"Dammit, Sam, I had that shot!" Dean exclaimed as they marched through the door of the hotel room.
"No, you didn't, Dean." Sam said in exasperation. For what felt like the hundredth time in an hour, he told his brother, "Your angle was completely wrong. It would have gotten away."
` "Dean, Sam has a very good point." Cas said as he trailed them into the room, and pushed the door closed behind them.
"Not helping!" Dean said, throwing his duffel onto his bed.
"Not trying to," Cas responded, lowering himself gingerly into a chair, wincing slightly when he touched the seat.
"Cas, you okay?" Dean asked. Cas waved the question off, and Dean made a mental note to ask him about it later.
Sam leaned against the counter in the small kitchenette, and crossed his arms. "Dean, it's really not that big a-"
"If you say deal, so help me I will shoot you." Dean said, pointing a finger at his brother.
"How many times have you built that car from the ground up?" Sam asked, gesturing to the window where they could just make out the shape of the Impala from the street lamp a few feet away. "I think you can handle a few chips in the paint."
"It doesn't change the fact that you shot my car."
The boys stared at each other for a few minutes before Sam finally announced that he was going to get dinner.
"Hey Sam," Dean called as his brother was halfway out the door. "Pie."
Sam rolled his eyes and pulled the door shut.
"It's rather peculiar." Cas piped up from the chair across the room.
"What is, Cas?" Dean asked as he pulled two beers from the mini fridge and tossed one to his friend.
"Your obsession with pie." The former angel replied, easily catching the beer.
Dean lowered himself into the chair across from Cas, and laughed, saying, "It's not an obsession, buddy."
"Oh? Name two things you love more than pie. "Cas challenged, taking a long pull of his drink.
You. The though drifted through Dean's head, and he shook it sharply. He shoved it away, and thought up a more acceptable answer.
"Cheeseburgers. And my- chipped- car."
Cas smiled. "Your car I can believe, but cheeseburgers? That I'm not so sure about."
"Alright, you caught me. There's only one thing I love more than pie." Cas' face drifted through his mind again, and decided not to mention the Impala.
The two men fell silent for a few minutes, just sitting and drinking their beers in comfortable silence, until finally Dean had to ask.
"So what's wrong?"
"What?" Cas asked, putting on his best I'm confused face. Dean knew Cas, though- and right now he knew his friend was lying.
"Come on, Cas, I saw you wincing earlier."
Cas looked for a second like he was going to try lying, but instead just exhaled, stood, and shrugged out of his trench coat.
"Earlier, on the hunt, I got pinned by that werewolf against the car." Dean remembered- vividly. Running back to the car, seeing Cas pinned down by the werewolf, and knowing he wouldn't be able to line up a shot until it would be too late. Luckily, Sam was, and the only collateral damage was his baby.
He was snapped back to the present when Cas started unbuttoning his shirt. Dean shifted in his seat, and reminded himself that they were having a serious conversation. "Before you and Sam got there, it got a few hits in."
Dean gasped in anger as Cas let his shirt slip from his shoulders to reveal his already blackened side.
"Dean, it's fine," Cas said in a soothing voice. "I'm quite sure nothing's broken, and the creature is dead." Cas bent down to pick up his shirt from where it was pooled around his feet. Dean couldn't keep his eyes from roaming over the angels lightly muscled back. Not an angel any more, he reminded himself as his eyes latched once more on to the bruise.
"Wait." Dean said. Cas' eyes snapped up to meet his. "You can't just leave that." Dean stood and walked over to where Cas stood. "Stand up straight." Cas just watched him carefully. "Come on, I can help." Dean looked away and rubbed his chin. What the hell are you doing? He thought to himself.
Cas' eyes were questioning, but he did as his best friend said.
"Dean…" Cas' voice was confused as Dean gingerly spun him around and began to gently massage the skin on Cas' back that surrounded the bruise.
"I was a clumsy child." Dean said by way of explanation. "Always covered in bruises- sorry." He said as he hit a tender spot. He began to work a little lower, just above Cas' hips. "My mom was always
doing this for me. When she died, I had to learn to do it for myself." He said this with only the smallest twinge of sadness.
"I'm sorry, Dean." Cas said, looking over his shoulder at the hunter.
"What? Oh, don't be. It was a long time ago. Anyways, I had to teach myself how- after I started hunting, I was pretty much a walking bruise for months." His hands again moved a little lower, and Cas grunted as Dean's fingers brushed the waistband of his trousers. "Then Sammy started. God, don't ever tell him I said this, but the kid was a terrible hunter. I'm surprised no one ever called child services." Dean laughed fondly at the memory as he moved in front of Cas.
"You good if I keep going? I, uh, don't want to make you uncomfortable." Dean said as he glanced down at Cas' exposed chest and stomach.
"You're not making me uncomfortable Dean."
That was all Dean needed. His hands surer this time, he began to massage the space around the bruise, starting at Cas' chest.
He worked in silence only momentarily before Cas said, "Tell me more about your childhood."
"Why?" Dean said, snorting. "Dad was never around, and when he was all he did was obsess over Yellow-Eyes." Cas didn't press the subject- as curious as he was, he knew Dean didn't have many good childhood memories.
Cas gasped in surprise as Dean's fingers reached the slope of his hip.
"Did I hurt you?" Dean asked, his breath tickling Cas' stomach as he spoke.
"No." Cas replied in a strained voice. He wasn't in pain though- he didn't know what was wrong, only that he needed Dean so much closer.
"There." He said, straightening. "Done…" His voice trailed off as his eyes met Castiel's. His stomach twisted suddenly.
"Son of a bitch." He muttered, and without making any conscious decision of do so, reached out and grabbed the back of Cas' neck and pulled him forward, pressing their lips together.
The kiss didn't deepen- it didn't have a chance to, much to Dean's chagrin- because just then they heard the distinct rumble of the Impala die out.
Cas wrenched from his grasp, a look of shocked disbelief on his face, plus another look Dean couldn't decipher.
"We are not finished yet." Dean said, rubbing his palm across his face. Cas' eyes widened in what Dean hoped was silent agreement, and went to grab the ice pack that they'd tossed in the motel rooms small freezer that afternoon.
"Here." He said, throwing it to Cas just as Sam came through the door.
"Sorry I was gone so long- the dinner was pretty busy." Sam said, nudging the door closed with his foot. "Holy shit Cas." Sam said as he handed Cas a bag that smelled of his favourite food, his eyes latching onto Cas' side.
"Werewolf." Cas said, taking the offered food.
"Ah."
"Did you get my pie?" Dean asked, pushing himself off the counter he had been lazily leaning against.
"Yes, Dean, I got your pie." Sam said, handing Dean another bag.
The three men sat down at the small table, and Dean moved his chair a little closer to Cas', hoping Sam wouldn't notice. He definitely didn't- his laptop was already out and open on the table, and he wasn't even looking at the other two men. Dean took the opportunity to shift his chair closer to Cas' yet again, and Cas responded by subtly moving to the edge of his own chair- which happened to press their knees together. Dean gave Cas a small smile.
Sam was typing furiously, and finally Dean said, "Dude, aren't you going to eat something?"
"Already did." Sam grunted, eyes never leaving the computer screen.
"What are you even looking for?"
"I heard on the radio that there was a potential case not far from here… I'm just seeing if I can find out more… Okay, so get this." Sam finally stopped typing, and his eyebrows pulled together. "Twenty-six people, all dead, eyes burned out of their heads."
"That sounds like an angel massacre." Cas said, one hand pressing the ice pack to his side, the other reaching for his fries.
"That's what I thought. Huh. It says here that there were twenty-seven victims- one survivor, in critical condition, who says that Marv would save them."
Cas looked alarmed. "That was Metatron's name when we were working together."
"Good." Dean said, standing up from the table and taking the garbage to the bin. "We leave first thing."
He began to walk towards the door. "Where are you going?" Cas asked.
"To get a cot and some ice for your side."
"Why are you getting a cot?" Sam asked, turning to face his brother.
"It's stupid to keep renting two rooms- it's expensive, and credit card fraud ain't easy." Sam couldn't argue with that, and went back to his computer.
"I'll come help you." Cas stood up, grabbed his shirt, and tossed the ice pack on the table.