This is a birthday present to my dear Luci - felicitations darling ^_^
Sam and Dean half-helped, half-dragged a barely conscious Castiel through the door of their motel room. They'd been on a hunt that should have been a strictly salt-and-burn case, but when it turned out to be a ghoul instead, they got into a fist-fight with the damn thing while Sam desperately called Bobby trying to find out how the hell to kill the sadistic bastard.
It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't have been Castiel's first time out hunting since becoming semi-human. He still had his grace and everything, but he'd lost certain abilities - healing at superhuman speeds and, unfortunately, killing monsters with a bitchy glare and a hand to the forehead, a fact to which the ex-angel had yet to acclimatise. So, when the bugger ran at him, teeth bared and a feral snarl ripping from its throat, Cas just extended his hand and looked onwards calmly, despite Dean's panicked shouts from where he was disentangling himself from what used to be a wall. As it ran straight into the outstretched arm, everyone heard the crack of bones breaking, and not those of the ghoul. Sam winced in sympathy, Dean redoubled his efforts to get over to Cas, and Castiel himself just widened his eyes as the colour drained from his face and he folded under the weight of the clearly-not-a-ghost.
The poor guy took one hell of a beating before Dean tackled the ghoul off of him, rolling over until the monster grounded its considerable weight on top of the hunter's chest and snarled again as it went in for the kill. Closing his eyes, face constricted, Dean felt warm liquid gush over him and looked up to see Sam looming over, wielding a fierce looking knife and the body of a decapitated ghoul sprawled out next to him. They'd rushed over to where Cas lay unmoving on the ground and bundled him into the Impala, Dean shoving the keys roughly into Sam's chest and climbing into the back seat next to Cas, face stony as he pulled the now softly groaning man to his chest. Sam would normally have thought the action to be strange for Dean to do to another dude, but somehow it seemed the natural thing, and he hastily clambered into the driver's side and revved the engine.
oOoOoOo
Having somehow managed to get into the room, Dean used one foot to slam the door closed, and he and Sam set Castiel down as gently as possible onto the bed nearest the door. He was pretty much conscious now, although definitely not fully aware of what was going on, and whimpered in pain as Dean pulled his trench coat off, followed by his suit jacket and finally his shirt that was stained worryingly red over the chest. As warm, rough but gentle hands guided him further back on the bed, he followed them unthinkingly. Deep murmurs echoed around him, and he felt the room vibrate lightly as Sam threw things out of his bag, searching for their DIY first-aid kit.
In the end, the supplies that were dredged up consisted of some bandage that didn't look as clean as one might hope, a make-shift splint made of a long knife wrapped in old book bindings so as to prevent it's being sharp and a bottle of some sort of spirit that smelled overtly strong. Dean rolled his neck briefly and took a deep breath before running his hands over Cas's arm, searching for the break. Small mewls of discomfort escaped his friend and something lurched in Dean's chest. Fingers experienced in identifying broken bones soon found the point in the forearm where it was broken. To Dean's relief, it felt like a fairly clean break, and though his wrist was probably broken as well, nothing had pierced the skin, although there was a slightly odd angle in the middle of his forearm that would need to be straightened out before it was bound up. Firmly, but trying to be as gentle as possible - a vast improvement on Dean's usual bedside manner when he patched his brother up - he placed his hands either side of the break.
"Okay man, this is going to hurt, okay? Just... just try and stay with me here."
He flexed his hands. A scream filled the air and Dean's breath caught in his throat. Castiel shouldn't be making that noise. His angel shouldn't be in pain. It just felt fundamentally wrong. Pushing the unfamiliar and disconcerting emotions to the side, he grabbed the make-shift splint and proceeded to immobilise the arm and wrist as effectively as possible. When he was done it looked fairly sturdy, and Dean moved on to checking if there were any other serious wounds.
Sam stood at the end of the bed, fidgeting from one foot the other, a nervous look in his eyes as if this was way out of his comfort zones. Which, for an ex-blood junkie, was saying something.
The only other injury Dean could find was a slash across Castiel's left chest. It was bleeding pretty badly, and was what had stained his white shirt a crimson red that was now darkening to that dried-blood-brown all hunters were far too familiar with. Dean turned to Sam and jerked his head towards the cut and his brother nodded, fishing around once again in their bags, trying to find something with which to stitch it up.
oOoOoOo
As Dean pulled the needle through one last time, tying off the knot, he looked up at Castiel's face and was horrified to see his cheeks tear-streaked and his eyes firmly pressed closed in what he recognised as his friend trying to manage the pain. It suddenly occurred to him that Cas had probably never experienced feeling like this before - yeah sure, he almost certainly had got hurt in the various God-ordained fights and battles he'd been in, but that must have been a very different pain than that of a human body. Than pain of the flesh and core, rather than that of grace and light. He grabbed the whiskey bottle off of the bedside table, and poured a generous amount over the newly closed wound. Castiel didn't make a sound, only constricted his face even more.
Seeing that, Dean felt something rise within him, and suddenly he couldn't contain the overwhelming rage that consumed him. He slammed the bottle back on the table with a jarring thud, and sprung up from the bed, pacing back and forth, arms raised and gripping his hair, running over his face. His brain couldn't take it - he felt helpless and lonely and above all, like he couldn't, shouldn't, tear himself away from the man lying on the bed, face now more peaceful, and his chest rising and falling regularly in an exhausted sleep. Dean squatted down to the floor, pulling his head down with his hands, trying to comprehend the pull in his chest that made him want to put his forehead against Castiel's, his body against his, his lips against his, his soul against his, and never let go.
Dean straightened his legs, standing up again. He walked into the bathroom, turning the cold tap on as much as it would go and drenching his face with the cool water, ignoring the fact that the high pressure was making the water splash out of the sink and onto his t-shirt. He turned the tap off, and looked up at himself in the mirror, watching the water drip off his chin and nose, and finally staring into his own eyes, trying to see what was in there. He shook his head and walked out of the bathroom.
oOoOoOo
Sam had disappeared a while ago, saying something about letting Bobby know that they ganked the ghoul and getting something to eat. He had clearly been uncomfortable, even if Dean didn't know why. He didn't really care at the moment.
He sat down on the bed next to Cas. The slight rock of the mattress as Dean sat down shook Castiel awake and his eyes flickered open, immediately seeking and finding Dean's. The hunter was comforted to see Cas in there again, unlike earlier when he had been replaced by the feral panic of someone who is in pain and doesn't know, or understand, why or how to stop it. Castiel sat up from the waist, back completely straight. Dean's mouth twitched up in a small smile - no matter how cut off from heaven the angel was, he always had little qualities and mannerisms like that that marked him out as non-human.
"Hello Dean."
"Hey Cas." Dean was surprised by the tenderness in his own voice, but disregarded the surprise to be dealt with another time. A time when he didn't have an angel he apparently was in love with to take care of. He shuffled forwards slightly, and Cas gingerly moved around so that he was facing Dean, careful not to jostle his splinted arm.
"How... how're you feeling?"
"It is a strange sensation. I am not entirely certain as to how it can be made less..." he searched briefly for a word. "Unpleasant?"
Dean couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "Dude, you busted up your arm and wrist and've got one nasty-ass tear in your chest, it's gonna be 'unpleasant'."
Cas cocked his head in an action that was familiar and made Dean's chest lurch in the same way it had earlier, only this time with affection, not the need to protect.
"I don't understand why this causes you mirth." His voice wasn't accusing, only curious. Dean immediately dropped the smile and frowned, glancing down and back up.
"It... it doesn't. I don't really know what it makes me feel, I just... I feel like I need to care of you?" The words came slowly and uncertainly, and the sentence ended like a question. Castiel's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squinted slightly, just as they always did when Dean did or said something completely alien.
"You are my charge, Dean. I am an angel of the lord. I am here to protect you."
"Yeah dude, I know, I get that." Dean shook his head wearily, closing his eyes for a moment. "You in pain like that... I didn't know what to do. Yeah, yeah, I know I patched you up as best I could," he hurriedly went on to say, as he saw the angel take a breath to refute his argument, "I just didn't know what to feel, or how to feel, or what I should be feeling, of any of that fucking chick-flick shit. All I know is that all I wanted to do... was this." Dean leaned his forehead forward against Castiel's, took a breath, and lent the rest of his head forward to capture Castiel's lips in his own.
For a moment, Castiel didn't move. Then he tilted his head minutely to the side, and responded to the kiss, making a tiny sound into Dean's mouth that made the hunter gasp and deepen the embrace, scraping his teeth lightly across Castiel's lip. After a minute of heady pleasure, Dean pulled away.
"Cas..." his voice was breathy, but slightly deeper than usual, and seeing the captivating blue in Castiel's eyes darkened was almost more than he could bear. Castiel didn't reply, only remained with his forehead pressed against Dean's, his breath falling warm and heavy against Dean's lips.
"We... I should check your stitches."
Dean moved back, and looked down at the wound on Castiel's chest. The stitches were holding fine. As he inspected his handy work, Cas brought a hand up to it. Looking up at his face, his eyes were confused as if this was something he'd never experienced before, which Dean realised for the second time, he probably never had.
"My vessel is... I... I am injured." His voice maintained the pretense of its normal rough calmness, but under that could be heard a minute shake of uncertainty. Castiel's fingers pressed too roughly at the stitches and a trickle of blood dripped down his chest. Cas gasped in a very human way. Dean raised his hand, and ran it up his angel's still bare chest in a way that was designed to be comforting, but ended up catching the drop of blood in its track. With the blood caught under his fingertips, Dean continued moving his hand up and brushed over Cas's nipple. The angel gasped again, but this time with an undertone of shocked pleasure. Dean smiled lightly and ever-so-coyly, looking up into blue eyes with his own green ones through his eyelashes. A tiny voice in the back of his head told him to stop with the chick crap, but the look in Cas's eyes, darkening further, was more than enough to suppress that thought.
Surprising himself, Dean ran his hand further up, and lightly over the stitches, tempting another streak of crimson blood to run down over his hand. Not knowing himself where he was going with this, Dean pressed his fingertips roughly over Cas's nipple again, a light smudge of the angel's own blood already adorning it, and brought his red-stained hand up to his mouth, letting the warm liquid smear over his lips, and feeling white hot arousal build within.
Cas moved for the first time, chest rising and falling heavily, blue almost disappeared from his eyes, and brought his arm up to run around Dean's neck and pull his head towards him, their lips meeting, and Cas able to taste his own salty-metallic blood on his charge's, his love's, mouth. Dean groaned roughly into Castiel, and he swallowed the wondrous, wholly provocative sound, moving their lips together and marveling at the beauty of this human man before him, blood decorating his mouth, arousal brightening his eyes, and body screaming of his love and affection. In a moment, Cas made his decision, one that he did not, and would not, regret for a second, and leaned forward into Dean's soft, warm figure, pushing him backwards almost roughly, and pulling back with his mouth to briefly take a breath.
"Cas?" Dean's voice was huskier than ever, but held a note of uncertainty.
"Is this what you want?" Cas asked solemnly.
"Yes." He replied fervently, voice not far away from being a sob, nipping lightly at Castiel's lower lip.
"Then what is holding you back?"
"I... I don't want to hurt you." He replied, voice uncharacteristically small. Cas pulled back further, so that Dean's eyes came into focus.
Dean looked into Castiel's eyes, feeling his chest contract nervously, only to expand again with the strength of these feelings he felt towards his friend, his saviour. He watched as Cas's eyes softened in that way they only seemed to do when looking into his own, and one of his heart-wrenchingly beautiful but rare smiles graced his lips.
"Dean. I am an angel of the lord. I am your angel of the lord. You will not hurt me. I will not hurt you. I will always come when you call. I will never feel about another human the way I feel towards you. You are a gift from God - you have made an angel love."