ITS BEEN TWO MONTHS?! IT HAS NOT OH MY GOSH GUYS I AM SO SORRY.
Okay so halfway through writing this, I had imagined Dean as maybe 14, but Cas sounds older. So Cas is 14 as well, or 15. If it sounds pervy, oops.
Today on I accidently saw a fanart for a ship I've half forgotten about, and now I'm fangirling over them.
"C'mon Sammy, let the master do it." Dean scoffed as his little brother wobbled along the pavement outside the motel room.
Sam grouched good-naturedly as he slid off the bike and pushed it towards Dean, who slung a leg across the saddle. It was too small for him, so instead of sitting down, he stood on the pedals and hunched over the bars.
He pushed off the ground and glided off down the road, his warped shadow stretching out across the pavement.
He pushed down on the pedals, going faster and faster, wind whipping hid hair out of his eyes, forcing tears out of them.
A laugh bubbled out of his mouth, torn away from his lips by the rushing wind.
More rooms flashed by out of the corners of his eyes. He could hear Sammy whooping behind him as he reached the end of the road.
But another voice joined his little brother's, a deep baritone that made Dean's head snap around.
"Hey, sweet cheeks!" Called the dark-haired boy on the other side of the road, swaddled in a long coat and holding a carrier bag in each hand.
He had piercing blue eyes, that drove into Dean, making his knees weak, and even through the coat he could see the muscles in his arms straining.
Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from the boy, practically drooling, even as Sammy yelled "Watch it Dean!"
Dean saw the teenagers eyes flicker to just in front of Dean and widen in shock, before locking eyes with Dean.
The worry in his eyes made Dean frown and look away, just in time for his front wheel to hit the lamppost in front of him and hurl him through the air, impossibly high.
He crunched down on the pavement, his face sliding grossly across the stones. His head bounced as it hit the floor and stars exploded in front of his eyes. Blood was dribbling down his face as he blearily opened his eyes.
"Sam?" His lip was busted, Dad would be mad.
But instead of his brothers hazel eyes, it was a blue pair, frowning worriedly down at him.
"Are you okay?" He said, and even in his possibly concussed state, Dean felt himself melt into the hard pavement at the low growl.
Then Sam joined in and he was gently helping Dean sit up, as his head span and he reached out for something to steady him.
His shaky hand found a handful of coat and what must be the strangers hand landed on his arm and carefully, slowly raised him on his feet.
Dean wobbled and he wasn't sure if it was because of the luscious raven hair or the soft pink lips right next to his face, or the worrying amount of blood gushing out of his face and palms.
He finally tipped, Sam grunting as he struggled to stop him from his eminent but mostly wanted fall into the boy's chest.
He smelt like cinnamon and watermelon and Dean was in bliss for a second, until the lapels of the coat dug into his cuts and he realized that he was getting blood everywhere and this was an awful first impression.
But the boy laughed, pulling so gently on his shoulders that he wasn't hurt and turned him around so they were chest to back and Dean could loll his head back on the beautiful (Dean didn't usually call men beautiful but this boy was just on the right side of feminine while still being masculine) man's shoulder, ever playing the concussed invalid. Except he actually was.
Sam was saying something and when Dean managed to listen, he tried not to clutch at the boy.
"...Take him home. I think I'll manage..." The boy made him stand on his own two feet, swaying slightly. Sam pulled Deans' arm over his shoulders, grunting, taking his older brother's weight.
"If you've got him, I'll take the bike?" He asked from behind him and his presence left.
Dean began to stumble to the motel room, grunting with pain as he told Sammy he was fine.
"It's okay." The boy called and Sam mumbled some kind of thank you to him.
Sam managed to get him inside and on a bed, before going to look for medical supplies in the bathroom.
Dean prodded his face carefully, feeling the clotted blood. He didn't even see the blue eyed boy creep through the door until the bed dipped and Dean stared at him, startled.
"I'm Castiel." He said and Dean muttered out his own name, head spinning.
After a few seconds of broken only by Sam quietly cursing in the bathroom and the falling of bottles and a first aid kit.
"You looked better before you cut your face up." Castiel smiled.
"However, all the blood? Hot." Deans' brain short-circuited.
"Y-You look good too." Dean stuttered, before mentally kicking himself at the quiver in his voice.
But Cas only laughed, getting up from the bed and dug in his back pocket.
"Good enough for me," he smiled and Dean tried not to melt into the sheets.
He withdrew a scrap of paper, and Dean scrabbled for a pen on the bedside table behind him.
Giving it to him, Dean watched as Castiel scribbled down a series of numbers and placed it in Deans' least cut up hand.
"Call me." He smiled and walked out of the room, picking up his bags as he went, leaving Dean staring longingly after him, clutching an old receipt, Biro ink spiraling in a girlish font across the back of it.
And that's where Sam found him, a few minutes later, holding whiskey between his teeth and arms full of bandages and medicine.
Sam had never thought of his older brother to be so stupid in his life.
