With one slender hand, Cas stroked the sandy hair of the man curled up on the cushions next to him. "Dean, are you awake?" he asked quietly, leaning down from the arm of the couch. The man in question grumbled and opened an eye.
"Well, I'm awake now," Dean replied, a hint of anger in his voice. "Why? What do you want?" He eyed Cas, annoyed, but who could stay mad at him for long?
"You fell asleep," Cas murmured, averting his eyes from Dean's gaze. "I was concerned." His eyes were drawn to the gash that ran along Dean's chest and stomach. It had already bled through his shirt- it was the second in as many hours. It wouldn't be long now, he thought, but immediately dismissed the thought. Still, as the angel looked down at his wounded friend, his stomach churned and he couldn't stop thinking that something was more wrong than anyone thought.
"Yeah, well, don't be," Dean said quietly. He closed his eyes again and moved closer to Cas, careful not to touch the wound. It wasn't even a creature who'd done it, just some crazy girl who insisted upon slashing him with her knife. But of course, he wasn't about to die in a hospital. Not that he was going to die anyway- right?
"Dean, you've died more than any human I know," Cas said with a sigh. "I know I shouldn't, but I do care." The words felt odd to say- he knew that it could cause him trouble- but they needed to be said. They were true.
Dean opened his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy and now it was a challenge to stay awake. "Listen, Cas," he whispered roughly, "I'm not going to die. " After hesitating a moment, he reached up and took Castiel's hand. The angel's cool skin was soft to the touch, and as he felt the other man's thumb gently caress the back of his hand, tingles shot down his spine.
Cas looked down at the injured man, pain in his cerulean eyes. He drew back his hand as he realized what he was doing. What would the others think? He wasn't supposed to show any emotion, especially not for a human. Not for just an Archangel's vessel. "Dean, the angels-"
"To Hell with the angels, man," Dean protested groggily. He held the man's hand tighter in his own, running his fingers over the creases and scars. "I'll explain it when I see 'em."
Castiel frowned, mind racing. Dean wasn't even pretending anymore. What would he do if- God, no, when he died? A primal, human feeling had sparked in him and it wasn't going away. With a burst of impulsive bravery, he tilted Dean's chin up and towards him.
The hunter's eyes opened, a questioning look in his emerald eyes. Before he could say a word, his delicate lips were met by Cas's. More tingling spread to his hands, his feet, his cheeks where Cas's rough palms were now placed, thumbs rubbing underneath his tired eyes. With a small sound of enjoyment, he closed them for the last time. He held Castiel close with his weak hands, but he could only do so much.
Within a few minutes, Dean's fingers were cold, limp on Cas's back. With eyes full of tears, the angel backed away and took one last look at the man he should have loved sooner.