A/N: Sorry for missing my scheduled update yesterday, but I wasn't home until 10 pm so I didn't get to upload anything.
Castiel wakes to sunlight tickling his nose. And that in itself is something noteworthy. After years of sleeping underground, in a dank room that is barely more than a prison cell, he finally wakes up to sunlight.
Not just sunlight though. He's also wrapped tightly around Dean and that is even better.
He's sore all over, especially his neck is throbbing with constant pain, but right now he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Dean is warm and breathing next to him. There's a frown on his sleeping face, but it smoothes out when Castiel rubs a thumb over the skin on his back.
They're in a small abandoned hut at the edge of the city. There are parts of the city that are desolate - abandoned. The war had taken its toll. A lot of the men left, harvests were left on the field and a famine had swept away one third of the population. The city hasn't yet recovered, leaving a lot of empty houses and streets. And while the poor had taken over a part, the city area in front of the city gates had been completely abandoned, rumors of ghosts and haunting keeping the general population away.
Thankfully, Castiel knows better. There are no ghosts, only stale air and clouds of dust
The bed is old, the mattress had been good quality once, but it's covered with holes and questionable stains. At least it's not straw. That would have rotted away a long time ago. They covered it with an old blanket Dean found somewhere in a dilapidated closet and while it's scratchy and smelly and most of all, dirty, it's the softest bed Castiel has ever been bedded in.
His memories of yesterday, from the point when they had left the Stadium, are a blur. He remembers directing Dean in the general direction, but has no recollection of how they got here. He remembers Dean pressing some flaky pastry in his hand, warm and dripping with sauce, but he doesn't know how he got it. And most vividly, he remembers the moment when they walked over the doorstep, Dean half carrying him, the taste of apple lingering sweet on his lips, and for a moment it feels like coming home.
Dean had prepared their bed - a nest really - and Castiel had tried to remember what he was supposed to do. Dean was badly hurt and Castiel was a doctor. There was a connection somewhere but it took Castiel way too long to figure it out.
In the end he had needed Dean's help to get them both fixed up. He had to guide him through the steps of properly dressing his neck wound, direct him to the right herbs in his satchel to make a wrap, which is now dried up and itchy, but not yet a bother to get him moving.
He moves closer to Dean, rests his head on his shoulder and just breathes. There's a bit of dried blood from the wound on his brow, but this time the opening is shallow and doesn't require stitches. Castiel wipes it away with his thumb. Dean smiles in his sleep - split lip and all - and Castiel knows that this is all he could ever need. Dean and only Dean.
Castiel must have fallen asleep again, because the next time he wakes up, Dean is watching him. His eyes are crinkles like he has been smiling and while his face is blotched with color, it's the most beautiful thing Castiel has ever seen.
"Hey Cas." He says softly. Sunlight is streaming in through the partly collapsed roof, and for the first time Castiel notices that Dean's face is splattered with freckles. He reaches up to touch them, watching with wonder as his finger seem to discover more and more of them. They're pale, barely visible, weren't it for the bright sunlight.
Dean moves his head to the side and catches his fingers with his mouth. Castiel sucks in his breath. There's something undeniably intimate about this. Dean isn't doing much, just suckling slightly, but it sends warmth spiraling through Castiel's body.
"Good morning Dean. Have you rested well?" Castiel asks softly and Dean smiles around his fingers. His answer is muffled but affirmative.
"I should check on our wounds." Castiel says, but makes no move to retrieve his fingers.
"You should." Dean has pushed his fingers partially out with his tongue to make his speech intelligible. But as soon as he's finished he sucks him back in. Only to push him out again. "I'm starting to think that is some kind of euphemism." Dean chuckles, his breath ghosting over Castiel's wet fingers. He had never considered his fingers sensitive - not in that way at least - but what Dean does to them has his skin tingle.
It's not even sexual, yet.
"I can live with that." Castiel allows and pushes his finger back into Dean's mouth. Deeper this time, more insistent - demanding. And Dean replies in kind. Had he thought before that finger sucking was a nice feeling, it now takes on a whole other level. Dean goes all out, wrapping his tongue around Castiel's index finger, licking right at the joint of his first two fingers, sucking them in as deep as possible. It doesn't take long for Castiel's breathing to grow erratic.
They're lying on their sides, facing each other, but suddenly that is no longer enough. Castiel tangles the fingers of his other hand with the short hair at the back of Dean's neck and pulls him in for a kiss. It's sloppy with his fingers still in between them, but neither of them minds.
Dean's hand comes to rest on the small of Castiel's back, thumb rubbing circles and Castiel's eyes fall shut as he lets himself sink into the feeling of Dean. At some point he pulls out his fingers, but that only leads to a deepening of the kiss.
It's languid and lazy, with just the right amount of urgency to it. There's no rush to it and both take their times. Dean drags his tongue over Castiel's lips and he opens willingly. No matter how often they kiss, it never ceases to be a thrill. Castiel tightens his grip on Dean's hair, using it to angle him to the side, to get better access and it pulls a sound from Dean's mouth that neither of them expected.
Castiel pulls again, sharper this time and Dean's mouth falls slack when another moan spills forth. He's breathing hard already, just from a kiss and a bit of hair pulling. "Cas." His voice sound's wrecked and he licks his lips, eyes flicking up and down the length of Castiel's face. There's something undeniably hungry in his eyes. He licks his lips again. Castiel yanks his head back almost violently.
Dean groans, his whole body aches with the motion. His eyes are screwed shut and he's panting. The pain must have been a bit too much; there are a few droplets of liquid on Dean's eyelids, but when Castiel loosens his grip Dean growls a warning. "Don't you dare let go."
He has to take a second to collect himself. The look on Dean's face is too much. The pain has faded and what's left is pure bliss. Dean's mouth hangs open, his face is covered by a thin layer of sweat and his breath still hasn't evened out.
"Cas." Dean is almost whining, and when Castiel doesn't react, he tries to get a pull of his own by moving his head. Castiel runs his hand through Dean's hair, following the movement without adding any force and Dean huffs out a disappointed sigh. "Come on Cas.
"Do you want it this badly?" Castiel can't help the smirk on his lips. He is not exactly the dominant type, at least he never pegged himself as one, but having Dean at his mercy like that, does things to him. Things he definitely wants to examine further.
He pulls Dean's head back, hands wound tightly around his too short strands, but it serves and Dean lets out a long drawn sigh that borders on a moan. Castiel leans in to kiss him, slow and gentle - opposed to the sharp tugging he keeps up in his hair. And Dean melts against him, hands scrambling to a purchase on Castiel's shoulders.
Usually it's Dean who initiates the next steps, but this time it's Castiel who lets his hands wander lower and lower even, until he can hook it under the hem of Dean's pants. He's careful though. Dean may react positive to rough hair pulling, but the rest of his body is sore and littered with cuts and bruises.
Castiel pushes Dean down gently. He relinquishes his hold of Dean's hair in favor of straddling him. Dean is panting and looking up at him with shining eyes. They lose another moment in a kiss and when Castiel breaks away he's flooded with warmth. They're surrounded by light, the pure light of the sun. The air has that crisp rich smell of morning to it, and not even the stale smell of their half rotten bed has a chance against that. The part of the sky that is visible is clear blue and without a cloud; it will be another hot day, but right now the greatest heat radiates from their two bodies.
Dean's eyes are flecked with gold, bright in the sunlight and filled with so many emotions it takes Castiel's breath away. Castiel shoves up Dean's shirt and after a bit of fumbling they pull it off completely. Dean's skin is paler than it had been when he came in all those days ago, but the scars on his back still stand out starkly, where they reach up to his shoulders. He's covered in bruises and scabbed wounds, but to Castiel's eyes he's beautiful. Marred, but beautiful.
And once he's all healed and all that blemishes his skin will be the marks Castiel left on him, he will be even more so. Dean's fingers trail down Castiel's stomach and he's smiling - warm and inviting. It will be the first time they make love in freedom. And it's with that thought that Castiel leans down and kisses Dean, not sweet and innocently as before, not even the slightly more demanding kiss after he pulled Dean's hair, but deep and with all the passion that has been coursing through his veins, ever since he met Dean.
Again, he's repaid in kind.
Pulling his hair has unleashed something in Dean. Castiel remains in control for a while after, taming Dean with his hands and his tongue, but when Dean finally decides it's time to reverse their roles, he realizes that Dean merely allowed him to do so. Castiel finds himself pinned to the bed all of a sudden, with a very hungry Dean on top.
Castiel might have enjoyed pulling Dean's hair and generally being the one in charge, but he has no problem submitting to Dean. And Dean has enough of an understanding of his body to know where to push to make Castiel moan. And even then, he's still discovering new spots, playing Castiel almost like a finely tuned instrument.
And once he's inside of Castiel, he's overwhelmed, not only by the physical sensations, but by the sheer intimacy. It's Dean after all.
And while Dean surely does his best to sate both their hungers, what gets them out of the bed isn't satiation, but scratchy wool and summer heat. And to no small amount, hunger. Castiel does another checkup on their injuries, especially after the amount of rough play they've been through. But they both have been careful and after Castiel changed the dressing on his neck - with Dean's help - they're good to go. Castiel had packed a generous amount of bandages, but that's no reason to be wasteful.
They have a satchel full of food, but neither is in the mood of that. Not when there's a festival out there that sells an abundance of fresh food. And while they don't have money, there is always a way to get by.
Dressing takes longer than it should, mostly thanks to Dean' wandering hands, but then again, Castiel isn't exactly averse to the attention. But they make it eventually, and after carefully hiding all the evident of their stay, bags hidden away in the collapses closet, they make their way out the door.
The streets are broken up, most buildings have collapsed fully and there are wild plants growing everywhere. There are tables and chairs, overgrown with vines and wild flowers; one building houses a small tree that has uplifted the roof. Birds are singing and at some point a squirrel crosses their path, stopping in the middle of the road to look at them, only to rush off into some bushes a moment later.
Castiel idly wonders what it's doing here of all places. It's strange in a way. This part of the city is a ruin, a reminder of the darker days, yet it feels so peaceful to them. The sun is bright; the air is fresh and undisturbed. He tightens his grip on Dean's hand just a fraction and Dean looks at him with a smile. He must be thinking the same thing then, because he leans in at the exact moment Castiel thinks he wants a kiss.
But the peace is short lived. They can already hear the noise from the celebrations, a constant hum in the air, interspersed with singing and cheers. And then the last of the dilapidated buildings give way to houses that are merely on the brink of collapsing. And while the outskirts of the city are more or less deserted, the closer they come to the city wall, the more people are out and about.
The gates are always open during the Mesmeralias, there are guards stationed, but they don't even attempt to conceal their obvious drunkenness. It's a security leak, but not even the escape of the Master's price prisoner was able to change anything about that. So maybe there's some truth to the saying that during the Mesmeralias the power is with the people and the Master has to buy it back with more and more extravagant games every year.
It's a comforting thought, and about the only reason Castiel has allowed them to be here. Even with their masks, it's still a risk to be outside in open daylight. They're wanted men after all. And they even see a few patrols of guards combing through the masses, but once they're inside the walls, there's no real hope of finding anyone. And while the people where eager to help Castiel on his search for Rachel, no one is willing to help out the guards. The Master might be able to buy the masses' allegiance with blood and games, but he doesn't hold their love.
"I used to celebrate with my brother but all we had was slightly more fancy food than usual and fireworks." Dean says with clear awe in his voice. He keeps looking around, pulling Castiel here and there and his excitement is infecting. Castiel wears a makeshift bandana around his neck to hide the injury, and while it's definitely uncomfortable in this heat, it is necessary. The heat also reminds him that he needs to eat something. On top of still being anemic, he's also had some very exerting activities that drained him, and hadn't it for Dean's insistence yesterday he eat something, he would have long collapsed. And if he doesn't eat something soon, that might still happen.
Also water.
So maybe going out on this little adventure hadn't been the brightest idea. But Castiel had wanted to share this experience with Dean, more than anything, even though the idea stemmed from a time when he thought Dean would die.
Still, the smile on his face is worth it.
They stop at one of the many water fountains that are specifically installed for the Mesmeralias. The city has a complicated system of underground water tunnels, but their use is usually reserved for the rich and the wealthy (i.e. those who can afford to build the necessary construction to access the lines), but it's the Mesmeralias and that means generosity. Even if that entails sharing water with dirty peasants.
The fountain is a work of art. It's carved out of stone, a young girl holding an amphora on her shoulders that pours out the water. Someone put a crown made of cornflowers on her head and a garland of another flower Castiel doesn't recognize hangs from the amphora. Her face is weathered though, only her nose is distinguishable. But Castiel imagines that she had been smiling serenely over the small plaza she watches over.
It's sad in a way. During the rest of the year, the people living close by probably use her to hang their laundry. During market days, the basins are often used to storage goods, while now they are almost overflowing with fresh water.
The edge of the stone basin is covered with wooden cups and bowls, whoever put them there obviously intended them for public use. A group of girls stand off to the side, chatting and throwing off glances at him and Dean when they approach. They start giggling; the realization that they are quite obviously flirting with Dean sends a lurch through his stomach.
And it takes a moment for him to realize that it's jealousy.
Dean puts down the cup he was just attempting to drink from to look at him. "Why are you smiling?" Castiel puts down his own cup and reaches up to touch his own face. It's true; he's smiling. One of the girls gasps and blushes, but that only registers vaguely in Castiel's mind.
He's been hit by jealousy over the girls' attention towards Dean, but the thing is, Dean didn't even notice them. He had only eyes for Castiel. And that's what made him smile.
"I'm happy." The mask is hiding most of Dean's face, but it does nothing to conceal the glint of his eyes. And when they kiss - a quick and chaste thing - the girls at the side squeal and one seems about to faint and has to fan herself frantically - whatever effect that is supposed to have.
The water after that tastes even sweeter.
"What do you want to eat?" Castiel asks after they both sufficiently quelled their thirst. The girls have disappeared by then, but now that he's keyed in on it, Castiel notices that they weren't the only ones eying them with interest. But to Castiel's surprise, he attracts some admirers as well. Even though he only realizes that, after one low growl from Dean directed at one busty woman who apparently had the audacity to walk too close to Castiel.
It's almost strange how both their worlds are centered on one another, like everything else doesn't really matter.
Dean hums, but doesn't give an immediate answer. He's looking around, unable to decide what he wants obviously. They're walking closer together now, one arm wrapped around the other, and Castiel can almost believe that he doesn't need more than this. That he could live just from Dean's presence.
Someone in the crowd starts singing, and soon others have joined in. A flute joins in, and then a drum. Castiel guides Dean to the side, very well familiar with what is about to happen, but Dean isn't. So when the people randomly start to dance around them, he watches them with wonder. There's no plan to it, no order, just the enticing beat of the drums and the pure joy that permeates the air. And that's what makes it so special. They're just people giving in to the spur of the moment, and Castiel can feel the mood tug at him, urging him to just go along with it, pull Dean into his arms and just dance.
Dean laughs, breathless. "Come on." He breathes and pulls Castiel with him. Castiel would have stumbled on the first step, but Dean catches him easily, guiding him into the first steps of a dance that doesn't seem so much of a dance but an assortment of rhythmic steps. But that's about the maximum of sophisticated thoughts Castiel manages before he's swept away by that said rhythm.
It's wild and dizzying, and Castiel would have probably collapsed at one point or another, weren't it for Dean's firm hands. He has one clasped tightly around his shoulder, the other rests almost gently on his hip and he keeps guiding him in circle after circle.
The song changes, without any prior incentive and Castiel stumbles again as Dean goes along with the change of rhythm. People had danced alone or in pairs together, but this new song seems to be a group thing. Lines form, as if guided by an external will, and soon Castiel founds himself in between Dean and a tiny woman in a cheerful yellow dress, holding hands. They stomp their feet on the dusty ground; the lines have formed into circles by now, spinning round and round and Castiel is dizzy but also elated like he's never been before in his life.
The singing has subsided in favor of dancing, but other instruments have picked up the melody. The drums determine the rhythm, fast and unrelenting, but fiddles and trumpets have also joined the lonely flute.
Someone puts a flower crown on Castiel's head in passing, and Dean gets one a few moments later, cornflowers, like the statue at the fountain. It's exalting; Castiel can feel the blood pump through his veins and while he should feel exhausted and weak, he feels like he's brimming with energy. Dean is smiling next to him, face glowing and alive.
The song ends eventually, the lines break apart and Castiel finds himself collapsed against Dean's chest. He's out of breath, panting and sweating like he'd just run a mile in a minute, but the exhilaration is still there. And it's what makes him pull Dean in for a long and deep kiss. And for just a moment it feels like they are the only people in existence; everything else has disappeared around them.
"I love you." Dean whispers against his lips, and even though he's already heard it once, Castiel feels his heart swell in his chest. And this time there is no Zachariah to show up and destroy the moment. So Castiel can lean in to kiss the corner of Dean's mouth, trailing a line up to his ear and whisper his reply. He can feel Dean's heartbeat under his hands, imagines to feel it stutter for a split second, before Dean exhales, shakily.
"You mean that?"
Castiel just smiles and pulls Dean in for another kiss, slower this time and filled with all the emotions swelling in his heart. The crowd parts around them, easily as a river, unperturbed as they are by their passing. But their pull is insistent and they have to break apart eventually.
"Okay, now I'm hungry." Dean says with a broad grin and pulls Castiel with him to the nearest stall. It has some sort of fried dough on display, covered with sugar and spices and smelling irresistibly sweet. They don't have money or anything of worth to trade, but the vendor isn't watching his goods anyway. People come and take some all the time, most drop coins in the waiting bowl, but some don't.
It doesn't matter either way. Those who are generous are generous enough for those who aren't, and sharing is all in the spirit of the Mesmeralias. Castiel chooses a plain one, with a bit of cinnamon and sugar sprinkled on top, while Dean takes one that is covered with sweet cocoa cream, and judging by the orgasmic sigh Dean lets out after biting in, also filled with it. The sound actually manages to make Castiel feel even hotter, even though the sun already does its best to make him sweat.
Castiel feels a bit dizzy, no doubt an after effect of their impromptu dance, the prolonged heat exposure and his anemia. He's more knowledgeable when it comes to physical injuries, but as a doctor he would strongly advise himself to get some shade, water and rest. And probably some liver too.
"Dean." Castiel grips Dean's arm, attempting to get his attention but ends up using him for support mostly.
"Cas, what's wrong?" There's a speck of cocoa cream on Dean's lip and Castiel wonders how Dean would taste with cocoa cream on top.
"I need to sit down." The heat is getting to him, or maybe it's Dean who has his blood boiling, but either way, he needs some cooling off. Dean leads him to another fountain, at the edge of a small plaza surrounded by trees and benches. This one has two children locked in an eternal dance, with water spilling from the tips of their fingers. Rose petals swim on the water, scenting the air with a sweet fragrance. Only in its absence, Castiel realizes the stale stench that permeates the air around them. There is a giant oak tree directly behind the fountain, overlooking the plaza like a mother hen does her flock.
People have flocked in the shade, sitting and resting, but there is a spot free on the steps that lead up to the basin. Dean helps him to sit down, but just being out of the sun already makes Castiel feel better.
"Maybe we should go back." Dean suggests softly after pressing a cup of water into his hands. Castiel takes it and empties it in one go. It tastes heavenly. And faintly of roses.
"We should." He allows, and gives Dean the cup to refill it. "But I don't want to." He looks up at Dean, smiling softly. His eyes are darker without the sun pulling out their spark, the flecks of gold almost invisible.
"There'll be fireworks." He runs his fingers down Dean's cheek, drags it over the smear of cocoa cream on his lip. He intended to lick it off his finger, but Dean's lips fall open slightly, an invitation that Castiel can't resist.
"I've seen fireworks." Dean says, but he sounds like he's in trance. The rub of tongue over his finger as Dean talks, sends something warm and tingly through his body.
"Not like this." Castiel whispers, voice hoarse. "They celebrate life Dean." Something seems to melt in Dean's eyes and he smiles. He tightens his lips around Castiel's finger like a kiss, before he lets go.
"Okay, Cas."
On a medical point of view, staying up and about is stupid and possibly dangerous in his condition. But Castiel doesn't care. He wants to do this for Dean, he wants to do it with Dean.
And Dean is set on taking care of him. As a result, Castiel isn't allowed to get up from his spot at the fountain, and Dean regularly wanders off to fetch him something he insists Castiel needs. Somehow he ends up with a pillow stuffed behind his back, a bowl with some indefinable smush in it, that Dean insists on being health food and, after a lot of insistence, a plate full of grilled calf's liver. Not his first choice, not by a stretch, but better than suffering from anemia for another few days.
Dean settles next to him at some point, a basket of fruits on his knees, and that in itself is remarkable. Castiel has sat through meals of Dean going on about how much he likes meat and how little patience he has for anything that has to grow on soil first. Which is yet another form of inconvenient, considering that meat is expensive and most people can't afford it more than once a month. So for Dean, to pass up a perfectly good chance to get delicious meat for free, just to share something healthy with Castiel, is just nearly enough to blow away his mind.
That doesn't mean Dean doesn't wander off a few minutes later to find himself a nice piece of smoked sausage to compensate for the 'rabbit food'. It's still a nice sentiment. And when Dean starts feeding him grapes, Castiel thinks, that this might be as close to paradise as it can get. And if he licks off any excess juices from Dean's fingers, and if that results in some highly inappropriate moaning, it's no one's business but their own.
Castiel has been struggling with the urge to take off Dean's mask to see all his face, but that would be unwise. Dean is smiling, mouth wide with a grin, as he lounges back on the stairs, back against the fountain and legs stretched out in front of him. The mask only covers half of his face up to the nose, but at least they don't obscure his eyes.
It's impossible to see the specks of gold in Dean's eyes in the shade of the tree, but Castiel knows they're there. He feels better now, thoroughly rested, kept out of the sun and basking in Dean's presence.
"So these people have been partying for what, two weeks now?" Dean asks after he finished his sausage. He's playing with an apple in his hands, tossing it from one into the other, but somehow Castiel gets the feeling that he isn't intending on eating it. Castiel is busy peeling a mango with a knife, sharing the pieces with a little girl who has been dumped at the fountain by her mother who had to attend some 'mommy business'. Usually leaving a child alone on the streets can result in anything, varying from abduction to cold blooded murder, but during the Mesmeralias strangers would go out of their way to look after the stray.
Sometimes Castiel marvels at the change of attitude from selfish and cruel, to open-minded and kind. People who had been abusing those who were only a little less fortunate at a daily basis, would eagerly share their wine with a beggar during the festivities. Only to go back to being mindlessly cruel when it was all over. It's a wonder all in itself.
"More like ten days." Castiel corrects softly, smiling down at the girl who watches him with big eyes as he shares another bit of mango. She's probably been spoiled rotten already, but that doesn't mar her unbridled joy. And, of course, mangoes are a rare import from the South, and Castiel isn't exactly sure how Dean got his hands on one. "There are three more days of celebration before the culmination."
"Culmination, huh? That's where I was supposed to die?" Castiel looks at the girl, but she doesn't seem to have paid attention to their conversation. In any case, Castiel gives her the rest of the mango and sends her off to play somewhere else. She obliges, happily enough, after spotting two boys in her age who have come with their parents to rest in the shade.
"Yes." Castiel allows, without looking at Dean.
"That's messed up dude." Dean looks around with a frown. The people near them are all quiet and resting, but outside of their little plaza people are going about it like they haven't done that for the past week already. Like their whole lives are made of celebrations and happiness. And none of them give any inclination that it all ends with blood and death.
"It is." Suddenly the sun doesn't seem as bright anymore. But all it takes is one look at Dean and Castiel feels better again. It's true that the culmination ends in blood, but it's not Dean's blood and that is everything wants at this moment.
"Where I come from, we celebrated for like two days, and then went back to work." Dean finally gives up on his apple and drops it back into the basket in favor of a peach. Seeing the juice dribble down Dean's cheeks is yet another thing on the long list of things that Dean does that irrationally arouse Castiel.
"Where are you from?" Castiel can't believe he hadn't asked that already. It feels like he has known Dean all his life, while in truth, he rarely knows a thing about him. He knows about Alastair, and he knows a little about Sam. And of course, he has memorized a long list of small things about Dean; how his eyes seem to be perpetually smiling, even when his mouth isn't. How one of his hands is always hovering close to Castiel, not always touching, but constantly waiting. The sounds and faces he makes while eating, the pure bliss that rivals the one he displays in bed. All the small things he loves about Dean.
But while that could fill a library, it is not nearly enough to know the real Dean.
"Have you ever heard of the village of Lawrence?" Dean has finished his peach and is now nibbling on the kernel, either completely oblivious to the effect that has on Castiel, or doing it on purpose to rile him up. Point is, getting sexually aroused during this heat, isn't exactly healthy in his condition. But that doesn't mean it doesn't work on him.
"No I haven't." Castiel tries to focus on something other than the sucking sounds Dean, and that he is certain of, makes on purpose now.
"Well, it's small and off the grid, but the pie made from our apples can blow your mind." For a moment Dean is grinning widely, excited at the memory, but Castiel can see the moment it al drains out of him. "My mom used to make them." Dean drops the peach kernel, watching it as it bounces down the stairs and onto the ground. Dean tries to smile, but it's weak and sad - and vulnerable.
Castiel opens his mouth to say something, but there are no words. He hasn't seen his own parents in years, had never been close to them in fact, but he understands the worth of family. Balthazar had been his family.
Dean swallows and closes his eyes. Castiel does the only thing he can think off. He scoots closer to Dean, not touching him quite yet, but close enough to offer comfort. Dean takes a deep breath to steady himself. He looks up at Castiel and offers a small smile, enough to tell Castiel that while still sad, he's alright again.
"I think that's why Alastair picked our village." Dean starts after he has calmed down. He's playing with the apple again, but Castiel figures he needs the distraction. "We were small, yet we had everything we needed. My father was the village's drunk, always drinking and gambling away money, but you already know how that story ends." Dean shrugs and rubs a hand over his neck.
"But yeah, that's it. Small town boy up in the big wide world."
"If you were so far from the grid why did the Master…" Castiel trails off, realizing that asking that might be a bit inappropriate, if not rude, but Dean just laughs it off.
"You mean why the Master even bothered with a small town criminal?" Dean shrugs, but this time there is a derisive nature to it. "Turns out Alastair was his buddy or something."
Castiel sighs. "I'm sorry Dean."
"Don't be." Dean mirrors his sigh. "It led me to you after all." They hold each other's gaze for a long moment, and finally Castiel smiles in answer to Dean's smile.
They're silent after that. There's nothing that needs to be said. It's just the two of them, and Castiel thinks, not for the first time, that that will always be enough. People come and go around them, and some offer them refreshments or share their food with them, and Dean gives out all the apples he, for some reason, collected even though he doesn't seem to like them.
Castiel feels way better, but he doesn't feel like getting up. And judging by Dean's relaxed face, he isn't in a hurry to leave either. The sun finally sets, and the temperature drops slightly, at least in the shade, but as the sky grows darker, thousands of fires light up around them. Candles are lit, torches and coal pans, some rare oil lamps and many more dancing flames of varying origin.
The smell of food wafts through the air, drowning out even the flower fragrance that had surrounded them all day. While food had been present during the whole of the day, now is the time when people start grilling everything they can get their hands on. It's overwhelming and it doesn't take long for Dean to get restless.
"Dean, you have been eating the whole day." Castiel chides, but he can't quite hide the smile.
"I haven't tried half of the food here. Come on Cas." Sometimes, Castiel thinks, that he would follow Dean's 'Come on Cas' to the end of the world. No matter what he's proposing, he will follow. That thought is strangely comforting.
"We need to get a good spot for the fireworks." Dean beams as he drags Castiel through the crowd, fingers closed tightly around his hand. Castiel is well rested, but the heat has exhausted him, not to mention that he's still suffering from his injuries. While none of them had been particular deep, he had lost a lot of blood, and most of the cuts, especially the one on his neck, still hurts pretty badly. Dean on the other hand doesn't seem to be bothered by his injuries at all, neither the old ones nor the new.
It's rejuvenating somehow. Dean has become pretty familiar with navigating through the crowd, snagging of bits of food every now and then, feeding Castiel every new finding he makes, while at the same time shielding Castiel from all the people who might come to close. It's endearing, and Castiel feels suffused by warmth hat is fundamentally different from the heat coming off the various fires.
And it's when the skies above them are lit with fires and light, and the people around them are cheering, that Castiel realizes that this, truly and unequivocally, is love. If he's ever asked what love is, he will refer to this precise moment, Dean's arms wrapped tightly around him, the light of the fireworks reflected in Dean's eyes.
No grand gestures, no pathos filled speeches, just the two of them, finely tuned in to each other, enough so that Dean instantly notices when Castiel gets cold and pulls him in tighter to rub heat back into his arms. Enough so that Castiel can read the beating of Dean's heart against his back like a book.
They make their way back in the dim light of the glow stones embedded in the street, lighting up at night to guide the weary home. But they are sparse now, many have lost their magic and no one cares to refill them, others have been stolen. Still, the night is beautiful, stars shining above, mirrored in a few scattered stars on the ground.
And it doesn't matter that he knows little about Dean's past; he knows the milestones and he knows Dean. That really is all that matters.
