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for diefirst
Somebody's Saviour
He hasn't mentioned that he stopped off to put an angry spirit out of its misery on the way back from his two-day mini-roadtrip. He doesn't mention it because he doesn't want Cas to ask him why they didn't go together. Dean knows the answer will upset the other man, so instead he's bringing back supplies for what's going to be more freedom for Cas and some time they can use to look over the books he's picked up. He hasn't told Cas just how many libraries he's scoured since the wings appeared, but that's not important anyway. What's important is that he needs the answer.

When he steps foot through the door it's as he's slipping his cell back into his pocket. As much as he's not going to say it where anyone else can see or hear it, he's missed Cas too. But that much is obvious in the smile he's wearing as he sets his sights on the other man.

"Did I ever play you that song by Aerosmith?" He knows Cas didn't understand his reference from before, but he can probably change that by digging out the cassette he buried somewhere at the back of his collection.

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"Not the worst request I've heard." His response comes seconds before he's tugging his overshirt and shirt off, jeans pulled open not long after that. He's not happy until his boxers are down around his ankles too. He waits until he's sat down on the bed before pulling his socks off too. His eyes haven't left Cas the entire time, even as he lies back down against the covers.

When he finally turns around, tube in hand, he doesn't move any closer than the side of the bed. He's too busy staring down at Dean, taking in every inch of him once again. When he does finally close the rest of the space between them, he climbs straight onto the bed, straddling Dean's waist before lowering himself down to press a soft kiss to his lips. It's only a brief act, before he's resting their foreheads together and simply staring back down at the other man.

He has no choice but to keep looking straight back, especially when he has Cas on top of him. The other man starts to blur the second their foreheads are together though, and it's only when that starts to hurt that he closes his eyes and uses his hands to map out Cas's cheek instead. It's with still rough, calloused fingers that he slides that hand through the back of the other man's hair. He likes everything about the way Cas feels, even if he's so far avoided the wings. It's more for Cas's sake than his own. It doesn't quell the curiosity in his head though. It's why his fingers stop at the base of his neck instead, not willing to go further until he knows he's allowed to.

When Dean's eyes close, Castiel slides back to sit down again. He can't help but press into each of Dean's touches, but it's only when he pauses that Castiel tenses up. He knows just where those fingers would go next, and though he's finally gotten over the idea of leaving them out in the open around Dean, he isn't entirely sure how he's going to react to anything else. That doesn't mean he's unwilling to try though.

He stares down at Dean's chest for a long while, chewing on his lip in a nervous gesture. Despite all that though, he finally makes the decision he's long since known he'd end up making. This is still Dean after all. The man hasn't judged him on anything before, so he knows that things wont change now. He drops his head against Dean's chest then, not wanting to look up yet, even as he lifts his wings to brush against the sides of Dean's hands.

It's not an unpleasant feeling, even if he's not expecting it. He wasn't sure whether Cas would be willing to go this far, and though he's opened his eyes again to look at the feathers he can feel, he doesn't look anything more than satisfied at the whole thing. Yeah, it's a nice feeling that Cas will do this for him, but it's that curiosity satisfied he can feel the strongest. The smile that follows is directed at Cas only once he's lifted his head off his chest.

It's only when his eyes snap open that he even realizes he'd closed them in the first place. His breaths start to speed up, though it certainly isn't in a good way. Despite knowing that Dean's the one doing it, he can't bite back the slight panic that comes with having his wings touched.

He doesn't pull back though, and instead tries to focus on the skin right in front of his eyes, sliding upward to the all too familiar tattoo. He only manages to look as far as his collarbone before he makes a sudden jolt forward, kissing Dean almost desperately then.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's doing is making Cas feel uncomfortable. His fingers gently slip away from the feather he's feeling in favor of wrapping it around his shoulder instead. His other hand is still at the other man's cheek, and now he's satisfied that curiosity he's very aware of the state Cas has put him in. It's something he wants to fix right now.

"I love you, Dean." The words sound a little mumbled, thanks to him only barely pulling away before they escape him. Instead of moving in for another kiss though, he sits back upright again, making sure to catch Dean's hand during the movement. It's where his attention stays, pressing a kiss onto his palm and holding it between them. He doesn't do much else for a long moment, still trying to work up the courage to do what he thinks he needs to do.

When he does finally look back toward Dean again, he manages to give the man a smile; far weaker than would be usual, given their positions. It's the eye contact he's going for though. Eventually, he brings a wing forward, using his hold on Dean's hand to guide their fingers toward it.

"...they belong to you too. Every part of me does."

"You uh..." What he's going for is the reassurance that Cas doesn't have to do this. Not just because he thinks he should. But when his fingers are back on the feathers he can't finish his sentence. He can't get over how they feel despite the obvious wounds they've sustained in Cas's time as an angel. It's what he expects to feel when he touches a feather, and at the same time nothing at all like it. What he does realize is that he'd be happy brushing his fingers down the edges for a while and his plans are only workable until it gets light again. Mainly because they have a lot of road to cover before they're in a place secluded enough for Cas to have the freedom he wants.

Despite the slight tensing up that comes with the contact, Castiel does his best to relax into it. He looks back down toward Dean's fingers again, pulling own hand free and settling back. Without looking away from Dean's hand, he lifts his other wing, both now settling over his shoulders, mindful of blanketing them too much.

"Our Garrison was strong. Far stronger than anyone believed we would be. But we worked in an entirely different way to most of the others." He doesn't look back as he speaks, and instead focuses on a darker patch of feathers on the underside of one of his wings. "I was better at strategizing than actual battle. Some of our superiors believed we were wrong in our methods and aimed to try and retrain us to become more focused on the fight than the battle itself. It didn't work as well as they'd hoped." It's then that he actually brushes at the feathers there to explain just what he's trying to say. Beneath the mess there's a stab wound that's long since healed, but still scarred. A wound caused by one of the other angels that's going to stay with him, permanently.

"Retraining." He doesn't need that part clarified once he sees the wound. He doesn't think when his own fingers brush over the very same wound. It's not so much curiosity now as comfort. And thinly veiled anger. It's nothing out of the ordinary. He doesn't like the thought of anyone hurting Cas, even if this was before when he was an angel. It's the same raw rage that boils up from his chest. His fingertips are soft when they explore around the wound, careful not to push his luck. He doesn't know what the equivalent is on his own body. He knows there isn't a scar Cas hasn't seen.

"It was an accident." His tone shows just what he thinks of that excuse. Each patch of darkened feathers tells a similar story, and there's very few that he's willing to share. But there's one that he's proud to carry, and it's that he turns his attention to next. Taking ahold of Dean's wrist, he lifts his entire wing clear from the bed, pressing Dean's hand to the darkest feathers he has; some almost bare, and the rest half gone. He manages a smile though when he runs his own fingers over their remains.

"It takes a great deal to heal after the effects of Hellfire too. But I'm glad to have these ones, considering what it gave me afterwards." They're the scars he gained during the siege on Hell. Despite the damage, it meant Dean could be freed. That's, ultimately, what makes him proud to have them.

"That's from Hell?" It's all he says before he presses his palm up against the patch as though he can fix it. He knows it's way too late for that but it doesn't stop his palm from staying there. He doesn't work his fingers too hard over the feathers that are still there, his other hand automatically resting at Cas's hip to keep him where he is. He's free of all the scars he brought back from Hell thanks to the man on his lap. But he does have the one that's the most important now still visible on his arm.

He nods, just a little. "It was more than worth it. So before you even consider feeling guilty about any of it, remember that if things hadn't gone the way they did, we would have never met. And...I don't care how selfish it may be. I wouldn't change a thing that's happened." The worst part being that he really wouldn't. If Dean hadn't been 'The Righteous Man', Castiel knows they'd never have had a reason to meet, and he'd still be nothing more than a mindless soldier.

"You ever thought about..." He trails off there, not really sure what he's trying to say. Or how to say it. The whole thing is still huge to him, and the fact he doesn't know how things are going to turn out makes it that much harder.

"I dunno. Just kinda lucky it was you and me." Because he knows this wouldn't have happened otherwise.

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