#casbeanwrites

You’re ridiculous. Castiel grumbles, for Dean’s ears only. And for future, if you intend to end up two-hundred paces south of where we had originally planned, I would appreciate an advanced notice.

“Fine, okay.” Dean mutters out of the corner of his mouth. “May have miscalculated a bit, that’s my bad. Can we focus here?”

Your bad, huh? That’s a novel sentiment. Glowing blue eyes swivel back towards the terrified bandits. Castiel cocks his head, something like amusement coloring his voice. Widening his thoughts to include the men in question, he asks: Should I eat them?

Dean watches in satisfaction as the men visibly pale, seeming to shrink under Castiel’s penetrating gaze.

Dean considers for a minute. “Nah,” he says, finally. “They can run home back to their families, talk about the big scary dragon roaming around, like anyone’ll believe ‘em. Maybe make them piss their pants a little. The usual.”

Fine. Castiel rumbles, and this thought Dean knows is just for him. But I’ll have you know that I’ve had considerably less fun since you showed up.

“Love you too, babe.” Dean says, just to see the split second of utter confusion on the bandits’ faces, their eyes shooting between him and Castiel as if they can’t decide which of them is more terrifying.

As if to help answer their question, Castiel leans down until his snout is inches from the leader, the man going cross eyed trying to keep him in focus. Slowly, Castiel starts to growl, the rumble of it quickly building to a crescendo that drowns out everything around them. His lips curl back to reveal blue flames that spill out of the side of his mouth, curling along his jaw.

I would run now, little ones. Castiel says, raising his foot just slightly.

They don’t need telling twice.

Dean doubles over laughing at the sight of three grown men stumbling over themselves to get as far away as possible. Castiel huffs a breath through his nose, tail flicking in amusement as he watches the bandits disappear over the horizon.

“Think that scared ‘em off for the next decade or so?” Dean asks, brushing dirt of his pants walking over to retrieve the bag Baldy had conveniently left behind.

You’re being too conservative. I’d say twenty is more than likely. Castiel butts him gently with the side of his head. Need a lift?

“Hell yes,” Dean enthuses, scrambling up into the hollow space where Castiel’s neck meets his back.

With a rush of air that buffets all the trees around them, Castiel pushes off from the ground. Once airborne, Dean sighs, stretching out to press his face to the warms scales of Castiel’s neck.

“Missed you,” he murmurs. The sound is lost to beating of Castiel’s wings, but Dean knows from the contended rumble in Castiel’s chest that he heard him.

—

They make it home in record time, Dean somehow managing not to fall asleep and slip off mid-flight. Sliding down from Castiel’s neck, Dean regards their little home fondly, tucked away in the side of a conveniently secluded mountain. It’s small, most rooms consisting of caves Castiel had hollowed out himself, and it’s filled with a collection of odds and ends that Castiel fell in love with and acquired through years. (Himself included, Dean thinks with more than a little amusement.)

To one side there’s a library, complete with the fruits of centuries of Castiel’s labors. Adjoined to it is a kitchen, added later to Dean’s delight and Castiel’s trepidation. Finally, tucked further inside is the bedroom, or what passes for a bedroom when its original owner is a centuries old mythical creature. When Dean had first arrived it was just a pile of soft mosses and other flora that Castiel had seemed content to lounge around on. Then Dean had started sneezing within ten feet of it, and adjustments had to be made. It’s since been converted to a real king size bed, acquired from somewhere Dean really doesn’t want to think too hard about, and the nest of blankets, pillows, and other soft fabrics Castiel managed to procure makes it a fair compromise. All things considered, it’s not a bad place to spend the rest of your life.

There’s a rustling sound behind him, like a thousand wings flapping all at once, and Dean snaps out of his daydream, turning to face his husband.

“Hey, Cas,” he says, as he takes him in. Even after all this time, the fact that this is his life still renders him somewhat breathless. Castiel might be two stories tall with the power to scare entire kingdoms into submission, but it’s Cas who has the perpetual bed-head and quiet smile, the piercing blue eyes that never manage to quite lose that otherworldly blue. Currently, he’s also very naked, so that doesn’t hurt either.

Castiel raises an eyebrow at the blatant once over.

“Hello, Dean,” he rumbles, leaning in for a kiss that Dean returns eagerly.

“Missed me too, huh?” Dean says when he pulls back, grinning.

“I should think that would be obvious,” Castiel says, like that’s not something he could or should be embarrassed about.

Dean smiles at him fondly for a moment, before abruptly remembering the point of the entire ordeal. “Wait,” he says, snapping his fingers. “Before we get side-tracked. I got your stuff back.”

Reaching behind him, he passes the bag to Castiel, who visibly brightens.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel says, the unfiltered joy in his voice never failing to make Dean blush.

“Yeah, sure thing.” Dean scratches at the back of his neck self-consciously. “Don’t think I was able to get all of ‘em, but I figured some were better than none.”

“This is perfect.” Opening the bag, Castiel carefully removes the contents to reveal several black, glittering scales. Individually, he turns each one over in his hands, examining them closely for damage. Presumably deeming them satisfactory, he brushes past Dean, heading over to a box near the corner where he reverently deposits each one.

Dean frowns slightly, watching the entire process. “I gotta say I don’t know what the big deal is. It’s not like we aren’t tripping over those every three feet in here. What’s it matter if some goons want to make off with a few?”

“It’s difficult to explain.” Castiel says, closing the lid of the box carefully and making his way back over. “These scales come from me and by extension they are a part of me. They contain trace amounts of my power which, in the wrong hands, could prove disastrous. Also,” he adds as an afterthought, “I don’t care for anyone but you touching them. It feels…” he frowns, searching for the word before finally settling on: “Wrong.”

Dean grins. “Shucks, Cas. You sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

Castiel shoots him an dry look. “My apologies. I didn’t intend for my basic physiological explanation to be misconstrued as a compliment.”

Dean snickers, reaching up to begin the process of shedding his travel gear. When he raises his arms above his head to shrug off his coat, however, a sudden burst of pain has him gasping. Bringing a hand to his side, he grimaces when it comes away bloody.

Castiel is on him in a flash.

“They hurt you.” With a noise that can only be classified as a growl, Castiel drops to his knees, jerking Dean’s coat out of the way in an attempt to locate the issue.

“It’s fine,” Dean lies, wincing as Castiel’s gentle prodding proves fruitful. “The bleeding’s mostly stopped. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

Quickly and efficiently, Castiel tugs off Dean’s outer coat before divesting him of his shirt and undershirt in rapid succession. Carefully, he peels off Dean’s slipshod bandage job and stills at the sight of what lies beneath.

“That bad, huh?” Dean asks, weakly.

He’d caught a glance of it earlier, having ducked behind a tree to hastily place a field dressing. It’s a long cut, starting near the top of his ribcage and traveling to end somewhere above his navel. It had seemed fairly shallow at the time, although- Dean supposes- being hopped up on adrenaline likely hadn’t helped with accuracy. But if Castiel’s continued silence is any answer, apparently it’s a lot worse than it he’d thought.

Using the small basin of water they usually keep in the kitchen (and when did that get there?) Castiel carefully dabs at the wound, cleaning it up to the best of his ability.

Despite himself, Dean flinches, and the look Castiel levels him with could make armies run screaming. The only thing keeping Dean standing is knowing that the rage isn’t directed at him.

“Don’t move.” Castiel orders. “I’m going to get more bandages.” Dutifully, Dean stays as still as he can, and it’s not until Castiel is once again kneeling in front of him that he finds his voice.

“Okay, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not worth it.”

“I disagree.” Castiel says, voice still dangerously calm, but Dean sees his eyes start to glow in that familiar way that means he’s about to start shifting forms and wreaking havoc. “I think the look on their faces as I tear their limbs off one by one will be very worth it.”

“Look, Cas. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t-” Castiel cuts himself off, gritting his teeth. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

“Okay, but… I could have been more careful.” Tentatively, Dean brings a hand down to rest carefully against the side of Castiel’s cheek, relieved when he turns his face into it.

“You’ve never been careful in your life.” Castiel sighs, somewhat ruefully. “It would be foolish of us both to assume you’d start now.”

Dean smiles softly, and after a moment Castiel returns it. “Sounds about right.”

The silence that falls is gentler now, less fraught with worry. Dean watches idly as Castiel works, meticulously stitching up the wound and applying more bandages with the experience of someone who’s done it many times before.

“You know that, out of all humanity, yours is the only opinion I care about,” Castiel says, abruptly, and Dean blinks at the sudden change in subject. “And you also know that I would happily raze entire kingdoms in your name.”

Uncertain as to where this is headed, Dean nods quietly, shifting to card his fingers gently through Castiel’s hair.

”Therefore,” Castiel continues, “if it would make you feel better to let those-”, he breaks off, growling out a world Dean doesn’t understand but assumes form the tone is the highest of insults, “-go, then I shall defer to your judgement.”

“Thanks, babe.” Dean says, eventually, struggling to keep his smile in check and missing by half a mile. “I appreciate you not smiting the entire rest of my species because they were mean to me.”

Castiel nods seriously. “However,” he warns, voice severe again. “If they come back I reserve the right to deal with them as I please.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Dean agrees. Sliding his hand down, he taps Castiel on the cheek. “Alright, babe: how’s it looking?”

“I am almost finished.” Carefully, Castiel tapes the last bandage in place, smoothing it out with his thumb so it rests flat. Rocking back on his heels, he takes a moment to appraise his work. After a moment he nods, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Dean’s side. A quick burst of otherworldly magic shoots out at the touch, jumpstarting the healing process, and Dean shivers for reasons definitely (mostly) medically related. Seemingly satisfied, Castiel rises to his feet with a grunt, drifting comfortably back into Dean’s space until his face is only inches away.

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Dean hears himself ask, voice surprisingly hoarse.

Castiel tilts his head. “You’ll live,” he says, solemnly, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief.

“However,” Castiel continues. “I regret to say you will be horribly disfigured. I am afraid I’ll have to leave you for a more appealing mate.”

Gaping, Dean can only stare at him. After a moment, he catches sight of the slight uptick of Castiel’s mouth and everything clicks into place. Cackling, he reaches up to drop his arms around Castiel’s neck.

“Was that a joke?” Dean asks, unable to keep the delight out of his voice. “A genuine human interaction? You’re getting better at this.”

Castiel brightens, his entire demeanor shifting as he moves to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist. “Was it adequate?” He asks, somewhat shyly. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Your expertise is astounding.” Dean says. “Let me give it a test run.”

Leaning forward, Dean noses at the side of Castiel’s jaw, sliding up until his mouth is ghosting across his ear.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” Dean breathes, watching in satisfaction as Castiel shivers. “Would you be willing to let me make it up to you?”

Castiel smirks at him, eyes dark. This, at least, is a human interaction in which he’s very well-versed. Dean lets himself be tugged into the bedroom, and he’s still snickering up until the moment Castiel pushes him (gently) down onto the edge of the bed before unceremoniously crawling into his lap.

Dean lets out a sigh, hands coming up to settle firmly on Castiel’s hips, tugging him in closer. Any lingering amusement fading to be replaced with something slow and warm that builds low in his gut and spreads its way through the rest of him.

Reaching forward, Castiel fits his hand around Dean’s jaw, thumbing distracting at the corner of his mouth. Then, he leans in close, knocking their foreheads together:

“I’m sure I could be persuaded.”

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