Fic: Adventures in Solitude [5/11]
Title: Adventures in Soltiude [5/11]
Author: bloodism
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural/post-Season 4 canon-au, romance, hurt/comfort
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, Sam/OC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 30, 708
Warnings: fallen!cas, OC's, sexual content, canon-au
15th July 2010
Fae blinks, her smile fading from her face. It’s now that she realises how wrecked Sam and Dean look and Castiel looks equally pained.
“You… You know each other?”
Neither of them responds. But Sam’s the first one to move and he’s storming forward, pulling Castiel into his arms. Castiel’s eyes are bright and watery and he closes them, wrapping his arms tighter around Sam.
“Sam,” he breathes with a relief that’s almost tangible.
Dean’s watching. He doesn’t… He can’t. He’d mourned. God damnit, he’d been so filled with grief and Cas had been trailing along with a couple of women this whole time? He wasn’t even dead.
It’s like Cas reads his thoughts, because he releases Sam and stares at Dean with these eyes that are trying to apologise. Fae and Jude are quiet, watching in awe as a reunion they hadn’t expected happens in front of them. Dean’s frowning, his jaw tense, and he’s so fucking angry but relieved at the same time. He doesn’t know what to do, and it’s making his stomach churn and heart beat and eyes water.
He walks forwards quickly, and he’s all up in Castiel’s personal space, eyes fluttering as he breathes him in. He smells the same, and the same warmth oozes off of him. He scans Castiel’s face, which looks both awed and afraid. He gives him a once over.
Cas’s hair is longer, fluffier. It’s a harsh reminder of their first meeting, since it’s ruffled and winded. It looks... good. The strands are combed over, brushing over Cas’s left temple and it makes his eyes look larger. They’re sadder, though, and tired. The nicks and cuts along his jawline makes Dean almost want to smile, because he can imagine Cas shaving in a motel mirror, cursing, getting frustrated. The trenchcoat and suit look a little worn, but no less than usual. They’ve been washed.
It’s all these little things that Dean picks up. The chipped fingernails; the smudge of dirt on Cas’s nose; the scratches on his neck; the shaving; the muddy marks on his trousers... He knows what it means.
Cas is human.
Dean launches himself forward, and he’s hugging Cas, fingers digging into the trenchcoat and nose finding the crook of his neck. He screws his eyes shut and absorbs what he’d never thought he’d get again; the smell of ash and lingering aftershave, the solidness and comfort of knowing that Cas was nearby and safe. His arms tighten and he breathes in deeply, clenches his teeth together when Castiel’s arms come up to pull him closer. It’s not a manly hug by any means.
“Dean.” At the sound of Cas’s voice, Dean jerks away violently and greedily sucks in the hurt that flickers across Castiel’s expression. His rage surges up into a pliable wave and jolts through his arm and he doesn’t know why he does it, but he throws his fist at Cas’s face and Cas stumbles backwards as his knuckles connect with his jawbone. He doesn’t have time to regain his balance - Dean is hugging him again, arms tucked under his, forehead pressed to his shoulder.
“You son of a bitch,” his voice cracks and his lips brush against Castiel’s skin. He absolutely refuses to let go.
“Well,” he hears Fae say behind him. “You guys have some explaining to do.”
-
15th July 2010
They’re back at the motel room, Jude and Castiel on the sofa, Fae and Sam opposite them on the bed and Dean in the kitchen, casually throwing back shot after shot of whiskey like he hadn’t totally lost it only a few hours earlier.
They’re discussing things and Dean pretends that every time he overhears the word ‘human’, it doesn’t send an aggressive stab of grief to his heart. He knows Cas is human and he knows it’s because of him. Because he asked him to rebel, he asked him to help him and now he’s human and powerless and ashamed and it’s all his fault.
“Wait,” Jude says mid-conversation, “Fae, you said their names are Sam and Dean Winchester, right? The guys Ellen talks about?”
Fae nods, confused.
There’s silence as everyone waits for her to elaborate and even Dean’s a little interested. He turns round in his chair to look at her, eyebrows raised.
Jude looks at Cas, whose head is actually dipped with what looks like embarrassment.
“The Sam and Dean?” she whispers to him, though the entire room can hear her hushed words. Castiel nods and when he looks up, his eyes connect with Dean’s. Dean shifts his gaze to Sam, grimacing. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t accept the fact that Castiel was still alive, not after he’d marked him as dead.
“He talks about you like you’re a couple of angels,” Jude laughs and pokes Cas when Cas looks at her with an expression that says ‘don’t’. Dean watches their interactions and something festers in his stomach. It’s uncomfortable and makes him want to throw his glass at the wall and make a scene. Sam snorts at the irony, though looks at Castiel with friendly eyes.
“Angels? You sure?”
“Angels are dicks,” Dean pipes up from the kitchen and everyone turns to him in surprise. What, had they forgotten his existence? Was he that unimportant?
The blank expressions on Fae and Jude’s faces aren’t what Dean was expecting.
“Woah, hold up.” Dean turns around further in his chair and tries to push down the spite that gurgles in his gut, but he can’t help it. “He didn’t tell you?” Dean lets out a bitter laugh. “That he was-“
“Dean-“ Cas attempts to interrupt.
“-An angel?”
There’s silence and then laughter. It’s Jude, and then Fae, whose laugh is less amusement and more unease.
“Angels? You’ve gotta be kidding me.” She scoffs and turns to Cas. His head is dipped and his fingers pluck at the ends of his trenchcoat. “I figured he wasn’t human, but that’s going a little too far.”
Dean feels a sick sense of victory at Castiel’s discomfort and smirks at Sam, who’s giving him his ‘I-am-disappointed-in-you-and-you-should-be-too’ expression.
“Oh, I’m not lying. Him and his douchebag family tried wrecking the world, and now it looks like they’ve thrown his ass into the gutter-“
“Dean!” Sam exclaims in horror, but Cas is rigid now, no longer ashamed. His shoulders are trembling, his head sunk lower, his fingers clenched. He surprises everyone when he hurls himself off of the sofa and pulls Dean up by the lapels of his jacket, shoving him violently against the wall. Jude cups her mouth with her hands behind them, both in shock that Cas could get so angry and confused about whether or not she should break them up.
“Have you forgotten,” Cas hisses, words scattering and unrestrained, “who broke the first seal, Dean?”
Dean’s shivering, but not from fear, or anger. It’s the familiarity, the power, Cas that sends his gut plummeting to the floor, because he’s missed this. He’s missed this surge of strength that Castiel seemed to lack since his miraculous recovery.
“Okay,” Dean responds, dejected. He’d hit below the belt, so it was only fair that Cas did, too.
Cas steps back, steely gaze on Dean. Dean glares back. They’re hostile and aggressive, but they want to take back their words.
“Do your zippers up, boys,” Fae steps between them, pressing a hand to both of their chests. Jude’s moved up behind Cas and pressed a soothing hand to his elbow and it works. Dean watches the ‘angel’ relax, tension evaporated, and turn around to give her a warm smile. It makes Dean’s stomach burn and his hand subconsciously goes to the hot feather in his pocket.
“We got a hunt to do, so if we’re finished tryin’ to confuse the hell outta me and Jude...” Fae nods at the door. “We can talk about this later.”
Dean’s half way out of it before he realises he’d been obeying without a fight. He looks over his shoulder and sees a sawed-off shotgun being placed in Cas’s hands.
“Woah, woah,” Dean points at it. “Can he even use that?”
“I’m not incompetent, Dean,” Cas says, but Dean ignores him.
“Probably a better shot than you, girlpants.” Fae hits him on the arm and Dean jumps, clutching it. He stares at her, scandalised and throws Sam the same look.
“You’re not gonna control her? Dude, put her on a leash or something.” This earns him another smack and he hisses, rubbing away the pain. Jude’s grinning as she skips past him out of the door, hand clenched around the sleeve of Cas’s trenchcoat. Dean gives Cas a blank, empty glare as he passes. He receives one in return.
And it stings.
-
They get back and they’re all relatively unscathed and clean. Cas, however, has a gash along the side of his neck. He’s seated himself on the bed and there’s a trickle of blood dipping underneath his collar. Dean follows it with his eyes.
“You boys...” Fae throws her bags onto the bed and lets out a laugh that’s not quite amused, but not harsh either. “You fight together like you’ve been doing it for years. I mean...” She gestures at Sam and Dean. “You guys I get. But the way you work with the pup? It’s like he’s been at your side forever.”
Sam gives her a smile full of happiness and rainbows and unicorns. Dean just keeps watching the blood on Cas’s skin and his voice comes out sour.
“Sure, we fight like clockwork. That’s why Cas got swiped by that demon bitch. ‘Cos you know, he fits into mine and Sam’s lives like he’s supposed to be there. He’s so perfect and angelic-“
“I would be able to heal faster if I had my powers,” Cas cups the cut with his hand, blue eyes piercing Dean accusingly. “Do I have to remind you whose fault it is that they’re gone?”
“Cas.” Sam snaps angrily and Cas knows he’s gone over the line. It’s too late; the words have sunk in and etched themselves into Dean’s chest. Guilt on top of guilt.
Fae and Jude stand, awkwardly, at the edge of the room.
“Jesus Christ,” Fae curses, and she rubs her forehead. “Are answers too much to ask? In case you guys hadn’t noticed, we’re kinda loose parts over here.” None of them listen to her. She mutters under her breath and reaches into her bag, throwing the first kit over to Jude. “Go patch up the pup.”
Dean’s gaze snaps to the kit in Jude’s hands and his fingers itch to reach out and grab it. There’s a mantra, a voice, in the back of his head. It’s telling him that it’s not her responsibility. That what happened to Cas was his fault, so he should fix it. Cas was in his charge now.
He doesn’t have to say anything. Jude’s in front of him and holding out the kit, a smile spreading over her boyish face.
“You’ve got some things to talk about.” She presses it into his limp hands and he takes it, swallowing.
“Thanks.”
Sam jerks his head in the direction of the door and Fae and Jude follow him out of it, leaving the two men alone.
Dean says nothing as he moves closer, placing the box onto the bed beside Cas’s thigh. It’s silent. They say nothing, even when Cas has his trenchcoat and suit jacket off and Dean’s fingers start working at the top button on his shirt.
He pulls the edge of Cas’s shirt down, revealing a smooth patch of pale skin and the droplet of blood he had been watching. His eyes dart up to Cas’s, but they’re too blue, too apologetic, too close. He looks down again, moving between Cas’s legs to get a better view of the cut. It’s at the nape of his neck too, beneath the strands of hair that have grown longer. When he presses the cold swab of cotton wall to Cas’s skin, it trembles beneath him.
“I’m sorry,” Cas finally says, his words gravelly and whispered. Dean looks up at him quickly, looks back down just as quick.
“For what?” He replies. He tries to sound soft. It comes out bitter. Cas notices and grimaces when Dean presses down a little too hard on the cut.
Dean feels guilty afterwards, but swallows it down when Cas tilts his head, revealing more of his neck and muscle and skin.
“What I said. It wasn’t your fault.”
Dean tips more antiseptic lotion onto the cotton wool bud and tenderly returns to the wound. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say. So he cleans in silence, ignoring the way Cas shivers beneath him when his fingers brush away the hairs at the nape of his neck. He also pretends that he can’t see Cas’s fingers twitching nervously on the blanket next to him.
He leans closer, mouth blowing across the strands of Cas’s hair and eyes half-closing. His little finger brushes against skin as he cleans. It doesn’t have to, but he wants it to. He can feel Cas, knows he’s there, and that feeling soothes the anger that had been festering in his gut.
“You know me,” he says, voice hoarse and low, “once it’s out there, I can’t help but lap it up like the self-pitying asshole that I am.”
He jerks when Cas suddenly grasps hold of his wrist and he’s forced to look. He has to. And they’re so close, those eyes that he thought he’d never see again, that he doesn’t want to see now. He’d gotten over it. He’d already accepted that he wouldn’t be able to look at them like this again.
“You hurt me with words,” Cas says, and it’s almost the same as the voice that Dean had heard in Bobby’s kitchen, over a year ago. But it’s not threatening, it’s almost... broken. “I wanted to do the same. I... You make me so...”
“Horny?” Dean jokes. He can’t help it. It’s natural instinct, to joke when things are dire. And it helps. It does. Because Cas actually lets out a huff of amusement and his warm breath mingles with Dean’s.
“Dean Winchester,” Cas says and his thumb brushes across the wrist that’s propped up on his shoulder. Dean’s fingers sweep along the skin of Cas’s neck. “Always joking.”
He’s not forgiven. Neither of them has been forgiven. They know that. Dean’s still grieving and Castiel still harbours Dean’s words like they’re scars with stories.
Dean’s pulled back further and he can see all of Cas’s face now. It’s filled with this... reverence. This regret, and nostalgia, and happiness, and tingling anger. It’s a beautiful expression, and Dean just wants to...
...he wants to keep it.
The door opens, but neither of them notice. Dean’s too busy trying to etch the expression into his mind. He’s still trying to process that yeah, he’s here, he’s pissed off with Cas, he’s close to Cas, he’s looking at Cas, and he’s here.
“Oi, girlpants.”
Dean blinks and looks over to the door. Fae’s staring at them incredulously, Jude looks like a kid seeing Santa for the first time and Sam... well, he’s unbothered.
“What?” Dean snaps at Fae, his fingertips digging into the side of Cas’s neck a little. Cas’s grip tightens on his wrist, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cas turn his head back to him.
“You ever heard of personal space?” She retorts, gesturing to him and Cas. Dean looks down between them, alarmed. He hadn’t realised. Legs between Cas’s, one hand inches away from Cas’s chest, the other cupping his neck, posture bent and face just a mishap away from collision.
“They don’t do personal space,” Sam says casually, throwing their food onto the table.
Dean doesn’t move away. Cas’s hand is no longer on his wrist - it feels cold without it - and so he keeps cleaning. He leans over Cas, chest brushing his shoulder, to get to the kit.
“I can see that.” Fae’s watching them curiously now, studying Dean as he tapes the wad to Cas’s neck, his eyes not leaving Cas’s. Jude’s watching them too and she smirks.
“Hey, Dee, has anyone ever said that you two’ve got some wicked chemistry?”
Dean straightens up and admires his handiwork. Castiel strokes the bandage and nods in thanks. Vaguely registering his name, Dean looks up at Jude, who he realises is speaking to him. She’d been spectacularly quiet the past few hours.
“Hm?” He blinks dazedly at her. He’d stopped listening to them after Cas had pinned his gaze back onto the side of his face.
“You and Cas. Chemistry.” She grins. “You know, you’ve got the whole love hate thing going on. No personal space-“
“Dude, no.” Dean moves away now and he feels cold without Cas’s warmth in front of him. “That’s just... no.”
Jude shrugs and lies back in a chair, rummaging through their bag of food for her order.
“I dunno, just an observation. Been watching you two while you squabble you know. Just looks like sexual tension-“
“-Hey, you’re too young to know about that stuff.” Fae hits her on the shoulder. Jude snorts.
“Right. I’ve been to bars and brothels and strip clubs and dodgy motels with only R-rated movies available. And I’ve seen the insides of humans more than a surgeon. I’m not too young to know anything.”
“Touché,” Dean says, impressed. They share a nonexistent bro-fist.
Fae clearly feels a little put-out, so she heads over to Sam. Dean’s nose wrinkles in disgust when the two start to make pathetic gooey eyes to each other and when he glances at Jude, she’s doing the same.
It’s strange, that the two women had entered his and Sam’s life so suddenly, and yet it felt like they’d been there forever. How long had it been? Less than a day?
And yet here he was, sharing looks with a twelve-year-old who knew exactly how he felt and watching his brother fall at a woman’s feet. It was weird.
A good kinda weird.
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Author: bloodism
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural/post-Season 4 canon-au, romance, hurt/comfort
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, Sam/OC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 30, 708
Warnings: fallen!cas, OC's, sexual content, canon-au
15th July 2010
Fae blinks, her smile fading from her face. It’s now that she realises how wrecked Sam and Dean look and Castiel looks equally pained.
“You… You know each other?”
Neither of them responds. But Sam’s the first one to move and he’s storming forward, pulling Castiel into his arms. Castiel’s eyes are bright and watery and he closes them, wrapping his arms tighter around Sam.
“Sam,” he breathes with a relief that’s almost tangible.
Dean’s watching. He doesn’t… He can’t. He’d mourned. God damnit, he’d been so filled with grief and Cas had been trailing along with a couple of women this whole time? He wasn’t even dead.
It’s like Cas reads his thoughts, because he releases Sam and stares at Dean with these eyes that are trying to apologise. Fae and Jude are quiet, watching in awe as a reunion they hadn’t expected happens in front of them. Dean’s frowning, his jaw tense, and he’s so fucking angry but relieved at the same time. He doesn’t know what to do, and it’s making his stomach churn and heart beat and eyes water.
He walks forwards quickly, and he’s all up in Castiel’s personal space, eyes fluttering as he breathes him in. He smells the same, and the same warmth oozes off of him. He scans Castiel’s face, which looks both awed and afraid. He gives him a once over.
Cas’s hair is longer, fluffier. It’s a harsh reminder of their first meeting, since it’s ruffled and winded. It looks... good. The strands are combed over, brushing over Cas’s left temple and it makes his eyes look larger. They’re sadder, though, and tired. The nicks and cuts along his jawline makes Dean almost want to smile, because he can imagine Cas shaving in a motel mirror, cursing, getting frustrated. The trenchcoat and suit look a little worn, but no less than usual. They’ve been washed.
It’s all these little things that Dean picks up. The chipped fingernails; the smudge of dirt on Cas’s nose; the scratches on his neck; the shaving; the muddy marks on his trousers... He knows what it means.
Cas is human.
Dean launches himself forward, and he’s hugging Cas, fingers digging into the trenchcoat and nose finding the crook of his neck. He screws his eyes shut and absorbs what he’d never thought he’d get again; the smell of ash and lingering aftershave, the solidness and comfort of knowing that Cas was nearby and safe. His arms tighten and he breathes in deeply, clenches his teeth together when Castiel’s arms come up to pull him closer. It’s not a manly hug by any means.
“Dean.” At the sound of Cas’s voice, Dean jerks away violently and greedily sucks in the hurt that flickers across Castiel’s expression. His rage surges up into a pliable wave and jolts through his arm and he doesn’t know why he does it, but he throws his fist at Cas’s face and Cas stumbles backwards as his knuckles connect with his jawbone. He doesn’t have time to regain his balance - Dean is hugging him again, arms tucked under his, forehead pressed to his shoulder.
“You son of a bitch,” his voice cracks and his lips brush against Castiel’s skin. He absolutely refuses to let go.
“Well,” he hears Fae say behind him. “You guys have some explaining to do.”
-
15th July 2010
They’re back at the motel room, Jude and Castiel on the sofa, Fae and Sam opposite them on the bed and Dean in the kitchen, casually throwing back shot after shot of whiskey like he hadn’t totally lost it only a few hours earlier.
They’re discussing things and Dean pretends that every time he overhears the word ‘human’, it doesn’t send an aggressive stab of grief to his heart. He knows Cas is human and he knows it’s because of him. Because he asked him to rebel, he asked him to help him and now he’s human and powerless and ashamed and it’s all his fault.
“Wait,” Jude says mid-conversation, “Fae, you said their names are Sam and Dean Winchester, right? The guys Ellen talks about?”
Fae nods, confused.
There’s silence as everyone waits for her to elaborate and even Dean’s a little interested. He turns round in his chair to look at her, eyebrows raised.
Jude looks at Cas, whose head is actually dipped with what looks like embarrassment.
“The Sam and Dean?” she whispers to him, though the entire room can hear her hushed words. Castiel nods and when he looks up, his eyes connect with Dean’s. Dean shifts his gaze to Sam, grimacing. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t accept the fact that Castiel was still alive, not after he’d marked him as dead.
“He talks about you like you’re a couple of angels,” Jude laughs and pokes Cas when Cas looks at her with an expression that says ‘don’t’. Dean watches their interactions and something festers in his stomach. It’s uncomfortable and makes him want to throw his glass at the wall and make a scene. Sam snorts at the irony, though looks at Castiel with friendly eyes.
“Angels? You sure?”
“Angels are dicks,” Dean pipes up from the kitchen and everyone turns to him in surprise. What, had they forgotten his existence? Was he that unimportant?
The blank expressions on Fae and Jude’s faces aren’t what Dean was expecting.
“Woah, hold up.” Dean turns around further in his chair and tries to push down the spite that gurgles in his gut, but he can’t help it. “He didn’t tell you?” Dean lets out a bitter laugh. “That he was-“
“Dean-“ Cas attempts to interrupt.
“-An angel?”
There’s silence and then laughter. It’s Jude, and then Fae, whose laugh is less amusement and more unease.
“Angels? You’ve gotta be kidding me.” She scoffs and turns to Cas. His head is dipped and his fingers pluck at the ends of his trenchcoat. “I figured he wasn’t human, but that’s going a little too far.”
Dean feels a sick sense of victory at Castiel’s discomfort and smirks at Sam, who’s giving him his ‘I-am-disappointed-in-you-and-you-should-be-too’ expression.
“Oh, I’m not lying. Him and his douchebag family tried wrecking the world, and now it looks like they’ve thrown his ass into the gutter-“
“Dean!” Sam exclaims in horror, but Cas is rigid now, no longer ashamed. His shoulders are trembling, his head sunk lower, his fingers clenched. He surprises everyone when he hurls himself off of the sofa and pulls Dean up by the lapels of his jacket, shoving him violently against the wall. Jude cups her mouth with her hands behind them, both in shock that Cas could get so angry and confused about whether or not she should break them up.
“Have you forgotten,” Cas hisses, words scattering and unrestrained, “who broke the first seal, Dean?”
Dean’s shivering, but not from fear, or anger. It’s the familiarity, the power, Cas that sends his gut plummeting to the floor, because he’s missed this. He’s missed this surge of strength that Castiel seemed to lack since his miraculous recovery.
“Okay,” Dean responds, dejected. He’d hit below the belt, so it was only fair that Cas did, too.
Cas steps back, steely gaze on Dean. Dean glares back. They’re hostile and aggressive, but they want to take back their words.
“Do your zippers up, boys,” Fae steps between them, pressing a hand to both of their chests. Jude’s moved up behind Cas and pressed a soothing hand to his elbow and it works. Dean watches the ‘angel’ relax, tension evaporated, and turn around to give her a warm smile. It makes Dean’s stomach burn and his hand subconsciously goes to the hot feather in his pocket.
“We got a hunt to do, so if we’re finished tryin’ to confuse the hell outta me and Jude...” Fae nods at the door. “We can talk about this later.”
Dean’s half way out of it before he realises he’d been obeying without a fight. He looks over his shoulder and sees a sawed-off shotgun being placed in Cas’s hands.
“Woah, woah,” Dean points at it. “Can he even use that?”
“I’m not incompetent, Dean,” Cas says, but Dean ignores him.
“Probably a better shot than you, girlpants.” Fae hits him on the arm and Dean jumps, clutching it. He stares at her, scandalised and throws Sam the same look.
“You’re not gonna control her? Dude, put her on a leash or something.” This earns him another smack and he hisses, rubbing away the pain. Jude’s grinning as she skips past him out of the door, hand clenched around the sleeve of Cas’s trenchcoat. Dean gives Cas a blank, empty glare as he passes. He receives one in return.
And it stings.
-
They get back and they’re all relatively unscathed and clean. Cas, however, has a gash along the side of his neck. He’s seated himself on the bed and there’s a trickle of blood dipping underneath his collar. Dean follows it with his eyes.
“You boys...” Fae throws her bags onto the bed and lets out a laugh that’s not quite amused, but not harsh either. “You fight together like you’ve been doing it for years. I mean...” She gestures at Sam and Dean. “You guys I get. But the way you work with the pup? It’s like he’s been at your side forever.”
Sam gives her a smile full of happiness and rainbows and unicorns. Dean just keeps watching the blood on Cas’s skin and his voice comes out sour.
“Sure, we fight like clockwork. That’s why Cas got swiped by that demon bitch. ‘Cos you know, he fits into mine and Sam’s lives like he’s supposed to be there. He’s so perfect and angelic-“
“I would be able to heal faster if I had my powers,” Cas cups the cut with his hand, blue eyes piercing Dean accusingly. “Do I have to remind you whose fault it is that they’re gone?”
“Cas.” Sam snaps angrily and Cas knows he’s gone over the line. It’s too late; the words have sunk in and etched themselves into Dean’s chest. Guilt on top of guilt.
Fae and Jude stand, awkwardly, at the edge of the room.
“Jesus Christ,” Fae curses, and she rubs her forehead. “Are answers too much to ask? In case you guys hadn’t noticed, we’re kinda loose parts over here.” None of them listen to her. She mutters under her breath and reaches into her bag, throwing the first kit over to Jude. “Go patch up the pup.”
Dean’s gaze snaps to the kit in Jude’s hands and his fingers itch to reach out and grab it. There’s a mantra, a voice, in the back of his head. It’s telling him that it’s not her responsibility. That what happened to Cas was his fault, so he should fix it. Cas was in his charge now.
He doesn’t have to say anything. Jude’s in front of him and holding out the kit, a smile spreading over her boyish face.
“You’ve got some things to talk about.” She presses it into his limp hands and he takes it, swallowing.
“Thanks.”
Sam jerks his head in the direction of the door and Fae and Jude follow him out of it, leaving the two men alone.
Dean says nothing as he moves closer, placing the box onto the bed beside Cas’s thigh. It’s silent. They say nothing, even when Cas has his trenchcoat and suit jacket off and Dean’s fingers start working at the top button on his shirt.
He pulls the edge of Cas’s shirt down, revealing a smooth patch of pale skin and the droplet of blood he had been watching. His eyes dart up to Cas’s, but they’re too blue, too apologetic, too close. He looks down again, moving between Cas’s legs to get a better view of the cut. It’s at the nape of his neck too, beneath the strands of hair that have grown longer. When he presses the cold swab of cotton wall to Cas’s skin, it trembles beneath him.
“I’m sorry,” Cas finally says, his words gravelly and whispered. Dean looks up at him quickly, looks back down just as quick.
“For what?” He replies. He tries to sound soft. It comes out bitter. Cas notices and grimaces when Dean presses down a little too hard on the cut.
Dean feels guilty afterwards, but swallows it down when Cas tilts his head, revealing more of his neck and muscle and skin.
“What I said. It wasn’t your fault.”
Dean tips more antiseptic lotion onto the cotton wool bud and tenderly returns to the wound. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say. So he cleans in silence, ignoring the way Cas shivers beneath him when his fingers brush away the hairs at the nape of his neck. He also pretends that he can’t see Cas’s fingers twitching nervously on the blanket next to him.
He leans closer, mouth blowing across the strands of Cas’s hair and eyes half-closing. His little finger brushes against skin as he cleans. It doesn’t have to, but he wants it to. He can feel Cas, knows he’s there, and that feeling soothes the anger that had been festering in his gut.
“You know me,” he says, voice hoarse and low, “once it’s out there, I can’t help but lap it up like the self-pitying asshole that I am.”
He jerks when Cas suddenly grasps hold of his wrist and he’s forced to look. He has to. And they’re so close, those eyes that he thought he’d never see again, that he doesn’t want to see now. He’d gotten over it. He’d already accepted that he wouldn’t be able to look at them like this again.
“You hurt me with words,” Cas says, and it’s almost the same as the voice that Dean had heard in Bobby’s kitchen, over a year ago. But it’s not threatening, it’s almost... broken. “I wanted to do the same. I... You make me so...”
“Horny?” Dean jokes. He can’t help it. It’s natural instinct, to joke when things are dire. And it helps. It does. Because Cas actually lets out a huff of amusement and his warm breath mingles with Dean’s.
“Dean Winchester,” Cas says and his thumb brushes across the wrist that’s propped up on his shoulder. Dean’s fingers sweep along the skin of Cas’s neck. “Always joking.”
He’s not forgiven. Neither of them has been forgiven. They know that. Dean’s still grieving and Castiel still harbours Dean’s words like they’re scars with stories.
Dean’s pulled back further and he can see all of Cas’s face now. It’s filled with this... reverence. This regret, and nostalgia, and happiness, and tingling anger. It’s a beautiful expression, and Dean just wants to...
...he wants to keep it.
The door opens, but neither of them notice. Dean’s too busy trying to etch the expression into his mind. He’s still trying to process that yeah, he’s here, he’s pissed off with Cas, he’s close to Cas, he’s looking at Cas, and he’s here.
“Oi, girlpants.”
Dean blinks and looks over to the door. Fae’s staring at them incredulously, Jude looks like a kid seeing Santa for the first time and Sam... well, he’s unbothered.
“What?” Dean snaps at Fae, his fingertips digging into the side of Cas’s neck a little. Cas’s grip tightens on his wrist, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cas turn his head back to him.
“You ever heard of personal space?” She retorts, gesturing to him and Cas. Dean looks down between them, alarmed. He hadn’t realised. Legs between Cas’s, one hand inches away from Cas’s chest, the other cupping his neck, posture bent and face just a mishap away from collision.
“They don’t do personal space,” Sam says casually, throwing their food onto the table.
Dean doesn’t move away. Cas’s hand is no longer on his wrist - it feels cold without it - and so he keeps cleaning. He leans over Cas, chest brushing his shoulder, to get to the kit.
“I can see that.” Fae’s watching them curiously now, studying Dean as he tapes the wad to Cas’s neck, his eyes not leaving Cas’s. Jude’s watching them too and she smirks.
“Hey, Dee, has anyone ever said that you two’ve got some wicked chemistry?”
Dean straightens up and admires his handiwork. Castiel strokes the bandage and nods in thanks. Vaguely registering his name, Dean looks up at Jude, who he realises is speaking to him. She’d been spectacularly quiet the past few hours.
“Hm?” He blinks dazedly at her. He’d stopped listening to them after Cas had pinned his gaze back onto the side of his face.
“You and Cas. Chemistry.” She grins. “You know, you’ve got the whole love hate thing going on. No personal space-“
“Dude, no.” Dean moves away now and he feels cold without Cas’s warmth in front of him. “That’s just... no.”
Jude shrugs and lies back in a chair, rummaging through their bag of food for her order.
“I dunno, just an observation. Been watching you two while you squabble you know. Just looks like sexual tension-“
“-Hey, you’re too young to know about that stuff.” Fae hits her on the shoulder. Jude snorts.
“Right. I’ve been to bars and brothels and strip clubs and dodgy motels with only R-rated movies available. And I’ve seen the insides of humans more than a surgeon. I’m not too young to know anything.”
“Touché,” Dean says, impressed. They share a nonexistent bro-fist.
Fae clearly feels a little put-out, so she heads over to Sam. Dean’s nose wrinkles in disgust when the two start to make pathetic gooey eyes to each other and when he glances at Jude, she’s doing the same.
It’s strange, that the two women had entered his and Sam’s life so suddenly, and yet it felt like they’d been there forever. How long had it been? Less than a day?
And yet here he was, sharing looks with a twelve-year-old who knew exactly how he felt and watching his brother fall at a woman’s feet. It was weird.
A good kinda weird.
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