The tall grass acted as a curtain around them as the two lay stock-still, Dean not wanting to have to reel himself into a standing position and cause unnecessary contact (not that more contact than how they were was even possible.) Dean breathed in slow and deep, feeling his own heartbeat in his chest, trying to force the heat down from his cheeks. The breeze swirled around them, rustling the greenery and causing Castiel to shiver underneath Dean's weight, the freezing temperatures crawling under his clothes where the fabric had hiked up in the awkward progression of their fall. Dean ignored the sudden friction and forced a dead-pan stare at the ex-Angel who looked back uncomfortably, unsure of what to do in this… situation. However behind the blank almond-coloured eyes that bore into him, Cas couldn't have had any idea of the flurry of thoughts going through the hunter's mind. It was like Dean's whole body had shut down to make way for his brain to process what had happened; he'd had his eyes closed and the next minute he and Cas had hit the floor and each other. Sweeping his eyes over Cas' face it was difficult to see the blood that ran from his bottom lip to his chin in the dark, but he was sure it was there - he had a similar puncture in his lip where it'd clashed with Cas' teeth. More than anything Dean just wanted to lift himself up, but his limbs locked in place and he found his attention swinging back to his drumming heart. Surely it was just adrenaline?
Castiel tried to make sense of the man covering him, face like a statue, eyes locked on his and heartbeat hitting viciously into his own chest, their torso's void of any space between. The shivering spell he'd experienced seemed to have rendered Dean in an unmoving state and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. Why not just move off of him? Stand up and then they could get back to the car? Was he angry? Castiel hadn't meant for them to collide, he'd simply wanted to show some appreciation of the effort Dean had went through to cheer him up. In a blind rush he'd stood in front of him to get his attention. Thinking back, why hadn't he just called his name, like usual?
Cas opened and shut his mouth like a fish out of water, muting himself before he spat out the habitual phrase "I'm sorry, Dean."
Suddenly tasting the familiar iron flavour of blood, he instinctively lifted his arm to check the wound. Forearm hitting into Dean's elbow, the man jolted forward and fell ever closer to the ex-Angel's face. Castiel tried to reel back as much as he could manage into the dirt but just successfully cleared enough space between them so that Dean momentarily found their noses grazing each other's before pulling back. The touch dragged him into reality, ears flooding with the sound of the wind whistling in the night air, a sense of self-awareness crawling its way from his feet right up to his shoulders, noting every point of contact. Castiel's uncomfortable expression pooled into view and this time it was Dean's turn to gape. Voice hitching in his throat, Dean couldn't quite explain to himself, never-mind the man pinned beneath him exactly why they were still in said position a full sixty seconds after it had initiated.
Wordlessly beginning to rise, Dean's ears pricked to a distant shuffling and he dropped himself back down. Castiel let out a strangled "mmf!" as the oxygen left his lungs, again trapped under Dean's weight. Covering Castiel's mouth with the palm of his hand, Dean tried to make them as inconspicuous and compact in the high grass as he could when distant voices rolled over their heads.
At first it seemed like idle chatter between two men before one shouted "Where is the feathered little prick?!" the second man letting out a snappy laugh, telling his companion to hush.
Dean felt Castiel's ragged breath subside and he became still, fingers uncurling from clawing at Dean's hand clasped tight over his mouth, breath coming steadily as it rolled over Dean's knuckles.
They waited; lying as flat as they could manage figuring it was too late to budge seeing as any movement could give away their location. Reaching around carefully with his free hand, Dean patted down his lower back in search of the gun he usually stored in the hem of his pants and choked back a curse of frustration when he didn't find it. Hearing the voices come closer, Dean slipped his hand away from Cas' mouth and brought his arms to his sides, palms down in the dry dirt. He slowly lifted his body up and steadily bent his head down till his mouth was a hair's breadth away from the shell of Castiel's ear.
"I'm gonna run and distract them. You wait at least ten seconds before making a break for the car, you understand?"
Before Cas could respond, Dean shot up from him and began sprinting up the field.
Dean's heavy footsteps smashed against the earth beneath his feet as he dashed his way forward on the slightly uneven ground, shouting a quick "Over here, you dicks!" to catch the duo's attention, watching them at a distance as they spun round, eyes indistinguishable from the night sky. The first to run towards him was the younger-looking of the two, with short hair and a tall frame. The second was slightly shorter, with slower reactions but who ran faster than the first. Dean heightened his pace when he registered just how quick they were and headed across the width of the field, disappearing into the trees.
Castiel lay and mentally counted up to ten before raising himself from the floor slightly to look over the blades of grass obscuring his vision. Seeing no-one, he got to his feet and ran back to the black speck in the far distance that was Dean's beloved Impala, checking over his shoulder every so often to make sure he wasn't being followed. Pace slowing to a light jog as he reached the car, he pulled his hand away as he instinctively reached for the driver's door handle, instead tracing his hand along the sleek paint until he got to the trunk. Flipping it open, he uncovered the weapons compartment and sifted through ranges of guns, bullets, knives and stakes until he came across the weapon he wanted. Gripping the demon-killing knife in his hand tightly, he deftly closed the trunk and ran as quickly as his vessel's legs could carry him into the trees. Dean would undoubtedly be tracking his way back to the road for guidance and surely he didn't mean for him to drive away when he told him to get to the Impala… right?
Dean tried to steady his breathing as he sprinted haphazardly across the small forest, avoiding as many branches and roots as he could, the footsteps of the two Demons on his heels still as loud as when they'd first reached throwing distance of him. They weren't slowing down. He veered to the right and started making his way to the road; when he was at the road he could run that last stretch back to Bobby's and hopefully Cas would already be there – if he didn't reach Singer Salvage he'd be right there for the taking if his brother and Bobby would be oh so kind as to drive out and help him. Letting out the odd grunt of frustration when he steered to close to the sharp bark of the trees surrounding him, Dean eventually began to feel the strain on his legs from prolonging his sprint, but thankfully the adrenaline coursing through his veins kept him upright and moving forward, maintaining the few metres of distance between him and his pursuers.
One or both of the Demons cackled now and again, giddily screeching out to their target whenever they covered a few paces of distance between them and him.
When Dean's foot collided with a hidden tree root in the underbrush, he toppled forward at a breakneck speed. The ground rushed towards him and he raised his arms, curling the upper half of his body enough that he flipped violently onto his tailbone. Hitting up off of the floor painfully, the momentum made him skid forward a few paces, the odd twig or stone catching and tearing at the flesh of his lower back. Sucking the air in through bared teeth his eyes squeezed shut at the pain shooting up his spine; when he opened them again the supposed view of the sky was replaced with a stunning white. Thinking he'd hit his head, Dean tried to push himself up from the floor and keep running, beginning to panic when he heard no footsteps around him, but instead of rising through the white his forehead pressed against cold fabric. Jerking his head away, a gurgling sound close to his ear made the breath catch in his throat. Dean snapped his head around to see the shorter Demon inches from him, eyes blown wide and blood slithering its way down his face. The scene began to register slowly as he witnessed the knife slide out of the Demon's forehead, eyes trailing to the hilt, to a firm hand, followed by the familiar tan colour of Castiel's trench coat.
Hunched over him, Dean recognised Castiel's form in the dark, one arm outstretched holding the weapon and the other braced by Dean's head; The woodland soil was bunched up around the ex-Angel's knees on either side where he'd skidded over Dean's prostrate form to stab his assailant through the skull.
Castiel tilted to the side and shifted his weight to one leg as he slowly rose from the floor, eyeing up the taller demon with pure hostility. Adjusting the knife in his hand he deftly threw the blade forward, piercing the second pursuer square in the heart as he drew back from them. The familiar sound of one of Hell's minions dying was brief, followed by a hefty thud as the tall corpse slumped to the dirt.
Dean let his head lull back and he sucked in oxygen greedily, lungs burning, legs numb and back stinging. Castiel staggered over, exhausted, to the dead man; turning the limp body onto its back he pulled the knife from its chest before sliding down the bark of a nearby tree and plopping gracelessly to the soil, panting and letting his legs fall apart as they cramped with the exertion.
"Cas," Dean gasped, rolling onto his front to fix the man with a heavy-lidded look through the gloom, "When I said 'make a break for the car' I meant 'drive away.'"
Castiel smiled faintly at the ground. "Don't be an idiot, Dean."
Bobby's front door clicked open at an almost deafening volume as the two stumbled their way in. Limbs stiff and heavy they both lurched towards the couch, slumping into the soothing cold fabric, Dean sighing as it eased the burning in the wounds on his back.
No words were being uttered in the flat gloom of the familiar room and both men's eyes were slowly closing when two pairs of footsteps tapped loudly down the stairs, snapping them back into awareness. Dean was the first to groan as Sam rounded the corner.
"Where the hell have you two been?" He asked, gesturing at the two who remained seated, staring up at the youngest Winchester with solid expressions, too tired to react to a telling-off.
"Starting to think you'd crashed or somethin'" Bobby grumbled, emerging from behind Sam and wandering into the kitchen, switching on the light and making Dean flinch at the brief blinding white.
"We ran into a bit of trouble," Dean muttered, voice a weight in his throat.
Sam exhaled, lips pursed and stern look on his face. Dean gave him a cheeky smirk in reply.
"You hurt?" The sibling sighed, scanning over his brother and his friend – who was slowly sliding down the couch onto the armrest, falling asleep – for injuries. "You get punched in the face or something?" Sam asked, pointing to Dean's bloody lip.
Dean flattened a panicked hand over his lip to obscure the wound from view and winced when it stung at the touch. Sam's eyes widened briefly, eyebrows furrowing, confused by his brother's reaction. Dean let out a few notes of harsh laughter, coughing to clear his throat. "No – I mean, yes! Yes." He stuttered, getting up to leave.
Sam watched with a bemused expression as Dean covered the stairs with unusual haste and slammed his door shut.
Drawing his eyes away from the landing, Sam fixed Bobby with a "What's wrong with him?" look before turning his attentions to the ex-Angel slumped on the couch; Upon closer inspection, he noticed the man had a similar cut on his lip. Perching himself on the edge of the sofa, Sam prodded Cas' arm, curious.
"Hey, Cas?"
Castiel jerked upwards, surprised by the sharp poke in his side, "What! What?"
"Your lip… How'd you get that? Get hit?" Sam questioned, pointing at the cut. Cas looked over to him lazily, eyes glazed over in a daze; Castiel found it frustrating that after a full day his body shut down without his conscious consent, but assumed it all boiled down to the time spent never sleeping when he had his Grace. He wondered if Jimmy had felt this tired when he was chained to the passenger's seat with an entity that never closed his eyes but to blink.
"No," He stated bluntly, lifting his arms up as he prepared to elaborate. "Dean and I fell over and our faces kind of went…" Castiel demonstrated the clash wordlessly, clapping and clasping his hands together in front of an increasingly gleeful Sam as the history dawned on him.
"So, uh, how'd it get cut?" Sam prompted breathily, trying to hold the giggle at the back of his throat.
"Dean's teeth." Castiel said casually.
Sam bit into his finger to stop himself as the laugh rolled off of his tongue, snapping his head round to Bobby who stood in the kitchen doorway, a mixture of mute shock and amusement on his face.
The house was quiet in the late hours of the night, when the moon was highest in the sky. No owls were hoot-ing and no breeze was rattling the windows of Bobby's home, leaving a dead hush in its wake.
Castiel shuffled soundlessly up the wooden stairs, slinking into Dean's room carefully and then sat himself lightly on the edge of the bed. He looked at Dean's sleeping form for a concise moment – curled in his covers, one leg resting on top in the open air and arm slung forward, splayed in front of his face. Dean's torso rose and fell steadily, his breath the only sound in the room.
Hunching over, Castiel brought his hands to his sleep-stuck eyes and rubbed them slowly, sighing quietly before running his hand down to the healing wound on his bottom lip. He stroked over it curiously, not used to the feeling of a healing injury.
He'd woken up when the cold had rattled him, but sitting here in the dark of Dean's room he wondered why he'd came here. He didn't have the heart to wake him after the day they'd had and it wasn't as if Dean would let him stay for the night, anyway; he'd tell him to grab a duvet and go back to the couch – not that Cas knew where the duvets were. Come to think of it, he didn't know where many things were without directions from any of the three other residents. A wave of self-pity struck him then. Why was he so useless? He couldn't do anything. He only knew how to fight and with the precaution's they'd taken he didn't have much confrontation to do so.
Letting his mind run through fresh self-loathing and want of his Grace, Cas didn't notice when Dean shifted behind him.
"Cas?" Dean grumbled, looking to the end of the mattress where Castiel's silhouette loomed.
Twitching at the sound of his name, Cas swivelled around a touch, not quite facing the man who was once his appointed charge. When had he stopped becoming his charge and became his friend?
"Yes, Dean?" He answered quietly, suddenly conscious of how strange his actions must seem, inwardly berating himself for drifting up to the room thoughtlessly.
"Y'know, I'll never get used to you just appearing whenever I wake up." He said flatly, remembering the times Castiel had dropped in out of the blue when he had his mojo. "Somethin' bothering you?"
"Uh, no… I was just cold. I…" He paused a moment. "Can you just tell me where the extra sheets are, and I'll leave you to sleep? Sorry, I keep waking you."
There was the sound of ruffling sheets and Dean sniffing before a soft pat sounded on the mattress. "There're no more duvets so you're gonna have to bunk with me... again." Dean uttered as casually as he could, running a hand through his hair and exhaling before pulling back the covers and shuffling to give Cas more room.
Castiel rubbed the back of his neck as he usually did when he was nervous and stood; he walked slowly around the bed before carefully placing himself in the space Dean had left and lifted up the covers. Nestling into the warmth, his appreciation for Dean's human-furnace-like properties teetered on the opposite end of the scale as it had been that morning.
The two both actively ignored the tensing of the other when their backs came in contact.
"This is better than sleeping top 'n' tail, I guess." Dean murmured, more to himself than Cas who wriggled under the sheets a bit in response.
"Dean, is your lip okay?" Cas asked, mind wandering, completely changing the subject. He'd felt guilty since the incident.
Dean closed his eyes for a moment and bared his teeth. Shit. He'd hoped the whole fiasco had been conveniently forgotten. "Yeah, Cas. It's fine. Just a nip." He answered mechanically, not really sure of what else he could say; my pride's intact still, if that's what you're worried about? That would be a lie. "Not like we kissed, though, right? You couldn't call that a kiss."
"No, Dean, that wasn't a kiss." Castiel sighed indignantly, almost as if he were talking with a child.
Dean stiffened up, muscles tensing and tension rising in the point of contact between them. Oh, God. He said that out loud?
"Of course it wasn't a kiss, you ass." He snapped defensively, embarrassed. Holy shit, why did he have to say that out loud rather than anything else? Just his luck.
"Don't get aggressive, Dean. I was just stating the fact that what happened isn't classed as a kiss."
Dean snorted, "Exactly. Not like you would know what a kiss was anyway." Once the words left his mouth, Dean immediately regretted them. That was a bit too far.
Castiel took it in his stride. "I've been watching over Earth for millennia, Dean. I know what a kiss is."
Dean couldn't stop himself, "Well, never experienced one, then."
An uneasy feeling swirled in the hunter's chest when his last comment was met with icy silence.
"Cas…?"
No reply.
"Hey, dude, if I offended you, I'm –"
"No, you're right."
Dean felt the tension ease from his shoulders at the sound of the man's voice.
"So, you've never kissed someone? Not even an Angel? I mean… Not having sex is one thing, but to not have kissed someone is a bit unbelievable." Dean's tone had slipped into one of someone in deep contemplation. He remembered being surprised when the Angel had told him he hadn't 'had occasion' to have sex with any other being, but had thought the man had at least planted one on someone - even if it wasn't in the romantic sense. "Maybe I should just drag you back to one of those "Dens of iniquity" you love so much." He joked, nudging Castiel playfully in the back with his elbow.
"No thank you, Dean." Cas hastily declined. Dean laughed at the earnest rejection of the idea. "I appreciate you trying to help, but I'd rather not feel kissing someone was compulsory; especially a stranger."
Dean paused to mull over Castiel's words. Rolling onto his back he felt one sole idea clawing to the forefront of his mind. What if…?
Pulling himself upright, Dean gently tugged Cas over onto his back by his shoulder. The ex-Angel didn't struggle but instead just looked completely and utterly lost, staring up at the hunter in the darkness, faces glowing in the black where the moon shone down through the open curtains.
Castiel looked about the room for a moment. "Is there something wrong, Dean?"
Dean didn't say anything but instead drew in a sharp breath through his nose and shook his head from side to side. Castiel couldn't label him a stranger; neither would he be pinned in a situation he couldn't get out of. Maybe this would ease those confusing feelings he'd been having lately? Get it out of the way .Just maybe.
Organising his resolve and clinging on to it desperately, Dean leaned over the man lying bemusedly beside him in his narrow single bed and lowered his head. He held fierce eye contact with Castiel to monitor his reaction as he closed the gap between them.
When their lips brushed together gently, Dean watched as Cas' eyes blew wide and he searched Dean's own green irises for an explanation that he couldn't give.
After loaded seconds of one-sided motion, he drew their lips apart. As he twitched his head back, he could feel his stomach turn and clench in apprehension before he felt a light push against the sensitive skin of his lower lip, Dean's eyes flickered downwards a moment before locking gazes with the man for a second time. Castiel kept his sapphire eyes fixed on Dean, and Dean wasn't quite sure if he found it unnerving or encouraging.
The fallen Angel's eyes were like windows – transparent, clear; he had initially been panicked, but that had quickly subsided. Right now, they were pooling with curiosity. Although Dean wasn't sure whether the man was comfortable with what was happening, he bravely leaned back in.
Taking a risk, Dean shut his eyes, drawing his focus from Cas' tell-all gaze and training it on his mouth, steadily deepening the kiss until Cas brought himself up to speed.
He's learning, Dean laughed inwardly.
By the end of this, if everything went balls up, Dean assured himself he could think up an excuse.
He hoped, anyway.
Author's note: Can't write a kiss if my life depended on it! So sorry! But I tried. Anyway, YAY! PROGRESS! Dean's being very experimental here, so I hope I conveyed that well enough. Also, I imagine Cas would be inexperienced, but he wouldn't be hesitant or fearful of a kiss like it's portrayed sometimes - I mean, he went right for it with Meg in S6, and she's a demon. (Although with this altered timeline that will never happen now, hehe.) Please leave your thoughts in a review and tell me what you think's gonna happen next! Always so intriguing to hear what the readers have to say. Hope this chapter lives up to your standards - wouldn't want to disappoint...