annundriel | SPN Fic: Kiss It Better, Dean/Castiel (G)

Kiss It Better
Dean/Castiel
G
860
Spoilers for 5.21. Episode coda.
Dean finds Castiel after.

This began life as comment fic to

lattimore. I wanted to polish it a bit and expand it a little, but then I couldn't quite let it go. Thank you,

olivelavonne, for looking it over. ♥

Pocketing the rings, Dean leaves Bobby outside to finish his beer. He drops his own empty bottle in the trash in the kitchen and finds Cas slumped like a ragdoll on the couch in the other room, looking miserable.

Worry burbles up from the pit of Dean’s stomach. “Hey,” he says, “you okay?”

Cas groans and sinks deeper into the cushions, blinking at him in the dim light coming through the curtains before closing his eyes. “I hurt all over.”

A hint of relief mixes with the worry. That’s…well, it’s not good, but it’s better than so many other things that could be wrong. “That’s not surprising. You’re barely recovered from…” He rolls his hand at Cas, unsure of how to put everything Cas has done for them—for him—into words. “You know.”

Shifting, Cas makes a pained noise high in the back of his throat. “I’m not used to these limitations.”

Dean sits on the couch, careful not to jar him. He wants to reach out and touch, offer some comfort. He doesn’t, afraid of causing more harm than good, not wanting to hear Cas make that noise while flinching away from his hands. “You’ll get used to it,” he says instead, hands empty, twitching on his own thighs.

“What if I don’t want to get used to it,” Cas says, eyes slipping open, finding Dean beside him with no trouble. It’s not quite a question, not quite a challenge.

Dean frowns at him. “You’ll learn.”

He expects Cas to hit him with some snappy comeback, some mystified angelic confusion, but Cas’ face freezes, slips into something sad and disturbingly breakable that Dean can’t bear to see. He says the first thing that pops into his head.

“I could kiss it and make it better.”

Cas stares at him with dark eyes, so close and so far across the cushions, and Dean feels his cheeks heat up. “I do not think that…actually works, Dean.”

Duh. Dean knows that. It’s the thought that counts, even if he wasn’t really thinking. “I—”

“I hurt everywhere.”

It’s then that Dean notices the look Cas is giving him, the way his eyes aren’t just pain-filled anymore. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he feels his pulse slip upward a notch. “Well,” Dean says, licking his lips. He feels a smile tugging there, thinks he sees one lurking around the serious corners of Cas’ mouth. “Guess we’d better get started then.”

Easier said than done.

Cas watches him patiently, pain caught in the creases at the corners of his eyes, the curl of his fingers against the couch. Dean wants to get closer, wants to reach out and touch, especially now that he has permission, but he doesn’t know where. He’s afraid he’s walking into a minefield, every inch of newly human flesh potentially sore.

There are cuts across Cas’ left eyebrow, three of them red and healing. As good a place to start as any.

Dean’s palms are sweaty. He’s nervous like he’s never done this before—you haven’t, you moron—and he wipes his hands against his thighs, angling himself toward Cas.

It’s not going to work. The angle is wrong, too much of Cas’ body in the way of Dean’s goal. As much as Dean would like to press Cas into the cushions, feel him stretched underneath him, he knows that now is not the time.

Later, he thinks. Because Cas isn’t dead, and Cas still has faith in him, and Cas isn’t going anywhere.

Dean stands enough to get his knee next to Cas’ thigh on the cushions, his other foot on the floor. One hand on the arm of the couch for balance, Dean half kneels above him, blocking out everything else. The fingers of his free hand rub against the grain of stubble on Cas’ jaw as he bends forward, Cas never looking away, never moving. Waiting.

It’s so quiet, Dean can hear the couch creak under their weight.

Cas’ breath comes faster, and Dean feels it hot against his throat as he leans in and presses a kiss to Cas’ brow. Gentle enough not to hurt, hard enough that Cas feels it.

There’s a sharp inhalation, then nothing as Dean pulls back to find Cas’ eyes with his own. They’re closed, dark lashes standing out against Cas’ pale cheeks. Dean realizes they’re both holding their breath, paused there on the edge of…something, frozen on Bobby’s couch.

“Cas,” he breathes. “Are you—Was that—”

Opening his eyes, Cas looks up at him, quiet and still. Unfathomable and familiar. “Dean.”

“Was that all right?” His voice feels thick, the words heavy. He slides his thumb across Cas’ cheek, and Cas tilts his face upward, leans into Dean’s hand, welcoming his touch.

“Yes,” he says, and Dean’s never heard his voice sound so intimate before, so obviously meant only for Dean. “That was…more than all right. I believe I may even feel slightly better.”

A surprised huff of laughter escapes Dean, a load he hadn’t even realized the weight of suddenly gone, lifted away. “Good,” he says, leaning down and finding Cas’ mouth with his own.

Current Mood: productive

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

marynyu.livejournal.com

Awwwwwwwwwwwww <3<3

*is melted and grinning like a loon*

From:

The Rambling Confessions of a Fickle Fangirl

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