Horror High: Chapter Eight

[vanimadin]

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: Thank you to the few people who have commented so far, I appreciate your feedback. And while I would love more, I thrive on interaction with the readers, I think I’ve decided to just write the sequel to Horror High (Storm Season) even if no one else reads it, just because I’m enjoying writing in this verse. I already have FIVE one-shots written that take place after Horror High and leading up to Storm Season (which were mostly written for the sake of smut, tbh, though one or two do have a bit of a plot) to post once I’m done posting Horror High as well, so… I’ve been busy. Haha. Can also be read HERE ON AO3. <3
 

HORROR HIGH
Chapter Eight
By Senashenta

Dean gave it a whole twelve hours before he went to Cas’s house to check up on him, and the entire time he was waiting he was antsy, pacing the motel room or sitting with one leg bouncing restlessly while he scribbled in his notebook; notes about the Hunt, notes about the flamethrowers and how to improve them, notes about Sam, notes about Cas. Just generally driving Sam crazy. Specifically not calling their dad to tell him he’d finished the job they were in town for.

When Sam finally had enough of Dean climbing the walls, he slammed his laptop shut with a frustrated noise and ordered; “just go already!”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed his spare jacket from the back of the chair he had been sitting on and headed for the door.

 

It was a forty-five minute walk from the motel to Cas’s house, give or take, but Dean made it in significantly less than that. He arrived on Cas’s doorstep slightly disheveled and a bit out of breath and had to take a minute to collect himself and fix his clothes before knocking on the front door.

When Chuck answered after a brief wait, Dean put on his best smile and greeted, “hi, Chuck!”

Chuck just sighed and stepped aside. “Castiel is in his room resting. He’s not feeling very well today, I think he has the flu. But he’ll be happy to see you, the same as always. Just go on up, Dean. But try not to wake him up if he’s asleep, alright?”

“Yes, sir. Thanks.” Dean scooted past Chuck, paused just long enough to take his shoes off in the entryway, then made his way through the house and up the stairs to Cas’s room. He rapped lightly on the door, but when there was no answer, he went in anyway, closing the door quietly behind himself.

Cas was nothing but a lump under the covers on the bed. He didn’t move when Dean came in, though Dean had been stealthy about it. Now he just shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of the desk chair before crossing over to the bed, where he carefully pulled back the blankets and eased in under them with the other boy.

Cas mumbled something in his sleep, and when Dean tucked up beside him, he nuzzled closer with a murmur, ending up with his face buried in Dean’s chest and one of Dean’s arms carefully wrapped around him. Dean pressed a kiss into his hair. “I’m so glad you’re not dead. I’d’ve had to kill you if you were.”

There was a brief silence, and then Cas’s voice spoke up, muffled by Dean’s shirt, “feels like I’m dying, though. Pass me the painkillers.”

A quiet chuckle and Dean stretched to reach for the nightstand, rummaging in the drawer before coming up with the bottle of aspirin. “Sorry we didn’t have anything stronger for you.”

Cas gave a minute shrug and struggled to sit up for a moment before giving up and half-collapsing back into Dean’s chest. Dean made a soft worried noise and gently adjusted so they were both half-propped-up by the pillows. “You had the antibiotics, that’s good enough. I’m managing with just aspirin.” Cas took the bottle of painkillers and tipped three out into his palm, then swallowed them quickly. Dean set the bottle on the nightstand once he was done with it. “It hasn’t even been a day yet, Dean, what are you doing here?”

Dean just wrapped him up in his arms and leaned his chin in Cas’s hair. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Had to come check on you. Make sure you were still alive. Cas, I…”

“I know, Dean…”

“No, you don’t know.” The older boy made a frustrated noise and resisted the urge to tighten his hold on Cas, knowing it would hurt him. “How could you be so stupid? You’re smarter than that. You’re not a Hunter, you’re just a civilian, you could have been killed! You got hurt. Badly, and that just…” Dean swallowed slightly and buried his face in Cas’s hair, “shit, Cas, I thought you might die and my whole world was just collapsing around me, I… I don’t know what I would have done if…”

“But I didn’t.” Cas pointed out softly.

“But you could have.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Cas, you can’t do that again… you can’t be that stupid again, okay? Not ever. Not for any reason. Promise me.”

Cas swallowed a little and then pushed himself up with a wince to look Dean in the eye. He gave him what he hoped was a reassuring, though slightly pained, smile. “I promise, Dean.” Then he shifted just a bit and asked, “help me change my bandages? I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

Dean blew out a breath and finally offered a smile of his own, “yeah, I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Lets’ get you up.”

With Dean’s help, Cas managed to climb out of bed and make his way to the bathroom, more than aware that he was looking rough, just dressed in boxers and his borrowed t-shirt, his hair a mess, bags under his eyes and moving tentatively, trying not to limp.

Dean didn’t comment, only helped him through to sit on the closed toilet seat in the bathroom, then dug under the sink for the bandages when Cas directed him to them. That was apparently where he kept his first-aid kit. Dean made a mental note to bring more bandages over from their stash at the motel next time he came.

While Dean was rummaging, Cas struggled to pull his shirt off but eventually had to give up with a frustrated sound. Dean gave him a little smile, set the first-aid supplies on the counter, and moved over to help. “Arms up. Careful. Slowly.” Carefully tugging the t-shirt up and off, he joked, “any other time this would be totally hot.”

“Dean,” Cas protested, one hand coming up to rest against his bandages, “I would but I think it might kill me right now.”

Dean snorted a laugh. He crouched down in front of Cas and leaned in for a brief kiss—but of course nothing more. Then he just began gently pulling at the tape around Cas’s bandages, easing it off and pulling the bandages away to reveal the wounds beneath. His smile faded out at the sight. He let his fingers trail along the edge of one of the gashes lightly. “They look better. Not great, but better than last night. How do they feel?”

“Painful.” Cas answered truthfully, watching Dean inspect his injuries with remarkably sharp blue eyes, considering how much he was hurting. “And I’m filthy. I know you and Sam cleaned me up the best you could, but I need a shower.”

“Can you stand on your own long enough to have one?”

It was a valid question. Cas considered before asking, “you could come with me?”

“Cas,” Dean’s hands dropped down to rest against Cas’s thighs, squeezing there restlessly, and he shook his head, “come on, you know what you’re asking, don’t you? That’s a lot even for me. I’m strong but I’m not that strong.”

“I know. Don’t worry about it. I’ll make you help me have a shower in a couple days, when I’m a little sturdier.” Then a pause, followed by a little smile, “thank you for always looking out for me, Dean.” The other boy always had his best interests at heart, it seemed. “I’m sorry I let you down… with the jorogumo thing.”

“You didn’t let me down. You came through for me when I needed a hand. You just scared the shit out of me in the process.” Dean leaned up, dragging him into another kiss, slow and deep. When they broke apart a breathless moment later, he grinned at Cas and grabbed for the bottle of alcohol. “This is gonna sting. A lot.”

Despite the warning and even though he braced himself for it, Cas still found himself cursing under his breath the entire time Dean cleaned out his wounds and re-bandaged them. His father would have been disappointed. At least Dean was efficient at it and got the job done quickly, tossing the old, bloody bandages into the trash when he was finished and then tucking the rest of the first-aid supplies back where they had come from.

Once he had washed the blood off his hands, Dean helped Cas back into his shirt and then out of the bathroom and back over to the bed, where Cas painfully crawled under the covers and motioned for Dean to do the same. Dean went willingly, climbing into the bed and tucking Cas into his side again, one hand resting lightly over his bandaged ribs.

“I haven’t called Dad yet,” Dean admitted after a long silence. His eyes were on the ceiling, absently counting the stars there while he felt Cas just breathing along with him. Cas had his own eyes closed and his head resting on Dean’s shoulder. “I was supposed to call as soon as the Hunt was done. He’s gonna be pissed. But…” The hand on Cas’s side rubbed, just the gentlest of touches. “I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“I don’t want you to leave at all.” Cas admitted softly, eyes still closed.

“I know. I don’t…” Trailing off, Dean made a soft, frustrated sound and thumped his head against the pillows. It wasn’t like he wanted to leave, either, but he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. “Cas,” he said finally, “I don’t want to leave, but you know how it is for me. You know.”

“Yes. I know.” Cas agreed, one hand sliding to rest against Dean’s chest, just to feel his heartbeat, so he wouldn’t ever forget it. “When will you call your Dad?”

“In two or three days, I think.” Dean replied quietly, “once I know you’re alright.”

“I’m alright now.” Cas pointed out, a little smile on his face, “with you. I’m always alright when I’m with you.”

“You’re better off without me. You got hurt because of me.”

“I thought I got hurt because I was being stupid?”

“That, too.” Dean agreed.

Cas hummed. “What if I just came with you?”

A chuckle, the laughter rumbling in Dean’s chest, under Cas’s palm. “My Dad would freak out. Your Dad would freak out. Basically, all the Dads would freak out.” Then a pause and he admitted, “not that you wouldn’t be a welcome distraction on the road. Although we would be sharing a room with Sam and Dad and they probably wouldn’t appreciate our… closeness. Sam already mocks me for it, and he hasn’t seen the worst of it by far.”

“We would have to have our own room.” Cas agreed, tapping one finger against Dean’s shirt, “or sex couldn’t happen and that would be… unfortunate.”

Dean grinned at him. “You’re terrible.”

Cas lifted his head to return the grin with a smile of his own. “You were thinking the same thing.”

“Guilty.” Dean agreed. He angled for a kiss and Cas was happy to oblige. “Mm. I’m pretty much always thinking about being in bed with you.” Then he amended, “but this kind of being in bed with you is nice, too. I’m going to miss it.”

“Me too.” Cas returned his head to Dean’s shoulder, nuzzling into the side of his neck with a hum, pressing a gentle kiss against where his pulse was pounding. “I’m also going to miss spending lunch hour with you at school. It’ll be weird when you’re gone.”

“Start eating lunch with Charlie and your other friends,” Dean suggested.

“Mm, but they aren’t you. It won’t be the sam—” The younger boy interrupted himself with a yawn and settled even more into Dean’s side, almost boneless. The aspirin was finally kicking in, and he was comfortable, warm, and exhausted. “Dean, I think I need to sleep some more. Will you stay while I have a nap?”

Dean was already pulling the covers up around them a bit more. He dropped a kiss against Cas’s hair again. “Get some rest, Cas. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

–
–

They fell into a rhythm, Dean visiting every day ‘after school’, even though he had stopped going to school as soon as the whole jorogumo thing was over and done with. But Cas’s father didn’t need to know that—it would be hard to explain—so Dean just dropped by in the afternoons after school was out for the day anyway so Chuck wouldn’t know the difference.

Cas was always glad to see him, though for the first couple of days he had been rather tired and sleepy, just his body’s reaction to his injuries, trying to kickstart the healing process. The antibiotics helped, he was sure, as did Dean helping to change his bandages every day, since he couldn’t exactly ask his father to do it.

But through it all, he continued to feel… gross. Dirty. He still has dried blood and dirt flecked across his skin from the initial wounds, though Dean and Sam had done their best at the time to clean him up. Also, he hadn’t showered in days, leaving him feeling greasy. His hair was disgusting. Honestly, he didn’t know how Dean could stand cuddling up with him when he came to visit, but he did so faithfully, each and every day. Still.

“Help me with a shower today?”

They were in the bathroom and Dean was in the process of carefully peeling his bandages off when Cas spoke up—and the older boy paused. Green eyes flicked up at him, then back down to his wounds, and after a moment he asked, “are you sure? You could wait another couple days.”

“Dean, I’m disgusting.” Cas stated flatly, then; “and it can’t be good for my cuts. I’m supposed to be keeping them clean, right?”

“You’re not disgusting, you’re just—” Dean broke off when Cas stared at him hard and cleared his throat before finishing with, “okay, you’re mildly disgusting. But your cuts actually look okay.” He returned his attention to removing the bandages, tossing them in the trash and then finally allowing; “alright, I’ll help you shower. But no funny business.”

Cas’s lips quirked in an amused smile. “Are you saying that to me or yourself?”

“Both.” Dean confirmed with a little half-grin. He stood up and helped Cas to his feet as well, then began the process of stripping them both down, Cas helping where he could, though it was still hard for him to bend or twist too much. Those movements pulled at his injuries.

When Dean stripped his t-shirt off and tossed it to the side, Cas was surprised to see two short slashes, already well into healing, marking the right side of his chest. Dean was already reaching for Cas’s shorts, but Cas caught his hands, frowning slightly before reaching up to touch along the cuts. Dean didn’t even twitch. “You didn’t tell me you got hurt, too.”

Dean glanced down at his own chest and sighed. “It was nothing, just a little flesh wound. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Cas’s brows drew together in concern, but when Dean leaned in and pulled him into a kiss, he allowed it. “Dean…” But then he trailed off, just stepping closer to the older boy, almost pressing against him, making Dean grumble softly. “Sorry.” Cas apologized, not really meaning it. He wanted to be close to Dean—needed it, even. Craved it. “Thank you for this.”

“Just… I’m afraid of hurting you.” Dean admitted after a brief hesitation. “You’re still injured.”

“I am.” Cas agreed, and reached for Dean’s pants, starting to undo them with deft fingers. “But I desperately need to get cleaned up, Dean, and I don’t think I can do it alone.” Smiling, he glanced up at Dean even as he pushed the older boy’s jeans down over his hips, “luckily you’re around to help me.”

“Yeah. Luckily.” Dean swallowed audibly but got himself out of his jeans the rest of the way and then reached to tug Cas’s boxers down. “This is a bad idea and we both know it.”

A quiet hum as he stepped out of his shorts. Cas shrugged with one shoulder. “Probably.” Then he let his hands come to rest against Dean’s abdomen, just still there for a few breaths before he began tugging at the older teen’s boxers, pulling them down as far as he could without bending over or crouching down. “Take these off, please. You can’t wear them in the shower.”

Dean made a quiet agreeing noise and shucked out of his boxers, all the while pretending that he wasn’t already half-hard. Cas just watched him with obvious amusement in his eyes. “There, happy now?” Dean muttered finally, turning to start the shower up.

“Yes.” Cas agreed, stifling the urge to laugh. “But I’m always happy when I’m with you, Dean.”

“Always? Really?”

“Mm. Really.”

“I… yeah. Me too, Cas.” And then; “come on, the water’s ready.”

The two of them climbed into the shower together and Cas heaved a long, heavy sigh at the feeling of the water cascading over him, humming happily as he reached for the shampoo and began scrubbing at his hair with only a little discomfort from the pull of the wounds on his side—and completely oblivious to the fact that Dean was watching him, probably too closely. He gave a content little groan while he was rinsing the suds away—at which point Dean echoed the sound and forced his gaze to the floor, watching the soap, tinted with blood and dirt, wash down the drain instead.

“Cas, c’mon, you’re killing me, here.”

“Sorry, Dean.” He wasn’t really. He was the opposite of sorry. But he had also reached the extent of what he could reasonably do on his own, so Cas picked up a cloth and the soap and pressed them into Dean’s hands. “Here, I need you to do this part.”

“This is not going to kill me any less.” Dean informed him dryly.

“Sorry.” Cas repeated with an amused smile, then; “you knew what you were signing up for.”

A little grumble but Dean didn’t protest because he knew it was true. Instead, he focused on lathering the soap into the cloth—which, frankly, didn’t seem soft enough for Cas’s injured skin, as far as he was concerned—and then stepping closer to the younger boy. “Lift your arms up a bit.” He muttered, and when Cas complied, he began gently washing the grime from him, working carefully over the gashes to get rid of the last of the dried blood, and then moving on to the rest of the dirt that was still smeared across his chest from the Hunt. Underneath the surface dirt were the bruises, though, mottled and in various stages of healing. Dean frowned to himself at the sight. “How do the bruises feel?”

Cas shifted and dropped his arms back to his sides, turning so Dean could clean up his back; “they’re sore, but they’re not terrible.”

“They’ll be gone in a couple of weeks.” Dean agreed, tentatively cleaning up the gouges that scored all around to the back of his ribs. “You got lucky.” When he was finished with Cas’s back, Dean nudged him to turn around again—and then hesitated before sliding the cloth down and over Cas’s abdomen, washing gently.

Cas shifted a little again at the attention, shuffling from one foot to the other and back again. He was very quickly getting hard from Dean’s hands on him. Finally, he swallowed and managed weakly, “I’m sorry, Dean. I know we were joking around, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

“Don’t apologize,” Dean’s voice came out rough and his hand slowed to a stop. He leaned in to press a kiss to Cas’s forehead. “I’m in the same boat.”

“I’d noticed.”

They were both fully, undeniably hard now, cocks straining against their stomachs, and after a short hesitation, Dean dropped the soap and washcloth and planted one hand on Cas’s chest to gently push him back against the wall. Then he ducked his head to kiss along Cas’s jaw and down to the crook of his neck—before sinking down to his knees.

“Dean,” Cas protested, one hand already grabbing at Dean’s hair, “you really don’t hav—ah!”

Despite his not-really-complaint, Dean was already tentatively licking over the head of his cock and Cas thought his knees might give out already. This was something new between them—definitely unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. Dean’s mouth was hot, wet velvet, sliding down the length of his cock and it was perfect.

Cas’s head fell back against the wall, and he pulled at Dean’s hair absently. “God, Dean…!”

Dean actually pulled off of him with an obscenely wet noise and coughed out, “enough with the hair pulling, Cas.”

Cas barked a breathless laugh—“Sorry.”—and loosened his grip on Dean’s hair, smoothing his fingers through the wet strands gently. “Didn’t mean to.”

Dean muttered a garbled “s’okay” and then went right back to what he had been doing, sucking up and down Cas’s cock like it was candy, and considering it was, Cas assumed, his first time giving a blowjob to someone, Cas thought he was doing a freaking fantastic job. Then again, it wasn’t like he had anything to compare it to, either. Still. Cas was left leaning heavily back against the tiles, biting his lip hard to muffle his moans and one hand down, buried in Dean’s hair, fingers carding through the wet strands—carefully this time, reverently.

After another minute of gasping for air and trying desperately to keep his hips still, Cas cracked his eyes open and looked down and—God. Dean was on his knees, one arm up and braced against the tile wall beside Cas, the opposite hand resting against Cas’s thigh, gripping there tightly, possibly to keep himself from jerking off along with everything else he was doing. His cock was hard, though, straining red against his belly and making Cas swallow thickly.

Unable to do much else, the younger boy whined softly, watching Dean suck up and down his cock for a long moment—and then Dean’s eyes, which had previously been closed, opened—and he looked up, meeting Cas’s gaze.

Cas moaned, head falling back again, and his hips bucked as he came abruptly.

Dean didn’t pull away, instead swallowing every drop before easing back, licking his lips absently. Cas’s head lolled to the side, and he looked down again with a little smile, then watched Dean carefully climb to his feet. Dean wrapped an arm around him when he pressed close and leaned in for a kiss.

His boyfriend tasted of salt and musk and something else vaguely alkaline but undeniable. Cas kissed back, slow and languid, and slid one hand around between them, down to palm against Dean’s still-obvious erection. Dean uttered a soft groan and ducked his head to nose into the crook of Cas’s neck.

“I told you this was a bad idea…” He muttered.

“Mm.” Cas agreed, even as he started to stroke, jerking Dean off quick and easy. “But I’m not complaining…”

Dean braced his free hand against the wall beside Cas and muffled another groan into the other teen’s skin. Cas just continued stroking, ducking his head to press little kisses along Dean’s shoulder with a smile.

When Dean came a short time later, painting his cum across Cas’s hand and abdomen, he pressed his forehead tightly into the crook of Cas’s neck and took several panting breaths, steadying himself. By that time Cas’s own breathing had evened out and he just rubbed one hand up and down Dean’s back for a long moment. Then Dean eased back from him to stand up properly and offered him an actual, sheepish grin.

Cas brought his hand up to lick at his fingers for a second, then rinsed the rest of Dean’s cum off under the shower spray. After that he pushed away from the wall and offered a smile of his own. “What was that all about?”

Dean just shrugged and glanced aside. “I figured that—uh, you know—wouldn’t pull your injuries.”

The older boy was being adorably bashful. Cas reached out to pull him closer and leaned in to kiss him gently. “Thank you.”

“Don’t gotta thank me for a blowjob.” Dean muttered against his lips, embarrassed.

“But it was good.” Cas protested, “don’t you say ‘thank you’ when people give you nice things?”

“Like blowjobs, though?” Dean sounded incredulous.

“Definitely like blowjobs.” Cas confirmed with a nod.

“I don’t like the number of times we’re saying the word ‘blowjob’.” Dean informed him flatly, then, “the hot water’s starting to run out, we should get out of the shower. I’ll help you dry off and get your cuts bandaged up again.”

Dean reached around Cas to turn the water off (just in time, it was starting to edge into nippy territory) and the two of them climbed out of the shower, water puddling on the floor as they dried off—Cas dropped a towel down to mop it up when they were done. Then Cas was returned to his place sitting on the closed toilet seat so that Dean could bandage him up again. At least this time he was clean—and it felt a lot better that way.

Once his bandages were done, Cas insisted on tossing his dirty clothes in the laundry hamper and digging out a new t-shirt and pair of boxers from his dresser, so wandered through to the bedroom to do exactly that while Dean finished pulling on his own clothing. By the time Dean made it through to the bedroom after him, Cas was dressed again, sort of, and already crawling back into bed.

He motioned for Dean to join him. “Come on.”

There was a bit of shuffling around while Dean crossed over to the bed and climbed in beside Cas, pulling the covers over the both of them and settling with the younger boy comfortably tucked against his side, one of Cas’s arms flung over Dean’s chest and one of Dean’s hands resting lightly, carefully against Cas’s injured ribs, gentleness reserved for very few people in his life.

Cas basked in the care that Dean showed him, always did, from sitting with him at lunch at school to sharing the details of his life to kisses and touches and bandaging him up now that he was wounded. Dean sometimes struggled to show his affection, but he was good at it in his own way and getting better day-by-day. Cas appreciated it all.

Right now, he especially appreciated Dean’s warmth and the rhythm of this breathing, the steady beat of his heart.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. The… word you think we were saying too much.” Cas spoke up after a long few moments of silence. Dean didn’t reply right away, just trailed his hand up to thread his fingers through Cas’s hair gently. Cas hummed and leaned into the touch. “Not that I don’t appreciate it. Because I do. But it was your first time… doing that. Right? So, I’m just saying. It wasn’t necessary.”

“But you liked it, right?” Dean rumbled after a pause.

“Mm. I really did.” Cas agreed. “I mean. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Then I don’t regret it even a single bit.”

Cas tightened his arm around Dean in a little hug and turned his head to drop a kiss against his chest. “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

Dean chuckled. “I’m the only boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“I really don’t think it is.” The older boy sounded amused, laughter tinging his words, “the point is you’ve got nothing to compare it to. You can’t say I’m the best when there are no others in the running.”

Cas frowned up at him slightly. “Do I need to list off all the amazing things about you?”

“Please do.” Dean grinned back.

“You’re incorrigible.” He dropped his head back on Dean’s chest, making the other teen mutter an ‘oof’, and was quiet for a long moment before shifting his arm around Dean absently and murmuring; “you said I make you feel cared for, but it’s the same with me. You obviously care for me, Dean, and that’s… it’s a novelty for me. You’ve protected me right from the moment we met. You’re… strong, and smart, and funny, and humble about it all—most of the time, anyway. You take care of me, in every sense of the term…” Trailing off a bit, he brought his hand up to toy with the front of Dean’s shirt absently, “you’re an amazing big brother to Sam, even if he’s at an age where he doesn’t appreciate it. You’re an amazing Hunter. You’re an incredible person. An incredible friend. An absolutely extraordinary boyfriend.” His fingers paused, then, and he smiled, glancing up at Dean once more, “also you’re tremendously good-looking. That’s always a plus.”

Dean was quiet, just looking down at him, but Cas could see the gears working in his head. He returned his own head to Dean’s chest again, closing his eyes to listen to his heartbeat with a little, content smile on his face.

“Since I got hurt,” He continued after a brief pause, “which was not in any way your fault, by the way, you’ve spent all your free time over here, or as much as possible, anyway, just checking on me and taking care of me. You change my bandages every day, though soon I should be able to do it myself. You even helped me have a shower today, and I cannot understate how grateful I am for that. I feel so much better now. And when we were in the shower and I got—excited—you helped with that, too. All you do is help me and take care of me. You’re always there for me. I can’t even tell you how much all of it means to me, Dean…”

When Cas trailed off, just going back to toying with the front of Dean’s shirt absently, there was another long silence. Not uncomfortable—they were long past uncomfortable silences between the two of them—but contemplative on Dean’s part. Cas was just waiting for his boyfriend to finish computing everything he had said so he could respond.

“Cas,” When Dean spoke up finally, his voice came out soft; “I think you see things in me that no one else does. And… I’m not saying you’re wrong or that those things aren’t there, I just…” Shifting absently, he sighed, “I think you look deeper than other people bother to. You see parts of me that I don’t lay bare for just anyone. But there’s something about you, and it’s been there right from the start, that makes me want to open up to you and not keep any part of me a secret. Does that make sense?”

“Mmhm,” Cas agreed quietly, “I feel the same way.”

“I told you about Hunting, and my Dad and Sammy… and my Mom. About my nightmares.” Dean continued, “I’ve never told anyone that stuff before. The stuff about my family and Hunting is… it’s secret. It’s sacred. That’s the one big rule, never telling anyone about all that, but with you it just… came out. And I don’t regret telling you even for a second.” Then a pause and he added with a little chuckle, “though I might when my Dad finds out.”

“When?”

“He has a way of figuring out these things. It’s just a matter of time.” Dean muttered, then brightened a little again to add, “but I think dealing with Dad’s wrath… you’re worth it, when it eventually happens. No regrets with you, not ever.”

“Not even the blatant homophobia at school?”

A soft laugh, “nah, those jokers don’t scare me.”

“You punched one of them in the face.” Cas pointed out. “Three times.”

“Yeah, well, he deserved it.” Dean grumbled. The hand that had been in Cas’s hair paused briefly before his fingers continue stroking gently, generally making a mess of the still-damp strands. “I really don’t miss that school. I mean at all.”

“I still have to go there until the end of the year.” Cas sighed. “At least it’s just a few more months.”

“I’m sorry I won’t be around to deal with the assholes for you, Cas.”

“Mm-mm.” A soft negative noise, “I understand. I know your case is over, you’ve got to move on. Just don’t forget to text and video chat, right?”

“I’m going to miss the hell out of you.”

“Me too.” Cas shifted, making a little uncomfortable noise, and patted his hand against Dean’s chest, “Dean, pass me the aspirin.”

Dean dug the bottle of pills out of the bedside table and passed them to Cas, who swallowed a couple and then handed them back to be put away again. He really did wish they’d had something stronger to give the other boy—codene, maybe, that was easy to come by—but they hadn’t, so he was making do with over-the-counter stuff. Cas didn’t complain, though, even though it was obvious that he was in pain.

Dean’s hand slid back down to rest gently over Cas’s bandaged ribs again, even as he glanced at the clock. Nearly seven. He really needed to go, even if Chuck hadn’t come in to kick him out of the house yet. He did need to keep an eye on Sam while they were still at the motel by themselves, even if Sam was mostly capable of taking care of himself. But…

Dean didn’t want to go. He never did, when he was with Cas, whether it was eating lunch with him under the bleachers or cuddling up in bed with him the way he was now. He craved Cas’s company, his companionship, the physical and emotional closeness between them. Hell, he would move right in here if he could. But that wasn’t an option for so many reasons, so he just kept leaving and then coming back as soon as he possibly could.

Soon even that would be a thing of the past.

“I’m not even looking at you and I can see you frowning.” Cas spoke up, head back on Dean’s chest and eyes closed once more, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. “You have to leave soon, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I—it’s almost seven.” Dean confirmed. “I’m surprised your Dad hasn’t come in to kick me out yet, honestly.”

“He must be busy writing.” Cas began shifting, sliding away from Dean’s side a little and then leaning up to give him a quick kiss. “You should go, though. Sam will be wondering what’s taking you so long, and I should get some rest. I’m exhausted. You wore me out.”

Dean actually laughed at that—and pulled him into another kiss, this one deeper, longer. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He promised when they parted a moment later.

Cas just smiled, the expression overly fond. “Of course you will.”