Disclaimers: None of it is mine. No money made, all in good fun.

Warnings: Slash allusion, Male on Male, Dean Winchester hearts Castiel the Angel :D

A/N: Hm, that comes from me being bored and stalking tumblr... Someone asked for a fic based on a fanart. Heart Beat by Leyna on dA. (ffnet is mean, I can't put the link. Might put it on my profile though.)

No real Timeline after the end of season 6. Just a snippet of fluffy Deastiel :D


Dean's eyes fluttered as he felt his senses coming back to him. But with them came the foggy muddy feeling that he'd long ago learned to associate with painkillers.

The hunter kept his eyes closed, the ingrained habit kicking in as he tried to use his other senses to recon where he had ended up. The last thing he remembered was Sam uncuffing him from the ceiling after that freakshow skinwalker bastard finally got his ass handed to him.

He took a carefully even breath, being hit by the smell of sanitizers and that underlying odour of sickness and death that all hospitals everywhere seemed to share. He strained his hearing but beside the stray footsteps that were probably outside his room, he couldn't hear much movement. Everything was drowned behind the constant beeping of the heartrate monitor.

Then there was small russle of clothes near him and he had to will his muscles not to tense, continuing to play dead (or in this case, asleep).

"Dean."

The sound of that gravely voice, low as a whisper sent a shiver through Dean before he could supress it. He knew that voice, he'd heard that tone and that word in that mouth so many times.

Blinking minutely, the oldest Winchester fought the urge to close his eyes again at the agressive lights. A blurred form came to stand against the light and as he focused on it, forms began to appear. The tousled black hair, eternally styled in some kind of bed-hair hairstyle. The intense blue eyes that seemed to draw him in, unwilling to let him go once they got him captivated. The pale face and luscious lips that just demanded to be bruised with a kiss.

"Cas..?"

His own voice sounded scratchy and rough, even to him, but the amazement and surprise and hope that it still held were as clear and loud as bells. He tried to open his mouth again to speak, to ask him if this was another dream. If when he'd open his eyes again the angel would be gone. If it was just another twisted hope that the reality of those last few months after Cas' disappearance had just been a fluke and if he was back at last.

But the dark haired archangel just closed into him, putting a finger on his lips to keep him from talking. His hot breath caressing Dean's face like the touch of endless feathers.

The hunter kept his eyes riveted on the holy soldier as the other man picked up one of his lax hands, wrapped in bands that covered the marks of the handcuffs he'd fought so hard it had left his wrists raw. In slow, delicate movements, Castiel pressed Dean's hand against his own chest.

The vessel of Michael held his hand against the angel's torso, a slight trembling in his arm as he let himself feel the steady thrumming under his palm. The constant heartbeat he had heard so many times in the past, he could nearly recognize it anywhere.

Castiel kept his own hand wrapped around Dean's as he leaned in again, just next to his ear, letting their foreheads touch gently.

"Hello, Dean."


Reviews? Pretty please? XD