Cuffs, Confessions, and Caribbean Reef Octopi
Chapter 1. Curiosity Cuffed the Cas
Castiel drug the heavy door to the bunker closed with a heavy, metallic thud. He sighed, picking up three plastic bags full of groceries and supplies, balancing the weight of the other three in his other hand. He lumbered awkwardly down the curving staircase. The bunker was big and empty. Dean and Sam were away on a case. He sat the heap of bags on a table and systematically put them away. His time as a human had taught him how to better take care of his...Dean and Sam. His mouth twitched in a slight grin as he put salad supplies and burger in the refrigerator. He knew what Dean and Sam liked to eat. Even though he did not need to eat, he sometimes enjoyed the act of it. He was learning to master controlling the overwhelming molecules of food into flavors. Food away, Cas flipped the kitchen light off. The bunker was ready for the Winchester's return tonight.
Cas wandered back to his room. He began the next episode of Blacklist on Netflix. He sighed, shaking his head at Lizzie's continual string of poor choices.
The episode ended and Cas was dismayed to see there were no more.
He felt rested from his grocery run. He was finding that he was recovering quicker all the time. He had powers. He could heal, clean himself instantly, fly. But healing and flying cost his stamina dearly. Changing clothes, cleaning, they were getting easier. He kept angel radio turned off, which was easier in the bunker.
Cas got up, feeling restless. He wandered the tiled hallways. He stopped at Dean's open door. His room was fairly tidy. Cas wandered in, flipping through his records. He had them memorized by now. Some he liked. Some he found quite obnoxious. He slid a Led Zeplin album back into place, turning to the empty bed. Cas glanced at the empty doorway, then back to the pillow. He picked it up, holding the confined bundle of fluff and smelling it slowly. The faint smell of Dean made Cas close his eyes and remember his... friend. God, he missed him. Cas felt the familiar fraying of the wavelengths that he was most of his life. His vessel bristled at the memory of its freer form. Cas had spent billions of years existing as a celestial wave. And at one time. A short, beautiful time, he had existed that way with Dean. Like free fluid, mixing, intertwining. Not that Dean remembered it. He missed that Dean, all conscious and soul. Cas opened his eyes, putting the pillow back. His Dean now was... so different and yet, miraculously the same. His soul was still his. Contained in a body that Cas longed to... He shoved the thoughts down. He could not let the memories steamroll him. He turned from the room, continuing down the hall. He sighed again. He needed a distraction. For some reason, his ability to keep a firm clamp on his memories of Dean had been difficult lately. When he had gotten himself back to the bunker, he thought he might be telling Dean goodbye. Dean, in a rare and precious moment, had held Castiel's hand and told him he was his friend and that he needed him. Needed him to get better. Needed him for what lay ahead. The darkness. Their eyes had been locked in a hold of green and blue static. He was needed. Cas had been about to say some things. Things he needed to say. Things that brimmed within him since he had returned Dean to Earth. But Sam had come in. Dean's eyes blinked, losing the lock and his hand discretely slipped away.
Castiel's hand reflexively closed, missing the firm, warm grasp that was too brief. Dean had gone back to his usual self, but something in Castiel's resolve had splintered. He needed... he wanted...
Cas grabbed the nearest doorknob, opening the door to a storage room. He needed a distraction. The Men of Letters storage room had boxes full of curiosities. Some of them emanated traces of magic. He flipped through an open box of documents. He moved on to a dusty shelf in the corner, letting his hands be drawn to magic. He unclasped a box containing a wooden block with carvings in Latin. Voodoo. He clasped it closed, not liking it's slimy, oily feel. He opened several others, all witchy with their prickly, sticky magic. He opened a small box, moving a black velvet embroidered cloth of protection, revealing a set of iron, carved handcuffs. There was a slight prickly magic taint on them. But the symbols were Enochian. He slid a finger along the cool metal. There was an angelic resonance. Cas reached in, taking the cuffs from their velvet nest. He held them, turning them in the dim light of the room. Cas brought them closer to his eyes, seeing a trail of tiny Enochian symbols inside the metal link. Sygals of restraint... Maybe these could come in handy for cuffing Angels. If so, Dean would be pleased with him. A small smile graced his lips. He held the cuffs in a moment of hope until one cuff jumped, snatching its closure with a metallic click around Castiel's left wrist. Castiel's smile dropped into a look of wonder. He pulled, one handed at the old iron band. "Shit," he mumbled, a feeling of dread taking root in his gut. He turned the wide cuff. There was no longer a seam. Just a solid iron band linked by a short seven link chain to the other cuff, which dangled open.
Cas grabbed the box, looking for... a key? A note? A something that would open it.
Nothing. Only black velvet with silver embroidered sygals of protection and warning. "Son of a bitch," Cas said. So much for bringing Dean a prize. Instead, he had a new problem. "So typical Cas," he berated himself. "Why do I do this?"
He grabbed the box and left the room, closing the door. He took the box and went to the main room. He dropped the thin wooden box onto a table with a clatter. There was a gold plaque on the front of it that read 78B. He had used the reference system here many times and went to the computer room to look it up. What the hell had he just complicated his life with now?
Dean unlocked the bunker door, holding it open for Sam, who passed through. Tight spaces with Sam made him think of Crowley's pet name for Sam. Moose. And he was. A giant flannel and denim clad moose. He followed Sam down the spiral stairs, catching sight of Cas sitting at a table, books and files spread out. He turned a somber blue-eyed look up at him and Dean quirked a grin at him.
"Hey, Cas."
"Hi, Cas," Sam echoed.
"Hello, Dean. Sam." Cas replied looking ten shades of guilty.
The brothers stopped at his messy table, standing side by side. Something was up. Dean felt a sigh escape him. Cas looked so much better. His eyes were bright. Dean felt the familiar lock of a look. He, as always, wanted to fall into those blue pools. There was an almost physical pull that happened since he had first met the Angel. And he pulled back, as always, blinking and searching for a quick out.
"Whatcha doin, Cas?" he asked, kicking into smart ass mode a syllable too late.
Cas, mouth slightly open, pulled his eyes away as well, looking to the table. "Uh, just some research."
Sam stemmed a bitchface, exchanging a look with Dean.
Cas looked away. A dead giveaway that Cas had just fucked something up. Sometimes having Cas around was like owning a puppy. He was gonna have to clean something up.
The brothers tossed their bags towards the hallway and sat at the table.
"How did things go in Boston?" Cas asked.
"Fine," Sam said. "It was a ghost. Standard salt n burn."
Cas nodded and Dean could not help but grin. He was drilling Cas with a look that had the Angel squirming slightly.
"So," Dean ventured, "what are you researching?"
"I..." Cas fumbled with a file, "I found something interesting and I thought it could be quite useful."
"But?" the brothers pushed.
Cas sighed. "I found these handcuffs and I think they will, well, I know they will restrain an angel."
Dean smirked. "So... I can cuff up some angels now?" Dean laughed, stifling the dirty images of Cas that flashed through his brain so quick he could easily deny ever having them.
"Yes," Cas answered.
"Cool," Dean grinned, leaning forward, lacing his fingers on the table.
"So, what's the problem?" Sam said, pulling the lid off the box and pushing the velvety cloth around. "Where are they?"
Cas sat back and Dean's insides burned slightly as the Angel lifted an arm. A cuff closed around one wrist, the other dangling.
A flash of longing to fasten that dangling cuff to his headboard was violently squashed, making Dean snap at the puppy-dog eyes. "Why the hell would you put that on, Cas? Let me guess... you can't get it off."
Cas lowered his hand to his lap, out of sight under the table. "Correct."
"Ugh.." the brothers groused.
"Cas, what the hell?" Sam snapped.
Dean turned on his moose of a brother. "Easy, Sammy," he snapped. Cas was his to growl at. Not Sam's. "Get us some beers, would ya?"
Sam gave Dean a withering look. "Sure."
Sam stalked out of the room and Cas leaned forward, toward Dean. "Sam seems rather grouchy."
Dean locked a look with the blue pools. Cas was easily scolded and Dean was only okay when he did it. And even then it made him angry at himself. "Sam... Well, he and and I had an argument on the way home. Nothing new."
Cas nodded, looking apologetic.
"Let me see it," Dean said tersely, waving his hand for Cas to bring out his handcuffed wrist.
Cas did. "Be careful, Dean. It just sprung up and latched around me."
"Huh," Dean said, turning the cuff gingerly to see the symbols. "Iron," Dean noted. Dean lifted the cuff, angling it to see the tiny trail of symbols better. His thumb rested on the inside of Castiel's wrist. Cas closed his eyes, a pulse surging through him. Dean looked up. "Cas? You okay?"
The other cuff jumped like a piranha, clamping soundly around Dean's wrist.
"What the!" Dean jumped, pulling Cas.
"Shit!" the cuffed pair said.
"Damn it, Cas!" Dean snapped.
"I said to be careful!" Cas growled, looking up at him through his lashes.
"What the hell?" Sam said, sitting beers on the table, looking at the pair incredulously.
"Oh," Dean flopped back into his seat. "This is fan-fucking-tactic!" he roared.
Sam looked at Cas, who looked annoyed. Sam stepped back, a small snort of laughter escaping him.
"You think this is funny, bitch?" Dean snapped.
"Um," Sam laughed nodding.
"Fuck you, Sam."
Dean turned a surprised look at Cas and Sam's laughter halted. "This isn't funny," Cas continued.
Sam roared with laughter, doubling over. "Are you kidding?" Sam gasped, "this is fucking priceless!"
"You jackass," Dean huffed.
"I was not kidding," Cas said with stone like seriousness.
"I got that, Cas," Dean snipped. He tugged at the chain, testing the links gently.
"Stop that," Cas said, brow furrowing.
Dean quirked his mouth in annoyance, glaring at Cas.
"What the hell even possessed you to open this box?" Dean said. "We didn't have enough shit to do today?"
"I was not possessed. I was curious," Cas defended.
Dean raised his hands to run them through his own hair in frustration, snagging the cuffed hand and glared again. "This fucking sucks."
Sam, who was barely containing his mirth, snagged a beer from the table. "I got no idea what to tell ya. And I am drag-ass tired. So. Night." He turned and headed toward the hallway.
"Sam!" Dean called with warning.
"Night!" Sam laughed.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean snarled.
Cas opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, opting for silence.
Dean's glare was fierce with annoyance.
"Sorry," Cas mumbled.
They locked glares. They had been in this place many times before. Cas did something. Cas was sorry. Dean was angry. Dean was unrelenting. This was when one of them usually left. Space was good for them. They both realized neither of them was going anywhere without the other. Dean's lip twitched in a silent snarl and Castiel's eyes bore unblinking daggers.
Dean recognized that he had met his limit berating the Angel. He closed his eyes, head dropping. He took a breath and let it out slowly. He looked back up at the steel blue eyes, watching them soften.
Their hands lay clenched, seven links apart. Dean looked at their hands, unclenching his fist and flexing his fingers. Cas followed suit, relaxing his shoulders.
Dean looked up at him suddenly, an idea in his hazel eyes. "Cas, can you zap outta here? At least we won't both be stuck."
Cas hesitated. "I can try, but..."
"I know it will drain your mojo," Dean pressed, "but it might work! Just zap yourself to the other side of the room."
Cas nodded, taking a steadying breath. He closed his eyes in concentration and Dean felt a general sense of disorientation.
They disappeared, reappearing at the kitchen doorway. Dean stumbled back with a lurch, Cas steadying him, pulling him into his arms.
"Damn it!" Dean yelled getting his feet under him. Not the result they had expected.
Castiel's hands released Dean's shoulders, sliding down and Dean realized almost too late that Cas was collapsing.
"Whoa whoa there buddy!" he said gentler, holding the slighter man's frame upright.
"It didn't work," Cas mumbled, eyes unfocussing.
"Come on, soldier, on your feet," Dean coaxed. Cas attempted, knees buckling.
"Aw, come on," Dean barked at the universe. His life at moments like this seemed an unending domino effect of doom.
Dean hoisted Cas the three steps back to a chair. Shackles unaffected and keeping his right hand linked to Castiel's left. He plopped Cas into a chair. He knelt in front of him as Cas teetered precariously.
"Cas! Take a breath buddy! Cas!"
The blue eyes fluttered open, rolling slightly. He broke out into a sweat and looked like he might be sick.
"Sorry," he spluttered.
"No, man, I'm sorry," Dean said, holding Castiel's cheek to keep his head steady. "It didn't work and it wiped you out."
Cas gulped a few breaths, blinking. He leaned into Dean's hand, seeming to draw strength from it.
Dean knelt, waiting for Cas to pull himself together. Castiel's hand dangled from where Dean's held Castiel's cheek. His fingers flexed and floundered, grasping Dean's wrist. "I'm okay," Cas grumbled low, making Dean's heart pick up a beat. He waited until he saw two steady blue eyes lock onto his. He grinned weakly.
"Atta boy," Dean whispered, relaxing and lowering his hand, Cas releasing his wrist. Both their hands settled awkwardly onto Castiel's knee, fingers overlapping due to the cuffs.
"Now what?" Cas asked with only a slight wobble.
Dean looked at him blankly, mouth slightly ajar. His hand was hot as a fireball on top of Castiel's. A flush spread up his cheeks and he could not get away. He was exhausted. Cas was exhausted. Sam was in bed. Dean glanced around grasping for inspiration and found none.
"Well," he said finally, "I guess we sleep on it."
"On what?" Cas asked, blinking slowly.
Dean snickered. "Good question."
Dean stood, coaxing Cas to his feet.
"We gotta sleep," Dean said surrendering to their situation. Since Castiel had been cursed by Roweena, his powers were dodgy. Flying and healing wiped him out. That's why he had been laying low at the bunker lately. Dean could not have been happier. He had hoped Cas would decide to stay. But chained together was too tight for anyone.
Dean walked slowly, making sure Cas stayed on his feet. They went down the hall to Dean's room. He hesitated in the doorway. "I don't know what else to do," he said, shrugging a shoulder, "so I guess you are bunking with me."
A slight smile ghosted Castiel's lips and Dean blanched. "Man!" Dean snipped, shaking his head, "Don't smile about it! And don't tell anyone. Ever!"
"Okay, Dean," Cas relented, following Dean into the dark room. Dean closed the door and could hear Cas let out a slow breath.
'Cas is in my bedroom! We are seriously getting in bed together! I'm gonna have a fuckin heart attack if I don't relax! Get it together Winchester!' Dean reeled in his own head.
Dean kicked his shoes off and unbuttoned his shirt. Realizing it could not come off his arm, he gritted his teeth and tore the sleeve apart til he had escaped the flannel. Dean used two hands to unbutton his fly, Castiel doing his best to not touch denim and then the denim was gone. Boxer briefs and t-shirt were all that remained.
Dean glanced at Cas. "Do what you gotta do, man."
Cas, grasping the cue, undid his jeans, shuffling out of them. His t-shirt would have to stay. He looked at Dean with an innocent expression.
They climbed into the bed without a word, laying side by side. After a few initial adjustments, they relaxed. Dean's hand rested against Castiel's. It felt like the only body part he had. That warm hand resting against his. With a mind of its own, his hand shifted, rubbing Castiel's softly. Dean glanced briefly, seeing Castiel lying there, eyes open.
"Good night, Dean," Cas said softly.
"So help me God, Cas, if you are smiling..." Dean threatened and winced when his voice gave out.
"I'm...not," Cas assured with no conviction at all.
Dean thought his own head might blow off from pressure. 'Don't think about his hand! Or him! God! I have never felt so gay in my whole life! Just sleep. Falling asleep now.'
Castiel's hand moved slightly, brushing the back of Dean's. Dean squeezed his eyes closed as his penis gave a jerk. 'You know you are way overdue to get laid, Winchester, when any human contact gives you a hard on.' Knowing he had just thought of Cas as a human brought to mind the flashing, storming entrance Cas had made the first time they met. He drug his left hand down his face, clearing his mind. 'Sleep Dean. Sleep.'