When they walked in Dean's house, it was close to one in the morning. Castiel admitted silently to himself that he was definitely glad Sam had stayed at Jakes that night. They tugged off their jackets and hats and gloves- and mittens- but Dean didn't stop there. He stripped until he was in his boxers, and then bolted to the closet, grabbing a blanket and then wrapping it around himself, running to grab something, and coming back with his arms full of firewood. He put it in the fireplace and lit it. The heat emanating from it was immediate, and Castiel couldn't help but move towards it. Dean chuckled and Castiel looked over.
"What?" he asked. Dean grinned and moved forward, taking Castiel's shirt sleeve and tugging at it. It took a moment, but he understood. He felt his cheeks heat as he tugged the shirt over his head. Dean's eyes were focused on him, moving slowly over him. Dean's hands moved forward, fingers trailing over Castiel's chest as if he were a porcelain doll, breakable but not broken.
"God, you are so beautiful," Dean whispered, eyes locked on Castiel's. Castiel swallowed heavily, his arms staying crushed to his own body. He didn't want Dean to see the scars on his wrists. God, what would he think? Castiel hadn't even been thinking when he'd taken off his long sleeve shirt- he'd only seen Dean's sculpted body and his sparkling eyes. Dean frowned, looking at his arms, and gently took one of his hands, tugging it towards himself. Castiel couldn't find it in himself to resist. God, Dean was going to hate him. Think he was some sort of freak. When Dean turned his wrists over, Castiel closed his eyes, fearing seeing those horrified ones he'd seen from any others he'd let himself get close to, let himself love. Instead he felt lips on his wrist. He opened his eyes to see Dean kissing each one of the many scars marring his wrists. His eyes welled as he watched. No one had ever done that before. And damn if it wasn't one of the best things in the world. Dean turned his eyes towards Castiel's, and moved forward, wrapping his arms around Castiel's neck and kissing him gently. Castiel's eyes fell closed as he sank into the kiss, into the warmth of Dean's body, the blanket wrapped around the both of them; keeping them warm, keeping them safe, keeping their secret.
"You are beautiful, Castiel Novak," Dean whispered, lips moving to his ear, breath hot against his cheek. "No matter what you do or what's happened to you, you will always be beautiful." Dean's lips moved back to his, sliding across his cheek, leaving trails of fire in their wake, slow molten lava, changing him to the very core. He closed his eyes as tears slipped down his cheeks. No one had ever told him that before, and he'd never believed it, still didn't know if he could. But Dean's eyes had been so truthful, so honest when he'd spoken those words….and he knew Dean wouldn't lie to him. Not about this. Never about him.
"Please don't cry, my darling," Dean whispered. Damn it all if that didn't make him cry harder. "Please, Cas, don't cry. Please don't cry." Dean kissed his closed eyes, wiping away the tears with his thumb. Castiel's heart swelled at those words, that small little nickname, heart beating furiously in his chest, beating for Dean. He tightened his arms around Dean.
Dean once again captured Castiel's lips with his own, taking Castiel, taking his heart.
They fell asleep that night, tangled in each other's arms, one clinging to love, and one clinging to life.