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When Dean first wakes up, he feels fine. Better than fine really. Castiel had taken him out to eat yesterday, burgers in a new joint Dean had been eyeing all week, and after that they had watched some cheesy movie Dean pretend to hate, but secretly really enjoyed.
It isn't until he shifts to get up that he feels it. He's slick. His legs suddenly feel like jelly and did his head hurt like this a second ago?
He freezes, just for a second.
I'm safe, he reminds himself sternly. This isn't his first heat with Castiel and it won't be his last. He's okay! He takes a deep breath.
It's normal for a heat cycle to lose its regularity with age. Dean simply had never imagined he'd turn old enough to experience that. It's, quite frankly, very annoying.
He drops back onto the mattress and closes his eyes. His heats are not as heavy anymore, especially not as heavy as the first one he had after.. Well, after. But it's not gonna be a fun week, he can already feel it.
He should call Cas. He doesn't.
He takes a minute, gathers his thoughts, then sends the alpha a message. On his phone. The phone the alpha got him. Because Cas wants him to be able to talk to people without always knowing about it.
Dean pulls a pillow over his head and groans. Sometimes his heats, or the beginnings of heats, take a very heavy toll on his mental stability and this seems to be the case here as well.
He's safe. He's loved. He's not a slave. He's not!
He can hear the door open and close and the mattress dips next to him. "Are you alright, Dean?" Cas voice is filled with barely concealed worry. Dean pulls the pillow from his face and looks up at the alpha.
"I'm in heat", he tells the man and is surprised by how miserable he sounds.
Castiel’s expression softens immediately. “Oh,” he says quietly, like Dean has told him it’s raining. Like it’s information, not a problem. “Thank you for telling me.”
Dean swallows. His throat feels tight, and that annoys him more than anything else. “Didn’t mean for it to sneak up on me,” he mutters. “Guess my body didn’t get the memo.”
Castiel huffs a small, fond breath. He doesn’t reach for Dean right away, he rarely does, just shifts so he’s fully facing him, close enough that Dean can catch his scent if he wants to. Warm and Steady and Familiar.
“Do you want me here?” Castiel asks. Dean appreciates the fuck out of that. He knows the alpha would be going up walls if Dean actually send him out. Still, he doesn't doubt that the alpha would leave him, should he ask for that. Dean exhales, long and shaky, and the scent of his gratitude fills the room.
“Yeah. Yeah, I want you here. Need you here” he says after a second. “Just… don’t... please don't touch me yet.” His voice is quiet and immediately shame floods his scent. Cas doesn't comment on it.
“Of course.”
Of course. Dean could cry. He's so fucking lucky.
Castiel stays exactly where he is.
Dean lets his eyes close again, grounding himself in the sound of Castiel’s breathing, the dip of the mattress, the fact that no one is going to want anything from him, want him for anything, despite his scent.
A few minutes pass like that.
“My head’s kind of a mess,” Dean admits eventually, voice muffled by the pillow he’s hugging now. He must look like a baby. “I know.. logically I know that.. that I’m safe. I know that. Just.. takes a minute for the rest of me to catch up.”
Castiel nods, even though Dean can’t see it. “You have been through a lot, Dean. It's only natural that you don't feel as safe when your body is in such a vulnerable state.” Dean can't help but roll his eyes. Cas is always so.. logical. It's almost frustrating how understanding he is.
“Do you want water?” Castiel asks. “Or pain meds. Or do you want me to just sit here and be annoying?” Dean snorts despite himself. “You’re never annoying, Cas." The alpha gives him a small smile.
Dean shifts again, slower this time, more careful. The jelly-leg feeling hasn’t gone away, but it’s manageable now that the initial panic has passed. He peeks at Castiel.
„Can you… Can you hold my hand? I think that’s okay now.”
Castiel’s answer is immediate. He offers his hand, palm up, waiting. Dean takes it without hesitation. The contact is grounding, warm fingers lacing together, Castiel’s thumb brushes over Dean’s knuckles once, and then goes still again. “There,” Castiel murmurs. “I’ve got you.” Dean closes his eyes again. The ache in his head dulls. His breathing evens out.
He's safe. He's loved. He's okay for now.