Fic: Supernatural: Dean/Cas: "Awake and Alive" (R)
I'm aliiiiiiive!!! Sorry it's been so long since I posted anything new. Life has been crazy, but I started browsing the prompt suggestions you guys left and thought i'd give this a shot. I haven't tried to write a Dean/Cas one-shot. I find it harder than long fics for some reason, but hopefully this doesn't suck.
Title: Awake and Alive
Author:nicole9514
Rating: R
Chapter: 1/1
Warnings: Language, slash, a bit of blood
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: if you've seen season 5 you're good.
A/N: A response to a prompt suggestion by ktrisha who wanted: Some angst/fluff, Cas to protect/romance Dean, and also wanted Cas to use his wings to protect Dean. I'm not sure if this fulfills this exactly, but I gave it my best shot.
Disclaimer: I don't own supernatural, or its characters. I do own the erros/typos, as this is unbetaed, so please forgive any you may find.
Summary: “You’re not fine, Dean. You’re bleeding,” Cas said, his tone annoyed, and rougher than normal. It made Dean’s lips twitch, and stirred up a tingle of heat down below.
Word Count: 2522
Castiel knew he only had seconds to act before Dean would be killed.
He’d sensed Dean’s distress, a pull on their bond, and felt more than heard his friends call. The angel had raced to the hunter’s side as fast as his grace would allow him.
He’d arrived in a dark alley way, to the sound of growling, and a scream of rage.
Dean.
Rain was falling in buckets, and the wind was howling as it whipped around them. Dean was on the ground; his blood mixing with a deep puddle that had formed under his body. His weapon was laying out of reach.
A large , furry beast charged forward, snapping - werewolf.
Rage surged through the angel; his grace flared as he moved directly behind his wounded friend. Acting on pure reflex, and need he pulled out his wings, wrapped them around the injured hunter, and shielded him from the monster. It slammed against them, yelping in pain as it collided with something it could not perceive.
Cas almost flinched at the touch; it wasn’t painful, but it was odd. He didn’t normally use his wings in a fight while in this form. In heaven, while in his natural state alongside his brothers and sisters it was a different story - but this was a first for the angel.
Dean had been in danger, and he had simply reacted.
He felt Dean reaching for his gun, and heard him grunt.
Cas surged forward, grabbed the wolf by its neck and threw it against the nearest wall.
It landed with a thud, and bits of rock fragmented off the building as the beast fell to the ground.
Dean shot it twice as it struggled to get back up; it fell silent.
Cas turned, and knelt down at Dean’s side. “Are you alright?”
Dean stared at him, blinked water from his eyes, and nodded once.
“Thanks, Cas.”
The angel nodded, wiping water from his forehead as the rain continued to pummel them.
Dean was staring at him oddly. A mixture of warmth, wonder, and confusion molding his face into a strange expression that had Castiel worried and wanting to reach out and touch Dean to ensure he truly was okay.
He wasn’t sure if his touch would be welcomed so he restrained his impulses.
Dean swallowed. “Cas, what did you do to the werewolf just now?”
Cas tilted his head. “I stopped it from killing you,” he stated wondering if perhaps Dean had hit his head, and was suffering from memory problems.
Dean sighed. “Yeah. I got that part feathers.”
“Then why did you ask?” Cas hated feeling as if he were missing something.
Dean coughed quietly. “For just a moment I thought I saw something, a flicker over your shoulders, and I could have sworn I felt so….” Dean’s words trailed off, and he cleared his throat, then shook water from his short hair. “It’s nothing. I probably hit my head too hard.”
Cas went still. No human should have been able to see that, not even a flicker as Dean described it. It was surprising; but he supposed, not impossible. They shared a connection, one that had been growing stronger lately - perhaps due to the amount of time they spent in each others presence. Or it could be the fact that an angel of the lord was having feelings he didn’t completely understand.
He only knew when Dean touched him, a simple hand on the shoulder, or a pat on the back, it made him feel warm inside in a way that he had never known. It felt…nice. He found himself wanting to be closer, but not quite sure how he should approach it, or if he even should.
He had no romantic experience; his one attempt had ended badly with he and Dean having to run from a Den of inequity.
Dean's laughter, Dean wrapping his arm around him, and Dean helping him when no one else would.
The memory made his stomach flutter in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
Cas licked his bottom lip, and took a calming breath.
This was also terrifying - he was lost and inexperienced and he had to wonder if his unspoken affection had something to do with Dean coming as close as any human could at seeing a small reflection of his true form.
Cas didn’t speak for a moment, then he swallowed. “Dean, I-”
Dean’s cell phone rang.
Dean sighed, glanced at the caller ID, smirked, and answered it. “Hey Sammy. You’re a little late to the party.”
*****
Cas zapped Dean back to the hotel; Sam was on his way the old fashion way. They’d separated during the hunt, Sam going to interview one more witness, and Dean had stopped to pick up some snacks on his way to stake out the creatures possible hunting grounds. In the middle of grabbing a bag of gummy worms he’d heard a scream, and ran out to investigate.
The werewolf had slammed against him, leaping from the roof of a nearby building. He’d been lucky it hadn’t bitten him right there, not so lucky when he’d fallen against a rusty pipe, tearing a nice gash in his side.
Thank God Cas had shown up when he had; Dean hadn’t even realized he’d called out to him. He was glad his brain had reacted on instinct, calling in the big guns before his throat had been ripped out by cujo.
Dean sat down, trying to act like each movement didn’t make his side throb.
“You’re not fine, Dean. You’re bleeding,” Cas said, his tone annoyed, and rougher than normal. It made Dean’s lips twitch, and stirred up a tingle of heat down below.
He ignored it, like always.
Cas was an angel, not only an angel, but he was wearing a man’s body.
And Dean was only into chicks.
Not nerdy, socially awkward angels who were willing to die for him, and had the most insanely blue eyes he’d ever seen.
Yep, definitely only into chicks.
He kept telling himself that as he blurted, “Awww, feathers. You worried about me?”
Cas raised an eyebrow, and furrowed his brow. “Allow me to tend to your wounds.”
Dean fought a grimace as he pulled his sopping wet boots off. Damn he hated wet shoes.
“Can’t you just wave your magic wand and make me a real boy again?” he quipped, going for the socks next.
“You know that I’ve been cut off from heaven Dean. I am no longer capable of that.” He almost sounded ashamed.
Dean felt a quiver of guilt for bringing that up.
“It’s fine, Cas. Just hand me that bag on the floor near Sam’s bed.”
Cas bent down, and grabbed the black duffel, setting it on the floor in front of Dean, then sitting down next to him. “Tell me what to do.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Relax. I got this.” Dean unzipped the pack, and pulled out gauze, medical tape, and peroxide then placed them near him on the bed. Dean lifted his shirt over his head, suppressing any sounds of discomfort as the wet fabric brushed over his injured flesh.
Cas kept fidgeting; his hips and arm brushed repeatedly against Dean’s thigh and shoulder. “Cas,” he snapped, pain and fatigue making him even more irritable than normal.
The angel’s eyes shot to his, vulnerability and worry painted all over his still damp face.
Dean’s annoyance faded as quickly as it had flared up. “Okay, you wanna help?”
Cas gave a sharp nod, and his gaze became eerily focused as if he were waiting for instructions from heaven itself. He handed the angel the gauze and tape. “I’m going to clean this,” he gestured towards the gash, it wasn’t deep enough to require stitches, but it was bad enough that it was going to hurt like a bitch for more than a few days.
Cas nodded again, his hands cradling the gauze as if it had the power to save the world.
“When I’m done you’re going to help me apply that.”
Cas gave a third nod.
Dean clenched his teeth, sucked in his breath, and poured a good amount of hydrogen peroxide on the wound. It hurt like a mother fucker, but he took it quietly. He’d had a lot worse.
Cas was watching him, his eyes even bluer than normal, his jaw tense.
“I’m good,” Dean managed a few minutes later.
He didn’t think Cas believed him, but he didn’t protest. Just kept staring at him in that intense, creepy, yet endearing way of his.
Cas helped him wrap the gauze around his waist. His long, elegant fingers kept brushing against Dean’s skin, sending up sparks of pleasure wherever they touched. Dean’s heart jumped, and suddenly he wasn’t chilled from the rain anymore. Cas was oblivious, naturally. Dean knew the poor dude had never been laid in his life. He still thought that was sad.
Maybe you could do something about that.
He told his idiotic inner voice to mind its own damn business.
Cas leaned in closer, his breath warm, on Dean’s shoulder as the angel scrutinized his work, making sure the gauze was straight.
It wasn’t entirely necessary, but Dean didn’t bitch, instead he felt himself leaning in closer. Only inches from Cas lips. He wondered if Cas’s lips were soft, despite their chapped appearance. What that stubble on his jaw line would feel like against his; if it would be all that different from kissing a woman?
Maybe it would be better.
Dean swallowed.
What the fuck had gotten into him lately?
How had Cas gotten under his skin so easily? Dean didn’t let people in, but Cas had pretty much barreled past all of his defenses. During the fight tonight, he’d felt Cas when he’d appeared, and Cas had done something. He couldn’t explain it, but Dean had felt an energy around him, protecting him, making him feel safe.
And he’d seen the air shimmer; as if there had been something there just outside his perception, shrouded.
Cas was a mystery in some ways, powerful, ancient. But yet here he was, sitting in a shit hole hotel room, patching up a hunter with supplies from Wal-Mart. Cas might not be human, but times like this, it was hard to remember that.
Cas applied the medical tape, and raised his eyes, locking onto Dean’s.
Neither of them moved for what felt like an eternity.
Cas reached out tentatively; when Dean didn’t back away he rested his palm over the hand print he’d left seared onto Dean‘s skin. A warmth spread from there, outward and Dean’s body told his insecurities to shut the fuck up as he closed the gap between them.
Dean gently pressed his lips to Cas’s. Their mouth’s molded together; Cas made a small sound of surprise in his throat, but didn’t pull back. Instead, he leaned into the kiss, eliciting a growl of pleasure from the hunter.
Dean wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t the sense of rightness that engulfed him.
This wasn’t weird, hell, it was awesome.
The angel was inexperienced, but he made up for it with tenacity. Cas mimicked his movements, copying what Dean did with his mouth, learning, exploring. Cas moaned as Dean ran his tongue over the angel’s bottom lip then sucked gently on it.
Cas’s fingers slid up into Dean’s hair and he hummed with pleasure. His tongue licked into Dean‘s mouth in a way that had Dean wanting to tear that fucking trench coat off, and find out what other talents his friend might have.
Their noses bumped as the kiss deepened; Dean slid his hands around Cas’s waist, and began mouthing Cas’s chin, then his jaw line, leaving a trail of feather light kisses wherever he went, savoring the roughness, and the smell of rain mixed with Cas.
Cas was making soft needy noises that had Dean’s dick throbbing.
Cas’s hands had ventured from his hair and had wandered lower. His fingers were playing with Dean’s hip bones, then sliding lower still, fondling the skin just below his waistline.
Dean groaned, wondering if Cas had any idea what he was doing to him.
“Dean,” Cas panted, as the hunter nuzzled his adam’s apple.
Something in his tone, the huskiness mixed with breathlessness made Dean pause and pull back slightly.
Green met blue.
“You okay?” Dean found the worlds slipping out before he realized he was worried he might have pushed too far, too fast.
Cas’s eyes were blown black, and he blinked, then smiled. A small, very Cas-like smile and captured Dean’s mouth with his again.
Dean grinned into the kiss and began nudging Cas backward's onto the bed.
Key’s jangled in the hotel door.
“Fuck.”
Dean jumped, and he and Cas pulled apart just before the door opened, and Sam burst inside his hair plastered to his scalp, and his expression anxious.
His gaze fell on them sitting side-by-side on the bed.
Dean knew what his brother was seeing.
Cas’s hair was messier than normal, his mouth and the skin around it was red and swollen. Dean was willing to bet his was as well; not to mention their labored breathing, and their marvelous impressions of a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.
Sam pursed his lips. His face twisting into a smug smile. “Guess I raced back here for nothing. I see you seem to be in good hands.”
Dean cleared his throat, and plastered on his best eat shit and die look. “Yeah,” he gestured towards his bandaged wound. “I’m all patched up.”
Sam nodded and leaned against the wall. “Yep. It looks like Cas is taking real good care of you.”
Dean felt his face heat up, but he didn’t bat an eye.
Cas hadn’t said a word, that was probably for the best.
Dean shrugged. Two could play this game. “What can I say, he’s a fast learner.”
Now it was Sam’s turn to blush. His brother coughed, then grabbed the car key’s he’d dropped on the table. “Well, since there’s no medical emergency, I think I’ll go grab us a bite to eat.”
“Sounds good.” Dean grinned. “Take your time.”
Sam rolled his eyes, smiled at Cas, who returned it albeit awkwardly, then turned, and left.
Dean sighed and smiled at the angel, waiting for the feeling of regret or unease to creep into the moment as his sanity returned.
Only it didn’t.
He felt comfortable.
Good even.
Cas reached out and touched his face, gauging Dean’s reaction. Dean gave him one of his most charming smiles and began kissing the angel’s fingers. As Cas watched with fascination and desire, Dean sucked on the tip of one; he loved the shiver it sent through his…friend…lover.
Fuck it.
He’d worry about labels later, right now he just wanted to make the most of one of the rare calm, and happy moments his life allowed him.
Feel free to friend this journal for the insanity :)
Comments are always loved, how else will I know if anyone actually read/enjoyed this :)
Title: Awake and Alive
Author:nicole9514
Rating: R
Chapter: 1/1
Warnings: Language, slash, a bit of blood
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: if you've seen season 5 you're good.
A/N: A response to a prompt suggestion by ktrisha who wanted: Some angst/fluff, Cas to protect/romance Dean, and also wanted Cas to use his wings to protect Dean. I'm not sure if this fulfills this exactly, but I gave it my best shot.
Disclaimer: I don't own supernatural, or its characters. I do own the erros/typos, as this is unbetaed, so please forgive any you may find.
Summary: “You’re not fine, Dean. You’re bleeding,” Cas said, his tone annoyed, and rougher than normal. It made Dean’s lips twitch, and stirred up a tingle of heat down below.
Word Count: 2522
Castiel knew he only had seconds to act before Dean would be killed.
He’d sensed Dean’s distress, a pull on their bond, and felt more than heard his friends call. The angel had raced to the hunter’s side as fast as his grace would allow him.
He’d arrived in a dark alley way, to the sound of growling, and a scream of rage.
Dean.
Rain was falling in buckets, and the wind was howling as it whipped around them. Dean was on the ground; his blood mixing with a deep puddle that had formed under his body. His weapon was laying out of reach.
A large , furry beast charged forward, snapping - werewolf.
Rage surged through the angel; his grace flared as he moved directly behind his wounded friend. Acting on pure reflex, and need he pulled out his wings, wrapped them around the injured hunter, and shielded him from the monster. It slammed against them, yelping in pain as it collided with something it could not perceive.
Cas almost flinched at the touch; it wasn’t painful, but it was odd. He didn’t normally use his wings in a fight while in this form. In heaven, while in his natural state alongside his brothers and sisters it was a different story - but this was a first for the angel.
Dean had been in danger, and he had simply reacted.
He felt Dean reaching for his gun, and heard him grunt.
Cas surged forward, grabbed the wolf by its neck and threw it against the nearest wall.
It landed with a thud, and bits of rock fragmented off the building as the beast fell to the ground.
Dean shot it twice as it struggled to get back up; it fell silent.
Cas turned, and knelt down at Dean’s side. “Are you alright?”
Dean stared at him, blinked water from his eyes, and nodded once.
“Thanks, Cas.”
The angel nodded, wiping water from his forehead as the rain continued to pummel them.
Dean was staring at him oddly. A mixture of warmth, wonder, and confusion molding his face into a strange expression that had Castiel worried and wanting to reach out and touch Dean to ensure he truly was okay.
He wasn’t sure if his touch would be welcomed so he restrained his impulses.
Dean swallowed. “Cas, what did you do to the werewolf just now?”
Cas tilted his head. “I stopped it from killing you,” he stated wondering if perhaps Dean had hit his head, and was suffering from memory problems.
Dean sighed. “Yeah. I got that part feathers.”
“Then why did you ask?” Cas hated feeling as if he were missing something.
Dean coughed quietly. “For just a moment I thought I saw something, a flicker over your shoulders, and I could have sworn I felt so….” Dean’s words trailed off, and he cleared his throat, then shook water from his short hair. “It’s nothing. I probably hit my head too hard.”
Cas went still. No human should have been able to see that, not even a flicker as Dean described it. It was surprising; but he supposed, not impossible. They shared a connection, one that had been growing stronger lately - perhaps due to the amount of time they spent in each others presence. Or it could be the fact that an angel of the lord was having feelings he didn’t completely understand.
He only knew when Dean touched him, a simple hand on the shoulder, or a pat on the back, it made him feel warm inside in a way that he had never known. It felt…nice. He found himself wanting to be closer, but not quite sure how he should approach it, or if he even should.
He had no romantic experience; his one attempt had ended badly with he and Dean having to run from a Den of inequity.
Dean's laughter, Dean wrapping his arm around him, and Dean helping him when no one else would.
The memory made his stomach flutter in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
Cas licked his bottom lip, and took a calming breath.
This was also terrifying - he was lost and inexperienced and he had to wonder if his unspoken affection had something to do with Dean coming as close as any human could at seeing a small reflection of his true form.
Cas didn’t speak for a moment, then he swallowed. “Dean, I-”
Dean’s cell phone rang.
Dean sighed, glanced at the caller ID, smirked, and answered it. “Hey Sammy. You’re a little late to the party.”
*****
Cas zapped Dean back to the hotel; Sam was on his way the old fashion way. They’d separated during the hunt, Sam going to interview one more witness, and Dean had stopped to pick up some snacks on his way to stake out the creatures possible hunting grounds. In the middle of grabbing a bag of gummy worms he’d heard a scream, and ran out to investigate.
The werewolf had slammed against him, leaping from the roof of a nearby building. He’d been lucky it hadn’t bitten him right there, not so lucky when he’d fallen against a rusty pipe, tearing a nice gash in his side.
Thank God Cas had shown up when he had; Dean hadn’t even realized he’d called out to him. He was glad his brain had reacted on instinct, calling in the big guns before his throat had been ripped out by cujo.
Dean sat down, trying to act like each movement didn’t make his side throb.
“You’re not fine, Dean. You’re bleeding,” Cas said, his tone annoyed, and rougher than normal. It made Dean’s lips twitch, and stirred up a tingle of heat down below.
He ignored it, like always.
Cas was an angel, not only an angel, but he was wearing a man’s body.
And Dean was only into chicks.
Not nerdy, socially awkward angels who were willing to die for him, and had the most insanely blue eyes he’d ever seen.
Yep, definitely only into chicks.
He kept telling himself that as he blurted, “Awww, feathers. You worried about me?”
Cas raised an eyebrow, and furrowed his brow. “Allow me to tend to your wounds.”
Dean fought a grimace as he pulled his sopping wet boots off. Damn he hated wet shoes.
“Can’t you just wave your magic wand and make me a real boy again?” he quipped, going for the socks next.
“You know that I’ve been cut off from heaven Dean. I am no longer capable of that.” He almost sounded ashamed.
Dean felt a quiver of guilt for bringing that up.
“It’s fine, Cas. Just hand me that bag on the floor near Sam’s bed.”
Cas bent down, and grabbed the black duffel, setting it on the floor in front of Dean, then sitting down next to him. “Tell me what to do.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Relax. I got this.” Dean unzipped the pack, and pulled out gauze, medical tape, and peroxide then placed them near him on the bed. Dean lifted his shirt over his head, suppressing any sounds of discomfort as the wet fabric brushed over his injured flesh.
Cas kept fidgeting; his hips and arm brushed repeatedly against Dean’s thigh and shoulder. “Cas,” he snapped, pain and fatigue making him even more irritable than normal.
The angel’s eyes shot to his, vulnerability and worry painted all over his still damp face.
Dean’s annoyance faded as quickly as it had flared up. “Okay, you wanna help?”
Cas gave a sharp nod, and his gaze became eerily focused as if he were waiting for instructions from heaven itself. He handed the angel the gauze and tape. “I’m going to clean this,” he gestured towards the gash, it wasn’t deep enough to require stitches, but it was bad enough that it was going to hurt like a bitch for more than a few days.
Cas nodded again, his hands cradling the gauze as if it had the power to save the world.
“When I’m done you’re going to help me apply that.”
Cas gave a third nod.
Dean clenched his teeth, sucked in his breath, and poured a good amount of hydrogen peroxide on the wound. It hurt like a mother fucker, but he took it quietly. He’d had a lot worse.
Cas was watching him, his eyes even bluer than normal, his jaw tense.
“I’m good,” Dean managed a few minutes later.
He didn’t think Cas believed him, but he didn’t protest. Just kept staring at him in that intense, creepy, yet endearing way of his.
Cas helped him wrap the gauze around his waist. His long, elegant fingers kept brushing against Dean’s skin, sending up sparks of pleasure wherever they touched. Dean’s heart jumped, and suddenly he wasn’t chilled from the rain anymore. Cas was oblivious, naturally. Dean knew the poor dude had never been laid in his life. He still thought that was sad.
Maybe you could do something about that.
He told his idiotic inner voice to mind its own damn business.
Cas leaned in closer, his breath warm, on Dean’s shoulder as the angel scrutinized his work, making sure the gauze was straight.
It wasn’t entirely necessary, but Dean didn’t bitch, instead he felt himself leaning in closer. Only inches from Cas lips. He wondered if Cas’s lips were soft, despite their chapped appearance. What that stubble on his jaw line would feel like against his; if it would be all that different from kissing a woman?
Maybe it would be better.
Dean swallowed.
What the fuck had gotten into him lately?
How had Cas gotten under his skin so easily? Dean didn’t let people in, but Cas had pretty much barreled past all of his defenses. During the fight tonight, he’d felt Cas when he’d appeared, and Cas had done something. He couldn’t explain it, but Dean had felt an energy around him, protecting him, making him feel safe.
And he’d seen the air shimmer; as if there had been something there just outside his perception, shrouded.
Cas was a mystery in some ways, powerful, ancient. But yet here he was, sitting in a shit hole hotel room, patching up a hunter with supplies from Wal-Mart. Cas might not be human, but times like this, it was hard to remember that.
Cas applied the medical tape, and raised his eyes, locking onto Dean’s.
Neither of them moved for what felt like an eternity.
Cas reached out tentatively; when Dean didn’t back away he rested his palm over the hand print he’d left seared onto Dean‘s skin. A warmth spread from there, outward and Dean’s body told his insecurities to shut the fuck up as he closed the gap between them.
Dean gently pressed his lips to Cas’s. Their mouth’s molded together; Cas made a small sound of surprise in his throat, but didn’t pull back. Instead, he leaned into the kiss, eliciting a growl of pleasure from the hunter.
Dean wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t the sense of rightness that engulfed him.
This wasn’t weird, hell, it was awesome.
The angel was inexperienced, but he made up for it with tenacity. Cas mimicked his movements, copying what Dean did with his mouth, learning, exploring. Cas moaned as Dean ran his tongue over the angel’s bottom lip then sucked gently on it.
Cas’s fingers slid up into Dean’s hair and he hummed with pleasure. His tongue licked into Dean‘s mouth in a way that had Dean wanting to tear that fucking trench coat off, and find out what other talents his friend might have.
Their noses bumped as the kiss deepened; Dean slid his hands around Cas’s waist, and began mouthing Cas’s chin, then his jaw line, leaving a trail of feather light kisses wherever he went, savoring the roughness, and the smell of rain mixed with Cas.
Cas was making soft needy noises that had Dean’s dick throbbing.
Cas’s hands had ventured from his hair and had wandered lower. His fingers were playing with Dean’s hip bones, then sliding lower still, fondling the skin just below his waistline.
Dean groaned, wondering if Cas had any idea what he was doing to him.
“Dean,” Cas panted, as the hunter nuzzled his adam’s apple.
Something in his tone, the huskiness mixed with breathlessness made Dean pause and pull back slightly.
Green met blue.
“You okay?” Dean found the worlds slipping out before he realized he was worried he might have pushed too far, too fast.
Cas’s eyes were blown black, and he blinked, then smiled. A small, very Cas-like smile and captured Dean’s mouth with his again.
Dean grinned into the kiss and began nudging Cas backward's onto the bed.
Key’s jangled in the hotel door.
“Fuck.”
Dean jumped, and he and Cas pulled apart just before the door opened, and Sam burst inside his hair plastered to his scalp, and his expression anxious.
His gaze fell on them sitting side-by-side on the bed.
Dean knew what his brother was seeing.
Cas’s hair was messier than normal, his mouth and the skin around it was red and swollen. Dean was willing to bet his was as well; not to mention their labored breathing, and their marvelous impressions of a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.
Sam pursed his lips. His face twisting into a smug smile. “Guess I raced back here for nothing. I see you seem to be in good hands.”
Dean cleared his throat, and plastered on his best eat shit and die look. “Yeah,” he gestured towards his bandaged wound. “I’m all patched up.”
Sam nodded and leaned against the wall. “Yep. It looks like Cas is taking real good care of you.”
Dean felt his face heat up, but he didn’t bat an eye.
Cas hadn’t said a word, that was probably for the best.
Dean shrugged. Two could play this game. “What can I say, he’s a fast learner.”
Now it was Sam’s turn to blush. His brother coughed, then grabbed the car key’s he’d dropped on the table. “Well, since there’s no medical emergency, I think I’ll go grab us a bite to eat.”
“Sounds good.” Dean grinned. “Take your time.”
Sam rolled his eyes, smiled at Cas, who returned it albeit awkwardly, then turned, and left.
Dean sighed and smiled at the angel, waiting for the feeling of regret or unease to creep into the moment as his sanity returned.
Only it didn’t.
He felt comfortable.
Good even.
Cas reached out and touched his face, gauging Dean’s reaction. Dean gave him one of his most charming smiles and began kissing the angel’s fingers. As Cas watched with fascination and desire, Dean sucked on the tip of one; he loved the shiver it sent through his…friend…lover.
Fuck it.
He’d worry about labels later, right now he just wanted to make the most of one of the rare calm, and happy moments his life allowed him.
Feel free to friend this journal for the insanity :)
Comments are always loved, how else will I know if anyone actually read/enjoyed this :)