Chapter Text
There’s a voice. It's gruff, low and kind of attractive, something that makes his chest feel heavy—though that could also be whatever it is that seems to be pressing there. Dean gets his vision to focus enough to discover it's a bloodied hand.
His first thought is Sam and it makes his heart drop into his stomach, but then he remembers that Sam isn’t here with them—he stayed at the motel. He’s probably having a sweet ass time of it, kicking back watching shitty tv and drinking lukewarm beers while he and Cas get their fucking hands dirty. Little shit. Or, big shit. Whatever.
The voice sounds again, and Dean’s with it enough to recognise his own name and the owner of said voice: Cas.
‘Dean. Dean- are you okay?’
Hazily, Dean pushes himself up on his elbows and looks around. There’s corpses of unsuspecting vamps scattered here and there. Dean wasn't even sure going in Cas could kill vamps, but the dude's an angel, what can't he kill? It was a stupid thought to begin with. Maybe he’s concussed.
He becomes more aware of the hand on his chest and brings himself to back reality and the angel kneeling concerned in front of him.
‘Huh?’ Dean licks his lips and ignores the way his dick twitches at the image of Cas kneeling in front of him. It’s just- it’s a stupid crush, alright? He’s got a handle on it.
‘You're bleeding. I took care of the nest. Why didn't you call Sam? You shouldn't have come here alone.’
Dean rolls his eyes and lies back on the ground. ‘I didn’t you fuckin’ ass. I’m here with you aren’t I?’
‘Only because Sam called to pass on crucial information. Which you would have missed had I not come- you told him I was with you. That was irresponsible, Dean.’
Okay so maybe he’d told Sam he had Cas for backup and gone it alone, whatever. Sometimes a dude’s just gotta take out a nest to work out a little frustration. And Cas is here now, what’s the difference? ‘Get out of it, Cas. I feel like I just went ten rounds with Bane.’
‘Bane? Vampires are a great cause for disturbance but I don’t understand why that means you had to lie to your brother.’
Dean groans at Cas’s ignorance: he's really gotta make time to introduce him to some DC.
They sit in quiet for a moment, Dean feeling Cas’s eyes on his the entire time. Then, ‘Dean.’ Just that, nothing else, and Dean sighs, rubbing at his face. It comes away smeared in red.
'Is this mine?’ Nine times outta ten; it's not. Well. Maybe seven. Okay, six.
Four at worst.
‘Yes.’ Cas's voice sounds... odd. Dean glances up to meet his gaze (because he’s still staring at him) and moves to sit up. He notices Cas’s throat work quickly as he shifts a little uncomfortably, reaching out to grasp Dean’s arm to help him.
'Cas... the staring? What is it- is there something wrong with my face?’ Dean presses his hand across his face, preparing for some gnarly injury but there’s no pain, no stinging (figures, he’s got an angel to heal him) but stops short when Cas reaches out and grabs his wrist to pull it away.
‘There's nothing wrong with your face, Dean.’
‘Uh.’ Now is usually about the time when Dean reminds Cas of personal space. He’ll come up with some half hearted witty remark and Cas will nod awkwardly and step back. Dean will fight not to stare at Cas’s lips—fail spectacularly—and they’ll go back to whatever the fuck it is they don’t do with each other despite how badly Dean wants it. This is their routine, it’s their thing. And Cas is ruining it by continuing to just, sit there. Between his legs.
His brain has stopped functioning.
Cas’s eyes drop down to Dean’s lips, and Dean flicks his tongue out to confirm that yeah, it’s split. He thinks his nose might be bleeding, and there’s a sticky little pool of blood in the crook of his chin. Then, without warning, Castiel leans into his space, so close that Dean’s heart does little Cas specific palpitations, and he licks the blood off him, leaving behind a strange tingling on Dean's lips where he gently sucked and healed the wound.
Dean stares.
Cas stares back.
‘Did- did you just... I—‘ Dean stutters and his brain comes to a grinding halt. Nothing resides in his brain long enough to form into anything other than a sharp tugging in his gut. He doesn’t. He’d always thought- but then.
They continue to stare at each other for a tense moment. Cas never takes his eyes off Dean's face.
Dean works his jaw a number of times in an attempt to say something, anything. But it just keeps snagging like an open wound on the fact that Cas had leant forward and fucking- they’d- it was a kiss. And look, Dean’s daydreamed about it, many many… many times, but for it to actually happen, and for Cas to be the one to make the first move is- he’s by no means a closeted man, hasn't been for a long time thank you very much, but something about it just. Rubs at him the wrong way and Dean can’t work out what it is. Each time he gets closer to working out why he feels like bolting he gets a flash of Cas’s tongue lapping at the edge of his mouth and—
He realises his hand is tentatively touching the very same spot Cas had sucked and he quickly drops it to his side.
‘Uh. C-Cas,’ Dean clears his throat and feels a heat rising up like wildfire in his face, ‘What... what was that?’ Dean refuses to blush because Dean Winchester does not fucking blush. He’s said and done filthy, outrageous things with all manner of folk and he’s never once blushed, so this- this is just a reaction to… to leftover angel juice. Or not angel juice ‘cause that sounds like- and he isn’t thinking—
He shakes himself a little. Tries to pull himself back together, and ends up too far in the other direction: he gets defensive.
‘I kissed you.’ Cas cocks his head to the side, in mild confusion. As though that were the thing Dean’s taking umbrage with. And not- what it actually is that he’s—
‘Yeah, I got that,’ Dean grits his jaw and takes a deep breath, ‘But what the hell, man? Where did that come from?’
‘You were injured, Dean.’ Like it’s so matter of fact.
Dean blinks. Cas continues to stare at him with the usual, I already gave you the answer why are you still confused, Dean face that he’s mastered so well.
‘Why didn't you just... use your angel mojo or whatever.’ Dean gestures at Cas in a general whatever-it-is-you-do fashion.
‘I did.’ He frowns.
Dean sighs. ‘Yeah but you’ve never- I mean you don’t normally—‘ It’s not what we do, he wants to say, but changes tack when it looks like Cas is about to actually talk about it, ‘Whatever, look it doesn't matter. Let's just, go back to the motel and never speak of this again.’ He snaps, in the hope it hurts his feelings and he’ll finally fucking get from between his legs.
He doesn’t.
Dean has to make shooing gestures before Cas vacates his space and stands. Dean ignores Cas’s outstretched hand, pretending instead to not remotely need help getting up after being knocked on his ass the wrong side of thirty. He risks a glance out of the corner of his eye and is dismayed to find that Cas looks sad and hurt and now he feels like a fucking dick. Not enough to say anything about it, but enough to offer to let him drive Baby.
He’s not sure why he’s being a dick about it, especially not when it’s what Dean’s been dreaming about for- well for a time, but it’s not how he’d thought they’d. If, you know. They ever did. Which he’d be cool with not doing by the way, he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship it’s just— well.
Cas declines the offer of driving, which Dean is only quietly absolutely fucking relieved about because it gives him something to do with his hands other than wring them in his lap like a war widow. The drive back is fraught, but quiet. He can feel Castiel’s gaze on him like a brand every time his hand drifts back to his lip.
At the motel, Dean steps away from Cas quicker than intended, pulling at face at Sam when he frowns at them both. Sam tries to berate Dean for lying to him about the hunt, Dean calls him a little bitch who should mind his own, and Castiel shifts awkwardly on his feet before disappearing with a faint flutter of wings.
(It only occurs to him later that he could have left the nest in the same way—there was literally no feasible reason he can think of that he allowed Dean to drive him to the motel, only to fly off without a word to Sam)
*~*
That was the first time Castiel kissed Dean.