[ dean tenses some when castiel comes in, but only casts a quick look at the other man before turning back to himself. it's been... a week now, but dean hasn't brought up what happened on the night they made up, hasn't tried to do anything else about it. it's been good like this, no fighting, no arguing and no secrets... it's what dean had wanted, and he doesn't want to ruin it.
he's shrugging half out of his jacket, one sleeve still in place where it's plastered around the torn skin, matted with dirt and blood. he scoffs an amused, quiet sound. ]
[ With light now, it's easier to make out everything in the room--including Dean. Castiel makes his way toward him, expression solemn even as he takes immediate notice of the wound on his arm. He might have expected any other answer, but the fact he'd gone to talk to them... There's softer scoff in response. ]
I take it your brother convinced you to go. [ Which is surprising considering how Sam had asked him to keep in check, more or less. ] That wasn't very smart.
[ And then, he's reaching out to take Dean's wrist, pulling his arm closer to inspect the injury. He says nothing about their proximity, about whatever had happened almost a week ago. Things are peaceful, strangely enough, and he's enjoying it a little too much. Castiel eases his arm back to Dean's side a second later and steps around him. ]
Let me help you. [ Even if he doesn't let him have the choice, already heading straight for the supplies they have. ]
I told him what would happen, but he insisted. [ cas' hand finds dean's wrist, and he lets him look. the wound stings, cuts deep through muscle and it's still bleeding. not as badly as before, and the pain has turned into something more throbbing, rendering most of his arm useless. but while cas looks, dean looks at him; the dip of his nose, the angle of his jaw-- all so familiar, yet in a new light now. ]
I couldn't let him go alone.
[ he would have died out there, and they both know dean can't have that. plus, he'd wanted to give the cultists a piece of his mind, and he had. if there's blood splattered anywhere else on him, it's not his. ]
You don't have to help. I got this.
[ he says despite cas moving to get the supplies. ]
[ Which doesn't do any good considering how stubborn a Winchester is. He hadn't outright said talking would be good, but neither would trying to fight them head-on as Dean had apparently wanted to do. There's the slightest shake of his head at the thought; poorly thought-out ideas always ended like this, and his fingers curl around the box they've stashed medical supplies in, hesitating for a moment before turning back to him. ]
It still isn't smart. [ A pointed look. ] But at least both of you are alive.
[ Small miracles, right? He drops the box on the table beside Dean's gun and blatantly ignores his last comment. Whether or not he can handle it, It's always easier with an extra set of hands. Castiel moves in closer, gently picking at the edges of the bloodied shirt in an attempt to roll it away from the wound. He could cut it, but it seems to be cooperating on its own. Which... gives him a better view of it, and he frowns, tilting his head to stare at Dean. ]
It might need stitches. I'll do it. [ So don't argue with him. ]
[ dean hisses some at the way cas picks at the shirt. ]
Alive and ready to put down a few more of those suckers. [ killing cultists has turned into a great stress reliever for him, dean can't deny that much. it feels good to snuff out the lives of those who oppose them and seek to hurt them, it feels great even. like he's doing something good. and now that sam might see it too, well, even better. ]
I don't like stitches.
[ sewing always hurts, no matter how used to it he might be. but this is... better than having to do it alone. but he doesn't argue more, just ends huffing a quiet; ]
We could go together, next time. [ hunt some cultists. ]
[ There's the slightest roll of his eyes at that comment. No need to add to it though, and Castiel cups the back of his arm with a hand, the thumb of his other carefully pulling apart the damaged skin to check the depth of the wound; it goes straight to the muscle, blood welling to the surface. He eases up and presses his lips together, thinning them. ]
Stitches. [ It's a quiet confirmation, twisting to dig through the box for what he needs now. Clean it first, sew it up after. ] If you don't like them, you shouldn't be so careless.
[ Despite the fact it's what they should be doing. Castiel is still hesitant about it though, wondering why COMPASS would bother to make a point with them. Besides, if they kill them and put an end to whatever experiments are at hand, what would that mean for them? Would they be sent home? Would they die? The slightest shake goes up his arm, and he curls his fingers tight--right around the bottle of antiseptic. ]
And hunting them isn't going to solve anything. It could be worse next time - even if I went. [ Even if they're good together in a fight. He gently waves the bottle at him. ] Get on the table.
[ As they don't have any chairs and he need him to stay still, it's the closest flat surface they have. ]
[ dean remarks slightly before doing as told. he eases himself on the table, looking at cas and then the wound, no t liking the sight of it one bit. it's inconvenient, and puts his arm on time out when he really needs it most. anything could happen, and wounds are always so limiting...
but instead of letting the frustration building up inside of him swell, he focuses on cas again. ]
What were you up to?
[ he says eventually, voice low and green eyes on cas. ]
[ There's only a sigh, moving away from him to gather something to soak up the excess blood; they needed to save what gauze they had anyway. Then, after Dean's on the table, he's crowding into his space with the shirt he's picked up and the disinfectant, bracing his arm again as he thumbs open the wound. It's going to hurt, he's sure, but there's no point wasting his breath on something so obvious, tipping and pouring the stuff into it. Only a little, though, and he lets it bleed again, gaze lifting to meet Dean's eyes. ]
I think I fell asleep. Before that-- [ He lifts his shoulder in a shrug as he applies pressure to Dean's arm. ] I've been searching parts of the city. It's as if no one was ever really here.
[ Which is creepy, to say the least. Another minute or two passes before he lifts the now ruined material and exchanges everything for the needle and it's counterpart. Castiel leans in again, almost casual as he wipes flecks of blood from Dean's cheek with the tip of his finger. ]
I'll try to be gentle. [ The smile he gives means it's supposed to be a joke. ]
[ 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. ]
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indecadence) wrote2013-05-24 08:48 pm
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he's shrugging half out of his jacket, one sleeve still in place where it's plastered around the torn skin, matted with dirt and blood. he scoffs an amused, quiet sound. ]
Talking to cultists.
[ fucking sam and his fucking plan. ]
It went well.
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I take it your brother convinced you to go. [ Which is surprising considering how Sam had asked him to keep in check, more or less. ] That wasn't very smart.
[ And then, he's reaching out to take Dean's wrist, pulling his arm closer to inspect the injury. He says nothing about their proximity, about whatever had happened almost a week ago. Things are peaceful, strangely enough, and he's enjoying it a little too much. Castiel eases his arm back to Dean's side a second later and steps around him. ]
Let me help you. [ Even if he doesn't let him have the choice, already heading straight for the supplies they have. ]
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I told him what would happen, but he insisted. [ cas' hand finds dean's wrist, and he lets him look. the wound stings, cuts deep through muscle and it's still bleeding. not as badly as before, and the pain has turned into something more throbbing, rendering most of his arm useless. but while cas looks, dean looks at him; the dip of his nose, the angle of his jaw-- all so familiar, yet in a new light now. ]
I couldn't let him go alone.
[ he would have died out there, and they both know dean can't have that. plus, he'd wanted to give the cultists a piece of his mind, and he had. if there's blood splattered anywhere else on him, it's not his. ]
You don't have to help. I got this.
[ he says despite cas moving to get the supplies. ]
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[ Which doesn't do any good considering how stubborn a Winchester is. He hadn't outright said talking would be good, but neither would trying to fight them head-on as Dean had apparently wanted to do. There's the slightest shake of his head at the thought; poorly thought-out ideas always ended like this, and his fingers curl around the box they've stashed medical supplies in, hesitating for a moment before turning back to him. ]
It still isn't smart. [ A pointed look. ] But at least both of you are alive.
[ Small miracles, right? He drops the box on the table beside Dean's gun and blatantly ignores his last comment. Whether or not he can handle it, It's always easier with an extra set of hands. Castiel moves in closer, gently picking at the edges of the bloodied shirt in an attempt to roll it away from the wound. He could cut it, but it seems to be cooperating on its own. Which... gives him a better view of it, and he frowns, tilting his head to stare at Dean. ]
It might need stitches. I'll do it. [ So don't argue with him. ]
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Alive and ready to put down a few more of those suckers. [ killing cultists has turned into a great stress reliever for him, dean can't deny that much. it feels good to snuff out the lives of those who oppose them and seek to hurt them, it feels great even. like he's doing something good. and now that sam might see it too, well, even better. ]
I don't like stitches.
[ sewing always hurts, no matter how used to it he might be. but this is... better than having to do it alone. but he doesn't argue more, just ends huffing a quiet; ]
We could go together, next time. [ hunt some cultists. ]
Could be fun.
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Stitches. [ It's a quiet confirmation, twisting to dig through the box for what he needs now. Clean it first, sew it up after. ] If you don't like them, you shouldn't be so careless.
[ Despite the fact it's what they should be doing. Castiel is still hesitant about it though, wondering why COMPASS would bother to make a point with them. Besides, if they kill them and put an end to whatever experiments are at hand, what would that mean for them? Would they be sent home? Would they die? The slightest shake goes up his arm, and he curls his fingers tight--right around the bottle of antiseptic. ]
And hunting them isn't going to solve anything. It could be worse next time - even if I went. [ Even if they're good together in a fight. He gently waves the bottle at him. ] Get on the table.
[ As they don't have any chairs and he need him to stay still, it's the closest flat surface they have. ]
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No, but it feels great.
[ dean remarks slightly before doing as told. he eases himself on the table, looking at cas and then the wound, no t liking the sight of it one bit. it's inconvenient, and puts his arm on time out when he really needs it most. anything could happen, and wounds are always so limiting...
but instead of letting the frustration building up inside of him swell, he focuses on cas again. ]
What were you up to?
[ he says eventually, voice low and green eyes on cas. ]
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I think I fell asleep. Before that-- [ He lifts his shoulder in a shrug as he applies pressure to Dean's arm. ] I've been searching parts of the city. It's as if no one was ever really here.
[ Which is creepy, to say the least. Another minute or two passes before he lifts the now ruined material and exchanges everything for the needle and it's counterpart. Castiel leans in again, almost casual as he wipes flecks of blood from Dean's cheek with the tip of his finger. ]
I'll try to be gentle. [ The smile he gives means it's supposed to be a joke. ]
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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. ]
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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.
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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...
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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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