Destiel Drabble
Title: Destiel Drabble #1
Author: Writerarch
Warning: M/M
Pairing: Dean/ Castiel
Rating: E for everyone
Author's Note: Right after 8x21
His hands trembled as he laid Castiel slowly onto the mattress of the first motel he and Sammy had managed to find. The place was dull, in a warming-colors-turn-depressing sort of way that all motels off shady highways looked. Dean’s hands worked steadily on the wound on Castiel’s stomach, If he wasn’t an angel, he’d be dead, Dean cringed at the thought and, as with most thoughts, promptly shoved it down to some unknown and unreachable part of his brain to ignore forever.
In the twenty minutes they had spent inside the motel room, Dean had managed to clean Cas up significantly. He started with the trench coat; ripping it away along with the rest of the Cas’ clothes. Then he cleaned him up, dug that dubious yet reliable first aid kit from the depths of his duffle bag and started cleaning the wounds, Castiel’s stomach making Dean’s own start to churn.
Somewhere along the way Sam took the Impala keys and drove off: Supply run, Dean’s brain supplied helpfully. If they were going to do this, they’d need a lot of supplies and pain killers-did painkillers work on angels? It was sort of pathetic how little knew about angels overall, despite all the years he’s spent around Castiel.
It took Dean another five or so minutes to stich Cas up and clean the rest of the wounds around Cas’ torso, when he was done-and only when he was done-did he gather the courage to look at Castiel, only to find the angel looking straight at him with a blank expression.
Dean attempted to smile.
He failed miserably.
After a quite few moments, Castiel broke the silence.
“Hello, Dean” was all he said but the sound of his voice, low and ragged. Exhausted. Did things to Dean’s heart, the one he’d almost lost when he very nearly ran him over.
“We got Kevin,” Dean blurted out, stupidly. Castiel’s smile ghosted over the idea of a smile and Dean released the breath he’d been holding.
“That is…those are great news, Dean.”
“I saw Naomi”
Cas froze. “When?”
“Not long after Kevin disappeared. She came to find me.”
“Did she-? Are you-? Are you okay?”
“Me? I’m fine. It’s you I’d be worried about. You and what the absolute hell happened, because you took off with the Tablet after almost ki-killing me” his voice caught a little. “And then you jump in front of the Impala almost dead and I need answers Cas, I need to be able to help you.”
“This isn’t something you can help with, Dean. It’d be best if you didn’t try at all.”
Cas looked ready to answered when cringed in pain and Dean’s mind kicked into auto-pilot because he was Dean Winchester, and lives depended on him twenty-four-seven and he didn’t just blank out, He mans up.
Carefully as if Castiel were made of crystal, he shifts him on the bed, trying as delicately as possible to move Cas as little as possible while simultaneously setting him in a better position. One that be comfortable and not harsh on his stitches and, really, that was just imaginary because there was no way to lessen a pain that went bone deep.
Dean gave Cas as many painkillers as was still considered safe and moved to clean up. Dean swung his feet off the bed and made to get up when a hand reached for his forearm and Castiel’s eyes locked with his. He shook his head. Dean smiled tiredly and resumed his place next Cas, mindful of where he kept his hands.
He had so many questions and concerns; so many people to look after and nothing to go on from. The world was spinning out of control for him but Cas’ lips found his in a way that was so comforting and this, this was what he’d been craving. Cas’ touch and presence.
Cas with him. Near him.
Cas alive and breathing, even if a little beat but that was the life.
Dean’s questions could wait; his concerns could be put on hold if only for the next few hours. For now he wanted to relax, to rest next to Castiel’s still breathing form, hands firmly attached, bodies aching but in peace.
Author: Writerarch
Warning: M/M
Pairing: Dean/ Castiel
Rating: E for everyone
Author's Note: Right after 8x21
His hands trembled as he laid Castiel slowly onto the mattress of the first motel he and Sammy had managed to find. The place was dull, in a warming-colors-turn-depressing sort of way that all motels off shady highways looked. Dean’s hands worked steadily on the wound on Castiel’s stomach, If he wasn’t an angel, he’d be dead, Dean cringed at the thought and, as with most thoughts, promptly shoved it down to some unknown and unreachable part of his brain to ignore forever.
In the twenty minutes they had spent inside the motel room, Dean had managed to clean Cas up significantly. He started with the trench coat; ripping it away along with the rest of the Cas’ clothes. Then he cleaned him up, dug that dubious yet reliable first aid kit from the depths of his duffle bag and started cleaning the wounds, Castiel’s stomach making Dean’s own start to churn.
Somewhere along the way Sam took the Impala keys and drove off: Supply run, Dean’s brain supplied helpfully. If they were going to do this, they’d need a lot of supplies and pain killers-did painkillers work on angels? It was sort of pathetic how little knew about angels overall, despite all the years he’s spent around Castiel.
It took Dean another five or so minutes to stich Cas up and clean the rest of the wounds around Cas’ torso, when he was done-and only when he was done-did he gather the courage to look at Castiel, only to find the angel looking straight at him with a blank expression.
Dean attempted to smile.
He failed miserably.
After a quite few moments, Castiel broke the silence.
“Hello, Dean” was all he said but the sound of his voice, low and ragged. Exhausted. Did things to Dean’s heart, the one he’d almost lost when he very nearly ran him over.
“We got Kevin,” Dean blurted out, stupidly. Castiel’s smile ghosted over the idea of a smile and Dean released the breath he’d been holding.
“That is…those are great news, Dean.”
“I saw Naomi”
Cas froze. “When?”
“Not long after Kevin disappeared. She came to find me.”
“Did she-? Are you-? Are you okay?”
“Me? I’m fine. It’s you I’d be worried about. You and what the absolute hell happened, because you took off with the Tablet after almost ki-killing me” his voice caught a little. “And then you jump in front of the Impala almost dead and I need answers Cas, I need to be able to help you.”
“This isn’t something you can help with, Dean. It’d be best if you didn’t try at all.”
Cas looked ready to answered when cringed in pain and Dean’s mind kicked into auto-pilot because he was Dean Winchester, and lives depended on him twenty-four-seven and he didn’t just blank out, He mans up.
Carefully as if Castiel were made of crystal, he shifts him on the bed, trying as delicately as possible to move Cas as little as possible while simultaneously setting him in a better position. One that be comfortable and not harsh on his stitches and, really, that was just imaginary because there was no way to lessen a pain that went bone deep.
Dean gave Cas as many painkillers as was still considered safe and moved to clean up. Dean swung his feet off the bed and made to get up when a hand reached for his forearm and Castiel’s eyes locked with his. He shook his head. Dean smiled tiredly and resumed his place next Cas, mindful of where he kept his hands.
He had so many questions and concerns; so many people to look after and nothing to go on from. The world was spinning out of control for him but Cas’ lips found his in a way that was so comforting and this, this was what he’d been craving. Cas’ touch and presence.
Cas with him. Near him.
Cas alive and breathing, even if a little beat but that was the life.
Dean’s questions could wait; his concerns could be put on hold if only for the next few hours. For now he wanted to relax, to rest next to Castiel’s still breathing form, hands firmly attached, bodies aching but in peace.