"I'm going to the library," Sam calls over his shoulder as he walks out of the room. Dean, face buried in the pillows, mutters something that's almost a word in acknowledgement. Cas frowns, confused.
"I thought the computer had largely eliminated the need to research things in books?" he asks. Dean snorts.
"You can't just find archaic rituals on Google, Cas." Cas's frown deepens.
"But...I have seen it happen. You and Sam do it almost constantly."
"It was a joke, Cas."
Dean sounds almost annoyed. Cas realises that the hunter is probably exhausted. They have been working very hard with very little sleep, and Dean has spent a lot of the last couple days being slammed against walls.
An idea occurs to him, but he's not sure if Dean will allow it. He decides it is worth a try.
The hunter has sprawled out on the bed without even taking off his boots or his jacket, so this is going to be trickier than anticipated.
"Dean?" he asks hesitantly.
"Mm."
"Are you in pain?"
"I'm fine," Dean replies, but Cas knows he's lying.
"I...I can help you."
Dean finally sits up, wincing.
"I'm fine, Cas."
Cas places one hand on the hunter's shoulder. Dean looks up into the angel's eyes and knows that he won't be able to lie anymore.
"Let me help, Dean."
Something shifts in Dean's expression, and Cas knows that he's been given permission.
He gently pushes the leather jacket over the hunter's shoulders, his gaze never leaving Dean's. The shirt follows.
"What are you doing, Cas?" Dean asks, his voice almost breaking.
"Just trust me, Dean," he says as finally, the cotton t-shirt comes off.
There's a vulnerability in Dean's eyes that almost hurts to look at, and Cas can't help but feel almost honoured to be allowed this privilege.
The hunter's thoughts flash across Cas's mind.
He's not going to...I mean, my shirt's off, but he's still wearing the damn trench coat. And besides, I don't know if I would want him to. But maybe I don't want him to just because I think he might...damn it, he's probably getting all this right now.
"Dean," Cas says again. "Relax."
He walks around and settles on the bed behind the hunter, letting his fingers work slow circles over muscles tense from both labour and fear. Dean inhales sharply as Cas first makes contact, but his breathing soon calms into a steady rhythm.
"I could get at your lower back better if you would lie down," Cas says hesitantly. Dean complies almost immediately, stretching out on his stomach.
It abruptly occurs to Cas that, in order to do this with any degree of effectiveness, he's going to have to, in some capacity, straddle the hunter. He is attempting to work out an alternate arrangement when Dean shoots an annoyed glance over his shoulder.
"What'd you stop for?"
Cas decides that the only option is to just go for it, and sits awkwardly on top of the hunter. Dean doesn't seem to mind, though, judging by the blissed-out expression on his face as Cas works his knuckles into the knotted muscles.
Eventually, the position stops feeling awkward as Cas becomes more focussed on the variety of ways he can use his hands. Each touch provides a different experience of the muscle and bone of Dean's back, and Cas realises his rhythm is changing, less about working the tension out and more about exploring, memorising every inch of the hunter's skin. He might never get an opportunity like this again.
Cas lets his hands slide up over Dean's shoulders until his fingertips hit collarbone, squeezing gently, repeating the movement. Dean arches his back slightly each time, and Cas grows bolder, moving towards the hunter's chest.
"Cas?" Dean murmurs, eyes still closed.
"Yes, Dean?"
"Take off the damn coat."
Cas stands and obeys, and Dean rolls onto his back. Cas can't help but wonder how this new landscape of flesh would feel beneath his fingers, musculature more defined, sensation more intense.
But Dean would never allow it. Cas can barely look him in the eye, despite knowing that the hunter is not the one with the mindreading ability.
Feeling guilty, he lets himself skim Dean's thoughts.
I wish he'd stop looking at me like he's afraid to ask...hell, I wish I could tell him that it's okay.
Slowly, deliberately, Dean pushes himself up onto his elbows, gazing at Cas until the angel meets his stare.
Cas understands.
Dean sits up, leaning against the headboard, and Cas climbs onto the bed, kneeling, one knee on either side of the hunter's legs. He traces his fingers over Dean's shoulders, biceps, that mark, then back up to his chest. Down further to abdomen, firm muscle.
"Cas," Dean moans. Cas drops his hands awkwardly to his sides, but only for a moment. He knows what the hunter wants, and he's tired of holding back.
Carefully, he reaches out and brushes one hand down Dean's cheek. Dean turns his head towards the touch, desperate to sustain it, and in response Cas leans forward and softly kisses the hunter's mouth.
Dean's hands find Cas's hips as Cas's fingers bury themselves in spiked brown hair. The kiss deepens, and Cas finds himself involuntarily catching flashes of Dean's thoughts mingling with his own.
Abruptly, Dean pulls back, wordlessly grabbing hold of the angel's tie and fumbling with the knot. Cas helps him, and before long he is also bare from the waist up.
Tongues flirt against each other, teeth tug at lips as angel and hunter explore each other's mouths. Cas doesn't even notice the slow downward slide until he realises that they are now both almost horizontal, his chest pressed to Dean's. He can feel the hunter's desire both physically and mentally.
He pushes himself up, and Dean's eyes open. They stare at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily. Cas can almost hear the hunter's heart racing.
"Do you..." Cas starts. "Do you want me to..."
Dean nods, almost imperceptibly. His eyes are wider than Cas has ever seen them before. Cas rocks back onto his knees and reaches for the button on the hunter's jeans.
Dean clutches at the bed sheets, arching his back so the angel can slide his pants downwards. Cas tugs off Dean's boots so he can pull the entire mess free of the hunter's legs.
Cas gazes down at Dean, then carefully shifts downward until he can take the hunter's erection into his mouth.
Dean nearly cries out, but manages to choke it off. Cas might be an angel, but he's sinfully good at this. The hunter tightens his grip on the bedsheets, moaning and hissing, until finally he can't control himself any longer.
He comes explosively, and Cas is forced to swallow to avoid choking.
"Sorry," Dean gasps, his chest heaving. Cas shakes his head.
"Fine," he coughs.
Somehow, they both know what is going to happen next, movements happening without a verbal request being made. Dean twists beneath Cas, moving onto his stomach, and Cas strips off his own pants.
"Wait," Dean says suddenly. "Suitcase beside the bed. Front pocket," Dean says, and Cas finds the bottle easily. He doesn't bother asking why it's there.
"Do it, Cas," Dean begs, and the angel finally thrusts himself into the hunter. This time, Dean doesn't silence his cries, and Cas is afraid he's hurting him.
But any attempt to slow down is met with a plea not to, so he keeps on, each thrust pressing him against Dean, letting him feel the heat of the hunter's skin.
Cas's orgasm shakes his entire vessel to its core as he spills himself into Dean. Dean's cries have diminished to almost whimpers, and Cas worries once again that he's hurt him as he pulls out.
"Cas..." Dean whispers, barely moving. His breath comes in ragged gasps.
"Was I too rough?" Cas replies anxiously.
"No, Cas," Dean exhales. "It was good. It was better than good."
Cas lets his fingers trail across Dean's back, tracing patterns in the beaded sweat. After several long minutes, Dean rolls over again. Cas places his hand on Dean's chest, feeling the hunter's pounding heart rate gradually slowing back to its resting rhythm.
"Sam didn't go to the library, did he?" Dean asks suddenly, and Cas knows that it's his way of trying to regain control. The vulnerability is already fading from his eyes, being replaced by the hardness that has kept him sort of safe for so long.
"No," Cas admits. Dean half-smiles.
"He's not going to be back tonight, is he?"
"No."
"So he knew that...this was going to happen?"
Cas shrugs.
"He is...perceptive."
Dean snorts and shakes his head, then sits up and snatches his boxers off the floor with his foot. He pulls them on quickly, like he's embarrassed by what just happened. Cas knows it's just Dean's way of dealing with things, but he can't help but feel slightly snubbed.
Dean retrieves his t-shirt from the floor and walks gingerly to the bathroom. Guilt overwhelms Cas. So he did hurt him.
Cas dresses slowly, letting his mind relive every detail of what just happened, then crosses the room to sit on the bed Sam won't be sleeping in tonight.
Dean emerges from the bathroom several minutes later, offering Cas a weary smile before stretching out on the bed. Cas smiles back, his eyes never leaving Dean's face even as the hunter closes his eyes.
Before long, Dean's breathing has slowed to the deep, steady rhythm of sleep. Cas finds himself anticipating each rise, holding his own breath if one of Dean's is delayed.
He will sit this way until morning, when Dean will open his eyes and ask if Cas sat there all night. Cas will smile, and Dean will smile, and despite the fact that neither of them will mention what happened the night before, it won't be a problem. Sam will show up back from his night out, and they'll carry on as they always have.
And Cas knows that there will be other times when they will be together, other stolen moments in the future, and he will look forward to them when they happen. But for now, the angel is content to stand watch over his hunter, counting each quiet breath as another tiny victory over the darkness.