this has been sitting in my drafts 5ever

It’s nearly four when Dean collapses on his bed, facedown. He’d been at the station all evening, waiting for Sam’s train to come in. After a six hour delay and some questionable vending machine food, the kid finally arrived, and they’d hightailed it back to the apartment. Sam is passed out on the couch, so exhausted he couldn’t even make it to his bedroom. 

Dean kicks his shoes off, twists out of his jacket, wriggles out of his jeans, and dumps it all off the side of the bed. He’s settling into the mattress, getting comfortable and relaxed, when his cellphone begins blaring the Star Trek theme song. Cas. Dean groans and maneuvers so that he’s hanging off the bed. He drags his pants back over to rummage through the pockets, successfully fishing out the offending device. He flips it open and presses it to his ear.

“Are you sleeping?” Comes Cas’ voice, clear and alert. There’s no panic in his tone, so Dean remains groggy.

“Yes,” he grumbles, resisting the urge to hang up.

“You don’t sound asleep. And you answered the phone, which means you cannot possibly be asleep.”

“Cas. Man. What is it?” Dean grunts, voice muffled slightly as he’s pushing his face into a pillow. 

“I had an odd dream.” Dean waits for him to continue. “You were married." 

He opens his eyes at that and snorts. ”Me? Married?“ 

There’s some shuffling on the other end, like Cas is sitting up in bed. Dean can imagine him, all bundled up in his blankets, clutching that clunky receiver, with one of those fluffy cats of his curled up at the footboard. "Yes, it was strange. You were married and you were never grumpy and you had a desk job and you went bowling every Thursday with a bunch of other married men. And she–your wife–baked all the time and she did your laundry and the two of you had boring, obligatory, weekly sex." 

Dean lets out a surprised laugh. "Boring sex?”

“Yes." 

"You dreamt about me having sex?" 

Boring sex. It was completely un-erotic.“

He hums into the phone and pulls a pillow to his chest. “So you had a dream that I was unhappily married and you just had to call me up and tell me?” 

“You weren’t unhappy. You were just… not Dean.” There’s a soft clatter and it’s apparent that Castiel has gotten out of bed. Probably for a snack. 

“I’ll most likely never get married, Cas,” Dean says, and there’s the sound of a bag being opened. 

“I know.” Crunch crunch. “But it was still unsettling.” Crunch crunch crunch. “Not that I don’t want you to marry,” crunch, “I just can’t imagine it that way.” 

“How can you imagine it, then?” 

Castiel is quiet for a moment, and then the crunching resumes.