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It was just a run of the mill salt-and-burn, torching some gnarly bones but for whatever reason Dean felt the hunt to his very core.
He blinks against the light in his room; even the soft glow of the bedside table light seems too harsh coming in from the dark of the night.
Dean takes a whiff of his clothes and makes a face. Yeah, he'll need to burn these clothes. He shucks his jeans off, careful not to touch the dried crusts of monster mash and discards his shirt too. Carefully, he puts them in the corner before grabbing a plastic bag he's had forever in his drawer. He tosses the clothes in and decides to do the same with his blue tank top.
He still remembers the sensation of all that goo just... exploding on him. While most of it splashed over his legs, he's sure there's residue and he'd been itching to get clean ever since the hunt finished.
Dean shakes his head as he gets rid of his socks and underwear. The good thing about it being less monsters in the world nowadays was... that there were less monsters but Dean had almost but forgotten how dirty it could get from time to time. Dirt though, he could deal with but fluids... He shudders, that is something he's never going to get used to.
A warm arm snakes around his waist and Dean smiles. Now that is something that he still has a hard time getting used to. He's grateful as fuck, but he can still wake up from a dream, convinced that it was just that, a dream. That the bed is empty and cold, that Cas is not there. Or worse, that he is but that they're –
“You alright, Dean?” Cas' soft-spoken words are in his ear.
“Mm, I'm good. Just filthy.”
Cas burrows his nose in the nape of Dean's neck and inhales. “Mm, you really are.”
Dean escapes his arms. “Shut up, you love me dirty.”
Cas laughs and Dean can hear him remove his clothes but he's already headed for the shower. That surely is one of the best ideas Sam's ever had. A private shower.
He was very adamant about the idea and even though Dean had objected in the beginning – he knows squat about plumbing and tiles – he relented after weeks of endless pestering from Sam. Mostly it was Eileen who finally had sat him down and explained that Sam had been tired of walking in on him and Cas and if he didn't relent, she'd stop baking the traditional Sunday pie.
Eileen sure knew how to deliver a threat.
It was a very good idea.
He twists the knob and sighs as the warm water pours down over him. No need to jump back suddenly when the water goes from warm to cold and the water pressure is as good as in the old Men of Letters showers. The tiles are soft gray stone – huge slabs that were a pain in the ass to transport to the Bunker – and while there is a traditional showerhead, Dean prefers the large, circular, one that's above his head. He likes to pretend he's standing in the middle of a rainfall when he's alone and the icing on the cake is that the acoustics is much better in this bathroom. He's never sounded better when singing.
Cas joins him.
“You feel dirty too?”
“I still haven't gotten used to sweating. It's very uncomfortable. So I'd say yes, I'm dirty.”
Dean nods and grabs the shampoo from the small alcove in the wall. “Sweat is fine, pieces of monster gunk on me, that's way past being 'comfortable'. When it's witches at least their bodily fluids are contained. This was just... all over me.” He swings with the shampoo bottle for emphasis.
There's a smile in Cas' voice. “I saw that. Now, give me that.”
“What?”
Cas gets behind Dean and guides him away from the spray of water with firm hands on his shoulders. “Give me the bottle.”
Dean frowns but holds out his hand.
Cas grabs the shampoo bottle and squirts out a good dollop in his palm.
“Hey, don't take all of it. We're on our last bottle of the good shampoo, and the bad one is murdering my scalp. Not using that again. 'Soothing sensations' my ass, they should've–“
Dean stops mid-sentence when he feels Cas' fingers through his hair. He massages firmly but with a soft hesitant touch that makes Dean's heart beat faster. He waits for Cas' hands to go lower but they're firmly placed on his head. The wrong head.
“What are you doing?” He doesn't mean to sound so shocked but his whole body is awake and his brain is firing off a thousand questions, with 'why' shining most brightly. “Why?”
“Why not,” Cas muses. His hands are firm but not too hard.
One hand slides down to the small of his back and pushes gently. Dean takes a step forward, allowing some water to wash over him.
Cas' hands are back on his head, massaging his head and sensations of pleasure travel from his scalp all the way down to his toes. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end.
Closing his eyes, Dean sighs softly. “This's good.” He wants to say more but is lost for words. A soft, warm sensation wraps around him. Home, safety, comfort.
A lump forms in his throat and it's as if Cas senses the minuscule tension in his body.
Again his hands leave Dean, taking the warmth of Cas' body with him.
More soap now and Cas' hands travel gently all over, from Dean's shoulders that drop when tension leaves him, over Dean's back that welcomes the touch and down to the side of his waist. Dean chuckles softly but doesn't say anything else, afraid that this moment will end too soon.
Cas takes another step, his body flush to Dean's.
Dean angles his head somewhat, avoiding the shower spray hitting his eyes.
Cas' hands are slow and methodical, and wherever he touches Dean's skin, he leaves a trail of comfort, a pleasurable zing that creates a soft buzz in his entire body. “You like that?”
“Mm.” Dean murmurs.
Cas turns off the showerhead above, and those few seconds in between before he grabs the shower arm, Dean blinks as if slowly waking up from a trance. But soon he's lulled in again, as Cas gently uses his hands and splashes water over him.
The water from the showerhead massages his skin softly, but Dean loves the most when Cas' hands follow shortly thereafter. They carefully massage away the residues of shampoo and when he feels Cas' fingers at the nape of his neck again, his toes almost curls.
He feels himself almost swaying back and forth in unison with Cas' hands as he runs his fingers through Dean's hair. Slowly, slowly he rinses away all traces of the soap.
A kiss follows shortly thereafter.
His soft lips travel over freckled skin, leaving a trail of kisses in its wake and Cas makes sure to leave one hand in his hair, massaging firmly.
The combination of hard pulls on his hair and scalp mingled with feather-light kisses on his back is too much. He almost sways on his feet. It's like Dean's body tries to make him fall asleep right then and there. He knows it will be a relaxing slumber, one that pulls him under and envelops him in – if not sweet dreams – then at least thankful oblivion.
A sudden rush of love envelops Dean. He knows it's sappy but the feeling is so undeniably there, that he can't help but swallow hard. He feels like he's on the brink of tears as unnamed emotions start to well up.
He pauses there, needing to collect himself before facing Cas.
Finally, Dean turns to face him.
Cas looks at him, a smile on his face. “How was that?”
Dean can't help but grin back. “It was alright.”
Cas kisses him on the lips, just once before pushing him out of the shower. “Go grab some towels. I know you loved this, Dean. You were practically purring.”
Dean shouts to Cas as he grabs the towels. “You know that tigers purr too!”
Quickly, Dean dries himself off before grabbing some loungewear and a well-used hoodie.
As he walks back to Cas, he's already finishing up, rinsing off the soap.
Dean watches as Cas dries himself, suddenly filled with amazement that this is real. Cas showered with him, gave him a massage to die for – not literally, he's so done with that – and he's everything Dean never dared hope for and only dreamed of.
“You're more of a cat I'd say. Tigers have a more belting purr.”
“Not my fault if you heard me when I had my pre-coffee singing sessions.”
Cas grabs one of Dean's old T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. “I think everyone in the Bunker can hear your pre-coffee singing seasons, Dean.”
Dean walks up to Cas and kisses him. “Shut up,” he murmurs against Cas' lips. “And... thank you. That was nice.”
“Mm, I figured I'd give you something else, to help clear your mind of monster innards.” He puts a hand on Dean's chest, adjusts the hoodie's drawstrings. “Did it work?”
“It did. Now, how about we end this Saturday the only way a good Saturday can end?”
“Netflix and chill? Deal, only if I can choose the snacks this time.”
Cas leaves Dean's side suddenly, practically half-way to the kitchen.
“Netflix and chill is all good but we gotta have a serious talk about your snack choices, Cas. Two years a human and you keep insisting dry-roasted soybeans are a snack.”
Cas is already out the door.
“You're wrong!” Dean calls out but Cas doesn't answer.
Dean shakes his head and follows Cas to the kitchen. Netflix and chill, godawful soybeans and Cas. He couldn't be happier.