"Cas?"
"Yes Dean." Castiel stopped his progress down the hospital corridor and put his hands in the pockets of his aviator jacket.
"You know when we see Sam." Dean huffed. "I would prefer if you didn't mention you know. And you can have the chair today."
Castiel narrowed his eyes, "You don't want to tell your brother that we have consummated our relationship."
"Geez, Cas man, no one uses the word consummated."
"You do not wish me to speak about our copulation with Sam."
A passing nurse's face collapsed into incredulous humor.
"That will be our second day as main topic in the nurse's gossip league."
"I do have a concept of privacy, but I believe Sam would be pleased for us. I have heard him ask if you had gotten any, when you returned late to a motel room."
"This isn't some throw away. Not a one night stand…" Dean tried to make Castiel understand.
Castiel moved forward so that their faces were almost touching and he could feel Dean's body heat. "It was our night, our union, and if you want to keep our joining private, I can appreciate and agree. Dean, I meant everything, profoundly."
Dean nodded and bit his lip, "Me too."
Castiel was pleased. It was close enough to 'I love you too'. He entered Sam's room with a cheek splitting grin. That combined with Dean's almost totally concealed gimp walk led Sam's freaky brain add two and two together and come up with sixty nine.
"Welcome to the family, Cas." Sam winked.
"Thank you?" Castiel tilted his head at Sam.
"You're welcome, bro." Sam pointed at Dean, "Had fun?"
"Bitch. I will hide your fricking dongle if you say one more word, just one."
"Jerk. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."
"Like your wedding?"
"What wedding?" Castiel asked as he took Dean up on his word and snagged the chair.
"Jerk move. Dick-head. I was under a spell, Cas. It doesn't count and it was annulled."
"Who'd you marry? Was it a 'fugly'?" Castiel asked, glancing at Dean as if checking he had pronounced fugly correctly.
"Becky Rosen." Sam gave a giant sigh.
"The prophet's girlfriend?"
"The one and only, now can we not talk about this. I have news." Sam tilted his head towards three bottles of meds on the side locker.
Dean picked them up attempting to pronounce "Neoral Thymoglobulin and Neupogen".
"Two immunosuppressants and a bone marrow stimulant." Sam explained. "They got my bone marrow biopsy back. They can't explain how, but I have aplastic anemia. They said it could have killed me and the lab was confused by my blood composition. Figures huh?"
"These meds will fix you up?" Dean rattled one of the tubs.
"I'm not permitted to get ill. If I run a fever or any crap, I have to come back. They'll put me on anti-virals. The fatigue is going to linger until my bone marrow is back to acceptable normality. I'm not meant to do anything strenuous or that puts me in danger of getting injured or falling, because I could haemorrhage again. So that makes me a fricking awesome hunter." Sam's bitchface was matched by the dripping sarcasm of his tone.
"You are on research duty, bro." Dean's relief that Sam would get better showed in his tone, "Wait. Did you say have to come back? Are you getting sprung?"
"Tomorrow, Dean." Sam's dimples made an appearance. "Two more transfusions to keep the count up and Drs Larson and Keelson want to see me on their morning rounds."
"Peachy."
"Dean." Castiel looked up, "We will need to visit the grocery store for Sam's green foods."
"Cas, not the grocery store, OK?" Sam glared at Dean, "Make Dean go to Whole Foods. What day is it?"
"Friday."
"Farmers' markets tomorrow morning. You can go to Smith Center or Concordia, Dean. I'll ask the nurses if there is one here, but I am not getting in the impala unless there are at least two salad bags and decent organic vegetables in the back."
"I hear you, food Nazi."
"What have you been eating?"
"We had eggs and toast and bacon and pizzas." Castiel supplied.
"See. Freaking malnutrition. Don't you know Cas is human now, he needs vitamins?"
"We've been busy. You know I'm gonna cook him, and you, something decent. And we had a home cooked meal last night." Dean pointed out.
"With Paul and his partner?" Sam grinned his troublemaker face again, "How was that?"
"Really good, Thank you." Dean said pointedly.
"Cas?"
"It was. Dean is correct. Paul and Leslie were very hospitable and Leslie was very informative about their relationship."
"He was?"
"Cas and Leslie had a chat which will never be referred to again." Dean glared.
"Oh. The top and bottom thing is included in the private?"
Sam almost choked.
"Well you asked for it Sammy. You can't go poking your nose in and then complain about the answers."
"I'm not, not complaining. You guys are priceless." Sam got control of his mirth and turned to Castiel, "Dean is right, I don't want to know."
"I understand. I am learning the limits of human social acceptability. Leslie seemed to have different standards to the norm?"
"He did" Dean nodded, "Flaming queen" he added for Sam's benefit. "Leslie is very open about his sex life and his gender identity. It wouldn't appeal to me, but Paul seems to adore him."
"You prefer the warrior of heaven type." Sam was back to teasing.
"Maybe I do."
Castiel smiled at him tenderly and Sam fake gagged at the schoomp.
SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPSNPSNPSNPSNPSNPSNPSNPSN_
Never, never again would Castiel take anything Dean cooked for granted.
The bunker kitchen was a horrible place and the 'beginners' recipe for Moussaka was now his personal nemesis.
He had found a tattered well used cook book in another one of the taken-out-of-storage boxes that Dean and Sam had moved to the bunker. He wanted to make something to welcome Sam home. Dean had gone to collect his brother, and make an additional run to Whole Foods for everything they had no doubt forgotten during their morning run.
The book was clearly Dean's. There were notes in a younger hand on the margins. The most splattered page was the Meatloaf one and Castiel thought he would make it for the Winchesters, but they had no breadcrumbs, and Castiel was uncertain of how you transformed a loaf into crumbs successfully. There were no instructions. It was obviously something you were meant to know. He had flicked a page back and seen the Moussaka recipe. They had all the ingredients, almost. The dish was to be made with ground lamb, but the author had a postscript of optional changes to the ingredients, including using ground beef. That was good, because Dean had purchased pounds of the meat, freezing it up in separate bags.
The main problem was, even though it was a book for beginners, it didn't tell you whether you should peel the onions and garlic but after due consideration, Castiel did. It said to preheat the oven to 375 degrees, but not how long to pre-heat it for, so Castiel turned it on before he began chopping.
Kitchen knives were evil. He nicked his finger with Dean's razor sharp chopping knife and nearly took a layer of skin off with the paring knife until he noticed on the propped up page that he was meant to leave the eggplants unpeeled.
Retreating to the bathroom for first aid of Neosporin and two band-aids, Castiel smelled burning. He raced back to the kitchen to find a baking tray smoking in the oven. He remembered the oven mitts but caught the inside of his arm on the corner of the tray. The whole thing clattered to the floor. His arm was marked with a reddened line and it was painful. He found the aloe vera gel and smeared it on his arm, but got some in his eye as he wiped away a tear of frustration.
He almost gave up.
He had the salad to assemble, there was the bread, and he could do another one of those frozen pizzas in the well heated oven. It turned out that the dial was on 450 degrees not 375. Castiel cleaned up the mess and himself changing splattered clothes for his khakis and Dean's long sleeved beige v-neck top.
He was not going to let a teenager's cook book defeat him. Dean often listened to music while he cooked so Castiel looked through the old vinyl in the library. There was an attractive cover on the Sinatra long playing record and he put the needle on that one.
To the strains of I've Got You Under My Skin, the former angel pan-fried onion and garlic, and added the beef. He watched it turn grey and then start to brown. The recipe said that the flour, stock and tomato paste went in when it was 'well browned'. There were a couple of very dark brown spots when he added the ingredients and he had to step back when the stock sizzled and spat. Maybe he had the heat too high under the skillet. Can of tomatoes, chopped mushrooms and seasonings went in, and Castiel put the bubbling mix aside. His feet were killing him. He grabbed a bottle of Sam's 'frou frou' mineral water. He sipped while he cooked the sliced eggplant before he hit the next road bump. Who knew that when you added milk to flour it formed lumps that were absolutely impossible to get out? Finally as the clock told him he was running out of time, he used the new phone Dean had bought him to Google how to make a 'roux'.
He felt a certain sense of achievement as he layered his eggplants and meat and covered the whole dish with his milk, egg, and cheese sauce.
By the time he heard the door he had the long table set for three. There was a bowl of green salad, a plate of sliced bread, a trivet for his Moussaka and beers at each place setting.
The look of joyful surprise on Dean's face made all his efforts, and his throbbing burn, worth it.
Sam dropped his duffel in his room. Dean came over and wrapped an arm around Castiel's shoulders. "Did you cook Cas?"
"I have made an attempt."
"What you got for us?"
"Moussaka, Dean, I found the recipe in an old cookbook of yours."
"It smells… I was going to say divine." Dean gave a cringe.
"Divine is a compliment that I hope the flavor lives up to." Castiel pulled up his sleeve, "I burned my arm."
"Jeepers, Cas. That looks icky. Did you put anything on it?"
"Aloe vera. When will it fade? It hurts like a bitch."
"Burns do. You'll need to keep putting on the gel. You'll be good as new soon."
"I won't have a scar?"
"No. Not for that. Poor baby," Dean grinned and bent over blowing a boo-boo on it.
"Dean I am not a baby." Castiel objected, "But your cool breath is very comforting."
"I go to my room and when I come back you are eating Cas's arm. Honestly Dean!" Sam sighed exaggeratedly.
"Cas burned himself making our meal. A little sympathy." Dean looked at the table. "Can you have a beer with your meds?"
"One won't hurt." Sam replied and picked up his bottle. "Can we help Cas?"
"No thank you Sam. I am ready to serve." Castiel retreated to the kitchen and brought out his main feature.
"I don't think that dish has ever had anything except Lasagna in it." Sam said.
"No no no, Sammy, you are having a memory failure. Cottage pie? Ham and Chicken Bake?"
"Stop boasting Dean." Sam chided and took a bite from the portion Castiel had served up. "Oh. Oh Castiel. This is good. Dean you gotta taste it."
"There are vegetables in it." Dean's eyes focused in on the eggplant and mushrooms.
"Yes Dean. I cooked them all." Castiel responded as he took the final third for himself.
Dean didn't speak until his fourth forkful. Castiel waited but was happy to see Dean hadn't refused to consume it. "Freaking awesome man."
Castiel beamed at him.
Sam cleared his throat. The others looked up. "Just next time, ahem, wash the leaves."
Sam was holding up a salad leaf with a spider dangling from it.
"Extra protein, Sammy. Eat it up, will make you grow big and strong." Dean leaned back in his chair and laughed at the horrified bitchface.
SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN++++++++++++++++++
They fell into a routine over the week. Sam rose late and retired early. He was fussy over his food and almost neurotic about taking his pills at exactly the same time each day. He was tired and cranky. Castiel and Dean tried to give him space and not fuss over him too much. Castiel offered to join Sam on his afternoon walks in the surrounding woods, feeling that maybe he had been neglecting the taller man. However Sam refused. He explained that they weren't pleasure strolls, rather prescribed exercise to get his strength back and spend time in sunlight. After a second beer on Tuesday night he bitched to Dean that he would prefer to be running but he wasn't up to it and if he tripped on a tree root it was seemingly the end of the world according to his physicians.
The atmosphere was different with a third person in bunker. Dean was less demonstrative. He was less accepting of impulsive touches, especially in Sam's presence. Kisses in the corridor were allowed. Embraces in the kitchen were permitted. Making out on the sofa after Sam had gone to bed was welcome, as was intimacy in their bedroom. It took Castiel a few days to adjust without a terrible stab of rejection when Dean turned his face away or held up a hand to halt Cas.
On Thursday night Castiel reclined, curled under Dean's arm for their delayed viewing of The Empire Strikes Back.
Sam was in his room, so Castiel was enjoying walking his fingers along Dean's skin under his shirt.
"Dean, do you think I should avoid other former angels?"
"I don't know Cas. They are an unknown quantity really. I suppose like people, some are gonna like you, help you, or need your help, and some are evil sonsabitches."
"So should I try and help? I mean I know a lot, but there is so much I don't know."
"You're doing good Cas."
"But I have you to help me. They have no one." Castiel sighed. He noticed Dean had paused the movie.
"Why not take each ex-angel as they come? Judge each one as an individual."
"Yes. We are all individuals now." Castiel felt the weight of those words. The silence in his mind, the absence of the celestial wavelengths, was lonely and bleak. His former brethren must be finding it desolating. Castiel hid his face in Dean's shoulder.
"Hey, Cas, you OK?" Dean stroked his hair, messing it up again.
"I have you."
"I guess you do." Dean admitted.
"I need you too Dean. If you weren't here, if you had sent me away, I don't know if I could have continued."
"Hey this is meant to be Han Solo and Luke Skywalker night, not sugar coated click flick."
"I'm sorry, I wanted to thank you." Castiel looked up and saw Dean's green eyes shining with emotion.
"Well don't. That's what family means. We are there for each other."
"Can I say something?" Sam spoke up. He was leaning against the wall.
Dean pulled his body out from under Castiel. "Geez, Sammy, give a guy a warning."
"That's what I want to say." Sam set his shoulders. "I've seen you when you think I'm not looking and it takes some getting used to, but… wait Dean, I'm gonna say this… It is making me really uncomfortable how you are pushing Cas away when you are around me."
"What?" Dean gaped.
Castiel gave Sam a grateful look.
"Dean, I've seen you wrapped in a state of undress over waitresses from coast to coast, my delicate mind can cope with you and Cas touching each other."
"Thank you Sam." Castiel intoned.
"Cas, I'm not giving license to make out next to me on the sofa or have me find you both in the library in flagrante over my books."
"I understand, Sam. I think Dean and I can compromise. Dean?"
"Yeah, yeah, now can we end this frigging awkward talk and get back to Han and Leia." Dean pressed play and turned up the sound.
"I'm going back to bed." Sam spoke to Castiel. "There's a pot of tea in the kitchen. Help yourself."
"Good night Sam. Sleep well. Thank you."
"Humph." Dean grunted, "Did you gang up on me?"
"No." Castiel was shocked, "we did not."
"OK. But he is right. I'm not tongue dancing in front of him."
"How about cuddling?" Castiel asked molding his body into Dean's and wrapping his arm around his partner's shoulders.
"I can do that." Dean answered and used his arm to pull Castiel in tighter.
"So where is it?" Sam said when Dean carried sandwiches and Castiel followed bringing a pot of coffee into the library.
"What Sammy? I swear you get more cryptic every day." Dean teased.
"I was waiting for you to show me Cas, but now I am scared it is somewhere only Dean should see."
Castiel wondered if Dean was right about Sam being deliberately cryptic because he hadn't a notion what he was referring to.
"Come on. I give up. Is it on his ass?" Sam guffawed.
"Sam!" Dean banged Sam's sandwich down in front of him, "What the freaking hell are you rabbiting on about?"
"His tattoo, Dean. Where is it?"
Dean went pale and shot a look at Castiel.
"You did get him one? I thought one of the mornings before visiting hours or when he went off on his own. Dean? Goddammit Dean, he is an open meatsuit!"
Castiel's vision when dark. He stumbled to find a chair. Sam was correct. He was a meatsuit waiting for a demon. This body, it wasn't his vessel any longer, it was his own body, and like any unprotected human he was open to possession. He looked around the room as if he expected Crowley to appear at any moment.
"Cas, Cas, come on man. Look at me." Dean clicked his fingers in front of Castiel's eyes.
Castiel blinked. "Dean." His voice was breathy.
"It's OK, it's alright, we'll fix this." Dean grabbed his shoulder and held him, "Sam crack open that laptop of yours and find us a tat parlor. Not some grotty crap place either."
"There isn't exactly Trip Advisor for getting inked." Sam muttered but he opened up the computer.
"Leslie," Castiel said and Dean looked confused, "His eyes are tattooed."
Sam made an incredulous noise.
"Guyliner." Dean said simply.
"Maybe he could recommend an establishment?"
Dean had already pulled out his phone and was tapping a message to Paul.
Sam was reading a very disturbing story aloud about a tattooist in Wichita who was found to be inking clients up with Chinese swear words, when Dean's phone alert sounded.
"Tat'n'brand in Junction City. Look'em up Sammy."
After some research Dean made a note of the parlor's contact number. Castiel didn't understand why the research had extended to tax returns, street camera feeds, and building permits, but Dean and Sam were certainly thorough.
"There is a fricking waiting list. Can you credit that? But my charms work over a cell too. We got a cancellation at 3 tomorrow."
"That is very soon." Castiel gulped.
"You're not chicken are you Cas?" Dean teased.
"No Dean. I understand that temporary pain is preferable to the alternative."
SPNSPNSPNSPNSPSNPSNPSNPSNPSNPSNPSNPSNPSNPNSPNS+++++++++++++++
Castiel gripped the padded arms of Christine's tattoo parlor chair with bone crushing pressure. He was thinking of his innocent nonchalance during their two and half hour journey. He had even taken Dean into the Subway two storeys below their destination and shared a meatball sub. The spicy taste was repeating on him now.
Only the warmth of Dean's presence was stopping him from crying out. Even under the agony of the rotating needles he could feel Dean's hand on his left arm. He opened his eyes to squint at the well pierced and inked pink haired woman. She wiped away a smear of blood with a circle of cotton held in her blue gloved hand. Then she reapplied the vicious tattoo gun. She paused for a moment, eyeing Dean's bare chest to compare to the copy she had traced onto Castiel. Once she was satisfied it was exact she resumed her torture.
"Does it always hurt so much?" Castiel asked through gritted teeth.
"Only if you are a baby." Dean joshed him.
"Sam told me you cried." Castiel shot back.
"I did not, that bitch."
Christine interrupted, "The skin directly above the heart can be more sensitive for some clients." Her eyes never left the pattern forming on Castiel's chest. "If I was placing it higher like on your partner…"
"I am happy with the location." Castiel smiled through the pain and looked over at Dean, but the hunter was focused on the tattoo gun.
It was disturbing to see his blood seeping out and when Christine grabbed a new wipe, he shut his eyes again for a second.
"Tell me a story."
Two voices said, "What?"
"I believe that a story can take a person's focus away from pain and discomfort. I would like a story."
"Demanding much," Dean made a tsking noise. "I can't freaking wait until you are actually sick."
"Could you keep still, please Dean?" The tattooist requested. "I need to check the trace is accurate if you actually want the symbol to protect your boyfriend."
Dean raised an eyebrow.
She laughed. "You don't think I have been in the business this long without dealing with a few witches, wiccans, hunters and Carver Edlund obsessives, and no I don't want to know which group you fall into. I believe Castiel here and I were getting a story to pass the remaining time."
"Do we get a discount if the story is good enough?" Dean chanced.
"I'll throw in a pot of balm if you amuse me." Christine promised.
"How about the time I took Cas to a brothel?"
"No. Dean. I know that story and it is not amusing."
"It was freaking hilarious. Or the one about how many burgers you can eat, or about the cat communication skills?"
"Are all your stories about me?" Castiel objected. "Flattering as that is, I want a new one."
"Yes your majesty, your wish is my command. How about one with a Ghost Ship and a very old lady who had a romantic evening with Sammy?"
When they left Tat'n'Brand complete with aftercare instructions and the free pot of balm, Castiel's phone rang. He nearly lost it out of his grip as he fumbled to answer. It was Sam wondering how he had gotten on. Castiel achieved the task of putting Sam on speaker.
"I am now inked up," he confirmed. "Also I believe I am not to mention Gertrude Case to you."
"Can Dean hear me?" Sam demanded.
"I'm here." Dean was choking back a laugh.
"Great Dean. Thanks a lot. Did Dean finish the story? How Bela paid us off and he cashed the lot in…"
Dean leaned over and tipped End Call.
"I prefer my ending." Dean insisted.
"What was that?" Castiel asked.
"You know the one where Bela turned out be a bi-atch, I went to hell and you gripped me tight and raised my ass out of there."
Castiel put his hand on that ass and left it there as they walked to the Impala.