[ dean's been through this dance before, many, many times. the antiseptic always hurts, and having it poured right into an open, raw wound has him biting down on the inside of his cheek and sucking in a sharp breath, forcing his head and eyes away from cas-- as if hiding the obvious pain.
once it's done though, he looks back at castiel, and just listens to what he says. ]
Find anything useful?
[ because he can rest assured that cas knows what's useful versus what's not. not all the time of course, dean still remembers some of the junk cas had stored away in his room back at camp. but here there's no time for junk, no matter how appealing it might be.
the needle and string get a quick look -- he hates this part -- but the fingers at his face distract him then, just as the smile does. the look is unfaltering, piercing almost as he breathes back a quiet. ]
[ He has to let go of him to thread it, keeping a close eye on the wound as he does so. Dean's question is probably meant as a distraction, but he doesn't know what to offer him besides the slightly shake of his head. Nothing useful--no supplies, no food or weapons. He thinks it's going to be a dangerous war when it actually breaks, but the only evidence of that thought is the slight tension in his mouth.
There's a huff of breath at the challenge too. ]
All right. Then I'll be sure to give the patient exactly what he wants.
[ Even if he's teasing, it's not going to be easy. At least the actually cut isn't too terribly jagged, steeling himself before setting to work on stitching him up. He goes quickly, efficiently. Before, he'd thought this form of care archaic and unnecessary; with being able to simply heal any injuries as an angel, there hadn't been any point. But he'd had to learn it after he lost his grace, basic field dressings too. Castiel still carries the scars from his particularly bad first attempts at sewing himself up. Still, that was a long time ago, and he's strangely good at this now, keeping each stitch small and uniform as he goes along.
Once he's done, has the knot tied and is cutting the excess with the tip of a knife also kept on the box, he looks at him with a smirk. ]
[ and cas does. it takes little time for dean to fall entirely quiet as cas works, the needle piercing skin over and over again, always hurting just as much as the last stab. but he remains still, breathing short and ragged but he doesn't let anymore pain show, doesn't let himself flinch when cas goes in again with the needle. just waits it out, arm numb by the time cas is tying off his work and looking at him with that smirk.
there's no amusement to be found on dean's face anymore. ]
Great.
[ yay, awesome. now can they be done with this? he looks down at the newly stitched wound, the work left behind clean and acceptable. it still pulses with pain, but he tries to ignore it. ]
[ The fact that he doesn't appear amused doesn't offset Castiel's own mood, still smiling as he takes the ruined shirt and wipes his hands off before snatching up some of the bandages. Now comes the gauze and something to keep the stitches from sticking to it, making quicker work of wrapping it in place so he can let the other man sit for a few minutes. He drops the needle back into the box, arms behind his back to stretch now that the immediate crisis is over.
His body's still sore from falling asleep in the wrong position, and it's a hard reminder that life hasn't always been this easy. ]
There might be something we haven't drank yet. I'll check.
[ Which is exactly what he does, crouching down where he'd left some of his things from earlier to search through them. There's not much in the way of edibles inside--some rope, ammo, a spare gun and its accompanying knife. But tucked underneath all those things is a bottle that's had its labeled peeled off, the glass dark and the contents strong when he unscrews the cap.
Without another word, Castiel returns to the table to offer it to him and carefully reaches around him to clean up the mess he's made. ]
[ with the gauze wrapped around his wound, dean finally feels like he can relax. of course, the cut still throbs, and his entire arm feels like it's on fire. still, he waits for cas to find something -- and he better do so, dean really needs a drink or eight right now -- and when cas emerges with a bottle, he's more than happy to take it as it's offered.
with the cap off, he throws the bottle back easily enough, taking a long swig even while the liquid burns down his throat. with a satisfied sigh, he just sits there for a moment, breathing as some tension drains from his frame. ]
Do you-- [ he hisses some as he moves his injured arm. ] ...Do you have anything else? For this.
[ something to take the pain away, maybe. because dean's not entirely sure if he'll be able to sleep with the pain of his arm... even if cas is there, next to him. ]
[ Everything neat and where it should be, he leans back to give Dean a slower once-over. There's blood all over his clothes and a bit splattered on his skin. Castiel thinks he and Sam must have given them a good fight by the state of him, and absently, he reaches out to rub off some of the red across Dean's jaw, dropping his hand down to curl it around Dean's and the bottle once he's done. He lifts it to his mouth to take a sip, humming over the question. ]
Maybe. [ He has a bottle of something in another bag. ] But you shouldn't drink that if you want it.
[ Castiel knows more than he should about mixing liquor and drugs. He'd tried enough to be an expert, and he isn't going to risk giving Dean painkillers in addition to the booze. He's already hurt; he doesn't want to kill him. Gently, he releases the hold he has on the bottle and slips his fingers up to hold his wrist. ]
Come on. [ It's a slight tug. ] I'll help you clean up and then give it to you.
[ At the very least, they can get his clothes changed and Dean into bed. Castiel isn't all that tired now, but it's better than just sitting around watching Dean try to drink away the pain. ]
[ dean simply remains still, taking another swig at from the bottle and then feels cas' hand come to the side of his face. there must be blood, or something, but he leans into the touch just a fraction, eyes dropping some from cas' face. the bottle is given freely, the warmth of the liquid already enough, as he waits for an answer.
an answer which doesn't quite please him. ]
And you... [ he begins slowly, voice low. ] Shouldn't tell me what to do.
[ the tug, the command to follow, are ignored. instead, dean breathes for a moment, then reaches out with his uninjured arm, fingers curling into the belt loops of cas' pants, tugging him towards him instead. it's one, swift motion, right until cas is closer-- close enough. his fingers remains there, resting over his hip somewhere, green slowly lifting to find blue. ]
He's been doing that a lot, he's noticed, and whether or not it's from exasperation, Castiel isn't entirely sure. Things are just slipping and meshing together far too much for him to differentiate between them, and this-- This line they keep finding and crossing only continues to grow dangerously nonexistent. Like this, Dean dragging him closer and holding to his hip. He can feel the pressure of his hand through the thin material of his jeans, and when he looks at him, he immediately sinks back into that moment a week ago when Dean had forgiven him.
There's only the slightest bit of hesitation before he surrenders to it and presses in enough to gently rest his forehead against Dean's, eyes sliding shut. ]
You should be more careful.
[ Because next time, it might not just be a cut to the arm. Next time, he might not have his brother with him. Next time, Castiel might not be able to do anything at all. It worries him, unsettles his thoughts, and he just stands there leaning into him, drawing in a slow breath.
Without realizing it, it's the closest he's ever gotten to outright saying he cares about him. ]
[ dean's used to the sighs, and if anything, they spark something close to amusement in him. not that it really shows, despite how close he has cas right now. the familiar press of his friend's forehead against his isn't enough though, not after what had happened a week ago...
slowly, quietly, that want for something for himself lights again deep in his chest. ]
Careful gets nothing done.
[ cas should know this by now, having lived in a camp dean had run. risks and daring actions are the only thing that gets progress made, only thing that ensures victories in an otherwise ruthless land. sure there's calculations and planning-- tactical approaches. but not without that edge of danger.
that, and he has cas there to fix him up after. ]
Careful means pushin' you away.
[ which he doesn't, not at all. his mouth finds the side of cas', light-- lighter than anything dean would have thought himself capable of, yet there it is. almost, barely, just a breath of a kiss. ]
[ For a second, the harsh thrum of tension runs straight down his back. It winds and curls around him, slamming into his gut as each of those words settle over him, and the pressure of Dean's mouth-- Dean's fingers, his lips. Castiel can't get it out of his head. ]
Don't.
[ It's so quiet, he's not even sure he's spoken it.
He doesn't want to think about Dean pushing him away, doesn't want to relive those days he'd had no one at all. Less someone and more nothing, not at all useful. So, he doesn't want Dean thinking about it either. He doesn't want either of them thinking about it. Because then he'll start to question it, wonder why this is good and where it's going to go when he's never thought about it before. He'd lived from moment to moment back home, but he considers the future here. Whatever that's supposed to mean slips away as Castiel turns his head ever so slightly, their noses bumping. ]
I need you to stay right here. [ So he's not alone, so there's someone who will help piece him back together when he falls. ] With me.
[ Since he's selfish and wants this just as much as he needs it too. He lips at the side of his mouth before giving into the urge, kissing him without pretense or surprise this time. It's just as nice as before, somehow better, and he sinks into it with his whole body. ]
[ it's odd being able to do this now, freely. it's weird doing so softly, nice, instead of the rough bite and pull he's used to from back home. risa had been good for that, had dished out the same he'd give her, blow for blow. but cas-- it's more than that, more than anything he's had before.
but dean would rather not talk about it too much, doesn't want to put it int words.
instead, for now, he'd rather just chuckle quietly into the kiss, that request to stay. maybe he can do as much.
the taste of cas' mouth chases away the pain for a moment, has dean opening up to it as cas pushes in, sinks against him so dean can feel every inch of him. it's good, so good, and has dean forgetting everything in the mix of cas' lips, his tongue, teeth-- all of him, right to the point where he tries to move his arm to wrap closer to his friend.
which, of course, ends in a sharp, pained sound as he jerks back. ]
[ He only gets the slightest taste with his tongue - alcohol and something else - before there's that jerk and curse. With it comes the slightest jar of the table, and it causes him to pull back as well, eyes blinking open. Castiel thinks this could eventually be a problem if they keep doing this, but he's also very reluctant to stop too. The heat of Dean's mouth still rests on his lips, which he licks even as he smooths a hand along the other man's forearm.
There's a bit of pink to the bandage now, but it doesn't seem worrisome. ]
Sorry. [ Even his expression speaks of apology, taking a step from him with the intention to go about relieving the pain he feels as he'd wanted to several minutes ago. ] I'll, uh. Let me get those pills for you.
[ Which is exactly what he does, taking it as an opportunity to clear his head. It's suddenly a lot warmer in that room than it had been when Dean had shown up, and he tugs at the edge of his t-shirt, rummaging through his things for an unlabeled prescription bottle. He takes it back and offers two of its contents to him. ]
How bad is it now? [ He's trying not to think about kissing him again. ]
[ dean's almost angry with himself for letting the pain interrupt. but with how fast cas steps away from him, maybe his friend needs the space-- or something. it's why he doesn't reach out again, only breathes through the pain pulsing through his arm, and concentrates on the still buzzing sensation over his mouth.
it's-- interesting. a kiss has never made him feel this way.
cas mumbles something about getting the pills and dean doesn't object. he just remains there, lost in thought and ignoring his arm, eyes flitting from cas down to the ground. what they're doing here, this new things of theirs...
is it a mistake? is it wrong? dean's not one for rules, hasn't been in years, but this is delicate, so easily breakable and god knows dean, if anyone, breaks things and people with terrifying ease. he doesn't-- he can't do that to cas. he won't let himself. ]
Hurts like a bitch. [ it's only a grunt, green only meeting blue for a brief second. ]
So could be better.
[ which the pills will hopefully fix. so he takes the offered medicine, downs them easily without water or anything else, and then.... falls silent. ]
[ He thinks they will help with that, and he doesn't comment on it, only giving the slightest nod before moving a step closer. Even if it makes him hesitate, makes him feel like this is the first time he's ever gotten close to anyone like this, it still doesn't overpower the intrigue of it. The flare of excitement that rushes up when he thinks he can do this. He's allowed, and there shouldn't be any boundaries because of it. So, after a second or two, he simply leans in, searching for the shirt he'd used to help clean the wound, and uses one of the cleaner edges to wipe at more of the blood on Dean's face.
He's quiet as he does it, focused so intensely on the slide of skin and doing the best he can. Their place still doesn't have running water, dependent on the dorms for it, and though there's some they've stored in a jug or two, it wouldn't be the same as a shower. And that thought just... quickly deteriorates in another direction entirely, causing him to laugh. ]
I'll look at it in the morning too. [ Just to say something, anything. ]
Did you... need anything else?
[ Castiel bites his lip again as he looks at him, poised with the shirt in his fist and his other hand resting against the center of Dean's chest. He'll insist on getting him into bed if he declines, not so much concerned with the fact the other man doesn't appreciate being ordered around. He's never cared about that, always pushing, and now that Dean's somewhat injured, it just means he might get away with it better than usual. ]
[ dean expects cas to leave, to go back to bed. something, anything, but not for him to lean closer again, rag in had as he wipes at dean's face. flecks of blood come off, the splattering of them over his features more than dean would have thought earlier. but then, he's not one to care about getting a little messy when it's about life and death.
the laugh though, that tenses him up sharply, has him looking at cas darkly. if he's laughing at dean... ]
What?
[ huff huff. dean's better arm flexes at his side, where he grips down on the table... out of frustration or stopping himself from reaching out, dean's not sure, but he ignores the desires all the same in favor of just pinning cas with that dark expression of his.
and the question gets en equally short answer; ]
...No.
[ he still makes no attempt to move, to do anything else. he just sits there, with cas' hand against his chest, eyes on his friend's. he doesn't feel tired even if the day was full of action. in fact, he feels wide away, something buzzing under his skin, something finally starting to dull the pain. and right under cas' hand, his heart hammers away, loud and strong. ]
[ There's only the slightest shake of his head, smile still present even as the laugh slips into silence. ]
You just-- [ Castiel leans back an inch. ] You're always taking care of everyone else and never as concerned about yourself. It's good, I think - that you're letting me do this for you.
[ Because he would have--always. Whether by less than conventional means or with his own hands, Castiel would do anything and everything in his power to see Dean safe and less reckless. He knows that the years they've lived have messed them up, torn them far from the path they might have walked had Sam never said yes, but it's not the most important thing to worry about. It's that they have each other, that they're there because they want to be and need to be.
His expression softens just a fraction more, dropping the rag and slipping his hand down to drag his thumb over Dean's knuckles. Absently working out the tension that runs up his arm. ]
It's nice. [ Different, welcome. ] You're, uhm...
[ A shrug then, almost sheepish, like he's playing at the edges of a few words that should never be said between them. It's easier to touch and press close than it is to talk about it. So, that's what Castiel does: he tilts his head and kisses him again. Kisses him to shut out his own thoughts and to shut himself up. ]
[ it's an odd thing to say, and not something dean had really actively thought about. he's always just-- wanted those around him to be alright. those he cares about, even now. sam, cas... he wants them alright, alive and breathing. and whether or not that means him doing okay, it's never mattered. not to him, not since before he can remember.
but it's odd to have someone say it, quiet and soft as cas does. ]
Sewing up my arm sucks more than lettin' you do it.
[ cas had been convenient, and dean had known no amount of denying cas the chance to help would have actually worked. it's only after cas has spoken, as he runs his thumb over dean's hand, that he realizes the frustration has eased again into something quiet, and less demanding.
how cas is having this effect on him lately, dean doesn't know... but it's nice, too.
you're, uhm...
he almost wants to hear the rest, but the kiss that comes is much more welcome. the taste is still so new, so exciting, that dean only breathes a quiet, relieved sound against cas' mouth, his healthy arm slipping to his friend's side, hand sliding over cas' hip, and then to the small of his back, pressing him closer. it doesn't stop hitting him, how he hasn't had anything like this is in so long-- not since... before everything. and what this might be, exactly, still escapes him, is something he doesn't want to think about. but for now it's good.
it's the best thing he's had in a long time. and dean wants to enjoy it for whoever long or short it'll last, which is what he does as he bites quietly down onto cas' bottom lip, tugging at the soft flesh before pressing in again, hungrier. ]
[ That's hardly what he means, but the weight of the kiss distracts him from making another comment about it.
Castiel might explain it later, much later, when those pills have kicked in and Dean's so much more compliant than he is right now. Part of it, he's sure, is the fact he's still in pain, and the rest-- Well, he'd always assumed to know a good deal of the other man's preferences. After all, Castiel's mirrored his in a lot of ways, but even after all this time, he's still managed to surprise him, to shake him up and keep him on his toes. He supposes that's why he's always liked Dean--the unpredictability when he'd figures it to be straight and narrow.
The teeth digging into his lip causes him to shudder, and every little thought not pertaining to where they touch or what he's doing with his mouth shuts off. Castiel pushes and uses more of his tongue now, parting those lips and kissing him until he's straining for breath. Even then, he keeps pace, his palm skirting up a thigh and mimicking the brief touch to his hip. He curls his fingers into the waistline of his pants, gripping tight to the material in order to keep them from wandering further. If he could-- The leverage of that hold helps him drag him just a bit forward, closer to the edge of the table so that he's standing between Dean's legs and carefully wrapping himself around him, conscientious of his injury.
If it lasts, if it doesn't— ]
--bed. [ It's half mumbled against his mouth, sucking in a ragged breath before pressing another kiss to his chin. ] I, we should...
[ He's a little too distracted to actually explain he'd really prefer to not have to half drag him to the mattress, which means he's even less concerned with the fact it sounds like an invitation. Castiel only tugs at the loops of Dean's jeans, insistent. ]
[ dean feels like fire inside. it's different from the hot pain shooting up his arm, because that's becoming number and number, as if the pain of it is being swallowed by each bite and lick of cas' mouth. he feels, though he dares only to think about it for a hot second or two, much like a teenager, all eager and alive-- and good, so good. he'd never thought this possible, but here it is, here they are, and dean doesn't want to let it go.
instead, as cas reels himself closer, one leg hooks loosely around his friends, keeping him there and pressing him even closer.
dean's pushing in for another kiss even as cas mumbles that single word, drinking it up right from his mouth until it registers. there isn't much of a beat before dean stifles a quiet laugh of all things against cas' lips, half-kiss, half pleased sound.
he doesn't make a move to do as requested though, not when he's starting to feel nice and comfy right here, with cas pressed close and the heat of his body seeping into dean's. ]
Just c'mere, come closer...
[ his other arm might be useless, but he can be demanding with just one, which curls around cas with possessiveness, hand twisting into the cloth of his shirt, bunching it together while his fingers brush over the skin underneath. ]
[ He only gets a second to suck in another breath before everything turns itself upside-down.
Of all the things they could be doing, of everything they've ever done-- It's really difficult to wrap his mind around this, how easy they've fallen into it and how quickly things are escalating. From a kiss to this? There's really no overthinking though, twisting just a little to press himself closer and closer still. He's not going to deny either of them whatever happens, greedy enough to take it, and there's a very visible flush working across his cheeks and down his neck from the way Dean laughs. It's a good sound, an even better indication that it's not just a meaningless thing. Castiel feels remarkably giddy with it, moving and arching and leaning into him.
A breathy murmur, Dean's name on the tip of his tongue, and he grazes his mouth along his jaw. To an ear. ]
How close?
[ He whispers it against the lobe, kissing there and just beneath as he nuzzles into him. There's a tremor to his fingers as they slip down to toy with the hem of his shirt, waiting it out and listening to the hard hammer of his heartbeat when he swallows. All he has to do is give him some clue that anything beyond kissing is more than okay. Just the slightest nod or a yes--
Castiel decides he wants to hear it, turning back to kiss him again and repeat the words.
[ where there is fire in his veins, there's a cloudy, lightness in his head. he feels... half-present, slowly detached yet in a good way, where all he has to concentrate on is cas, is his mouth. nothing more, nothing less, just cas, cas and more cas. ]
Closer--
[ he breathes back, chasing that flush down cas' throat, to the side of his neck. teeth and tongue leave marks along is way, taste the sweat and flavor of his skin, needy for more, slowly aching for it. cas' meaning might be somewhat lost to him though, in the haze of good and comfort. dean hasn't thought beyond kissing, tasting yet, no matter how his body reacts. normally, back home, all of his encounter were quick and messy, no time for kissing.
his hand slides back away from cas' back, over a hip, right until his fingers are burying past the waistline of his pasts, gripping him from the front and tugging.
[ There's really nothing to do but close his eyes and groan a little.
He likes the biting, never really realizing how much until Dean insisted on using his teeth, and the yank he gives him causes him to lurch forward more than he's prepared for, hands freeing themselves quick enough to slap against the table. Castiel pins Dean's thighs between them, stretching up to return those kisses over and over even as he considers gently pushing Dean back and climbing atop him.
It's a short-lived thought when his hips rock into the edge of it, and he shivers, panting against the curve of his mouth. ]
Dean —
[ He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know what else to do. He wants-- There's so much that Castiel wants, so much he's afraid to just take, and he revels in the closeness for as long as he can, eventually lifting a hand to cup the side of his face. He presses their foreheads together again, pushes just slightly so their noses touch, and he allows himself to breath, to feel the dampness of Dean's lips and the warmth of each exhale. It's more than enough knowing he has him now, has him in ways that had never really occurred to him, had practically presented itself each time they'd come together. How backwards they are, seeking comfort in the worst ways.
His thumb gently traces the hard ridge of his cheekbone, holding himself still and quietly asking for the other man to hold him like this. Just a little longer, at least until the drugs really start to take affect and he has to end it. ]
[ despite the hunger for more, his limbs are starting to feel heavy, sluggish. drugs have never been dean's thing, he could never sink himself into the habit the same way cas did. sure, he'd taken part in some stuff all through his life, though less when he'd hunted with sam, and even less afterwards.
it's the only reason he isn't up now, isn't pinning cas against the nearest surface available and taking what he wants. ]
Don't stop.
[ his face feels hot, just like cas' when the other man presses his forehead to dean's. he wants his mouth back on his, wants more skin to bite, to bruise...
except he's tilting his head into the touch, the solid feeling of cas' hand welcome as he watches him from under half-lidded eyes. he could watch him like this for a long time, trace the angles of his face, the shape of his mouth, his eyes... it's all a lot more endearing than he'd normally let himself think, yet here he is, wanting to just press right back in again and taste all of it.
all the while, the anger which is usually so present in him, is gone.
instead, dean feels like he's three minutes from either falling to his side, or into cas. whichever comes first. ]
[ He really doesn't want to, but he thinks he probably should.
Castiel's still far too observant, picking up on the trace amounts of slur in his words and the heated touch of his skin as he rests against him. He can feel his eyes on him through all of it, purposely keeping his shut as he considers what to do. Perhaps, if nothing goes wrong, they can pursue this later. There's time. For once, in so many years, they actually have it to spare. He thinks it would be good to take this slow, test it out. He is, after all, perfectly fine with experimenting and finding where things might lead.
There's a low noise in the back of his throat, almost a scoff. Then, he's tilting his head back and lifting up just enough to press a kiss to his forehead. ]
Come on.
[ He still caresses the side of his face, fingers curving gently against his jaw. ] You should lay down.
[ Or make it somewhere that isn't the table. Their bed is the final destination, and no matter how many times, he'll say it again if he has to. He's really not in the mood to be dragging Dean across the room with him half out of his mind from some painkillers. In hindsight, he probably should have given him one and called it a night. He gives another sigh, soft and quiet before kissing the corner of his mouth as if to say please. ]
[ lay down? he could do that, it could be nice. he could do so right next to cas, press right against him and breathe in that familiar scent that he's slowly starting to get addicted to, finds it that when he wakes up with his face buried in cas' hair those mornings aren't the worst.
so yeah, he could go lay down. sure. ]
...M'you're right.
[ with the kiss, dean starts pushing away from the table with that, against cas right until he's stepping away from him too. it takes only another step for dean to wobble, to falter in his step as he tries for the bedroom. one hand shoots out blindly for cas, grips him wherever he can. ]
Jesus, t'hell did you give me...
[ but as he'd reached out, dean realizes it's with his injured arm, which has him blinking down at the length of it like it's entirely new, like he's been cured of some horrendous disease. ]
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indecadence) wrote2013-05-24 08:48 pm
no subject
once it's done though, he looks back at castiel, and just listens to what he says. ]
Find anything useful?
[ because he can rest assured that cas knows what's useful versus what's not. not all the time of course, dean still remembers some of the junk cas had stored away in his room back at camp. but here there's no time for junk, no matter how appealing it might be.
the needle and string get a quick look -- he hates this part -- but the fingers at his face distract him then, just as the smile does. the look is unfaltering, piercing almost as he breathes back a quiet. ]
I don't like gentle.
[ two can play at this game. ]
no subject
There's a huff of breath at the challenge too. ]
All right. Then I'll be sure to give the patient exactly what he wants.
[ Even if he's teasing, it's not going to be easy. At least the actually cut isn't too terribly jagged, steeling himself before setting to work on stitching him up. He goes quickly, efficiently. Before, he'd thought this form of care archaic and unnecessary; with being able to simply heal any injuries as an angel, there hadn't been any point. But he'd had to learn it after he lost his grace, basic field dressings too. Castiel still carries the scars from his particularly bad first attempts at sewing himself up. Still, that was a long time ago, and he's strangely good at this now, keeping each stitch small and uniform as he goes along.
Once he's done, has the knot tied and is cutting the excess with the tip of a knife also kept on the box, he looks at him with a smirk. ]
There's a very good chance you're going to live.
no subject
Give it your best shot.
[ and cas does. it takes little time for dean to fall entirely quiet as cas works, the needle piercing skin over and over again, always hurting just as much as the last stab. but he remains still, breathing short and ragged but he doesn't let anymore pain show, doesn't let himself flinch when cas goes in again with the needle. just waits it out, arm numb by the time cas is tying off his work and looking at him with that smirk.
there's no amusement to be found on dean's face anymore. ]
Great.
[ yay, awesome. now can they be done with this? he looks down at the newly stitched wound, the work left behind clean and acceptable. it still pulses with pain, but he tries to ignore it. ]
Tell me we have something to drink 'round here...
no subject
His body's still sore from falling asleep in the wrong position, and it's a hard reminder that life hasn't always been this easy. ]
There might be something we haven't drank yet. I'll check.
[ Which is exactly what he does, crouching down where he'd left some of his things from earlier to search through them. There's not much in the way of edibles inside--some rope, ammo, a spare gun and its accompanying knife. But tucked underneath all those things is a bottle that's had its labeled peeled off, the glass dark and the contents strong when he unscrews the cap.
Without another word, Castiel returns to the table to offer it to him and carefully reaches around him to clean up the mess he's made. ]
no subject
with the cap off, he throws the bottle back easily enough, taking a long swig even while the liquid burns down his throat. with a satisfied sigh, he just sits there for a moment, breathing as some tension drains from his frame. ]
Do you-- [ he hisses some as he moves his injured arm. ] ...Do you have anything else? For this.
[ something to take the pain away, maybe. because dean's not entirely sure if he'll be able to sleep with the pain of his arm... even if cas is there, next to him. ]
no subject
Maybe. [ He has a bottle of something in another bag. ] But you shouldn't drink that if you want it.
[ Castiel knows more than he should about mixing liquor and drugs. He'd tried enough to be an expert, and he isn't going to risk giving Dean painkillers in addition to the booze. He's already hurt; he doesn't want to kill him. Gently, he releases the hold he has on the bottle and slips his fingers up to hold his wrist. ]
Come on. [ It's a slight tug. ] I'll help you clean up and then give it to you.
[ At the very least, they can get his clothes changed and Dean into bed. Castiel isn't all that tired now, but it's better than just sitting around watching Dean try to drink away the pain. ]
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an answer which doesn't quite please him. ]
And you... [ he begins slowly, voice low. ] Shouldn't tell me what to do.
[ the tug, the command to follow, are ignored. instead, dean breathes for a moment, then reaches out with his uninjured arm, fingers curling into the belt loops of cas' pants, tugging him towards him instead. it's one, swift motion, right until cas is closer-- close enough. his fingers remains there, resting over his hip somewhere, green slowly lifting to find blue. ]
Thank you.
[ for fixing him up, for helping. ]
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He's been doing that a lot, he's noticed, and whether or not it's from exasperation, Castiel isn't entirely sure. Things are just slipping and meshing together far too much for him to differentiate between them, and this-- This line they keep finding and crossing only continues to grow dangerously nonexistent. Like this, Dean dragging him closer and holding to his hip. He can feel the pressure of his hand through the thin material of his jeans, and when he looks at him, he immediately sinks back into that moment a week ago when Dean had forgiven him.
There's only the slightest bit of hesitation before he surrenders to it and presses in enough to gently rest his forehead against Dean's, eyes sliding shut. ]
You should be more careful.
[ Because next time, it might not just be a cut to the arm. Next time, he might not have his brother with him. Next time, Castiel might not be able to do anything at all. It worries him, unsettles his thoughts, and he just stands there leaning into him, drawing in a slow breath.
Without realizing it, it's the closest he's ever gotten to outright saying he cares about him. ]
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slowly, quietly, that want for something for himself lights again deep in his chest. ]
Careful gets nothing done.
[ cas should know this by now, having lived in a camp dean had run. risks and daring actions are the only thing that gets progress made, only thing that ensures victories in an otherwise ruthless land. sure there's calculations and planning-- tactical approaches. but not without that edge of danger.
that, and he has cas there to fix him up after. ]
Careful means pushin' you away.
[ which he doesn't, not at all. his mouth finds the side of cas', light-- lighter than anything dean would have thought himself capable of, yet there it is. almost, barely, just a breath of a kiss. ]
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Don't.
[ It's so quiet, he's not even sure he's spoken it.
He doesn't want to think about Dean pushing him away, doesn't want to relive those days he'd had no one at all. Less someone and more nothing, not at all useful. So, he doesn't want Dean thinking about it either. He doesn't want either of them thinking about it. Because then he'll start to question it, wonder why this is good and where it's going to go when he's never thought about it before. He'd lived from moment to moment back home, but he considers the future here. Whatever that's supposed to mean slips away as Castiel turns his head ever so slightly, their noses bumping. ]
I need you to stay right here. [ So he's not alone, so there's someone who will help piece him back together when he falls. ] With me.
[ Since he's selfish and wants this just as much as he needs it too. He lips at the side of his mouth before giving into the urge, kissing him without pretense or surprise this time. It's just as nice as before, somehow better, and he sinks into it with his whole body. ]
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but dean would rather not talk about it too much, doesn't want to put it int words.
instead, for now, he'd rather just chuckle quietly into the kiss, that request to stay. maybe he can do as much.
the taste of cas' mouth chases away the pain for a moment, has dean opening up to it as cas pushes in, sinks against him so dean can feel every inch of him. it's good, so good, and has dean forgetting everything in the mix of cas' lips, his tongue, teeth-- all of him, right to the point where he tries to move his arm to wrap closer to his friend.
which, of course, ends in a sharp, pained sound as he jerks back. ]
Fuck--
[ fuck his fucking fucked up arm, goddamn it. ]
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There's a bit of pink to the bandage now, but it doesn't seem worrisome. ]
Sorry. [ Even his expression speaks of apology, taking a step from him with the intention to go about relieving the pain he feels as he'd wanted to several minutes ago. ] I'll, uh. Let me get those pills for you.
[ Which is exactly what he does, taking it as an opportunity to clear his head. It's suddenly a lot warmer in that room than it had been when Dean had shown up, and he tugs at the edge of his t-shirt, rummaging through his things for an unlabeled prescription bottle. He takes it back and offers two of its contents to him. ]
How bad is it now? [ He's trying not to think about kissing him again. ]
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it's-- interesting. a kiss has never made him feel this way.
cas mumbles something about getting the pills and dean doesn't object. he just remains there, lost in thought and ignoring his arm, eyes flitting from cas down to the ground. what they're doing here, this new things of theirs...
is it a mistake? is it wrong? dean's not one for rules, hasn't been in years, but this is delicate, so easily breakable and god knows dean, if anyone, breaks things and people with terrifying ease. he doesn't-- he can't do that to cas. he won't let himself. ]
Hurts like a bitch. [ it's only a grunt, green only meeting blue for a brief second. ]
So could be better.
[ which the pills will hopefully fix. so he takes the offered medicine, downs them easily without water or anything else, and then.... falls silent. ]
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He's quiet as he does it, focused so intensely on the slide of skin and doing the best he can. Their place still doesn't have running water, dependent on the dorms for it, and though there's some they've stored in a jug or two, it wouldn't be the same as a shower. And that thought just... quickly deteriorates in another direction entirely, causing him to laugh. ]
I'll look at it in the morning too. [ Just to say something, anything. ]
Did you... need anything else?
[ Castiel bites his lip again as he looks at him, poised with the shirt in his fist and his other hand resting against the center of Dean's chest. He'll insist on getting him into bed if he declines, not so much concerned with the fact the other man doesn't appreciate being ordered around. He's never cared about that, always pushing, and now that Dean's somewhat injured, it just means he might get away with it better than usual. ]
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the laugh though, that tenses him up sharply, has him looking at cas darkly. if he's laughing at dean... ]
What?
[ huff huff. dean's better arm flexes at his side, where he grips down on the table... out of frustration or stopping himself from reaching out, dean's not sure, but he ignores the desires all the same in favor of just pinning cas with that dark expression of his.
and the question gets en equally short answer; ]
...No.
[ he still makes no attempt to move, to do anything else. he just sits there, with cas' hand against his chest, eyes on his friend's. he doesn't feel tired even if the day was full of action. in fact, he feels wide away, something buzzing under his skin, something finally starting to dull the pain. and right under cas' hand, his heart hammers away, loud and strong. ]
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You just-- [ Castiel leans back an inch. ] You're always taking care of everyone else and never as concerned about yourself. It's good, I think - that you're letting me do this for you.
[ Because he would have--always. Whether by less than conventional means or with his own hands, Castiel would do anything and everything in his power to see Dean safe and less reckless. He knows that the years they've lived have messed them up, torn them far from the path they might have walked had Sam never said yes, but it's not the most important thing to worry about. It's that they have each other, that they're there because they want to be and need to be.
His expression softens just a fraction more, dropping the rag and slipping his hand down to drag his thumb over Dean's knuckles. Absently working out the tension that runs up his arm. ]
It's nice. [ Different, welcome. ] You're, uhm...
[ A shrug then, almost sheepish, like he's playing at the edges of a few words that should never be said between them. It's easier to touch and press close than it is to talk about it. So, that's what Castiel does: he tilts his head and kisses him again. Kisses him to shut out his own thoughts and to shut himself up. ]
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but it's odd to have someone say it, quiet and soft as cas does. ]
Sewing up my arm sucks more than lettin' you do it.
[ cas had been convenient, and dean had known no amount of denying cas the chance to help would have actually worked. it's only after cas has spoken, as he runs his thumb over dean's hand, that he realizes the frustration has eased again into something quiet, and less demanding.
how cas is having this effect on him lately, dean doesn't know... but it's nice, too.
you're, uhm...
he almost wants to hear the rest, but the kiss that comes is much more welcome. the taste is still so new, so exciting, that dean only breathes a quiet, relieved sound against cas' mouth, his healthy arm slipping to his friend's side, hand sliding over cas' hip, and then to the small of his back, pressing him closer. it doesn't stop hitting him, how he hasn't had anything like this is in so long-- not since... before everything. and what this might be, exactly, still escapes him, is something he doesn't want to think about. but for now it's good.
it's the best thing he's had in a long time. and dean wants to enjoy it for whoever long or short it'll last, which is what he does as he bites quietly down onto cas' bottom lip, tugging at the soft flesh before pressing in again, hungrier. ]
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Castiel might explain it later, much later, when those pills have kicked in and Dean's so much more compliant than he is right now. Part of it, he's sure, is the fact he's still in pain, and the rest-- Well, he'd always assumed to know a good deal of the other man's preferences. After all, Castiel's mirrored his in a lot of ways, but even after all this time, he's still managed to surprise him, to shake him up and keep him on his toes. He supposes that's why he's always liked Dean--the unpredictability when he'd figures it to be straight and narrow.
The teeth digging into his lip causes him to shudder, and every little thought not pertaining to where they touch or what he's doing with his mouth shuts off. Castiel pushes and uses more of his tongue now, parting those lips and kissing him until he's straining for breath. Even then, he keeps pace, his palm skirting up a thigh and mimicking the brief touch to his hip. He curls his fingers into the waistline of his pants, gripping tight to the material in order to keep them from wandering further. If he could-- The leverage of that hold helps him drag him just a bit forward, closer to the edge of the table so that he's standing between Dean's legs and carefully wrapping himself around him, conscientious of his injury.
If it lasts, if it doesn't— ]
--bed. [ It's half mumbled against his mouth, sucking in a ragged breath before pressing another kiss to his chin. ] I, we should...
[ He's a little too distracted to actually explain he'd really prefer to not have to half drag him to the mattress, which means he's even less concerned with the fact it sounds like an invitation. Castiel only tugs at the loops of Dean's jeans, insistent. ]
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instead, as cas reels himself closer, one leg hooks loosely around his friends, keeping him there and pressing him even closer.
dean's pushing in for another kiss even as cas mumbles that single word, drinking it up right from his mouth until it registers. there isn't much of a beat before dean stifles a quiet laugh of all things against cas' lips, half-kiss, half pleased sound.
he doesn't make a move to do as requested though, not when he's starting to feel nice and comfy right here, with cas pressed close and the heat of his body seeping into dean's. ]
Just c'mere, come closer...
[ his other arm might be useless, but he can be demanding with just one, which curls around cas with possessiveness, hand twisting into the cloth of his shirt, bunching it together while his fingers brush over the skin underneath. ]
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Of all the things they could be doing, of everything they've ever done-- It's really difficult to wrap his mind around this, how easy they've fallen into it and how quickly things are escalating. From a kiss to this? There's really no overthinking though, twisting just a little to press himself closer and closer still. He's not going to deny either of them whatever happens, greedy enough to take it, and there's a very visible flush working across his cheeks and down his neck from the way Dean laughs. It's a good sound, an even better indication that it's not just a meaningless thing. Castiel feels remarkably giddy with it, moving and arching and leaning into him.
A breathy murmur, Dean's name on the tip of his tongue, and he grazes his mouth along his jaw. To an ear. ]
How close?
[ He whispers it against the lobe, kissing there and just beneath as he nuzzles into him. There's a tremor to his fingers as they slip down to toy with the hem of his shirt, waiting it out and listening to the hard hammer of his heartbeat when he swallows. All he has to do is give him some clue that anything beyond kissing is more than okay. Just the slightest nod or a yes--
Castiel decides he wants to hear it, turning back to kiss him again and repeat the words.
how close? ]
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Closer--
[ he breathes back, chasing that flush down cas' throat, to the side of his neck. teeth and tongue leave marks along is way, taste the sweat and flavor of his skin, needy for more, slowly aching for it. cas' meaning might be somewhat lost to him though, in the haze of good and comfort. dean hasn't thought beyond kissing, tasting yet, no matter how his body reacts. normally, back home, all of his encounter were quick and messy, no time for kissing.
his hand slides back away from cas' back, over a hip, right until his fingers are burying past the waistline of his pasts, gripping him from the front and tugging.
when he says closer, he means closer. ]
--m'not lettin' you go.
[ he growls, biting at castiel's jaw. ]
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He likes the biting, never really realizing how much until Dean insisted on using his teeth, and the yank he gives him causes him to lurch forward more than he's prepared for, hands freeing themselves quick enough to slap against the table. Castiel pins Dean's thighs between them, stretching up to return those kisses over and over even as he considers gently pushing Dean back and climbing atop him.
It's a short-lived thought when his hips rock into the edge of it, and he shivers, panting against the curve of his mouth. ]
Dean —
[ He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know what else to do. He wants-- There's so much that Castiel wants, so much he's afraid to just take, and he revels in the closeness for as long as he can, eventually lifting a hand to cup the side of his face. He presses their foreheads together again, pushes just slightly so their noses touch, and he allows himself to breath, to feel the dampness of Dean's lips and the warmth of each exhale. It's more than enough knowing he has him now, has him in ways that had never really occurred to him, had practically presented itself each time they'd come together. How backwards they are, seeking comfort in the worst ways.
His thumb gently traces the hard ridge of his cheekbone, holding himself still and quietly asking for the other man to hold him like this. Just a little longer, at least until the drugs really start to take affect and he has to end it. ]
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it's the only reason he isn't up now, isn't pinning cas against the nearest surface available and taking what he wants. ]
Don't stop.
[ his face feels hot, just like cas' when the other man presses his forehead to dean's. he wants his mouth back on his, wants more skin to bite, to bruise...
except he's tilting his head into the touch, the solid feeling of cas' hand welcome as he watches him from under half-lidded eyes. he could watch him like this for a long time, trace the angles of his face, the shape of his mouth, his eyes... it's all a lot more endearing than he'd normally let himself think, yet here he is, wanting to just press right back in again and taste all of it.
all the while, the anger which is usually so present in him, is gone.
instead, dean feels like he's three minutes from either falling to his side, or into cas. whichever comes first. ]
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Castiel's still far too observant, picking up on the trace amounts of slur in his words and the heated touch of his skin as he rests against him. He can feel his eyes on him through all of it, purposely keeping his shut as he considers what to do. Perhaps, if nothing goes wrong, they can pursue this later. There's time. For once, in so many years, they actually have it to spare. He thinks it would be good to take this slow, test it out. He is, after all, perfectly fine with experimenting and finding where things might lead.
There's a low noise in the back of his throat, almost a scoff. Then, he's tilting his head back and lifting up just enough to press a kiss to his forehead. ]
Come on.
[ He still caresses the side of his face, fingers curving gently against his jaw. ] You should lay down.
[ Or make it somewhere that isn't the table. Their bed is the final destination, and no matter how many times, he'll say it again if he has to. He's really not in the mood to be dragging Dean across the room with him half out of his mind from some painkillers. In hindsight, he probably should have given him one and called it a night. He gives another sigh, soft and quiet before kissing the corner of his mouth as if to say please. ]
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so yeah, he could go lay down. sure. ]
...M'you're right.
[ with the kiss, dean starts pushing away from the table with that, against cas right until he's stepping away from him too. it takes only another step for dean to wobble, to falter in his step as he tries for the bedroom. one hand shoots out blindly for cas, grips him wherever he can. ]
Jesus, t'hell did you give me...
[ but as he'd reached out, dean realizes it's with his injured arm, which has him blinking down at the length of it like it's entirely new, like he's been cured of some horrendous disease. ]
Huh... It doesn't hurt anymore.
[ hell, he can't feel much of anything anymore. ]
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