inonebasket | (no subject)

Thank someone, because God wasn't involved.

Cas ignores the 'no hair' rule and cradles the back of Dean's head; he's whispering, just barely breathing out verses of thanks in Enochian, rattled and relieved and so grateful.

He'd thought for sure the Leviathan was lying. He'd thought for sure Dean was dead.

Eventually Cas pulls back, reluctant but recognizing the need to keep his wits about him. Dean needs help and he needs to see if Dean is injured enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. "Sit down. Here-" Cas pulls him gently over to the bed. "Don't move, just sit here."

Dean basks in it, alternately glad to be alive and so, so thankful that Castiel is okay. At least he hopes he's okay.

"Cas--no, Cas." Dean allows himself to be led to the bed, but he refuses to sit. "Get your Grace. Do that first."

He might be sore, but he's got nothing life threatening and Cas needs to pick up his damn Grace.

Right- Right, this might be enough to heal Dean. Cas crosses the room in two steps and reaches right into the mess of Leviathan on the floor, closing his hand around his Grace. It doesn't burn him as it had Sam, and when Cas lifts his hand dripping in Leviathan blood the Grace twists into a wisp of smoke that Cas breathes in. He crosses the room and with his clean hand, touches his fingers to Dean's forehead.

Nothing happens.

Castiel spits out an Enochian curse and turns sharply, rubbing his forehead for a second. He regains his composure and puts a hand on Dean's shoulder, urging him to sit down. "Dean, please. I'll get the kit. Sit down."

"I'm fine. Cas, I'm fine." He's just going to wrap his arms around Cas again because he needs the contact like he needs water. "It said it was gonna kill you. It took my face and said it was gonna kill you. I couldn't let it."

Dean's shaking.

Cas holds him, kisses his jaw by his ear, smooths a hand down his back. "You didn't. You saved my life, Dean. Thank you." He still wants Dean to sit down, so maybe he'll do it if Castiel sits down with him.

Dean follows him down and then goes a little further, dropping to his knees in front of Castiel.

"I'm sorry, Cas." He curls his hands around Castiel's calves. "I should've been more careful. Should've gotten back here sooner."

"Dean-" Cas pushes Dean's hands away, lowering himself to his knees as well and pulling him close. Seeing Dean kneel in front of him like that apologizing, it makes his stomach roil because he remembers at one point asking for it. Never again, never again is Dean allowed to be on his knees in front of Castiel. Never.

"It's all right." Cas speaks into his hair and holds him tight, but for some reason he's still afraid. It feels as if Dean hasn't quite managed to escape from wherever the Leviathan had him just yet. "I'm fine. You made it back in time; I'm all right."

Dammit, Castiel, let Dean do this.

It's not often Dean makes an overt display of emotion. It requires him to hit a breaking point first, and even then his displays tend to be short lived. He's still restrained now, resting his forehead on Castiel's shoulder, silent and shaking.

no it's scary

Cas doesn't say another word though; he holds Dean, as tightly as he has when he'd raised him from hell, praying silently to himself and thanking whatever force at work had kept Dean from Death's grip. He'll hold Dean for as long as it takes.

It's a good ten minutes before Dean gets control of his wayward emotions.

"You reek."

"So do you." He's also bruised and battered and still injured in ways Cas doesn't know about. Cas still hasn't let him go, though.

"Go take a shower. I'll clean up out here." He finally loosens his grip on Cas, only a little reluctantly.

Cas sits back on his heels, but still doesn't go. He just. Can't he just stay here and stare at you for hours on end? Isn't that okay?

"Cas, please." The same plea the Dean shaped Leviathan had used, but the tone is completely different. Shaky. "Go shower. Let me clean this up."

He just needs to know its dead.

Cas hesitates, but eventually climbs to his feet and goes into the bathroom to clean up. He leaves the door open; he wants to be able to hear if something happens and you know he'll fly out of that shower naked if he hears so much as a yelp.

Dean brought more cleaning fluid with him than he really needed, which is good. It makes the clean up a lot easier than it would be otherwise. The black goop sizzles on contact with the solution, most of it vanishing that way. By the time he's done, the motel room reeks of Pine-Sol and Lemon Fresh and Dean wants to be sick. He never used to hate those smells, but they're really starting to wear thin.

His clothes are covered in the stuff, too, but damned if he's going to soak his shirt in Pine-Sol. Instead he strips off his shirt and jeans and dumps both into a trash can, soaking them liberally with lighter fluid before dropping in a lit match.

So okay, that means he's sitting on the hotel bed in nothing but a pair of boxers, but in his opinion that's a hell of a lot better than being covered in Leviathan crap.

Castiel comes out in a towel (and with minty-fresh breath because GOD, he'd kissed that thing) and makes a beeline for Dean to look him over. He's an absolute mess. "Dean. What did it do to you?" Cas has to know.

"Beat the hell out of me and handcuffed me to a light post." He's been worse, though, far worse. This registers on the level of "bar fight". Not even worth noting, really. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. It didn't touch me." Well, didn't leave lasting damage. The damn thing molested him though, which was gross.

There are scrapes that need to be taken care of. Cas heads over to Dean's duffel for the first aid kit. "We need to get you a new cellular phone. And neither of us should leave without the other anymore."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight again, Cas. I'm just not." Yes, he's in definite agreement with Cas on that front.

He sits on the bed, not waiting for Castiel to order him to do it.

This is nostalgic.

For the second time in less than two weeks, Castiel cleans Dean up from a Leviathan scuffle. He disinfects the cuts, bandages what needs a bandage and rubs salve into bruises. Again, just like last time, Castiel is nearly worshipful in how he treats Dean's body. He can't help it.

Funnily enough, at this point, Dean would probably do the same thing for Cas. Provided Cas needed it. Which he apparently doesn't.

While Cas is halfway through wrapping gauze around Dean's abused wrist, he shifts, bending and turning his head to press a kiss to the corner of Cas' mouth. It's light, hesitant and entirely Dean.

Cas freezes.

His eyes dart from Dean's wrist to the bedspread, the floor, and Dean's wrist again before he returns the kiss, just as chaste, and finishes wrapping the bandage. He packs up the kit.

"You're not okay, are you?"

"I don't think either of us are, Dean." Castiel isn't going into detail on that though. It's complicated.

He puts the kit back into Dean's duffel, which he brings over to his bed for him. Lugging his own duffel into the bathroom -still leaving the door open- Castiel tugs on a pair of Dean's old jeans, still too big for him. Good thing Dean had a belt he could use.