Destiel Ficlet #5
May I request: Destiel, hurt/comfort. Cas is either physically hurt or emotionally traumatized or both, and Dean makes him feel better.
My answer:
The whimper from the angel is enough to make Dean stop what he’s doing instantly, hands hovering over the bandage he’d been working on wrapping around Castiel’s broken wing.
“Cas?”
There was the tiniest tremor of the strong muscles in Cas’ back, and then a shaky inhale of breath.
“….m’fine Dean….,” Castiel whispered, voice strained in obvious pain. Dean frowns and sighs softly, standing up and walking over to Bobby’s desk, pulling out the good whiskey and a pair of glasses from a drawer.
“Dean?”
Cas blinks over at the hunter, eyebrows raised as he watches Dean walk over, and sit down beside him on the worn in couch, alcohol placed on the small table in front of them, that also held a faded white steel first aid kit.
“It’ll help with the pain, Cas.”
“….Okay…,” he says, watching with wide blue eyes as Dean pours out a full glass.
The first sip burns, the second sip a little less,…and by his second glass, Cas is feeling…much better. Remarkably so.
Giggly….so.
Dean realizes that the only thing he dislikes more than a big baby in a trenchcoat is a giggly 14 year old girl in a trenchcoat. A giggly, drunken, handsy 14 year old girl in a trenchcoat.
“Woah, woah- easy there Cas, watch the hands!”
“I am, Dean, I am…hehe…watching them….”
Dean sighs, and for the fifth time since trying to get the angel’s wing wrapped, gently pushes Castiel’s questing hands away from his pants.
“But…Dean….you said-”
“I know what I said Cas…but I have to get your wing wrapped!”
The angel pouts- full out pouts, and Dean can’t help but smile then, watching those big baby blues turn soft with tears.
“Dean…,” he whimpers again, and Dean sighs, giving in to the angel’s demands. He leans in and wraps a hand around the back of the angel’s neck, pulling him in, and pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. Cas sighs into it, wrapping his arms tight around Dean’s neck. The kiss continues for a long moment until Dean pulls back, chuckling gently and smirking down at his angel.
“Now can I finish your wing?” Deans asks, chiding gently.
“….Make it quick…I like….how it makes me feel….”
“…The booze?”
“…no….you….your kisses…want more…”
Dean sighs, knowing that he’d done this by pampering Cas when the angel fell from heaven, when his grace was all but ripped away, and his wings were no longer ethereal but corporeal.
“Alright, baby…..just, one more minute okay?”
Dean hurries to finish the wing, callused hands gentle as they move over the feathers, the broken bone set back in place. The bandage only takes a minute to finish, and then Dean puts the medical tape down, and pulls his fluffy lover into his arms, kissing Cas gently.
“Better?”
“Mmmm…”
“Good…..Hey, Cas?”
“Mm?”
“How the hell did you end up breaking your wing anyway?”
There’s silence for a second, then Cas reaches for Dean’s glass of whiskey, downs it in one gulp, and hisses at the burn. He coughs, then looks up at Dean, squinting slightly.
“Sam bet me that I couldn’t fly off the roof.”
Dean is quiet for a moment, staring at Cas, but the yell he lets out in the next second makes Sam flinch from his hiding spot out in the junkyard, behind an old volvo.
Oh, Sam was gonna get it,…if Dean could ever find him in the maze that surrounded Bobby’s house.
….Which is what Sam was praying would see him through to the next day without an ass whooping by his severely pissed off older brother.
My answer:
The whimper from the angel is enough to make Dean stop what he’s doing instantly, hands hovering over the bandage he’d been working on wrapping around Castiel’s broken wing.
“Cas?”
There was the tiniest tremor of the strong muscles in Cas’ back, and then a shaky inhale of breath.
“….m’fine Dean….,” Castiel whispered, voice strained in obvious pain. Dean frowns and sighs softly, standing up and walking over to Bobby’s desk, pulling out the good whiskey and a pair of glasses from a drawer.
“Dean?”
Cas blinks over at the hunter, eyebrows raised as he watches Dean walk over, and sit down beside him on the worn in couch, alcohol placed on the small table in front of them, that also held a faded white steel first aid kit.
“It’ll help with the pain, Cas.”
“….Okay…,” he says, watching with wide blue eyes as Dean pours out a full glass.
The first sip burns, the second sip a little less,…and by his second glass, Cas is feeling…much better. Remarkably so.
Giggly….so.
Dean realizes that the only thing he dislikes more than a big baby in a trenchcoat is a giggly 14 year old girl in a trenchcoat. A giggly, drunken, handsy 14 year old girl in a trenchcoat.
“Woah, woah- easy there Cas, watch the hands!”
“I am, Dean, I am…hehe…watching them….”
Dean sighs, and for the fifth time since trying to get the angel’s wing wrapped, gently pushes Castiel’s questing hands away from his pants.
“But…Dean….you said-”
“I know what I said Cas…but I have to get your wing wrapped!”
The angel pouts- full out pouts, and Dean can’t help but smile then, watching those big baby blues turn soft with tears.
“Dean…,” he whimpers again, and Dean sighs, giving in to the angel’s demands. He leans in and wraps a hand around the back of the angel’s neck, pulling him in, and pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. Cas sighs into it, wrapping his arms tight around Dean’s neck. The kiss continues for a long moment until Dean pulls back, chuckling gently and smirking down at his angel.
“Now can I finish your wing?” Deans asks, chiding gently.
“….Make it quick…I like….how it makes me feel….”
“…The booze?”
“…no….you….your kisses…want more…”
Dean sighs, knowing that he’d done this by pampering Cas when the angel fell from heaven, when his grace was all but ripped away, and his wings were no longer ethereal but corporeal.
“Alright, baby…..just, one more minute okay?”
Dean hurries to finish the wing, callused hands gentle as they move over the feathers, the broken bone set back in place. The bandage only takes a minute to finish, and then Dean puts the medical tape down, and pulls his fluffy lover into his arms, kissing Cas gently.
“Better?”
“Mmmm…”
“Good…..Hey, Cas?”
“Mm?”
“How the hell did you end up breaking your wing anyway?”
There’s silence for a second, then Cas reaches for Dean’s glass of whiskey, downs it in one gulp, and hisses at the burn. He coughs, then looks up at Dean, squinting slightly.
“Sam bet me that I couldn’t fly off the roof.”
Dean is quiet for a moment, staring at Cas, but the yell he lets out in the next second makes Sam flinch from his hiding spot out in the junkyard, behind an old volvo.
Oh, Sam was gonna get it,…if Dean could ever find him in the maze that surrounded Bobby’s house.
….Which is what Sam was praying would see him through to the next day without an ass whooping by his severely pissed off older brother.