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Dean’s getting worried, I can tell...
They arrived back at the motel, Dean laughing about how close the fight had been. This was their first routine hunt in a while, but things hadn’t gone to plan. All three men were covered in blood and more than a few cuts and scrapes. Even Castiel had taken a number of hits. Sam parted ways with Dean and Cas at the motel, moving to his own room. Dean went straight to the bathroom and Cas followed, listening to him ramble about the fight. A little smile touched Castiel’s lips as he listened.
“Man, and the way you wasted that ghoul at the last second? Cas, that was awesome. C’mere,” He grabbed Cas by the wrist and pulled him over to the sink. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Dean...” Cas looked away and frowned. “You don--”
“C’mon,” Dean shook his head and brought a wet cloth to Castiel’s face, wiping the mud away, not taking no for an answer.
Cas watched him for a moment, then gave in and closed his eyes. He relaxed against the sink and focused on the firm certainty of Dean’s hands as they washed away the mud and the blood. There were three cuts on Castiel’s face and he flinched as the rough cloth passed over a particularly bad one on his cheek bone.
It caused Dean to frown. When he wiped over that area again, it was more delicately. “Gotcha good tonight, huh?”
“So it would seem,” Cas agreed. He opened his eyes and found Dean’s face close to his, inspecting the cut.
“Thought that would have healed by now,” Dean said, frowning deeper now. He drew the cloth across the wound that was still open and bleeding.
“Yes, strange...” Cas pressed his lips into a thin line eyes glanced away for a second, then back to Dean. “It should be fine soon.”
“Cas, you doin’ okay, man?” Dean’s brows drew together and he pulled back a bit, looking Cas over for more damage that he couldn’t see.
“Of course, Dean, don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed and, just to prove the point, reached out to grab the front of Dean’s shirt. Castiel pulled the hunter in and pressed their lips together. Dean’s momentary protest was short-lived before he gave in and returned the kiss. Hands slid around Castiel’s waist and fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it free of his slacks. Cas ran his hands up over Dean’s chest and pushed the mud splattered jacket off his shoulders to the ground.
Clothing was removed one piece at a time as the pair made their way to the bed, where they tumbled in a half-dressed heap. The men rutted up against each other, hands grasping for open skin, sharing determined kisses. Their time together was always short-lived, pushed aside by jobs or the need to sleep, eat or research, so Dean and Castiel made the most of it every chance they got.
Hours later, Castiel laid in bed with Dean sprawled across his chest, hair still damp from the shower they shared to clean themselves from both the hunt and the sex. Dean snored softly and Cas enjoyed the gentle rise and fall of the man’s body. All of their cuts and scrapes had closed by now, but Dean hadn’t been wrong about how it was taking longer and longer each time for Castiel to heal himself. He had to focus his energy each time to do what would normally happen naturally and Castiel knew it was getting harder.
His grace was fading. He was falling. It was a wonder that he hadn’t finished falling already, but he still felt that warm glow deep within. Castiel knew that he still held the powers of an angel, could still smite the enemies they faced, but it was draining now. It wouldn’t be long until he was basically human. As he turned blue eyes to look at Dean’s sleeping face, Castiel wondered what he was waiting for.
Would it not be better to just let it go?
The next morning, Cas was already dressed when Dean woke. He was pulling his coat on and gave the hunter a small, tight-lipped smile.
“You’re up early, Cas...” Dean grumbled as he sat up, rubbing his face with both hands.
“Yes, I have some business to attend to today...” He glanced to the door, then back to Dean.
“Business? What business?”
“Angel business. I’ll explain later.” Without giving Dean time to question him further, Castiel vanished. He reappeared in a forest several miles away. It was desolate, except for the wildlife inhabiting the wooded area. This isolated location seemed the perfect place to give up everything he was for the only thing he wanted to be. This was, as Dean would say, like ripping off a bandaid. Losing his grace at once was easier than letting it slowly trickle out of him, feeling it fade a bit more every day.
Or so he thought.
When Castiel found his way back to Dean, he was in worse shape than he had expected. With ragged breath, he leaned against the wall outside the motel and knocked on the door. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the frame, waiting for Dean to answer his knock. Castiel no longer had any concept of time. He could search every place in the world in the span of a second when he had his grace. Now, he was human, or as close to human as an angel without grace could be. Maybe it was a few seconds before Dean opened the door, maybe minutes, Cas didn’t know anymore.
“Cas? Man, what the hell happened?” Dean’s hands and his arm registered to Castiel almost before his voice did. His hands squeezed at his shoulders, his voice was worried with a touch of anger. He was shuffling Castiel into the motel and over to a bed, settling him down on the edge of it.
Castiel allowed himself to be moved without any resistance. Dean’s hands felt different, his grasp, his touch. Everything felt different. The world was in a fog, his senses dulled, but at the same time, sharpened. He lifted his hands, staring at them, tilting his head and blinking.
“Cas?” Dean sounded even more worried now, his grip tightened on his arms as he knelt on the floor between Castiel’s legs.
“Yes--” Castiel’s voice was hoarse; he cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m alright, Dean.”
“Well, great, would you mind telling me what happened to you?” His grip didn’t loosen at all. “What, did ya’ get jumped by a gang of angels or something? I mean, what the hell was this angel business?”
“My grace...”
“Your grace?” Dean leaned back, brows drawn together as he screwed up his face in confusion. “Cas-- what?”
“I ripped out my grace,” Castiel nearly growled out, lifting his eyes to meet Dean’s with a challenging expression. In that moment, he saw Dean’s eyes for what felt like the first time. They was distracting.
“Why would you go and do a thing like that?” Dean was irate, but it came from a place of worry, concern for his safety.
Castiel shook his head, closing his eyes to keep his concentration. “I was losing it anyway. Every day, Dean, it was fading. I didn’t want it to happen that way, so I made a decision.”
“You made a--” Dean repeated, then clenched his teeth. Castiel opened his eyes and looked at Dean with his usual imploring stare and Dean caved. He pressed his lips together, staring at Cas, then sighed. “Well, are you okay? Because you don’t look so okay.”
“It’s... different, everything feels... different.” Castiel looked around the room, then down to Dean’s hands still holding tightly to his arms, then up to Dean’s face. The color of his eyes, his skin, his hair, they all seemed bolder, realer in a way Castiel couldn’t quite comprehend. He had always seen everything, but now it was as if Dean was all he could see. Losing his grace apparently came with a new kind of focus, one where he had no choice but to see only what was before him.
“Are you, like, stable? Are you gonna pass out or something?”
“No, nothing like that,” Castiel shook his head, then narrowed his eyes in concentration. “I just feel tired and hungry.”
“Yeah, well, I guess you’re sorta like us now, gotta start eating and bathing.” Dean crooked a smile and leaned back, sitting on his heels on the floor. Hands finally released the too-tight grip on Castiel’s arms and instead rested lightly on his thighs. The touch sent a strange jolt through Castiel that he hadn’t experienced before.
“Yes,” Castiel’s eyes dropped down to focus on Dean’s hands. “I suppose there are a great many things I must get used to now.”
“You want me to go grab some burgers for us, then?” Dean asked, standing up.
Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean’s wrist, surprised by the warmth of it, “No. No, I want you to stay here.”
“Okay... You sure you’re alright?”
“No, not especially.” He brushed his thumb over the inner part of Dean’s wrists, feeling the softness of the skin there and focusing his vision on the color of blue veins just beneath the surface. Castiel was suddenly struck by the desire to know every way Dean’s body would be different to his new senses.
“What do you need me to do, Cas?” Dean’s voice was tight, tinged by worry. This worry went deeper than before, when Castiel’s cuts were taking longer than usual to heal.
“I don’t know,” Cas admitted, standing from the edge of the bed. He lifted his free hand, tentatively letting his fingertips trail down Dean’s cheek. His skin was soft and rough at the same time, little bristly prickles of stubble caught at the pads of Castiel’s fingers as he drew them downward. “Stay.”
“Alright,” Dean’s voice was gruff, hoarse. he cleared his throat, regaining composure. “How about we get you into bed. Maybe that’ll help.”
Dean moved now, changing their positions so he could urge Castiel to lay down on the bed. Powerful hands, capable of fighting the most fearsome monsters were gentle as they pulled Castiel’s trench coat off. As Dean did so, Castiel worked his fingers into the knot of his tie, feeling the need to loosen it for the first time. Free of clothing restriction, Cas settled on the bed and allowed Dean to pull his shoes off.
After setting the shoes aside, Dean took off his boots, shrugged out of his jacket, then climbed into bed. Castiel turned onto his side, his back to Dean, and without a word, Dean wound his arms around Castiel, pulling him back against his chest. It was a good feeling, Castiel decided, different somehow from all the other times Dean had held him that way. He could feel the beating of Dean’s heart against his back and the strength in Dean’s arms as he held Cas protectively. Castiel leaned his head into the pillow and felt the rough scrape of Dean’s cheek against his own. He took a hold of one of Dean’s where it rested against Castiel’s chest, laced their fingers together, palm to the back of Dean’s hand.
“How you doin’?” Dean murmured against Castiel’s ear, causing the angel to shiver.
“This is good.”
These new feelings are worth it. Dean is worth it.