Dean had screwed up. He knew he had. He had screwed up big time, and he had no idea how to fix it. He wasn’t sure if there was even a way to fix it at all. He was pretty sure there wasn’t.
He wanted to blame it on the Mark of Cain. He wanted to blame it on the alcohol. He wanted to blame it on the bartender who had actually sold him that whole bottle of whiskey. He wanted to blame it on the freaking witch that had almost killed Sam and gotten Dean a wounded shoulder and a broken rib, plus a few cuts here and there. He wanted to blame it on the freaking moon for just being up there in the sky, probably laughing down at him because he was just so fucking stupid.
But he knew it was all on him in the end. He was the only one to blame for all of it. It really had been entirely his fault, after all.
He had been the one to suggest that he and Sam had needed a case. After the whole fiasco with Metatron in the Bunker’s dungeon, Dean had felt like he'd needed to do something. He had needed a hunt. That was the only thing he was truly good at, and he had been hopeful it would help clear up his head; somehow rid his mind of the influence of the Mark even for just a little while, because the damn thing seemed to grow more active with every day that passed. He had just needed a little time off. But of course, they were the freaking Winchesters, so nothing could go right for them. The Universe really did hate them, it seemed. Dean had been convinced of that for a while now.
Everything had gone to hell because he had reacted one second too late. He had made a mistake, and that had almost cost Sam his life. Dean hadn’t been fast enough to get to his brother during the hunt, and Sam had gotten stabbed in the stomach because of it. Of course, Dean did behead the bitch who had done it a second later, but then Sam was on the floor bleeding out and Dean was sure he was going to lose his brother again.
“Dean…” Sam’s breathing was ragged as his hand clutched his side, trying to stop the constant flow of blood quickly slipping out from the deep, ugly tear on the skin of his torso from continuing to leave his body. It wasn’t working.
“Don’t talk.” Dean tore off a piece of fabric from one of his shirts and pressed it to the wound, holding Sam’s hand over it to show him how to keep it in place. That should slow the bleeding down a little. It had to. “Don’t waste energy, alright? Just, don’t talk. I’m gonna get you to a hospital.”
Sam didn’t respond, but he allowed his brother to carefully maneuver them to their feet, supporting pretty much all of his weight onto Dean’s slightly smaller frame. Dean did everything he could not to wince or buckle under his brother’s weight, but it was surprisingly hard to ignore the pain that flared up in his body with every single movement he made. There was something seriously wrong with his shoulder and his lungs were burning, but Sam was dying so all that just didn’t matter at all. Dean could worry about himself later. Right now, he had to take care of Sammy.
Getting Sam into the Impala was tricky and the drive to the nearest hospital took a lot longer than Dean had thought it would, because the witch just had to live way too many miles out of the closest town, which was Omaha, Nebraska. The drive felt truly endless (had they really driven for that long to get to the bitch’s house earlier that day?), but after what had seemed like a true eternity Dean was finally parking the Impala by the emergency entrance of the hospital and flying out of the car to get someone out there to help his now unconscious brother. He knew he shouldn’t try to carry Sam again.
The next hour or so was basically a blur of repeating the same story of how he and his brother had gotten jumped outside of a bar by some crazy dude and how he and Sam had tried to put up a fight, but the guy had pulled out a knife and stabbed Sam before running away. The nurses kept insisting that Dean should also be checked, but he refused every time. He was fine. Sam was the one they should all be focusing on.
Still, eventually one of the nurses (a scary-looking woman who seemed to just constantly give out the impression that she might actually murder anyone who looked at her the wrong way) convinced Dean to let her at least clean the cuts he had on his face and arms, but that had been all Dean allowed. After that, the hospital staff finally backed off, probably not because they were convinced that he was fine, but because at some point they grew tired of pretty much begging to check him for possible wounds and having to hear him refuse every time and repeat that he was fine over and over again. It took them all about two hours to get tired of it. Dean was just relieved they wouldn’t be worrying about him when Sam needed the attention.
The waiting room was packed, the air heavy with sorrow and tension as several family members and friends waited for news on the people they cared about. There was a certain grayness; a dimness to that room in comparison to the rest of the hospital, a cloud of tension that just didn’t seem like it would ever fade away hovering over people’s heads like a curse. Everyone would look up at the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway that connected the room to the rest of the building, at the same time wishing for news and fearing what they might hear. It was suffocating.
With his head in his hands, Dean waited. No one talked to him; no one even dared to sit close to him, and he was glad for the space. He guessed a six-feet-three tall dude covered in bloody cuts and dirt looking on the verge of a mental breakdown ought to get that reaction out of people.
At some point Dean managed to convince himself that the fact that no one had come out to talk to him until now was a good thing. It meant Sam was alive. They would have come talk to him otherwise, so that was off the table for now, and it would stay that way. Dean would make sure of that, even if any doctor tried to tell him differently. He had been down this exact same road many times already in the past few years.
His cell phone weighed heavily in his pocket, but Dean refused to call Cas for this. If the hunter called him, then Cas would come here and try to heal them, which was something Dean shouldn’t allow, considering the angel’s current state. Cas’ borrowed Grace was still burning out, and if Dean and Sam could get themselves fixed without him, then that’s what they should do. If he could avoid it, Dean would rather not have Cas here right now, trying to help them even if it might end up costing the angel his life.
However, Dean realized he wouldn’t exactly have a choice on the matter when a middle-aged Asian doctor called the fake name he had given for himself and his brother when he’d first gotten to the hospital and had been asked for medical insurance information. He rushed up to where she was standing as soon as the name was halfway out of her lips, his heart beating frantically in his chest because her face didn’t exactly spell cheerful. A chill ran down his spine as he realized with a wave of dread that she might be the bearer of bad news, but he hurried to push that thought away as soon as it crossed his mind.
His tone was rushed and pretty much desperate as he asked, “How's my brother?”
“He’s still in surgery,” she told him in a voice that was just way too calm for his liking, but he knew that she might be used to this sort of thing already. This was her job; she probably did this every day. But if Sam was still alive and in surgery in that very moment, why the hell wasn’t she in there with him right now? What was she doing out here talking to Dean instead of in there in the operation room saving his brother’s life? “The stab hit three internal organs. His heart stopped once, but we managed to revive him in time. However, the internal bleeding refuses to stop."
“What are you saying?” Could this woman be a little more straight-forward, please?
The doctor let out a sad sigh, her eyes filled with pity. Dean hated that sight, but he refrained from punching one of the doctors who had his little brother’s life in their hands at the moment. He doubted that would be helpful to Sam.
“We’re doing everything we can to save your brother, Mr. Collins, but we just want you to be ready if—”
“Don’t you even dare say it! Don’t you fucking dare!” Dean didn’t give a damn about how people had started staring by this point as he yelled at the doctor. Who the hell did she think she was to even insinuate something like that? He just didn’t care who she was anymore. All he cared about in that moment was making sure that his brother was okay. That was really all. “He’s not gonna die!” Not again, his mind completed his outburst with the words he knew he couldn’t say out loud.
He stormed out of the waiting room without another word, stomping over to the gliding doors that led outside, only half-aware of how people immediately moved out of the way as he walked, fearful and nervous glances being thrown his way from all sides.
The icy cold night air was a welcome relief against his skin, numbing the constant sting of his cuts, even if just barely. It helped clear his head a little, enough for Dean to realize he couldn’t put this off any longer. With shaky hands, Dean got his phone out of his jeans pocket and dialed the number of the only being on the planet he could think to call right now.
Cas picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello, Dean.”
“Cas,” Dean ran his hand through his hair, trying to calm down enough to slow down his still racing heart, struggling to find the right words and speak coherently right now, “Cas, something happened. It’s Sam.”
“What happened?” The change in Cas’s voice was so subtle someone who didn’t know the angel very well would probably not even realize it, but it was there. Dean had known Cas for over six years now, and that meant he could read the angel well enough to notice it. Cas’ tone suddenly grew more serious, his words more careful as a hint of worry mingled into his voice, even in just those two words.
And that was all it took to break the dam. Dean let it all out at once, from why and how he’d found the case in the first place to the disaster that breaking into the witch’s house had ended up being and how Dean was now waiting for the doctors to try and save his brother, but that they didn’t seem very confident about Sam's state. In fact, they were telling him he should be ready for the worst.
“And I know that I shouldn’t be asking this of you, but I just don’t know what else to do. Sam’s gonna die here if I don’t do anything, and I just can’t—”
“Dean, calm down,” Dean stopped short at Castiel’s strong, demanding tone, “I need you to slow down and breathe evenly. You are hyperventilating.”
Dean paused, just then realizing that his breathing was indeed a bit ragged. A woman holding hands with a child walked by, staring suspiciously at him before stepping as far away from where he stood as she could while rounding him with her little girl, who followed the woman’s steps with a little bit of reluctance as she watched him with wide, curious eyes. They were gone just a moment later.
His heart was hammering painfully against his ribcage by this point, and the ache had now spread over to his right shoulder and arm. He wondered just how badly he had bruised them. It was getting pretty hard to breathe, to be honest.
“Alright, I can do that.” Dean forced his breathing to even out a bit, making a feeble attempt at taking in deeper, slower breaths of air and letting them out evenly, just so Cas wouldn’t be able to tell just how badly he was still freaking out. At least not over the phone, anyway. “Cas, I don’t really… I mean, I can’t…” His throat felt closed up, and his fogged up mind wasn’t really helping on the matter of allowing him to speak coherently.
Castiel seemed to get it anyway, though. “I know, Dean.” The angel’s voice was calm and controlled, precisely the opposite of what the hunter was feeling in that moment, and that for some reason grounded Dean a little bit. “I’m only a few hours away. I will be there soon. Please, try to remain calm.”
Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding at the sound of those words, and he winced as his chest burned, pain quickly spreading all around the inside of his chest, but he ignored it. His relief was instant, and that was all he should be focusing on right now; all that truly mattered. Cas was coming. He would fix Sam, and everything would be fine. Dean had a plan now, and that helped him calm down a little. He had something to hold on to, and right now, that should be enough to keep him sane. At least until Cas got here.
“Thanks, Cas.” Dean let out a shaky breath, watching as the warm air that left his mouth became foggy because of the coldness that surrounded him and danced right before his eyes for just a second before disappearing from view, “Seriously.”
“I will see you soon, Dean.”
When Dean went back inside the waiting room, he was very much aware of all the eyes that followed him, watching every move he made with careful attention, but he wasn’t at all bothered by the stares. He felt much better now, knowing that Cas would be here soon to patch up whatever the doctors couldn’t fix. He was still nervous, obviously, because Sam was still struggling and in surgery, but this was a light at the end of the tunnel and Dean would hold on to it for as long as he needed to.
A nurse, this time a short, awkward guy that looked extremely out of place in here for some reason, came out to talk to him over an hour later, saying that they had successfully stopped the bleeding, but that Sam was still hanging by a thread and was actually in the ICU at the moment. He also wouldn’t be conscious any time soon, because they were keeping him in an induced coma for an undetermined amount of time. The guy said they would need to put his brother through another surgery soon, but for now, Sam had to respond to the first one he had gone through, which might take a while, and apparently they had no way to know for sure exactly just how long 'a while' might turn out to be.
All Dean got from that was that Sam would be in the ICU when Cas got here and that his brother was alive and holding on for now, because the rest didn’t really matter. Sam wouldn’t need another surgery, but then again, he couldn’t tell the guy that.
The minutes ticked by slowly. At some point, Dean couldn’t bear to just sit around and wait anymore. His nervousness was already starting to build up again because it had already been three and a half hours since he had called Cas and the angel wasn’t here yet. He was pacing around the waiting room in no time, his hand unconsciously rubbing over the Mark of Cain through the fabric of his jacket sleeve as Dean resisted the urge to call Cas again and ask the angel what was taking him so damn long.
The Mark had been oddly quiet after the case, which had been a relief, but of course even that was short-lived. Dean guessed the thing had been satiated for a few hours because he'd killed the witch earlier, but it was back to acting up now, throbbing painfully on his arm, whispering into his ear—kill, kill, kill, kill…
It didn’t take long until he felt like pulling up the sleeves of his jacket and shirts so he could scratch at the Mark until all that was left on his forearm was bare, bloody skin, even if he knew that wouldn't fix anything. Cas himself had said that the Mark was much more than just a physical thing, so just burning or scratching it off wouldn’t do him any good in getting rid of it.
Still, he kept rubbing his hand over the Mark as he walked back outside, feeling a little claustrophobic in that waiting room all of a sudden. Scratching the damn thing over his clothes, he tried to will it to calm down, because the Mark whispering into his ear telling him to kill was really the last thing he needed right now. That thing had turned him into a freaking demon and he was still walking around with it. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of it, but he was starting to doubt they would be able to find a cure for it at all.
Dean’s head snapped up at the familiar sound, his mind instantly clearing up, like a curtain had suddenly been pulled off from where it had previously been draped over his thoughts, sending the disorienting fog that had at some point filled his head away for the time being. Cas’ presence seemed to have that effect on him. Briefly, Dean wondered if the Mark could sense an angel was nearby. It probably could.
“Cas, you’re here,” Dean breathed out, his relief audible even to his own ears.
“You called me, I came,” Castiel replied calmly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He made it sound so simple, like it actually wasn’t a big deal; like it really was the simplest thing in the world to him. However, the angel frowned only a second later, head tilting a bit to the side as he announced, “You are wounded.”
Dean swiftly ducked away from the hand that was already moving his way, because no, he wouldn’t let Cas waste his mojo on him when Sam was dying. Sam came first. Sam always came first. “No, Cas, Sam…" The hunter shook his head, letting out a tired sigh, "Sam needs it more.”
Castiel paused, his eyes hard as he considered Dean for a moment. The angel remained quiet for a while, his deep blue gaze boring into Dean so intensely it was like he was looking at the hunter’s very soul, which honestly, he might as well be. Finally, Castiel lowered his hand slowly, though he didn’t look very happy to be doing so, or even convinced that his help wasn't needed. “Where is Sam?”
Mentally, Dean let out a sigh of relief, glad that apparently the angel wasn't going to insist on healing him, at least for now. “In the ICU,” Dean hurried toward the door, and Castiel quickly followed him into the hospital, “They want to take him into surgery again soon, so we gotta be quick.”
Castiel simply nodded as they entered the waiting room, going straight for the nurse at the desk in the corner. All it took were a few words from the angel for her to tell them exactly where to find Sam and handle them a card that would give them access to the ICU. A moment later they already were walking away from her, and Dean was pretty sure she might not even remember their faces. That worried Dean a little, because maybe Cas shouldn’t be using so much of his mojo when he didn’t have that much left, but Cas must know what he was doing. He wouldn’t be helping if he knew it could kill him, so he must still have some battery left. Sam had told Dean that the angel had been pale and coughing a lot when his Grace had been close to burning out, before Crowley had shoved some more Grace into him, but that didn't seem to be the case here, so Dean took that as a good sign.
The nurse they ran into once they were inside the ICU got the same treatment as the one back in the waiting room and was quickly walking away from them as if nothing had happened. They didn't come across anyone else after her, so it wasn’t hard to get to Sam. As they made their way through the ICU, though, an uneasy feeling quickly settled in Dean's stomach, and he did his best not to look into the rooms at the patients, instead keeping his eyes focused on reading the numbers by the doors as they walked by, looking for the one the nurse had given them for Sam's room.
Sam had a small room to himself, with bare, pale white walls surrounding him on all sides. As soon as they walked inside, Dean swallowed drily at the sight of his brother, at the amount of machinery attached to his body, at all the tubes coming out of his mouth and arms. Dean felt something inside of him break at the sight, his chest suddenly tight with guilt, because he knew this was his fault. He had failed to protected his brother. He had done this to Sam.
Pushing those thoughts away for now and forcing himself to focus, Dean closed door of the room, as well as the curtains that covered the small window that allowed people to look into the room from out in the hallway in order to give Cas some privacy, lingering by the door as he watched the angel walk over to the bed, examining Sam with careful eyes. He seemed hesitant, which sent a wave of ice cold dread washing over Dean’s insides. What if Cas wasn’t strong enough to do this? What then?
“Can you fix him?” The question felt heavy on his tongue because he hadn’t entirely thought about the possibility of Cas not being able to help until now. He didn’t think he could even consider it, really.
“Not completely, but I can heal him enough so that the hospital should have no issues with treating him back to full health.” Cas’ gaze was heavy as he looked up, almost sorrowful, like he was feeling guilty somehow, even though Dean couldn’t understand why. “I am sorry I cannot do more, Dean.”
Dean’s heart sank right there at the sound of those words; at the regret that was so audible to his ears, because Cas was actually apologizing for this, like he thought Dean might be mad at him for not being able fix Sam completely. Dean was just glad the angel was here and could do something at all, because he knew that was already too much. “Cas, man, don’t,” Dean shook his head, “You don’t need to be sorry for this. You’re here, and you said you could save his life. That’s what matters. The hospital can take care of the rest.”
The troubled expression on Cas’ face did not go away as Dean had hoped it would. The hunter hated that sight, because he knew just how much Cas had been feeling useless lately. The angel had said it already, more than once during this last year, and that been the very reason why he had killed Theo when he had been human and had stolen the other angel’s Grace—because he thought he couldn’t be of use to them as a human. No matter how many times Dean and Sam told him that wasn’t how they saw him (just someone they kept around because he was useful), Cas just didn’t seem to get it. He didn’t get that he was family, and had been for a while now.
Dean didn’t say anything else, though, as much as he wanted to just get all of it through the angel’s head and make him understand. What difference would it make right now, anyway? This was definitely neither the proper place nor the proper time for a conversation like that one.
Castiel seemed to sense where Dean’s mind was at in that moment, because the next thing he did was turn back to Sam and rest his hand on the unconscious man’s forehead. His hand lit up with Grace just barely, not as much as it might have had he been at full power, and that made Dean a little uneasy. Should Cas really be doing this? Shouldn’t he have just sent one of his angel buddies to do this instead of coming himself?
It was over as soon as it had started. A second later the heart monitor beside the bed was registering a much stronger heartbeat and Sam looked a normal color again. He didn’t wake up, though, but he was already looking so much better that Dean instantly felt a breath of relief leaving his lips, his chest growing lighter all of a sudden.
That was, until he looked over at Cas.
The angel wasn’t standing normally anymore, but supporting himself on the metal structure behind the bed attached to the wall. His knuckled were white from the strength he was putting into the effort of just keeping himself up, just as was the rest of his skin. It was almost like he had transferred Sam’s paleness to his own self, which actually made Dean sick in his stomach with guilt. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea…
Dean was by his side in a second, wrapping an arm around his middle and keeping the worn angel up on his feet. It worried Dean just how much Cas was actually supporting himself on him when the angel leaned into him. Cas’ breathing was heavy, but it wasn’t a clean sound, like there was something in his lungs, clogging up his airways somehow.
“Cas, damn it, why didn’t you say you couldn’t do this?”
“I’m fine, Dean,” was Castiel’s low, wheezing response, and Dean had to literally hold back a snort at that, because sure, Cas looked just fine.
“And Sam?” He needed to know if his brother was fine. That was the very reason why Cas was here.
“He will be fine,” Cas panted, the effort he seemed to be putting into the simple task of speaking highly alarming, “His body… is almost completely healed.”
And that was all Dean needed to hear to get moving. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Getting out of the hospital was tricky, but they managed. Everyone that came up to them asking if Cas was fine or needed to be looked at got the same story from Dean—that Cas was squirmish around blood and had just seen their friend after a car accident. Cas did look like he was about to pass out, so people bought that pretty easily.
When they got to the parking lot, Dean spotted Cas’ pimp mobile a few cars away from Baby, but he went straight for the Impala, which Dean had a few hours ago moved to a proper parking spot amongst the other cars. He would come get Cas’ car later. Right now, he just needed to get Cas to the motel.
Cas was almost unconscious when Dean unlocked the car and attempted to put him inside. It took a lot of maneuvering from his part, but he somehow managed to get the angel lying down somewhat comfortably in the backseat.
When that was done, he slammed the door shut and practically ran around the car, throwing open the driver's door and sliding inside. Just a second later he was already shoving his key into the ignition, starting the engine and gearing the car as quickly as he could before driving off. They were leaving the hospital parking lot when Dean threw a glance over his shoulder and noticed Cas was unconscious, head lolled to the side onto the backseat, eyes closed and body completely unmoving. The sight made Dean's heart feel heavy inside his chest with worry, and he stepped on the gas a little more.
The motel wasn’t far from the hospital, which Dean was very much happy for. It was pretty late, around 4 o’clock in the morning, so there was no one around to watch him carry an unconscious angel bridal style into one of the rooms. Unlocking to the door of the room while carefully balancing Cas in his arms had been another challenge, but he managed.
Once inside the room, Dean laid Cas onto his bed as carefully as he could, though he doubted anything he did right now would cause the angel to wake up. When he leaned back to look at Cas, though, he realized that there was no freaking way he could be comfortable in those clothes. Of course, as that thought crossed his mind, he hesitated, because should he really do this?
He had done that for Sam a lot of times over the years—getting a few layers of clothing off and getting his little brother comfortable as he tucked him into bed. But this was different, Cas was different, and Dean almost felt dirty for thinking about it, even though maybe there was no reason to. Or maybe there was, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that doing what he thought of doing might not be strictly… platonic from his part.
That had been happening a lot to him throughout the last few years. He felt almost paranoid sometimes, afraid to touch Cas a little too long or linger for a second more than he should in a hug, but sometimes a few things slipped. Still, he was pretty sure Cas was still clueless about his no-so-brotherly-or-friend-like-feelings for him, and for that Dean was extremely thankful.
Of course, it wasn’t like Cas would read too much into this. The angel probably wouldn’t even care that Dean took off some of his clothes, but to Dean, it mattered, because it just felt so wrong to do this while Cas wasn’t aware of it, because to him, this was more than just making a friend comfortable to sleep, even though that really wasn’t the intention here. He felt like he would be taking advantage of Cas somehow, which was something he would never do, but it felt like it, nonetheless.
The Mark wasn’t helping. It didn’t understand boundaries, and it definitely didn’t care about morals. It seemed to think that nothing mattered except for what it wanted, and the only other thing it seemed to intensify beside the need to kill was lust. His attraction to Cas had grown to be a lot harder to handle since he had taken on the Mark, burning on his arm and whispering for him to just take what he wanted, because why should he not?
The idea of defiling an angel seemed to please the Mark, as twisted as that might sound, and Dean hated himself for even considering it.
Dean closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath as he pushed any thoughts from the Mark to the back of his mind, stuffing them away and shutting them out. He could do this. It didn’t need to be weird or bad if he didn’t make it so.
Ignoring the constant burn of the Mark on his arm, Dean leaned toward Cas’ sleeping form on the bed. The angel looked almost peaceful lying there, but Dean knew he shouldn’t be fooled by that. Cas wasn’t fine, and he shouldn’t have let himself be fooled like he had. But Sam had been dying and he hadn’t be thinking straight, so what should he have done?
Carefully, Dean lifted Cas’ body just slightly to push his darker trench coat and the suit jacket off his shoulders, removing the sleeves from his arms slowly. He folded the items carefully, leaving them on the chair by the wall. When Cas’ upper body was covered only by his white dress shirt, Dean walked over to the end of the bed and removed Cas’ shoes and socks, placing them on the floor by the side of the bed.
When he straightened up, though, Dean had to pause and actually consider continuing, because maybe it would be more comfortable for Cas to sleep without the suit pants, but Dean really didn’t think he could do that. Swallowing thickly, Dean decided maybe just the belt would do the trick, so he moved back to the side of the bed and leaned over Cas once more.
He lingered there for a moment, his mind very much aware of just what Cas’ belt was close to, but he had slept with suit pants and belts on before and waking up later hadn’t been pleasant, so he really should do this. He had to remind himself of that fact a few more times to actually move his hands.
As quickly as he could and with as little thought as possible, Dean undid Cas’ belt and pulled it, getting it off of Cas and loosening the waistband of the angel’s pants just a little, but hopefully enough to be more comfortable. Dean placed the belt with the coat and jacket, rolled up in a tiny little circle of leather, before walking back over to the bed and draping a thick comforter the motel provided over the sleeping angel. He wasn’t sure if the angel did feel cold now with his Grace fading, but Dean just felt he should do it anyway, because it was January and really freaking cold. It wasn’t a snow night, thankfully, but it was still really chilly outside, especially at this time.
When he was done, Dean let out a sigh of relief at the fact that he had actually done this without making it a bad thing. He was actually a little proud of himself. Still, he couldn’t help but stare a little at Cas’ calm expression while he lingered by the side of the bed, because Cas really did look pretty cute while he slept.
“Aw, ain’t he a little angel?”
He actually chuckled as his words from so many years before came back to him. Just like that time, however, the fact that Cas was sleeping didn’t mean anything good; it actually meant quite the opposite. That thought alone was enough to make any hint of a smile that might have formed on Dean's face at the memory quickly fade away as worry blossomed in his chest once more. Why did he feel like every single day, at least one of the people he cared about was dying? Couldn’t they just catch a fucking break, for once?
Without a thought and before he could think about what he was doing, Dean leaned over Cas one more time and placed a gentle, careful kiss on the angel’s forehead.
And just like that, the Mark flared up again, apparently angry that Dean had ignored it for so long. It seemed to realize Dean didn’t have any intention of doing anything about his horniness at the moment and decided to change tactics, taking that moment to point out just how vulnerable Cas was right now.
The chanting of kill, kill, kill, kill, started against inside Dean’s head as the image of the Angel Blade in the bag under the bed flashed in his mind. The Mark burned, insistent as it reminded him of the thirst for blood that had been slightly forgotten after he killed the witch earlier, but now it was back even stronger than before, because killing someone Dean cared about seemed to be even more satisfying to the Mark than killing some random witch, especially if that someone just happened to be an angel.
Dean’s hands clenched into fists at the sudden disorientation and wave of dizziness, because those thoughts just kept echoing over and over inside his head, urging him on and threatening to drive him mad if he didn’t do something about it.
He had to get out of there. He just had to.
Stumbling, Dean somehow managed to get to the door of the room, stalking outside and closing the door shut behind him. All he managed to take were three steps out into the cold air before he was bending over and spitting out the blood that flowed into his mouth as his body was sent into a coughing fit. His insides burned, his ribs aching and his shoulder feeling like it wanted to tear itself apart from his body. He actually felt like his lungs were about to launch themselves right out of his mouth. He couldn’t figure out if all that was happening because of the witch or the Mark, though he guessed it was probably a combination of both.
Gasping for breath, Dean straightened up his body, wincing as his ribs protested against the movement. The Mark was still burning, throbbing as it insisted Dean should go back into that room and do what it wanted.
Trying to shake off the lingering nausea, Dean hurried to his car, speeding out of the motel parking lot before he could do something absurdly stupid.
He needed the Mark to stop. He needed to clear his head from its influence, to dull his thoughts, if only for a short while, and throughout the past few weeks, he had learned exactly how to do that.
It wasn’t hard to find a bar, though judging by the lack of cars parked on the front and the time, it was about to close. Dean hurried to go inside anyway, because he really needed this. Honestly, he had done this more times he would be happy to admit over the years, but it had been happening a lot more often now, with the Mark. All he had to do was put on his best smile and work his charm on the bartender (she didn’t seem to care too much about the cuts on his face, and for that he was glad) and ten minutes later, Dean was leaving with several less bucks in his wallet and a full bottle of whiskey in his hand.
He drove out of town to the field area just a few miles away, parking the Impala out in a clearing. He was quick to get one of the shot glasses he had learned to keep in a bag in the trunk out and open the bottle, before climbing onto the roof of the car. He filled the glass and rested the bottle by his side before downing the drink in one go.
It burned going down, but it burned less than the Mark and it brought an instantaneous feeling of warmness washing through Dean’s entire body that he felt extremely glad for. He could still think clearly, though, which meant that the chanting from the Mark was still there, and that was so not the point of all this, so he hurried to correct that, filling yet another glass and downing it just as fast as the first one.
He didn’t want to think about the fact that he had failed Sam again, because it had been his fault his brother had gotten hurt in the first place. He hadn’t been fast enough, hadn't been able to protect his brother like he should. That was all he thought to be good at besides hunting—making sure Sam was okay, because that was what his father had taught him to do, look out for Sammy, make sure his little brother was safe and fine.
And now, because of that, Cas was lying unconscious on his bed, pale and sick and dying and there was nothing Dean could do about it. He had screwed up again, and both Sam and Cas were the ones to pay for that. He was such a fuck up he still didn’t get why the hell the angels had wanted anything to do with him in the first place all those years ago. They should have left him in Hell. He knew he would have deserved it if they had.
But they hadn’t, even after all those souls he had torn apart down there. And for what? To cause pain for every single one he cared about, because that was what he did. He screwed up everything, and he hurt the people he loved. He had failed everyone who had ever, by any stupid-ass reason, believed in him. That was all he was good for.
Three shots later and he was beginning to feel a little lighter, but it was only when one third of the bottle was gone that he actually felt his thoughts getting fuzzy and his pain beginning to grow dull. Half of the bottle was gone less than an hour later, and by then, Dean was pleasantly unaware of pretty much anything going on in his head or around him.
The sun was already rising in the horizon, sending away the darkness of the night that had still lingered around for a while. It wasn’t like Dean cared too much about that in that moment, though.
Something in the back of his mind told him he should be somewhere, but he couldn’t figure out where, only that it had something to do with Sam. He couldn’t remember where, though, maybe at the motel. Yeah, he probably should go back to the motel. That seemed like a good idea.
Getting inside the car was hard, but driving was harder. Dean got mad at the street for changing places every few seconds, because couldn’t it just stay there without moving? Wasn’t that what was streets did? He was pretty sure he hadn’t seen any dancing streets before then. Okay, maybe he had, he didn’t know. Dancing streets. Heh, that sounded kind of funny. Dean chuckled at that.
What Dean didn’t understand was why the motel had changed places at some point while he had been gone. He had to look for it for quite a while, which wasn’t very pleasant. He was already getting tired of driving, but he couldn’t stop until he found the motel. Finally, the familiar place came into sight, and Dean scowled at the building for having a terrible timing when it came to playing hide-and-seek.
He had a little trouble parking, but he thought he did a good job. He only took two parking spaces, and he was pretty proud of that.
The room key and the door key teamed up against him for a while, but eventually he managed to unlock the door and stumble inside the room. The sun was already up so it wasn’t by any means dark inside the room, but he still found it hard to see, since his eyes just refused to actually focus on anything properly. He tripped on something at some point and grunted as he hit his side on something hard, probably the small table he had seen at some point, cursing lowly before walking over to where he knew his bed had been earlier. He just hoped it hadn’t moved too.
Grunting, Dean let himself fall onto his bed (good bed, it actually stayed where it was supposed to. See, street? That’s what you should do), only to land on something hard.
What the fuck?
Squinting, Dean pulled back, sitting up, but his vision wasn’t helping at all. It swayed around and just wouldn’t focus, so he couldn’t understand what was lying on his bed, all he knew was that there was something there. It moved eventually, and Dean was slightly alarmed, but just sat there and waited, trying to get the room to stop spinning. He was getting dizzy now. Great.
The voice was familiar, but Dean couldn’t place it. It sounded far away, so it wasn’t really important right now, and why wouldn’t the room just stay still? Was it really that hard? He was pretty sure he would throw up soon…
And just like that, everything was gone. The dizziness, the pain, even the haziness of his mind, which was suddenly reduced to a slight buzz; it all changed in a second and Dean had to blink a few times to shake off the feeling of disorientation the change had brought onto him.
Of course, it all made sense a moment later when he looked up and found Cas staring at him, his face very, very close to Dean’s.
Dean was suddenly very much aware of just what position they were in. Dean was pretty much straddling Cas over the comforter, which was now pooled around the angel’s waist. Each one of the hunter’s knees was supporting his weight on either side of Cas’ waist. Apparently, he hadn’t been able to realize that whatever had been lying on his bed had been Cas.
“You were drunk,” Cas stated calmly, completely ignoring Dean’s wide, shocked eyes, “I removed most of the intoxication, but some might still linger. I also healed your wounds. You had a broken rib, a slightly damaged lung and a dislocated shoulder.”
Dean swallowed drily at all that, because didn’t Cas realize that Dean was pretty much on top of him? He was seriously talking like there was nothing wrong in the world. “Thanks, Cas.” Clearing his throat because his voice had come out slightly squeaky, Dean was about to jump get off of Cas already before little Dean decided he was liking this (he was already starting to make himself present, and that definitely wasn’t good) when a hand gripped the hunter’s arm, stilling him in place.
Startled, Dean stared back up at Cas with a look he knew could be best described as ‘deer in headlights’, even though he couldn’t see it. Cas, much to his shock, looked completely unfazed.
“Are you okay, Dean?” Cas tilted his head to the side, examining Dean with an intense gaze only angels seemed to manage, “You seem… troubled. Why were you drinking?”
Dean shook his head, but focusing on anything while straddling Cas was proving itself to be a little too hard for him (no pun intended). Little Dean was becoming more interested in his situation by the second. His face was just a few inches from Cas’, for fuck’s sake.
Dean shrugged, trying to seem calm, “I just had to take my mind off of a few things.”
“Dean,” Why the hell did Cas’ voice have to go straight south some times? Dean wasn’t some horny, hormonal teenager anymore, damn it, “You should not blame yourself for what happened to Sam. It was not your fault.”
Leave it to Cas to just know exactly what Dean was thinking. Cas just seemed to do that a lot, including on the time they had first met.
“Of course it was. I wasn’t there when he needed me, and he almost died because of that. And then you…” Dean shook his head, because he really should not finish that. He was still slightly buzzed, and that was definitely not helping to keep his mind completely coherent.
“Dean, I helped because I wanted to. I knew the consequences.”
Somehow, that only made Dean even madder. “And so did I, but I still let you help him. You had to give up some of the thing that’s keeping you alive and running out because I screwed up!”
“I did not have to do anything, Dean. I did it because I wanted to. Need I remind you of all the things I have done for you and your brother; of all that I have sacrificed? And I would do every one of those things again without a thought. When will you understand that?”
If Cas had meant that to make Dean feel any better, well, it didn’t work. It actually had the opposite effect, because Dean was made aware once more of just how much the angel had given up for him. Dean was the reason he was dying right now in the first place, because if Dean hadn’t kicked him out of the Bunker when Gadreel was possessing Sam, maybe Cas wouldn’t have been taken by Malachi and wouldn’t have swallowed another angel’s Grace in the first place. Cas would still be human, sure, but he wouldn’t be dying, and that was better. Dean looked down in shame, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his guilt, because why did he have to be such a screw up? Why did he have to hurt everyone he cared about?
A hand resting on his cheek made Dean’s head go up again, just so he was forced to look at the angel in the eye. Cas didn’t remove his hand, his touch tender against the human’s stubble, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Cas even knew what it meant; if he understood the intimacy of such a caress. Dean doubted it, but he couldn’t help but lean into the touch without even thinking about it.
“Dean Winchester, I don’t think you understand just how good you really are, or just how bright and pure your soul really is. Why do you think you were chosen as the Righteous Man? You are selfless. You worry so much about others that you forget to care about yourself. But not all that happens to them is your fault, you have to understand that. You can’t take all the universe’s burdens onto your own shoulders, Dean.”
Cas’ blue gaze was so intense Dean had to look away, because hearing those things was a little overwhelming. Cas couldn’t be serious, Dean knew that. His soul was the opposite of pure; it had been for a long time, ever since he picked up a blade in Hell, maybe even before that. He really didn’t understand just how Castiel, a freaking Angel of the Lord, could think so highly of him. And yet here Castiel was, looking at Dean like he was actually worth something, even if Dean himself wouldn’t believe it.
When Dean refused to look back at Cas, the angel shifted under the hunter, keeping his hand in place for whatever reason. Dean was about to move off of him because apparently the conversation was over and Cas wanted to get up, but froze when he realized that wasn’t exactly what the angel had been doing, because suddenly Cas’ hand was urging his head to turn once again. He wasn’t making Dean look up at him this time, however, and the next thing Dean knew was that the angel’s lips were being pressed to his forehead.
It was a lingering, light kiss that lasted very shortly, but it still made Dean tense. It was tender in a way Dean had not experienced in a very long time, because no one except for his mother had ever done anything like that to him, so he was kind of lost on how to react to it. His breath got caught in his throat in surprise, because what exactly did this even mean?
Castiel didn’t pull away after that. Instead, he lowered his head slightly until his mouth was lingering just a few mere inches away from Dean’s, the feeling of his warm breath making Dean’s lips itch.
Dean closed his eyes as the angel rested his forehead against hunter’s, because what was he doing? Did he understand what he was doing to Dean? They were so, so close, all Dean would have to do to kiss him would be lean forward just a tiny bit. The Mark started to chant in his ear again, telling him to just go for it, because why the hell shouldn’t he take what he wanted? But he couldn’t for the life of him make himself do it because he had no idea what was happening. He didn’t know exactly what Cas was doing and honestly, he couldn’t process it entirely. Because if Cas actually wanted this… God, if he wanted this…
“I just wish you would understand how much you mean to me, Dean,” Cas’ voice had been reduced to a whisper.
And then Cas’ lips were being pressed against his own in a light, barely there kiss, but it was still enough to make Dean gasp and his eyes to open wide in shock, because had Cas really just kissed him?
“Cas…” Dean’s voice was just a broken whisper as he gazed into the angel’s azure eyes, and then down at the chapped lips that had touched his own not even a full second ago. They had felt so warm but the contact had been so brief, he wanted to just do it again, though he refrained, as hard as that was. He had to understand what exactly was happening here, because in that moment things weren’t exactly making much sense, and he wasn’t even drunk anymore. Or maybe he was passed out somewhere and this was just a dream, because that actually made sense.
The angel’s eyes slipped closed. The angel wasn’t breathing normally, which Dean wasn’t sure what to make of. “My apologies, Dean,” Cas’ voice was lower than normal, if that was even possible, husky, even, and it had all sorts of effects on Dean that got a reaction out of his body that no one should really have in the presence of an angel. “I…”
Dean frowned, because he had never seen Cas so… lost before. He was looking away from Dean now, for some reason refusing to meet his gaze. There had been only two times that had happened before, when Dean had been begging him to help him get to Sam when Zachariah had him on lock down for Michael and when Cas was trapped in a circle of Holy Fire, with Dean begging him to give up on his deal with Crowley to open Purgatory. Dean couldn’t understand why he was doing it now, though. It was unusual and so unlike Cas that Dean wasn’t sure what to do.
Making up his mind and taking a page out of Cas’ own book, Dean lifted his hand and rested it on the side of the angel’s face, trying to make Cas look at him, but as he did so, he had to shift a little bit and felt something pressing against the inside of his thigh. Just barely, though, but it still had Dean looking down to make sure he was hallucinating. Only that he wasn’t.
Cas was hard.
The entire world seemed to stop spinning in that moment, time freezing as Dean had to actually do a double take to process that. Because Cas was actually turned on right now, and that was because of Dean; because Dean was straddling him on the bed.
“Cas, look at me,” Dean almost begged, because he needed to look at Cas’ eyes for this. His heart was racing wildly inside his chest, threatening to just fly out of his ribcage as his mind began to spin, because he just couldn’t believe this was actually happening. It was so surreal he was already half-convinced he was dreaming. His own erection grew even more insistent at the realization, but Dean did his best to ignore it at the moment. The Mark burned even more intensely in annoyance at his restraint.
When Cas finally looked up at Dean, his eyes were almost fearful. “Dean, I do not think…” Whatever Cas had meant to say died in his throat. The angel seemed to be struggling to find words, which was something Dean had never seen him do before.
“Cas, are you…” Dean decided to be forward with this, because he had danced around this for way too long, and if what he was guessing was right, beating around the bush wouldn’t get them anywhere. He needed to come clean, once and for all. “Are you attracted to me?”
Maybe Cas hadn’t been expecting the question, hoping Dean hadn’t noticed his situation down there or maybe he just had been hoping Dean wouldn’t ask about it, but either way, he looked even more troubled when those words left Dean’s mouth. It took him a while to respond, and when he did, what left his mouth was just a shy whisper, “Yes.”
Dean actually let out a shaky breath at that word, because it was exactly what he had wished to hear for freaking years. He had wanted this—wanted Cas—for about six years now, but he had never, at any point throughout that time, even considered that Cas might actually want him too. It just had seemed impossible in his mind, but now…
“I am sorry, Dean. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable.”
Dean had to actually chuckle at just how ridiculous that sounded. “Cas, I’m not uncomfortable.” To prove his point, he finally allowed his body to do what it wanted and leaned forward, pressing his own lips to Castiel’s, though allowing the kiss to linger a lot longer than Cas had. It was a completely chaste kiss, but it still earned a little gasp from the angel that Dean loved hearing and had him smiling a little.
God, it felt so good to do that. Even if he didn’t even move his lips, Cas’ mouth was still warm against his, his chapped lips surprisingly pleasant as they brushed against the human’s. Dean already wanted more of it as he leaned away, missing the contact after less than a second.
“Cas, I actually…” How was he supposed to say it? Want you? Like you? Love you? Dean had come to terms with all of those a long time ago, but he had never imagined saying those things out loud. He wasn’t sure he could manage to say them out loud, especially not the last one, and he really didn’t want to scare Cas away.
That had Dean stopping short, his green eyes widening as he stared into the angel’s blue ones. What the hell was Cas saying?
“I’ve known you want this for… a while, Dean.”
“You… what?” Dean leaned away from Cas as much as he could because there was just no freaking way he had heard the angel right. Cas… knew?
“I can feel it, Dean, the… longing,” Castiel continued, his voice oddly calm, though there was an edge to it that gave away the fact that calm wasn’t exactly what he was feeling, “I have always been able to feel it.”
Dean opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Cas had known. For all the years that Dean had done everything he could to hide what he felt from the angel, Cas had known. But if he had, and if he was also attracted to Dean like he had just claimed to be, why the hell didn’t he say anything?
“You…” Dean’s tongue was heavy in his mouth, words failing him as his brain struggled to catch up with what he was hearing, “You knew? All this time, you…”
The room looked relatively smaller all of a sudden, the walls closing in on the both of them, threatening to swallow Dean’s world as a whole. He actually felt like the floor (or on his case, the bed) had been pulled out from right under him. For years he had pretty much pined after the angel thinking that he was doing a pretty good job at hiding what he felt, shoving it into the darkest and deepest corners of his mind, but here Cas was, all but telling him he hadn’t been subtle at all about it; that the angel had felt it all.
“Why did you never say anything?” Somehow his mouth managed to form those words, finding a question in the midst of Dean’s current spiraling thoughts. How he managed to actually say a coherent sentence, however, was beyond him. “Why did you never…” Do anything about it? He wanted to ask, but couldn’t find it in him to do so. His lips weren’t exactly cooperating at the moment.
“I only actually understood what it meant very recently, Dean. And even then…” Cas leaned his forehead against Dean’s once more, his eyes closed, like he was deeply concentrating in every single word he was saying. “Even then I didn’t know what to do. I guess I was scared, I’m not sure…”
Dean actually found that a little amusing, because it was hard to imagine Cas scared of anything, really. But he could relate, because he had been terrified of Cas ever finding out about any of this. Of course, if Cas knew about how Dean felt (though Dean hoped he could only sense the attraction and not anything else) Dean really wished he would have said something earlier. Still, the dude was an angel, and a very awkward one at that. Honestly, Dean was getting less interested in thinking about any of that at the moment, his body growing very, very aware of their proximity, as well as of the fact that they were both still mildly hard at the moment.
Still, Dean had to make sure Cas was on board with this. He wanted this so much it hurt, but he couldn’t have it if the angel didn’t feel the same.
“Are you, still?”
“A little,” Cas finally opened his eyes, blue meeting green at last, “But I’ve held myself back from what I want for far too long, Dean. I want this. I truly do.”
That was all Dean needed to hear.
The next second Dean was lunging forward, claiming Cas’ lips with his own once more. His intention was to be gentle, because he was very much aware of the fact that even though Cas had been kissed before (in fact, he knew that the angel wasn’t a virgin anymore, thanks to that bitch reaper who killed him the morning after), the angel was still fairly inexperienced in any sort of contact like this and he had admitted to still being a little scared. Dean knew he should take this slow, for both their sake’s, to be honest. He just had to ignore the constant chanting of the Mark, which seemed to think that taking things slow was definitely not an option.
Cas didn’t seem to agree, though. Differently from the previous kiss he had delivered to Dean’s lips, which had been nothing more than a mere brush of skin, the angel dove into the kiss like a man desperate for water, wasting no time to move his lips against Dean’s in pure hunger. Dean caught up quickly, responding eagerly as his mind kept repeating this is actually happening over and over again.
It was surreal to even think that this was happening, because Dean had dreamt about this for so fucking long, he had wished it would happen for years, but he had at some point convinced himself he would never have Cas. The angel had always seemed like something out of his reach in this department, because why the hell would Cas even want him this way?
But apparently, the angel wanted this, which short-circuited Dean’s brain in such a way it was almost startling. He had been kissing Cas for merely a minute and already he couldn’t understand how he had lived without it for so long. A strong hand grasped the back of Dean’s head, tugging at his short hair and tilting his head to the side. Dean let out a broken sound that resembled a mixture of a groan, a whimper and a gasp. Cas’ stubble rubbed against Dean’s own in the most delicious way.
He was legitimately surprised when Cas’ tongue darted into his mouth, ravishing anything it touched. Dean was actually beginning to feel light-headed, a feeling that quickly combined itself with the constant chanting of the Mark, urging him on and telling him to just take, take, take, and Dean could do nothing else but allow his body to melt against the heat of Cas’ own.
Dean’s hands slid over Cas’ body, exploring it for the first time, memorizing every single feature, loving the feeling of sharp, strong muscles under his palms. It had taken him years to actually accept that part of himself, but he had for a while now reached a point in his life where he knew he enjoyed the company of men as well as the one of women. He had accepted his bisexuality a long time ago, no thanks to his father, and now he could easily admit to himself that narrow muscles and a strong male body under his hands could be even more of a turn on to him than soft curves and delicate skin.
And right now, all he wanted to do was worship Cas’ body. He wanted to feel skin, his body actually ached for that, but he held back. Wouldn’t that be going too fast? How much exactly should Dean be holding back here?
Cas answered that question for him. Cas’ hands were pulling his jacket off a moment later, and then he was tugging at Dean’s overshirt but not actually lifting it up.
Dean got the hint pretty quickly. It would be easier for him to take it off instead of Cas.
His lips felt cold a second after pulling away from Cas’ own, and he had a little more trouble than he should with getting his shirt and undershirt off, but finally his jacket and shirts were being tossed over the edge of the bed and falling onto the floor.
As soon as he was free from them, he was aware of the fact that Cas was still wearing his own shirt. He craved the touch of skin even more now, but for that to be possible, that shirt had to go.
Cas leaned forward the moment Dean was free from the shirts and jacket, making it a little harder for the hunter to take the angel’s shirt off. Still, he managed. His hands fumbled with the buttons, and he had to literally resist the urge to just rip it open from impatience, but he somehow managed to pull it off Cas’ shoulder at one point.
Cas struggled a little to get out of the shirt, and he actually whimpered a little when he had to pull away from Dean to look and see what he was doing. A moment later, the shirt was discarded to the side, probably landing where Dean’s had already ended up.
When Cas leaned in for yet another kiss, he didn’t go for Dean’s lips like he had before. His warm, delicious lips covered the skin of the hunter's neck as the angel mouthed at his throat, kissing and even nibbling a bit. Briefly Dean wondered where Cas had learned all this, but his mind threw that thought out the window the moment Cas sunk his teeth into his neck and then sucked at his skin, drawing out a chain of moans from the hunter.
“Cas…” His hand gripped the back of the angel’s head, loving the feeling of Cas’ soft hair in between his fingers.
Slowly, Castiel started to lean back onto the bed, lying down onto the mattress and bringing Dean down to lay on top of him, who was kick to throw the comforter off the bed and out of their way. His lips chased Dean’s a moment later, his eager hands running over the hunter’s skin as he moved them to the human’s back, pressing their bared chest against each other’s. They groaned at the feeling at the same time.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean reminded himself to let Cas lead the way here. He was the one partially inexperienced out of the two of them, and he should be the one to set the boundaries. Honestly, Dean knew he would get on board with anything Cas did right now. He had just waited to have this for so freaking long that he was almost desperate and would be happy with whatever Cas was willing to give him.
Cas’ hands traveled down to Dean’s hips a moment later, struggling with the button and fly of the hunter’s jeans, almost tearing the fabric to pieces as he yanked it down over the human’s sharp hipbones. Dean pulled them off quickly, not tearing his lips from the angel’s for even a second. He doubted he would be able to do that even if he tried.
With almost clumsy hands, Dean struggled to get Cas’ pants off, now happier than ever that he had taken the angel’s belt, shoes and socks off earlier. The suit pants were quickly discarded onto the ever growing pile of clothes by the side of the bed.
Dean gasped onto Cas’ mouth at the feeling of so much skin under his body, his palms running over every single inch of the warm body beneath his own. His skin was on fire, though Cas’ wasn’t much different.
A yelp escaped Dean’s mouth without his consent when the room suddenly shifted around them. He was suddenly lying on his back with Castiel lying on top of him. He didn’t even realize Cas had the intention of shifting them until it was done, but he had no complaints to make on the matter.
Usually, when he slept with men, Dean didn’t like not to be the dominant one. Be it because of just how hard it had been to accept that side of himself or for whatever influence from John Winchester that still lingered in his mind even after all this time, he still didn’t find it very easy to give up control to another man in bed.
But this, with Cas, felt just so easy.
Having Cas’ weight pressed on top of him, trapping him against the mattress and knowing just how strong Cas’ hold could be on his body, it turned him on so much his cock was already beginning to hurt a little. The times when he’d actually wanted to bottom had been so little he could count them on his fingers and he’d still have a few left, but in that moment he realized that just much he wanted Cas inside of him. He actually groaned at just the thought of it. For some reason, having Cas being dominant in bed was actually a major turn on.
“Cas, I…” Dean wasn’t sure what exactly had been about to leave his lips, but whatever words he had been about to say died on his lips, cut off by a loud gasp as Cas, with one quick movement, pulled the hunter’s underwear down and gripped his now leaking cock with a firm hand. “Oh god, Cas…” His hips bucked at the feeling because oh god that hand felt so warm and strong against his dick, and then it was moving and holy shit this was actually happening, Cas was jerking him off.
Cas buried his face on the spot where his neck met his shoulder, his labored breathing puffing over Dean’s skin, making it tingle. “You’re so beautiful,” Cas muttered against his skin as he dragged his lips over the hunter’s skin, making him shiver, even though the entire room felt like it was on fire right now.
Dean couldn’t for the life of him find his voice to reply. Cas’ hand was working him so deliciously he could already feel his orgasm building up. He should probably be ashamed of himself for just how little he knew he was going to last through this (he wasn’t a horny teenager anymore, damn it, and he hadn’t been one for a very long time) but Cas’ touches just felt so fucking good that he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not as long as Cas continued to move his hand like that.
Dean was thrusting his hips up into Cas’ hand in no time, not even caring that he was even acting like a horny teenager and moaning like a porn star as Cas squeezed and pulled at his length just the right way. He gripped the hair in the back of Cas’ head once more, the other hand finding the angel’s hip where it stayed as he dug his finger nails into the angel’s pale skin.
And then suddenly Cas’ hand was gone and Dean was left hard and whining at the loss of contact because why did Cas stop? He was so close…
“Dean,” Cas actually pulled away from Dean now to look into the human’s eyes. The angel’s pupils were so dilated it was almost impossible to see the blue in them, “I… I want…” The angel seemed unsure how to phrase whatever was on his mind, looking down for a moment. He looked flustered, though Dean wasn’t sure exactly what that was from—from their current activities or from whatever he was thinking about. Maybe a mixture of both, he guessed.
Dean gasped when he felt one of Cas’ hands snaking back between his legs, though it didn’t go for his dick this time. No, instead it went right past his cock, digging into the space between the cheeks of his ass, finding the tight rim of muscles easily enough and pressing a finger to it just enough for Dean to get what he meant. Dean got the message pretty easily, so much he lunged forward and kissed Cas roughly for a moment more before he actually responded, because he was so on board with this and he wanted Cas to know.
When he broke away, he rested his forehead against Cas’, breathing heavily from both the kiss and anticipation, because holy shit, he was actually going to say it. “Cas, I want you inside me.”
The gasp Cas let out at those words was as audible as it had been easy to feel against Dean’s lips, and the hunter actually smiled at that. It seemed they both were very much on board with that idea.
“I want to,” Cas continued, sounding breathless still, “But I don’t exactly know how…” The angel paused, allowing his voice to linger for a moment until the word died on his lips.
It took a moment for Dean’s head to clear up enough for him to understand what that meant. Oh. Cas’ only sexual encounter had been with a chick, so he probably didn’t exactly know what the mechanics were when it came to gay sex. It wasn’t like Dean was inexperienced in that department, though, nor was he unprepared. He pushed at Cas’ shoulder just barely, signaling for the angel to give him room to sit up a bit, and when Cas complied (albeit hesitantly, Dean could easily tell), he leaned to the side and pulled out his bag from under the bed, which he had put there when he and Sam had first moved into the room, just as he always did. It took him only a few seconds of looking through the contents of his duffel to find the small bottle of lube he always kept there.
Better be safe than sorry. And Dean Winchester was nothing if not prepared for this sort of thing.
Castiel eyed the bottle with clear curiosity, as if he might be able to solve all of its mysteries just by looking at it. He probably could, though they didn’t exactly have the time for that at the moment. Dean’s cock was aching, leaking pre-come and begging for attention, and judging by the very visible tent in Cas’ boxers, Dean could only assume the angel wasn’t in a much different situation than he was.
“This is lube,” Dean held up the bottle for the angel to have a better look, before popping it open with a click, “We need it. I mean, two guys need it, if you get what I mean.”
Castiel simply nodded at that, but said nothing, still having an intense stare-off with the small bottle.
“Give me your hand.”
When Cas did what he asked, Dean poured some of the lube onto the angel’s fingers, making sure his digits were completely covered with the substance. When he was happy with it, he laid the small bottle by his side because they would need it later, before grabbing the hem of his own underwear and pulling it all the way down to his legs, lifting his ass from the mattress and taking it off completely. His dick twitched at the hungry look that took over Cas’ face when he looked down at his length, and he actually gasped when the angel licked his lips. Dean was sure those lips would feel amazing on his cock, but he didn’t want to press Cas into doing something he might not be ready for just yet. Maybe next time, though. Dean almost felt giddy at the thought of doing this again, and he allowed a small smile to touch his lips because of it.
Without a word, he took Cas’ wrist in his own hand, guiding it back down toward his dick though passing by it just like the angel had earlier, going straight for his entrance. The lube felt cold as it touched the rim, but Dean knew from experience it would heat up in no time.
“You need to stretch me before anything else. Just one finger first,” Dean managed to let out, somehow finding his voice and forming a coherent sentence when Cas’ hand was just there, a few inches from his hole. Cas was quick to comply, closing his hand with only his forefinger stretched. “Now, go slow.” He nudged the hand toward his entrance, pulling it until Cas’ finger was simply teasing at the rim, leaving it to Cas to actually push the digit in.
Cas didn’t need to be told twice.
Slowly and carefully, his brows furrowed in a look of pure concentration as he studied Dean’s face with those intense blue eyes of his, Cas pushed his finger inside, stretching the tight muscles of the hunter’s entrance bit by bit until his finger actually slid inside, the cool lube making it slide in quite easily. Dean gritted his teeth at the burn of the stretch, because it had been a long time since the last time he had done this, but he did his best not to let it show on his face. He didn’t want Cas to think he was hurting him or something, or that Dean didn’t want this. The initial burn would be very, very much worth it in the end.
Something must have shown in his face, though, because when his finger was just halfway in Cas paused, his eyes suddenly filled with worry. “Am I hurting you?” He sounded truly terrified at the thought that Dean might be in pain.
Dean shook his head, gasping for air as he willed his body to adjust to the sudden intrusion. “It always hurts a little in the beginning. Don’t worry, the pain will fade. Trust me.” When Cas showed no intention of continuing, Dean added, “I’m fine, Cas, really.”
Cas didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he still continued, burying his finger inside Dean until his knuckle touched Dean’s ass. He just stayed there, though, and it took Dean a while to realize that the angel was actually waiting to hear what he was supposed to do next.
“You can move it now, Cas,” Dean breathed out, glad that his body was already welcoming the finger better than at first, getting used to its presence.
Cas did what he was told, slowly at first, but then more eagerly as Dean began to let out a few little gasps depending on how me moved his finger. He explored the movement for a while, until the pain finally faded completely and Dean told him to add another finger, which the angel hurried to do. Cas experimented folding his fingers at one point, and Dean all but saw stars in the inside of his eyelids as his entire body tensed, a loud moan escaping his lips because Cas had just hit his prostate and oh god, he had to feel that again.
“Right there, Cas,” Dean gasped, his back arching and spreading his legs as much as he could while Cas continued to finger him, hitting that spot several times, making Dean squirm and thrash under him, turning the human into a moaning mess under his ministrations. He felt like such a whore at that moment, but he didn’t even care.
At some point, Cas slid in a third finger without even need to be told to do it. He was a fast learner, apparently, and Dean couldn’t be happier about that.
It was becoming too much for Dean, though. Not that he didn’t love the feeling of Cas’ fingers buried in his ass, scissoring him open and getting his hole dripping with lube. He loved that a lot, actually. But he needed Cas’ dick in him, before he went mad, which meant he needed it right the fuck now.
“Cas,” Dean whined, barely managing to get any words out in between moans, “Cas, I…oh, god, right there, just like that,” He threw his head back, his back arching off the bed as he moaned. He was so, so close… “Cas, please, I… I need you… inside me…”
The growl that escaped Cas’ throat at those words shouldn’t be possible to be made from a human throat. But then again, Cas wasn’t human.
Dean shivered at the coldness that followed Cas’ fingers as the angel pulled his hand back, leaving Dean hard and empty, panting and pretty much begging to be fucked. Opening his eyes, Dean watched as Cas removed his own underwear, freeing his erection.
Dean’s eyes actually widened at the sight of Cas’ dick because holy shit, Cas was big. It was leaking, too, and it looked more than ready to go into his ass. Dean actually moaned at the thought, biting into his lower lip, hoping the pain would be enough to stop him from coming right then and there. It worked, though just barely.
Somehow Dean managed to realize there was still something they had to do before Cas’ cock was actually inside him, and he moved his hand to the side blindly, reaching for the small bottle of lube he had left there earlier. He found it easily enough, pouring a generous amount onto his palm as Cas watched.
He tossed the small bottle to the side, discarded, and reached forward, not even hesitating before grabbing Cas’ cock in his hand.
The moan that ripped out of Cas’ mouth was filthy and so fucking loud it was borderline pornographic. The angel closed his eyes, his face contorting into an expression of pure pleasure, which almost had Dean coming right then and there again. He bit down at his tongue this time, almost hard enough to draw blood, and fortunately that was enough to delay his orgasm for the time being.
Dean was quick to work the lube onto Cas’ shaft, rubbing and giving the member just a few quick strokes, just enough to get it covered with lube. Then he retrieved his hand, hoping Cas would get the hint that he was ready.
The angel didn’t need to hear a word. He opened his eyes, eyeing Dean with lust-filled eyes for just a second before he grabbed Dean’s left leg and hoisting it over his hipbone, holding it there to keep it in place. Dean gasped in surprise at the movement, because he really hadn’t expected Cas to do that, but before he could actually wonder how exactly Cas learned to do that, he felt Cas’ cock at his entrance and then he was sliding in and holy fuck this is actually happening.
Dean moaned like a whore on the job as Cas slid in, filling him in a way he had never been filled before. He was so hot and big and hard and much more than Dean could have ever imagined during the handful of times he'd allowed himself to actually fantasize about this very moment.
Cas lifted Dean’s body a little, wrapping an arm under the hunter’s body and pressing Dean’s front to his own, burying his face in the spot where Dean’s neck connected with his shoulder like he had before, his heavy, erratic breathing sending goose bumps washing over Dean’s skin at the feeling of it. Dean spread his legs as far apart as he could with one leg hanging over the angel’s body, taking Cas all the way in, until he completely bottomed out.
“You’re…” Cas was breathing even more heavily than before, clearly having trouble with getting even a few words out, “You’re so… tight…”
A moment went by when nothing could be heard in the room but the pair’s gasps as they adjusted. Dean’s body accepted Cas’ presence inside him soon enough, but the angel didn’t make any movement, probably afraid to hurt him. But Dean was already growing impatient because Cas was actually inside him right now and why the hell wasn’t he moving?
“Cas, move,” Dean growled.
Cas didn’t need to be told twice.
With a quick snap his hips, he drew out and pushed back in, sliding in and out in one quick, easy motion that had Dean throwing his head back onto the pillows and moaning loudly, his hands gripping the bed sheets around him because Cas was actually fucking him right now and holy shit this felt so fucking good, so fucking good…
Cas was slow at first, but his patience and self-control seemed to run out very quickly, so much he was thrusting in and out frantically in no time, the bed shifting under their movements loudly, causing the wooden headboard to bang against the room wall repeatedly in tune with the erotic sound of skin slapping against skin, naked and wet from sweat.
At some point, Cas hooked his hand under Dean’s other leg and lifted it over his other hipbone. Dean took that as a chance to wrap his ankles together behind Cas, which had them both moaning in unison as that allowed Dean to take Cas even deeper inside of him than before.
The hand that wasn’t holding onto Dean’s leg for dear life was clutching to the human’s side, gripping it so strongly Dean was sure it would leave a bruise, but he couldn’t care less in that moment. That knowledge actually turned him on ever more. He moved his hips up against Cas’, following the angel’s movement and taking him as deep as he would go in him, using the angel’s body as leverage for support.
“Faster, Cas,” the sound that escaped Dean’s throat was very close to a broken whimper as he said it. The angel growled in response, but quickly complied, finding an even quicker pace, angling his hips until he found that very spot inside Dean that had his entire body convulsing against the angel’s, his muscles tensing as he moaned, “Right there, Cas, right there, oh god, Cas…”
Cas made sure to hit that spot every time, acing it without mistake. Dean’s hands were opening and closing around the bed sheets. His entire body felt like it was on fire and his muscles stopped responding to his commands. All he knew was pleasure in that moment as the first few sparks of his orgasm started to build at the pit of his stomach. Every thrust of Cas’ hips pushed him closed to the edge, brought him closer to his sweet completion, to the climax he so desperately needed…
“Cas… I’m close… I… Just like that, oh god, just like that, ah…”
Cas’s own movements were getting less controlled, more like small spasms, his labored breathing even more uneven than it had been before, which was enough for Dean to know the angel was also close. Just a few more thrusts… Just a little more… He was almost there…
And that was the moment Cas chose to lean away from Dean’s shoulder, for the first time since Cas had been inside him allowing the hunter to actually have a good look at his face.
The angel was completely undone. His cheeks were pink, flushed with color, while his hair was messier than Dean had ever seen it being, which said something, considering Cas did suffer from a chronic case of sex-hair. A thin layer of sweat covered every single inch of his body, making his skin glister slightly in the early morning light that managed to get into the room through the closed curtains.
His eyes were dark, so much Dean couldn’t see his irises anymore; all that there was in them was the black of his dilated pupils.
The best thing about the sight, though, was Cas’ face, the expression of pure ecstasy that had taken over Cas’ features, the one that was there because of Dean. All of it, everything in front of his eyes, was happening because of him.
All it took was one more thrust with them looking at each other, just one, for Cas to lose it. Dean saw the exact moment Cas went over the edge, the way his entire body tensed up as a gasp formed on his lips, his eyes moving up because he just couldn’t control them anymore. That, right there, was what drove Dean over the edge with him.
Dean threw his head back as he came, his release coming out of his cock in quick spurts as his entire body trembled, relishing in the waves of the most intense orgasm of his entire life as his muscles convulsed. Above him, Cas let out a broken moan as the angel's body shook with his own release, shuddering as his come filled Dean with warmness from inside.
Dean felt his entire body heating up, starting where Cas was buried in him and radiating upwards, filling every single inch of his body in pure heat. He was still coming, even almost a minute later, but he still managed to open his eyes as Cas lit up with what Dean assumed was Grace. He watched as light flooded the room, washing over every single surface, taking over everything it touched with its unearthly brightness. Dean knew he should close his eyes, but he couldn’t. His entire body had stopped responding to his mind by now.
Light filled his vision, turning everything a blue-ish white as the heat finally seemed to engulf his whole being, numbing his entire body and making him forget who he was.
Dean could only take a few seconds of that before he blacked out.