WEDNESDAY, APRIL 23RD. 9:53 PM
Their conversation kept running through his mind, over and over again.
"This is getting kind of ridiculous, to be honest." Cas snapped, throwing his clothing into his suitcase with more force than necessary.
"It's paying for our apartment. I'll be back in two days. You won't even realize I'm gone." Dean replied, his back turned to Castiel as he packed up their necessities.
"'Oh, of course I won't, because I've been fucking another man behind your back the whole time. His name's Michael, you've probably heard about him.'" Cas mocked, whipping around to stare at Dean's back. Dean turned to glare at Cas, a remark on his tongue about who he could go fuck if he really wanted, but it died with the look in Cas' eyes.
"I'm sorry. I'll miss you every second, you know that."
"Yeah." Cas sighed. "Me too."
The ride to the airport was silent.
The flight attendant stood at the front of the plane, watching Dean, Charlie, Ash, Jo, and Andy place their respective bags in the overhead compartment of VM's private jet.
"If you would all take your seats, we will prepare for takeoff." She announced, walking past them to the back of the plane where the food and drinks were stored. There were a total of twenty seats on the plane, and Dean sat at the very end of the row by himself, looking out the window. Charlie and Ash sat together in the front, Jo and Andy in the middle, and Victor a row ahead of Dean, deciding to catch up on his sleep.
After the plane took off, Dean found himself looking over the notes Bobby emailed to him about their target. With the recent information they had acquired, they had finally found a window of opportunity to take him out. The local drug lord they had been after was responsible for seventy percent of the cocaine import into the east coast. Bobby had been looking for this guy since 09'.
The initial car ride to the airport with Cas had been one Dean wished he could just erase from time. Castiel insisted over and over that he was okay, that they had done this plenty of times. But Dean knew him better than anyone, and this time was no different from all the others. It still hurt him to watch Dean leave again, and it hurt Dean even more knowing that what he was doing made it possible that he may not come back.
Near the head of the plane, Ash and Charlie looked through a hard drive containing the recent emails of the drug lord only known as "The Sheppard" while Jo and Andy went over tactics in the nearby window seats. Dean was trying to focus on The Sheppard's patterns and contacts, but his mind kept going back to Cas. He rubbed his temples in frustration, the notes Bobby sent him blurring as his anxiety returned. The last thing he wants is to screw up because he couldn't get his husband off his mind.
'Cas is fine.' He thought to himself. 'I'll fine. I'll make it up to him when I get home. We'll be fine.' He tried to will his self into believing, only to shut his laptop with a huff, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Jo looked over, noticing his distress, and held up a hand to Andy, signaling that she'd be right back. She got up and walked over, sitting in the seat next to him.
"Hey, you alright? Jo asks, brushing off of Dean's dress shirt.
"Yeah, yeah. Peachy." Dean replied, flashing her with a quick smile. He reopened the laptop with a sigh, absently scrolling through the rest of his notes to distract himself.
Jo leaned in, whispering, "I know you hate having leaving him. And I'm sorry that you have––"
"Jo, it's fine. If I say I'm fine then I'm fine, alright?" He cut her off. She shrugged and returned to her seat next to Andy, who began to complain about missing the game on tonight. Dean knew Jo has tough skin, but he knew she didn't deserve him snapping at her when she hadn't done anything to him. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to be a little more rational by the time they made it to DC.
THURSDAY, APRIL 24TH. 6:01 AM
Castiel awoke at 6 AM to a blaring alarm clock. He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling before rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Dean's side of the bed was cold. The alarm was still going off and in a matter of seconds he was sitting up, ripping it from the nightstand and hurling it at the wall.
He knew Dean was going to bitch about the clock, but his pent up anger from the night before would have to come out someway and the alarm clock happened to be in the wrong place and pissing him off at the wrong time.
His anger really wasn't so much with the clock's buzzing but with the absence of Dean, who should've been back in Canada with him and not off god knows where on some fucking business trip. He understood the circumstances of Dean's work well enough, but of all the damned times to call him in, it had to be during their anniversary? Where he'd been promised they'd be able to relax? The week they intended to spend together was one he had been looking forward to for a while, and with their work schedules, it's not like they got to spend a whole lot of time together just being... together.
After calming down some, Cas rose from the bed, stepping around the smashed clock.
"This shit just won't quit." He muttered, kicking it to the side and walking into the bathroom.
He brushed his teeth and dressed into a pair of gym shorts, a t-shirt, and running shoes before heading out the door. He made his way to the apartment complex's gym and occupied a treadmill. The place was empty and Cas sighed in relief, his lingering anger starting to dissipate. Appreciating the solitude, he started up the machine, walking at a slow pace, and then cranking it up to two mph and transitioned into a sprint. After half an hour of running, he shut off the treadmill and made his way over to the dumbbell rack. Sweat trickled down his neck and pooled at in the small of his back, and he felt the calm that working out gives him after he's had a bad day. He started lifting a twenty pound dumbbell, curling both his arms.
He headed back to his apartment when he was done and made himself a bowl of plain oatmeal, not caring enough to add any sugar or anything to make it slightly more appetizing. He started his coffee and headed into the shower, making sure it was the right temperature. The water pressure was well appreciated to his sore body, pounding against him and soothing his tired muscles. He grabbed the bar of soap from the rack hanging from the showerhead. It reminded him of Dean's smell, the scent of fresh laundry and Old Spice and something musky. He rinsed off and stepped out, drying himself with a towel.
Castiel's mornings usually didn't start this way. On the good days, Dean was the first to wake up and start a batch of coffee, knowing how grumpy Cas is when he hasn't had his caffeine. On the bad days, Dean is away on some fucking business trip and Cas has to get up and do it himself. He feels like a drama queen, but really, he just misses waking up to soft kisses and green eyes and a fresh cup of coffee waiting for him.
He headed into the kitchen, grabbing a mug from a cabinet above the stove. The brew was done, and he poured himself a cup. He preferred his coffee black, and Dean usually had enough sugar in his for the both of them. He blew on it and took a sip, the hot liquid warming him up.
He stood there and finished most of it before heading back into their room with their absurd walk-in closet that Dean had insisted they'd needed. Cas assumed Crowley somehow already knew that he was back in town, he always did. After pulling on regular jeans, a white tee, and a black fitted leather jacket, he grabbed his keys and phone; locked up the apartment, and made his way downstairs to head to the community center, a trek he hadn't thought he'd be making this early in the week.
THURSDAY, APRIL 24TH. 9:09 AM
Dean and the team piled into their second sleazebag motel of the day, right outside of the intercity area of Washington, DC. This was to be their 'base camp' during the entire operation. The lampshades on had holes and various stains that Dean didn't want to think about, and the bedspeads smelled like weed and sour clothes, but right now they had to worry about catching a drug trafficker before catching whatever was probably in this room.
"Ugh, the couch smells like dirty socks." Charlie complained, dropping her bags down and pulling out a fold-up table.
"You'd think for such a high-profile organization they'd at least be able to afford a better room." Victor agreed. Dean just put his bags down on the first bed, staying silent.
"It's for secrecy, idiots. I thought you knew that. You wanna get tracked to some fancy hotel and arrested by the FBI, fine." Jo replied, placing her bags on the ground next to Dean's.
Ash and Charlie both set up their computers on the tables they put together near the dirt stained window, midmorning sunlight pouring through and causing a glare on their screens. Andy and Jo pulled out their guns and rifles, checking ammo and sights. Their routine was almost foreign to Dean, seeing as he was always assigned to tech when he got put on a mission, and now he was supposed to check the guns and the weapons and go through the back up plans and damnit, he wasn't used to this anymore and it pissed him off. He used to be the best, the one everyone went to when they needed a kill carried out, the youngest assassin to reach the highest position they had.
His stomach churned with nerves and misdirected anger, and he said something about getting some air before the door was closing behind him and he was walking, hands in his pockets, passing unfamiliar buildings before stopping at some empty-lot-turned-park and finding a bench to sit down on, head in his hands.
What the hell was his problem? He had never reacted to a mission like this before, not even after his first kill. It wasn't Cas, not exactly, but the thought of getting hurt again frightened him like nothing else. The memory of the explosion, his one failed assassination, was still as fresh in his mind as if it had happened a day ago.
Dean tried to hit him behind his neck but missed, hitting the guy's vest instead. It was a stupid mistake, and he managed to sock the guy in the jaw but another grabbed him from him behind, and Dean could see Jo fighting off another in the distance. He saw the glint of a knife and kicked the guy holding him in the knee, hearing a satisfying crack. He stumbled back but a sharp pain still erupted in his side, making him fall to his knees. His hands immediately went to the wound, pulling out the knife with a shout, blood dripping onto the dusty ground. Dean heard a grunt and the sound of something metal bouncing, then footsteps fading. There was a high pitched beeping behind him, which only meant one thing.
"Dean!" Jo shouted. The blood poured over his fingers.
"DEAN!"
He felt sick to his stomach and took deep breaths, digging his palms into his eyes until lights bursted in his vision. What was wrong with him? He'd done this a thousand times. He tells himself to man up and snap out of this, that everything was gonna be fine because he had one of the best teams in the entire damn company. But what if he fucked up? Dean had thought that he'd never touch a rifle again, had started to believe that an early retirement was good for him. Hell, Bobby made it clear enough that he didn't want and wasn't going to put him at risk like that ever again.
The sound of a loud whistle pulled Dean out of his inner turmoil and he looked up to see Ash striding towards him. Crap. He was the leader of their team; the last thing he wanted was everyone thinking that he was panicking and getting cold feet. Ash sat down next to him, wearing his jean jacket, breath puffing into smoke in the air. Dean stretched back, letting both arms drape across the back of the bench.
"Aye man, you look a little stressed. Jo was worried 'bout you. So. What's up?"
Dean rolls his eyes and looks over to the side, studying the fence and the numerous colors of spray paint adorning it.
"You're lookin' pretty pale man. You sure you're alright?" Ash asks.
Dean took a deep breath and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. He scrubbed over his face with his hands, then let them drop. "I'll be fine. It's just … Look, I'm not here to talk about my feelings. I'm here to do my fucking job. That's all." Dean grunts in frustration.
Ash snorts but doesn't say another word, just sits there in infuriating silence that seemed to stretch on forever. And ever.
And ever.
Dean huffed. "It's - It's just, I'm worried." He states, waving a hand. "That I'm going to fuck this up … And someone'll get hurt."
"Ah, the infamous failed mission that put Dean Winchester out of commission. Yeah, I remember that. But you gotta kick that thing in the ass, man. It happened, and now it's over. You're still one of the best snipers in the company. I know for a fact, that you've been doin' target practice every other week since your accident."
Dean sighed quietly, fiddling with his fingers. Ash was telling the truth, but the nerves in his stomach were still rolling around, whispering what ifs'.
Ash leaned back, copying the pose Dean had earlier. He ran a hand through the front of his hair, obviously searching for the right words.
"You're a bitchin' shooter and one hell of a killer, Dean. Tell you what, when everything goes fine, like it will, you and I will hit up some bar and get ourselves some babes to celebrate." He nodded and looked over at Dean, who was picking at his fingernails.
"Thanks, but I'm not really interested."
There was a moment of silence. "So dudes then?"
Dean looked up in surprise, but Ash just waved a hand.
"It's cool man, I know how to appreciate one fine ass when I see one. We'll get you a guy, then."
Dean gave a small smile. "I appreciate them the same, but I'm really just not interested."
Ash lifted up his hands, and then let them drop. "Fine, your choice, but I'm tellin' you, this whole thing is gonna go fine. You'll be alright."
"Yeah." Dean looked across the street. It was gray and cloudy, and there was still a light fog hanging over the city. Their breath came out in puffs of smoke, and he could hear Ash pretending to be a dragon next to him.
He turned to Ash. "Thanks, man."
He shook his head. "No problem, compadré." He stood up and stretched, turning to Dean, obviously waiting for him to get up. "Now let's go, I feel like my balls are gonna shrivel up and fall off."
Dean smiled and they made their way back to the motel, but all he could think about was home and Castiel.
THURSDAY, APRIL 24TH. 9:26 AM
The second floor of the community center held most of Castiel's co-workers, some he could actually bear to be around, some he wouldn't last five minutes with in a locked room. Cas mada his way up via the elevator in the basement. The basement and the second floor were both cut off from the public, both an employees-only type thing.
The floor was a gray-blue linoleum and the wood is the horrible tan oak that you would usually only see in the Sims. There was a few people walking around, and there was a handful of them that only worked at the community center, with knowledge of The Garrison. Cas passed doorway after doorway before turning, and the linoleum turned dark brown. Crowley was a drama queen. Cas knew he would be angry that Cas was back early. Cas was too.
A few of the lights had blown out, making the narrow hallway more sinister than it was. Deciding not to go in just yet, he spun on his heel and make his way back down to the gym.
But when he reached it, he saw Anna and Alfie at the dumbbell rack. Seeing as they were two out of the five people in the gym, his presence caught Alfie's attention, and he quickly set down a 10-pound dumbbell and jogged over to the doorway where Cas was standing.
"Castiel!" He exclaimed, grinning. "You're back!"
Cas gave him a small smile. "Yes. How are you, Alfie?" Anna stared at him in wary confusion. No one had been expecting him.
"I'm alright, I was just working out before we went over procedures. I had no idea you'd be back so early. But now that you are …?" He started to ask. Castiel was still Samandriel's mentor, and that meant he was responsible for him. The kid was just barely over 18.
"Uh, yes. I just have to talk with Crowley first, and that might take a while. Do what you have planned with Gabriel today, we'll start up again tomorrow. Is that okay?" Castiel explained, looking the kid up and down. He was already as tall as Cas, and he still had at least an inch left in him. He was quickly becoming the tallest assassin they had, and that wasn't always good. If Cas was a good person, he would have told Alfie to run, to take up some other job, anything else but this, anywhere else but here, a long time ago. But he didn't. And now he was his responsibility.
Samandriel nodded and smiled, turning back to the dumbbell rack. Anna was still staring at him, her arms crossed.
"Where is Gabriel, anyways?" He called out to her, not really wanting to step into the gym. She might hold him there and question him.
"Showers." She called back, and he nodded at her before turning back, not wanting to put off the confrontation with Crowley any longer. If he heard that Cas was back from someone else, it would be worse.
He uses the stairs this time, and the dark door at the end of the narrow hall with broken lights makes the whole thing seem slightly eerie. But then again, Crowley loved his theatrics. He raps against the door and waited a moment.
"What? What is it?" A gruff voice barked.
"It's Castiel." Cas replies, nerves twisting up his stomach. Crowley was an impatient man, one who didn't like to be interrupted in whatever he was doing at the time. Especially by an employee that was supposed to be on leave.
"Castiel –– what the hell –– open the bloody door!" He shouted.
Cas did as he said and closed the door behind him. Crowley was sitting at an L shaped hardwood desk with stacks of folders, two laptops, multiple phones, and a bottle of brandy on it.
"Care to explain why you're standing in my office, Novak?" Crowley snapped. He sat back in his chair, sipping his brandy like he did whenever he was annoyed about something.
"I was able to come home early and I thought––" Cas was cut off mid-sentence when Crowley raised the hand holding his glass.
"Do you know what hell I had to go through to get your assignments handed off to someone who was qualified enough to do them? And when I finally do, you waltz your arse into my office. What kind of shit is that, Novak?"
"I apologize, sir, but I am able to do any tasks you set me to." Castiel replied. Cas knew that trying to argue with Crowley was a hopeless cause. He just wanted whatever shitty assignment Crowley would give him so that he could get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.
He sifted through the pile of folders on his desk, flipping through them until he stopped at one he seemed content with. He motioned him forward, and handed Cas the folder.
"Here. I gave it to Michael, but seeing as he hasn't seen me yet, it is now yours. It was originally yours anyways. I want this done by closing, Castiel. Am I clear?"
Castiel nodded and took the folder. He scanned through it and assured Crowley that it would be done before pushing past the door and back into the main hall.
He was looking over a couple documents when he crashed into another body, the papers spilling out all over the floor.
He looks up to see Michael scowling at him, annoyance mixed with amusement.
"So they were right, Cassie's back. I guess the family didn't need you after all huh? They never did before." Michael smirks. Cas just rolls his eyes, not having time to put up with Michael's bullshit.
"Don't you have something better to do?" Cas spat, squatting to pick up the papers. He managed to gather most of them, but Michael snatched up the last few before Cas could reach over.
His expression of amusement was quickly replaced with a scowl.
"This is my assignment." He blurted, glaring at Castiel. Before Cas could explain, Michael had shoved him out of the way and was stomping towards Crowley's office. Everyone could hear the obnoxiously loud pounding on the door and Castiel sighed, following him.
He rounded the corner in time to hear Crowley yelling about interruptions and people with no manners and why was he even paying you. The door was open and Cas walked in cautiously.
"This is my assignment. You said it was my assignment. Why does Castiel have it? He doesn't need it!––" Michael was shouting.
Crowley held up a hand and Michael's words cut off. "You want that bloody assignment so much? Fine. Pair up with Novak and get it done. Now get the hell out of my office!"
Michael stood for a second, fuming, then turned and shoved the paper at Cas.
"Let's go."
THURSDAY, APRIL 24TH. 1:34 PM
"Dean, you got the target in your sights?" Victor's voice crackled through the ear piece.
"Just about. He's got one of his meatsacks covering his back. Once they move enough to the left me and Jo'll take 'em out." He replied.
He and his team had made their way around the DC area to finally pin a location on The Sheppard at a local warehouse he used to hold his deals and house his products. Once Charlie and Ash hacked into the security cams surrounding any nearby buildings, it had been up to Jo and Dean to get up on the roof to make sure the plan was followed through with ease. Dean was laying on his stomach up against the edge, out of sight from anyone who might look up. His rifle was leaning just over the edge, giving him a clear view below. Jo was a few feet away with her own rifle, ready to fire when given the signal.
Dean and Garth were two of the top snipers in the whole company, but Jo had made it her personal goal to try and gain recognition as well. Everyone knew that Dean Winchester was a freaking surgeon with a sniper rifle, so of course he was the one to be called to replace Garth when he was stuck at home puking out his internal organs.
Dean peered through his sights, watching his target shuffle around until he was in prime position.
"We're ready." Dean relayed.
"Great. All teams - target locked. Fire at Winchester's command."
Dean focused, finger on the trigger as he turned on his laser. The Sheppard's bodyguard was looking to the right, watching some guys check bags of coke, and missed the bright red dot appearing on his bosses' bald head. He sucked in a breath.
"Now."
Five shots rang out simultaneously, and the drug lord and his four guards dropped to the ground, brains splattering all over the three men handling the products. Two more shots were heard, and then a third, and by the time his ears had stopped ringing, blood was cooling around the bodies of their targets.
"They got served up cold." Dean chuckled, and Jo punched him in the arm, pulling her equipment up an packing it away quickly.
"Perfect job, now pack up and get out of there. And throw on your secondaries, because having you both in uniform looks suspicious."
"Gotcha, Victor." Jo replied, turning off the bluetooth and throwing it in her pocket. The VM uniform during hits was an olive green long sleeved shirt with boots and cargo pants, with a black down jacket when it was cold. It was unisex and the girls complained about it, but in Dean's opinion, it didn't look half bad on anyone. Secondaries were optional jackets or shirts to hide the uniform.
Jo and Dean both shucked off their jacket and shivered.
"Fuck, it's cold." She remarked, rubbing her arms before pulling out her coat. It was a gray hoodie that she'd borrowed from Andy. Dean copied her, removing his bluetooth and packing away his rifle before switching jackets. They threw their bags over their shoulders and crouched, making their way to the exit before standing up and jogging down the stairs.
THURSDAY, APRIL 24TH. 4:43 PM.
Michael was still fuming.
Before they had left, Cas had bumped into Gabriel in the hall. Alfie was following him around like a confused puppy, and the moment Gabe saw Cas, he was shoving Alfie at him, saying something about how he was done being a goddamned babysitter and rushed away. He didn't have anywhere to drop him, so he had to explain to Michael that they were taking the rookie with them, and he was forced to deal with more of his pissy attitude.
Alfie hadn't said a single thing after loading the car and for that Cas was greatful. Michael had made it apparent the whole ride to the location that he didn't want to be there.
They pulled up next to a couple abandoned buildings in the very back of the downtown area.
"We finally here, Cassie?" Michael asks, and Cas looks up from the papers he was checking.
"Stop calling me that."
"Why? You let Balthazar do it."
Cas glared at him. Michael had one of his trademark smirks on, and lifted his head like he knew he'd caught Cas off guard.
"Y'know, I called Balthy after you left. He said he hadn't heard from you––"
"Stop. Talking." Cas growled, aiming a look at Alfie in the backseat. Michael glanced back and seemed to understand, but the smirk remained. He knew he'd gotten under Cas' skin.
He climbed out of the car and opened up the trunk, no doubt to go and grab the pistol. Cas unzipped his jacket and checked that his knife was still there. He knew Michael wanted him to shoot the guy, but the sound of a gun would attract too much attention. The files were still in his lap, and a hand grabbed them and threw them into the backseat, hitting Alfie. Cas looked up to see Michael throwing down the case, opening it up and loading the gun. He handed it to Cas, ignoring his growl of irritation.
"Look, I saw some kids walk into that alley over there," He pointed to an opening a couple blocks up. "Get up in that building next to it, and shoot him through one of the windows. You know the code."
Cas grabbed the gun from him and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. "Sure thing, Mike." He spat, climbing out of the car. He shut the door quietly and started walking, trying to look as normal as possible.
He approached the alleyway slowly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He brushed past two kids on his way in and spied his target a few feet in front of him. He kept his head low, and stopped in front of the guy. He had dirty blonde hair and was as tall as Cas, with a bit of stubble and a skeevy smile.
"You Davey?" Cas asks, head still ducked.
"That I am." He leans against the alley wall. "Whatcha' want with me?"
"I was told I could pick some shit up from you."
Davey nods and regards Cas with interest. "Whatcha' want? I got molly, X, kush, and some ice, if you're interested."
"You got it on you?" Cas asks. If the cops find his body with the drugs in his clothes, there won't be an investigation. It would make everything easier for him.
Davey tips his head back. "I got forty grams of molly on me, around thirty pills of x. You lookin' to make a big purchase?"
Cas looks to the alley opening, making sure no one was coming. Keeping his head down, he reaches into his jacket for his knife, then swiftly kicks the man in the groin, making him fall to the ground. He barely has time to gasp before Cas wraps a hand around his neck, pressing his thumb into the man's adam apple. He presses the guy up against the wall and pulls out his knife, and in one swift movement, slices his throat open.
Cas steps back and looks down at his shirt, groaning at the amount of blood on it. Davey was still gargling on the ground and Castiel looked around, sure that there was no one coming. He turned back to Davey's body, wiping his blade knife off on his shirt before tucking it back in his jacket and zipping it up.
A hand grabbed his shoulder and slammed up against the wall, Michael's face three inches from his. "Why can't you take simple orders, Castiel?" He hissed. Cas tried to elbow him but Michael grabbed his arm and twisted it, turning him around and shoving his face into the bricks. "Why the fuck can't you take orders?" He pulled him back and smashed him into the wall again, and Castiel grunted.
"If I say shoot the fucker, then you shoot him. You don't go fucking slitting people's throats. I told you to shoot him. Why didn't you do that, huh?" He spun Cas around and threw him to the ground.
"Because I didn't want the goddamned cops on our asses, Michael!" Cas shouted, jumping up and punching him in the jaw. He stumbled and spat out blood, leveling a death glare at Castiel, but Cas pulled out his gun, aiming at Michael's heart. He stepped closer, keeping the gun up.
"Leave." He growled.
"You wouldn't dare." Michael hissed, but stepped back when Cas switched off the safety with a click.
"I said, leave. Without the car."
Michael gave one last glance at the gun and then walked back, storming out of the alley. Cas sighed and then grunted, feeling the bruises forming on his chest as the adrenaline wore off.
He stomped back to the car, tucking the gun back into his pants. Alfie jumped out of his seat and rushed towards Castiel, concern evident on his face.
"Cas! Michael and I saw you walk into the alley and then when you didn't come out and he didn't hear a gun, he went after you because he thought you'd been compromised and then I saw him run off and –– you're bleeding!" The words rushed out of his mouth and Cas sighed, feeling a headache forming.
"Here, I'll go get the first aide ––"
Cas stops him with a hand on his arm. "What?"
"I - you're bleeding."
Cas frowned and looked at his reflection in the car window. There was a scrape just above his eyebrow, a small one, but it was bleeding enough to worry someone. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a new message.
Dean: I'll be home in two hours. See you soon x
Cas cursed loudly.
"What ––"
"Get in the car." He growled.
THURSDAY, APRIL 24TH. 7:23 PM
Dean had landed back in New York around five, but procedure and hunger had kept him at VM longer than he'd planned. The ride he'd gotten had dropped him off in front of his apartment, and he'd taken the elevator to the top floor, the 23rd, and fiddled with his keys to the apartment. He unlocked the door and stepped in, seeing the light on in their bedroom. Cas was lying down across the bed, asleep, without a shirt on, the way he liked. Dean smiled to himself. He was only gone for a day and a half but somehow he still managed to miss Cas like he had been gone a month, so seeing him made his heart flutter all over the place. He caught sight of the new bruises spread out over Cas' chest, and his eyes widened.
He dropped his bag with a thump and Cas jerked awake, rubbing at his eyes and staring at Dean.
"Dean?" Cas questions, voice scratchy from sleep. He sat up quickly, eyes flying open. "You're home."
"I am." Dean chuckled, leaning in for a kiss. He pulled back and saw the scratch over Cas' eye. "What happened to you?"
Castiel looked down at the bruises that formed on his chest and looked back up at Dean. "I was - volunteering at the animal shelter. One of the dogs tripped me while I was carrying a crate." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."
Dean exhaled. Cas always came home with injuries after volunteering at the animal shelter. He undid his tie and shucked off his suit coat, undressing until he was in only his boxers.
He turned around to see Cas staring at him, his pupils blown.
"It's a pity you hurt yourself. I was looking forward to some really awesome welcome back sex." Dean teased. He walked over and switched off the light, noting the new alarm clock with a pang. He hated how his work caused Cas to hurt, but there wasn't really much he could do.
He climbed into bed and laid down next to Cas, wrapping his arms around his waist. But Cas was having none of it, and started rhythmically rolling his hips onto Dean's groin, making him groan and bite at Cas' shoulder.
"You're hurt, we're not doing that. You can fuck me when you heal."
Cas flipped over. "How about you ride me tonight. It won't hurt me, I promise." He whispered. His voice was a few octaves lower and it sent shivers down Dean's spine.
"We shouldn't––" Dean gasped, and Cas leaned down, sucking a hickey into the scarring on his collarbone where everything was extra sensitive. He sat up and straddled Dean's hips, continuing his grinding.
Dean gripped his hips, groaning. Logic was being blown out the window, replaced with lust. Cas kept on peppering Dean with kisses and hickeys, making him gasp. He kissed his lips, his nose, his chin, and Dean tilted his head back to let him suck a hickey onto his Adam's apple.
"Missed you." Cas breathed through another hard kiss. They touch foreheads, and Cas strains to see the green irises he's so used to looking at every day. Dean drags his fingernails across the small of Cas' back, making him moan.
"Love you." Dean whispers, licking his way into Cas' mouth. Their tongues battle, and Cas runs his across the roof of Dean's mouth, making him shudder. Cas leans back, panting.
"Love you too." He ran his hands over Dean's chest, over every bump and scar. "Can I sit on your face?"
Dean grinned. "Yes." He tugged on the elastic of Cas' underwear and it came off, and then he was scrambling up, hovering over Dean's face. Dean licked his lips and Cas shivered, bursts of want traveling up and down his spine.
"Please, Dean." He whined, and Dean started kneading his ass, pulling it open and then fuck - licking around the rim. Cas let out a soft moan and then that tongue dipped inside of him and he grabbed onto the headboard, groaning loudly.
Dean's tongue delved in and out, making Cas cry out. He reached down and fisted his dick, pleasure sparking and pulsing throughout him. He fucked himself back down, starting up a rhythm that made them both moan, the vibrations causing Cas to shudder. He pulled off, reaching over for their lube that they stored in the drawer. He threw it next to Dean's head and kissed him with an open mouth, tasting himself on his lover's tongue.
"Need you." Dean pants, licking and biting at Castiel's jaw. "Need you so bad Cas, fuck." Castiel hummed and clicked open the lube, pouring some over his hands and slicking up Dean's dick. He poured out more and reached behind himself, making sure the other man was watching. He was already slightly slicked up from the tonguefucking, so he was able to stick two fingers in, gasping at the burn that quickly turned to pleasure. He scissored and added a third finger, dragging them in and out, searching for that sweet spot inside of him. He added one more and cried out, hitting his prostrate. He continued on until he thought he was ready, panting and covered in sweat.
Dean was flushed red and panting with him, gasping as Cas grabbed his dick and stroked him a few times, standing on knees and lining up the head with his entrance. He slowly lowered himself down, until Dean was fully sheathed. Cas could barely feel the bruises anymore, everything replaced by pleasure. Dean's hands were resting on Cas' hips, rubbing circles into the skin.
He let himself adjust for a few seconds and then started moving, rising up and then falling back down with a grunt. Cas rarely bottomed, but when he did, he put his strength to good use. He continued rising and falling, the burn in his legs making everything better. He was nearing the edge, and Dean's hips bucked up with him. Cas adjusted his position, turning around so his back was facing Dean, and started moving again, moaning when he hit his prostrate again.
"Harder, need you to move." Cas breathed, and Dean obliged.
He sat up and shifted them so that Cas was sitting on his lap, still fucking into him, his movements getting jerkier as he came undone. They were both close, and the fingers in his hips were pressing bruises into the skin.
"Fuck, Dean––so close, I'm–" Cas cried out again as Dean hit that sweet spot and then he was coming, nails digging into Dean's legs. He jerked forward and reached behind him, holding on to Dean's neck as the other man continued to fuck him with no rhythm, coming moments after. They stayed in that position, catching their breath, until Dean pulled out and stood up on shaky legs, walking into the bathroom and wetting a towel for them.
Cas crawled into the middle of the bed, limbs still feeling like jello. Dean wiped him down and threw the towel into their hamper, climbing into bed with him and pulling up the blanket. Their limbs tangled and Castiel drifted off, hearing a soft "I missed you too." spoken against his neck before slipping into a dreamless sleep.
