If you’re still doing the askbox drabble thing: Sastiel + sleep

waterbird13:

Cas, as a point of fact, does not actually spend every night in bed. He doesn’t sleep, after all, so it’s just hours and hours of unfilled time. He’s an angel, he’s millennia old, but he can, in fact, get bored.

Most nights, he spends reading. He tends the garden Sam helped him make. Some nights he goes for a drive, or watches television. One memorable night, he tried–and failed–to make brownies.

But some nights, he never leaves the bed. Even after Sam is long since asleep in his arms, he doesn’t slowly make his way out. It’s just something about the way Sam looks on those nights, although Cas can never pin down what exactly it is.

He looks soft when he sleeps, like the weight of the world is finally leaving him. His hair will curl around his head, fanning out on the pillow. He always sleeps with his lips slightly parted. Cas gets sucked into watching.

He wishes he was a painter. He wishes he could capture this is some great, meaningful way. He’s tried photographs, but they always come out too dark, too shadowed, too blurry.

So instead he gives up and just spends these particular nights watching, occasionally touching Sam’s hair or cheek or shoulder, but not daring to touch too much, lest he wake Sam. Some nights, he thinks Sam is the angel, sleeping and full of some sort of grace like the stories of old.

There’s no light in the Bunker, no windows, no sun and no moon. Cas wishes there was, sometimes, wishes to see the moonlight play out against Sam’s skin. Still, Sam wakes with the sun most days.

“Did you watch me all night?” He asks Cas, voice rough with sleep, a small smile playing on his face.

Cas leans down and kisses him. “Beautiful things should be watched,” he says.

Sam laughs, shaking his head, messing his already sleep-mussed hair more against the pillow. He doesn’t say anything, though, just allows Cas to kiss him again.