There had been more than enough fighting in the past few months; he was positive that he couldn't be the only one who was tired of it. He sat down on the other end of the couch. "Besides, you might like it."

Dean shook his head and muttered something about babies. His scowl only deepened as he watched Aladdin escape the cave with the help of a genie and a magic carpet, but within minutes - by the time that Prince Ali made an entrance into the palace - he was absorbed in the story. He'd clearly never seen the movie before. Unfortunately, by the time that Jafar found the lamp and took over Agrabah, Dean was sound asleep and drooling a little.

"So stubborn," Castiel murmured fondly, shaking his head. He created a thick, soft blanket, which he carefully spread over his little boy. It was impossible not to notice that Dean's arms were wrapped protectively around his tummy, and he couldn't resist mojoing up a fat bee. A touch of grace insured that the bee would give off heat, and then he gently set the toy in Dean's lap. It only took a few seconds before Dean was latching onto the source of warmth and unconsciously nuzzling his cheek against the bee's yellow and black striped tail.

Castiel smiled again, almost overwhelmed by the intense wave of affection that swept over him, and had to stop himself from reaching out to touch Dean in some way. Years of having to wake up at the slightest hint of trouble meant that Dean slept very lightly, and he'd already pushed his luck with the blanket and toy. Instead, he dimmed the lights and left Dean to sleep.

He returned to the kitchen and summoned his angel blade. It was best to do this while Dean was sleeping, because it would only upset him to know that Castiel was technically hurting himself to do this. He carefully drew the blade across his forearm, watching as the pure white light that was his grace bubbled up. Because the wound was to his real form he couldn't disassociate from the pain the way he would if it were just to his vessel, but it would heal fairly quickly.

Gabriel had gotten him a couple of bottles to hold the grace until Dean consumed it, and he tipped one now against his arm. The grace trickled in slowly. The sensation was a little odd, but he managed to fill four of the bottles halfway before he stopped, loosely binding the wound when it did not heal immediately. There was another reason for their nest, though he had not confided as much to Dean. Nourishing a nestling usually left an angel weaker, and having a safe, private place with little risk of predators was key.

Heaven and hell were officially at rest for the moment, but there was no telling when a stray demon might pop up. Castiel was confident that he could smite any threat that came close, but it made more sense to be cautious. He twisted the lid onto the bottles and left them on the counter, having already decided that it would be better for Dean to take the grace at night. It would help him to sleep better, keeping the nightmares of hell at bay when he wasn't so exhausted that his mind slept too deeply for dreams.

He had just swept a cloth across his blade to clean it when he heard rustling in the other room, and then Dean stumbled in. Regrettably he wasn't carrying the bee, no doubt having left the toy behind on the couch. "Cas?" he asked sleepily, rubbing a fist into one eye.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said, and then added gently, "It's Daddy."

Dean paused briefly, then mumbled, "You shouldn't have let me fall asleep."

"Why not? You were tired and needed the rest."

"'Cause..." Dean trailed off and wrinkled his nose, apparently unable to think of a good excuse. Finally, he said, "'Cause it's weird. I'm not a little kid. I don't need a nap."

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "You are a little kid now, remember?"

"Is that why I woke up with that... thing?" Dean folded his arms.

"It's a stuffed animal," Castiel told him.

"I know what it is!"

"Didn't you like it? I can get you a different one if you prefer. Or we can go to the toy store and you can pick one out yourself." Castiel tipped his head slightly, maintaining an indifferent expression even though he very much wanted to smile at Dean's frustrated look.

"I don't play with toys," Dean said very slowly, enunciating each word.

"You weren't playing, you were sleeping, and no matter what you say now, you were holding it very tightly. I could discern a noticeable difference in your sleeping pattern once you had your arms around the toy. And I'm not sure what difference it makes since it's just the two of us," Castiel replied. "I'm not going to mock you, Dean. I don't think less of you for holding a toy while you sleep, or wanting to sit in my lap, or calling me Daddy. Or any of the other things that will happen over the next few months. I am angel, and what you consider to be socially right or wrong means nothing to me."

Dean opened his mouth... and then he closed it. He looked confused. Then he said, displaying that famous Winchester brand of stubbornness, "It doesn't matter. I still don't play with toys. Or sleep with them."

"Okay. But if you decide that's something you want to do, there's nothing wrong with that," Castiel said.

"I won't." Dean frowned at him and looked around, eyes lingering briefly on the bottles of grace. But all he said was, "Is this all we're gonna do? Sit around and play house?"

"What else would you like to do?"

"Hunt," came the immediate response, and Castiel barely held back a sigh. Of course, the second Dean began to feel better from a good night of sleep and some food, he wanted to hunt.

"No, Dean."

"You can't just expect me to not hunt," Dean said. "You said -"

"I said that on special occasions if it's necessary," Castiel interrupted. "That doesn't mean scouring the newspapers for the slightest hint of a hunt." He took in the mutinous expression he was receiving and knew that any suggestion that could be taken as childish in any way would only result in a tantrum. "However, if you want to go get dressed, we would go for a walk. It would be good for you to know the surrounding areas a little better since we're going to be here for a while."

Dean mulled this over for a few seconds, no doubt trying to find a complaint, but evidently decided that made sense. "Fine."

"Good. Go get dressed and we'll go," Castiel said, relieved as Dean turned and left. One argument was successfully diverted, but not for long: Dean was heading for the bathroom, and Castiel knew exactly what he was planning to do in there. He got up and silently followed.