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That sends an inexplicable shiver down Dean's spine. He's not sure how to react to that.

"So. Soldier of god and massage therapist. You are one talented son of a bitch."

"I doubt I would be so skilled with someone else. You're special." Cas is tempted to kiss a line down Dean's back but ultimately decides against it, and climbs off of the bed to wash his hands in the bathroom and return to his bucket of melting ice and Bobby's book on the table.

"I'm not special," he mutters. He's an alcoholic with more complexes than he's got names for. Yes, okay, so Heaven needed him as Michael's vessel, but he said no, and all of that's over with anyway, so Dean is back to being...Dean.

You're stupid is what you are.

"I happen to think you are." And Castiel's opinion is more valuable than yours so shut up, Dean. He leans his hip against the table, sucking on a fresh ice cube and turning a page, finger following the script.

Whatever. Dean feels way too good to argue with Cas right now. Time to change the subject.

"You got anything good from those books?"

"No." He'd been hoping there'd be some information on the Leviathan, but despite being chock-full of Purgatory lore there isn't so much as an honorable mention. He flips the book shut with a sigh and rubs at his eyes with a hand.

"Wish I could help more. Only thing I know about Leviathans is what I see and what's in the Bible, and I'm pretty sure the Bible was describing a crocodile."

He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "C'mere. Sit on the floor." Dean's not much for giving massages, but he can at least rub Cas' temples for a while.

Cas does as he's told because yeah, he's a little tired of being stressed out anyway. He leans against the inside of Dean's knee gratefully and closes his eyes, hands resting lazily on his lap.

Dean takes Cas' head in his hands, rubbing Cas' temples with his thumbs. It's a tried and true headache trick, and it always seems to work best when somebody else is doing it.

"Don't worry. We'll figure something out. We always do."

"I want to be able to protect you and Sam," Cas mumbles, pressing his mouth to Dean's knee. "I want to be able to heal you." If he was thinking less selfishly, he'd add that he wants to make right everything he did wrong and save the world again, but he isn't. Right now his focus is narrowed down to two points, Dean and Sam, with an emphasis on Dean. Save Dean. Protect Dean. Care for Dean.

Dean tenses at the mention of Sam, digging his teeth into his lip. He can't help it, but he can help saying anything about it. Anyway, Sam isn't the point right now. Cas is.

"You don't need to heal me, Cas. When I say having you back is the best thing I can think of, I mean it. Healing or no healing." He slides his fingers across Cas' scalp, coming through his hair.

God, that feels good. It's almost enough to chase away the flicker of frustration at Dean saying yet again that something Castiel wants to do isn't necessary.

He'll get it through his thick skull eventually. Cas decides to let that slide for now -because regardless of whether or not Dean thinks he needs it, Cas is going to do it- and reaches down to unlace Dean's boots, pulling them off of his feet to set them aside. He should give Dean a foot and calf massage one day.

"Man, you've got a real what's-her-name thing going on. Mary Magdalen." Or something. Cas certainly seems to have a thing about taking off Dean's boots anyway, god knows why. "Sorry about the smell."

"In the days of Jesus Christ, the Israelites considered the care of feet a sacred practice. They walked long hours over difficult terrain with flimsy shoes, so to bathe and care for each other's feet was seen as an act of profound love."

There, that should scare Dean off. Cas peels off his socks like he doesn't even give a fuck about how Dean's feet smell.

Edited 2011-11-25 21:47 (UTC)

Poor Cas. Dean's feet have been stuffed into those boots for a solid day. They're not pretty.

"In modern times, we'd call that a fetish."

Oh good. Banter. Cas actually likes banter, despite not getting it two-thirds of the time. "The definitions of 'sacred practice' and 'fetish' are remarkably similar in Enochian."

"Man, you angels are kinky."

Dean slides his hands down to Cas' neck, absently running his thumbs over the bumps of Cas' spine. He's not really paying that much attention to what he's doing.

"As long as you don't decide to wash your feet with my hair, I guess you can do what you want with them. Not like I'm ticklish."

"It's amusing to see how often your interpretations of the Bible are incorrect," Cas says idly. He leans into Dean's hands and bends his leg slightly, resting Dean's foot on his knee as he slips his hands up his pant leg to massage his calf, down to his ankle and foot. "There are passages of the Bible that, translated into modern terminology, would be considered pornographic. Yet, Christianity values purity of the body and encourages conditional celibacy and monogamy. King David, regularly idolized by many denominations, had multiple wives and concubines."

They're practically cuddling. Cas better thank his lucky stars that Dean likes him.

"Oh yeah, good ol' Song of Solomon. Back in the days before I could get my own stuff, reading that was the greatest pleasure I knew." Dean always knew that book hadn't been just symbolic. "Sure, some of the phrasing was a little weird, but you can tell. They were really digging each other."

"You would be surprised how often people seem to miss the point." Though the fact that Dean has read Song of Solomon and actually got off to it is...way more arousing an image than it should be.

Cas leans his temple against the inside of Dean's knee; his fingers are too sore to give a proper foot massage, so he places Dean's foot back on the ground with a sigh.

"Miss the point? I don't think so, Cas, they know what the point is. They're just too damn scared of sex to admit it." He huffs, finding a knot at Cas' nape and digging his thumb into it to work it out. "Which is stupid. Sex is a lot of things, but scary ain't one of them."

Trying to say something, Dean?

Cas doesn't respond to that, an arm draped loosely around Dean's leg. He lets out a grunt when Dean presses against the knot, but groans as it finally works itself out underneath Dean's hands. "Dean."

What would he be trying to say? That assumes that Dean thinks before words fall out of his mouth.

"What?" Hang on, Cas, he found another knot.

Once Dean works that one out too, Castiel just goes pliant. He closes his eyes, wets his lips and says, "I want to make a move."

"Okay?" He smooths his hands over Cas' neck, having momentarily forgotten about...everything.

Don't worry. He'll remember.