Dean winced as the whiskey poured over his gaping cut, clenching his teeth and squinting his eyes. The muscles along his forearm tensed as he made a fist, and slowly his body loosened as the pain subsided.
"I do not think that is the most effective method to cleansing a wound."
Dean jumped, splashing whiskey out of the bottle. "Dammit, Cas! Can't you knock?"
Cas tilted his head, furrowing his brow in confusion. "It is impossible for me to knock if I do not encounter a door, Dean."
"So encounter a door." Dean said through a clenched jaw as he ran his tooth-floss sutures through his gash, which happened to be on the same shoulder as the hand imprint Cas had left years ago.
The angel was clearly perplexed, but dropped that line of conversation. "Dean, let me assist you."
"S'fine, Cas." Dean sliced off the end of the floss with a knife, and rolled his sleeve over his shoulder, not meeting Castiel's eyes.
"I am an angel of the Lord, I can easily repair your wound." Castiel insisted, taking a step towards Dean.
Dean recoiled viciously, glancing up into the angel's worried gaze. "I said it's fine, Cas," he growled. "What are you doing here anyway?"
Castiel paused for a moment. "It has come to my understanding that your brother has been absent lately." His tongue flicked out over his lips, trying to add some wetness to his uncomfortably dry throat. "I thought you might desire some company."
Dean gave Castiel a blank look. It was true Sam had been out on his own for a while, working a case across the country, and Dean was working on his own, but the angel had never come to accompany him before. "Uh, yeah. I guess."
"Then it does not bother you if I stay?" Castiel's eyes suddenly flicked open wider, and words tumbled from his lips. "I can leave if you wish. I do not mean to intrude."
Dean quirked an eyebrow. Cas was always a little off, but this was weird even for him. "No, man. It's fine. You can stay."
Relief broke out across Castiel's face as he settled into a chair. "Settled" for Castiel was sitting completely straight, hands placed over his kneecaps, and staring straight at Dean. Dean averted his gaze. Did angels do anything other than make people uncomfortable?
Dean sighed inwardly. He knew Cas would be content to sit like that all night, so it would be up to him to diffuse the tension. However, Dean was not a star conversationalist either, so he went with the blunt method. "What's up with you, dude?"
"That is the human colloquialism meaning to inquire what I have been doing lately, is it not?" Castiel asked.
"No, well, yes, but-" Dean shook his head. This was impossible. "I meant you're acting weird. Why?"
Castiel was silent for a long moment. "I do not think I am acting peculiar." He replied, his face trying to be a little too honest. It was the eyes that told it all. The eyelids laid heavy over his blue stare, indicating a deeper thought. They weren't wide with innocence and all that was Cas, but instead were clouded by something troublesome.
"Bullshit. What is it, Cas?"
"I do not think it is something you can assist me with, Dean, though I appreciate the sentiment."
Dean fought to not roll his eyes. "Whatever you say, Cas."
As Dean looked back to catch Cas's stare, he didn't look away as quickly as usual. He tried to work out the inner cogs of Castiel's brain (a hopeless endeavor, of course), to discover what was making the angel even more awkward and distant than usual.
"Well I'm going to sleep then." Dean announced, and disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth and clean the rest of the dried blood off his shoulder. Once in the bathroom, he shed his shirt and gingerly poked at the line along his shoulder. The poor repair cut right across the palm of Cas's handprint. Dean gazed at it in the mirror as he ran a wet towel over it to clean it. He really should have let Cas fix it up for him.
Shirt in hand, Dean exited the bathroom, surprised to find Castiel still sitting in the chair. He had expected the angel to leave. Dean said nothing as he put his shirt back into his bag, but when it came time to add his jeans to the clutter of clothes, he looked at Cas pointedly. "Well uh, thanks for stopping by, Cas."
Thankfully, the angel took the hint. "Goodbye, Dean." A flutter of wings and he was gone.
Dean sighed a breath of relief and stripped his jeans off and tossed them haphazardly onto his bag. He flopped down onto the itchy motel comforter, struggling to get comfortable with his injured shoulder. Eventually, he dozed off and slipped into a series of dreams.
Dean was awoken by a pressure on his shoulder that was making his nerves flash with pain. But, the pain disappeared quickly, and the half-asleep Dean was more than confused. "Wha-?"
As Dean opened his eyes, a beige trenchcoat came into view, and Cas materialized in the dark shadowy light. The whites of his eyes stood out, wide like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Cas, what the hell?" Dean mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.
Cas stood frozen, until something seemed to shock him back to life. "You were calling my name, I presumed that I was needed."
Dean furrowed his brow. "No, I wasn't, I was asleep. How could I have been-" Dean stopped abruptly as all of his dreams came flooding back to memory. "Er, sorry, Cas." Dean flushed hot, thankful the dim light disguised most of his facial features. "It was a mistake."
Castiel looked thoughtfully at Dean. "I do not think it was, Dean." Castiel reached out a hand to the mark on Dean's shoulder. The gash was gone now, and Castiel trailed a light finger tip over where it had been. Dean didn't know how to stop him, even if he had wanted to. Dean felt like he could feel every whorl on Cas's finger as he trailed the tip across the palm of the handprint, and a slight shiver descended down his spine. He motioned to lift it up, but Dean placed his hand over Cas's, holding in in place. It fit perfectly over the red print. Slowly, Dean lifted his hand, but Castiel left his in place.
"No, it wasn't a mistake." Dean looked up into Castiel's ocean eyes. "Angels can see dreams, right?"
"Only if we choose to enter them. I did not enter yours, if that is what you are intending to ask."
"Guess I'll have to explain it to you." Dean lifted his hand to twine into the back of Castiel's hair, and pulled him down, meeting his lips in a slow kiss. He half expected Cas to disappear there and then, but the angel relaxed into the kiss, and eventually, relaxed his body to rest on top of Dean's.
Dean gripped Castiel tight, and shifted so they were laying more comfortably on the bed. Cas's coat was bulky and large, and Dean hastily tried to shove it off his shoulders. After a small struggle, it slid off of Cas and onto the ground. Castiel was still at a major advantage in the clothing department though. Dean was clad only in his boxers, and made it a mission to at least get Castiel free of his suit jacket and that annoying tie.
As Dean used his hands to wrestle off Castiel's clothing, he used his lips to guide Castiel in the kiss. It was still long and languorous, Dean's lusher lips pressed flush against Castiel's thinner, chapped ones. The angel learned quickly, learning to add pressure at just the right moments, and when to slip out the tip of his tongue to lightly graze Dean's bottom lip.
When Dean had freed Castiel of his impending clothing, he busied his hands with Castiel's body. One went to tangle itself in his dark hair, itching to completely destroy any tidiness it possessed. The other went to trail across the dip of Castiel's back. Castiel was quick to copy Dean, sliding his own fingers into Dean's shorter hair. He was unable to slide his hand beneath Dean's back, and instead decided to slot his hand right over his handprint.
Castiel stopped the kiss, and lifted his head only slightly. As he spoke, his lips brushed Dean's.
"I did not wish there to be a scar. I do not want anything to take away from the reminder that I was the one who saved you." Castiel paused for a moment, tilting his head away from Dean's for a little. "And although I bear no physical representation, you have returned the gesture equally."
Dean crashed into Castiel with more force than he could imagine. His pressed his body against the angel's until there was no space between them. The kiss deepened and Dean set out to map out every corner of Castiel. He let Cas reciprocate for a while, but took control again with more ferocity than before.
Castiel felt his shirt being unbuttoned at a speed he thought was impossible. It was discarded on the floor before he had time to think. He tried to focus on impressing Dean, and keeping up with the increasing heat of the kiss. He shifted uncomfortably as he felt his dress pants grow tighter. "My clothing has become rather uncomfortable." He admitted out loud.
Dean let out a laugh, a deep rumble someplace inside his chest. "I can fix that." Dean gripped Castiel's shoulders and rolled him over, so now Dean lay on top of Castiel, his own stretched shorts pressing into the angel's thigh.
Dean's lips departed from Castiel's mouth, and trailed down his jawline, pausing momentarily at the base of his ear. From there he languished over Castiel's neck, making sure to leave deep purple bruises as he worked his way down to the collar bone. As he detailed another mark into Castiel, he gazed up at the angel, who was watching him intently with those bright blue eyes. But now they'd become more pupil than blue.
"Now you've got a mark from me." Dean smirked, and returned to his work. He made his way down Castiel's chest, stopping to draw his tongue across Castiel's nipple. He fixated his mouth on it, working at it in every way he could think of. A slight graze of teeth, a circle of the tongue.
A sharp gasp escaped Cas, along with a complaint. "I am finding these pants to be very constricting, Dean."
Another laugh from Dean. "Just hold on, Cas."
Dean deserted Castiel's chest, and quickly moved down to his hips. The edge of Castiel's hipbones peeked over his waistband, and Dean marked those too. As he worried the line of bone, he could feel Castiel pressing into his upper chest. As Dean slipped his tongue just below the edge of Castiel's pants, Cas let out a sharp hiss of air.
"Dean." The voice was strong and commanding, and it was all it took for Dean to race to unbuckle Castiel's belt, and slide off his pants. He hooked a finger into each side of Cas's boxers, and slid those down as well too. Dean shed his own, and slid back up to kiss Castiel's lips, their now naked bodies rubbing against one another.
Castiel thrusted upward with his hips, seeking a source of friction. A moan passed through Dean's lips and into Cas's mouth, and he returned the thrust. The two continued like that, grinding against each other, desperately trying to ease the ache pooling in their abdomens. Dean finally slipped a hand down between them, gripped them both tight.
At the pressure Dean's hand placed on his cock, Castiel groaned deeply. His breath was becoming laborious as he delved his tongue into Dean's mouth and pushed upward with his hips into Dean's hand. He felt himself slide against Dean's dick, and the motion was enough to make him close his eyes and arch his neck.
Dean took the opportunity to worry more marks into Castiel, sucking between moans as he worked himself and Cas. Each tug and jerk fueled the growing heat between the two. As Dean ran his calloused thumb across Cas's head, the angel's own hand shot down between them. It gripped Dean tightly, and Dean relinquished himself to Cas.
Castiel mimicked Dean, making sharp, hard pulls along Dean's dick, and it was just the way Dean liked it.
"God, Cas." Dean breathed against Castiel's neck. "Fuck."
The two were coming close to the finish line, and Dean returned his mouth to Castiel's. Cas was moaning into Dean, growing louder with each tug of Dean's hand. Dean tried to thrust up into Castiel's fist, desperately wanting to send himself over the edge. Castiel felt the edges of his vision grow fuzzy, and he could hear Dean yelling his name, and he could feel the twitch of their cocks as they finished within seconds of one another.
When Castiel recovered from his daze, he looked over to find that Dean had rolled onto his side, and was mostly leaning against Cas. He was quiet, laying his head on Castiel's chest, and looking off into the distance. Castiel said nothing, but watched quietly as Dean fell back to sleep there.
When he was sure that Dean was asleep, he leaned down to kiss the hunter's forehead, running his fingers across the red handprint he had left long ago.
"You are not a broken man, Dean Winchester. You have been saved."