Fic: Kiss Rhymes with Bliss 2/2 (PG-13, Dean/Castiel)
Title: Kiss Rhymes with Bliss
Author: ifrenchfriez
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Word Count: 1,743
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Supernatural.
Summary: Dean freaks out after finding out how Castiel healed him yesterday night.
Notes/Warnings: Continued from Part 1. Schmoop.
Dean groggily wakes up and fidgets in bed. Groaning, he sits up and looks around the quiet motel room, noticing that he’s alone. A loud yawn escapes from his mouth when he rubs at his droopy eyelids. He looks over to the alarm clock on bedside table-11:06. Blinking away the yawn-induced tears, he tries to recall yesterday’s events.
Let’s see .. I had a breakfast combo at the diner .. Sam and I hunted a psycho fox spirit in some chick .. and Castiel saved my ass before my eyes were clawed out.
He also figures he was really tired yesterday, since he fell asleep wearing his old jeans. The heavy denim fabric constricts his legs when he tries to move.
And then he remembers something else. Something having to do with Castiel on his bed last night. Castiel. His bed. Last night. What was a freaking angel doing on his bed last night?
Dean’s eyes widen in horror. Did I .. No, that’s impossible. I didn’t right? .. I better not have .. Oh crap.
He shakes away the thought, even though he’s starting to panic at the fact that he and Castiel might’ve done something. Wondering if you had sex with an angel of the same gender was not something he wanted to be thinking about this early in the morning. Actually, it’s something he’d rather not ever think about.
Dean shifts out of bed and lifts his arms over his head. He groans in satisfaction when he stretches out the kinks in his limbs.
Something’s wrong. Shouldn’t I be sore all over? That fox girl got me pretty good. Anxious to look at himself in the mirror, Dean hurriedly walks toward the restroom.
He sees an expression of disbelief in the reflection. He raises a hand to his warm cheek and leans closer toward the mirror, green dumbfounded eyes staring back at him. There’s not a single scratch on his face.
Dean moves his rough hand along his arms, brows furrowing in confusion. The purple bruise on his right forearm is gone. Well I’ll be damned.
And what’s even more mind-boggling is that he doesn’t have any slashes or cuts on the rest of his body, none on his chest or stomach. His skin is pleasantly smooth and warm under his fingertips.
He hears the door creak open and recognizes Sam’s shuffling footsteps.
“Dean?”
“In here.”
From outside of the restroom, Sam looks at Dean with raised eyebrows. “Huh. Looks like Castiel took care of you pretty good.” He tries not to overthink that statement.
“Where were you?” Dean tries to change the subject. He must look uncomfortable because he sees Sam biting back a smirk before answering.
“Ordered some take-out because you were sleeping like the dead,” Sam snorts, sitting on his bed.
“How long was I out?”
“12 hours.”
Dean walks toward his bed and grabs a brown shirt hanging off the side of it. He pulls the shirt over his head. Twelve hours? He’s never slept for that long, regardless of how tired he would be after a job. Things could not get weirder.
Sam clears his throat from across the room. “So did you and Cas ..?” he asks innocently, making hand motions in attempt to convey the question.
“No!” Dean snaps. He mumbles the next part in a low tone in hopes that Sam might not hear it. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean you don’t think so?” Dammit.
“It’s like, I don’t remember anything last night. Except that Cas was there, stitching me up on my bed or something,” he grumbles. Why where they still talking about this?
Sam looks at him skeptically. “And you guys didn’t do anything afterward?”
Dean glares at him and barely refrains from punching him. “Dude! I told you, we didn’t-”
Apparently, popping in during private conversations is Castiel’s specialty.
“Castiel!” Sam nearly shouts.
Dean clears his throat and looks at the ground. Even though he’s not exactly sure of what happened last night, he wishes he could just disappear right now because he’s ninety-nine percent sure that he and Castiel are going to have to talk about what happened last night sooner or later.
“Sam,” he greets. Castiel’s enigmatic gaze trails to him. “Dean.”
He nods slightly, still staring at the floor. Talk about awkward.
After a moment of silence, Sam gets off his bed and says, “Er, I’m just going to .. go .. get stuff.” He points toward the door and ducks his head.
Well. Isn’t this just awesome?
“Uh ..” Dean begins to say. Castiel patiently waits for him to collect his thoughts. “What happened last night?”
“A kitsune wounded you multiple times, so I tried to treat your cuts,” he says matter-of-factly.
“ .. But?”
“But then I found a more efficient way to do so.”
The angel slightly tenses, just the teeniest bit of muscles seizing. His expression hasn’t changed since he got here.
“And what way was that?” Dean raises his eyebrows.
For a second, something like dread crosses Castiel’s face and disappears just as quickly. His lips twitch as if he doesn’t what to speak. Wait. Why am I even looking at his lips?
“The healing method might’ve required a specific form of.. physical contact,” he says reluctantly.
Dean gulps and stares past his figure. “W-what form of physical contact?” The words are stuttered out forcefully.
He sneaks a glance at Castiel and relaxes when he notices that he’s looking away, too. Dean sees him toy with his hands in his lap, feeling anxiety in the air. If angels could get nervous, then this is a dead-on depiction of it.
“.. A kiss.”
And the freaking out starts .. right about now.
Dean’s jaw drops as he desperately fumbles for words. Heat flushes up his neck and settles into his cheeks. He feels overwhelmed at first, and then nauseous, followed by taken advantage of. He was injured for god’s sake! But that’s the least of his troubles, he kissed a guy, and not just any guy, he kissed Cas! “We-I. You-Kissed? What?!” He hears the hysteria and lack of coherency in his voice, cheeks flaming now.
Then, another question surfaces. “Why don’t I remember any of this?”
“You fell asleep right after I healed you.”
Dean runs a hand over his face and decides he doesn’t know how to react to this whole thing. Castiel’s pretty calm (or looks like it at least), so why isn’t he?
“Was it like-a you know ..” His hands move in strange forms and shapes. Looking at Castiel to see if he gets it, Dean grumpily sighs and drops his hands once he figures his gesticulations aren’t very helpful.
“If you’re referring to the length of the .. kiss, you’ll be reassured to know that it only lasted a matter of seconds.”
Dean still feels the growing hotness in his cheeks. “And .. that was all we did, right?”
Castiel nods.
“Did I kiss you back?” The words tumble out of his mouth before he can realize what he just asked. His eyes dart away before Castiel answers.
“.. More or less.”
So I kissed him back. And then Dean thinks about it some more. Wonder what it was like.
“It’s a complicated pro-”
It’s a spur of the moment when he decides he wants to know what kissing Castiel feels like again.
Dean doesn’t know what he’s doing when he nearly tackles him. Castiel makes a startled sound when he clutches at his collar and steers him toward the bed. They both clumsily flop onto it, Castiel making a discreet “oof” sound.
“I think you need to refresh my memory ..” he says.
“Dean ..” He hears something dark and unfamiliar in the angel’s voice.
They’re suspended in time, his hands on both sides of Castiel, anticipating the next move. Their uneven breathing sounds louder than it really is, pounding in the still air. Dean sees his deep blue eyes flicker down to his lips and then back up to meet his gaze.
Dean closes his eyes and leans in. The briefest touch of lips sparks something in him. It’s like his brain is rewired and suddenly, he remembers. So that’s what we did last night ..
Flexing the muscles in his arms, he slowly draws back so he can tell Castiel. It seems like he already knows what he’s about to say, because he nods slightly and pulls Dean back down.
Firm hands press against the back of neck, velvet smoothness of incredibly soft lips shaping perfectly around each other.
Castiel tilts his head, cool air sweeping through Dean’s heated mouth. Oh God. The aroma is overwhelming. His crisp scent mingles with Dean’s warm breath and he starts to feel pleasantly light-headed and dizzy. There are no words that can describe the extraordinary taste of the angel. It’s simply marvelous and breathtaking, everything wonderful about a kiss you can imagine.
He doesn’t know how long they’re like that, tongues tasting and twining around each other. Soft tugs on even softer lips making his head spin. This must be heaven.
When Castiel has to literally pry Dean off of him, he gasps for air. Dean gulps and blinks several times before looking at Castiel, who has a dazed expression on his face. Laughing quietly, he decides to move, re-arranging his arms and legs so he can sit up properly.
He notices how Castiel’s hair is tousled and spiking in all directions when the angel also decides to sit up. It’s actually kind of .. cute, not that he would tell him that anytime soon.
Dean clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. “So .. Why am I still conscious?” He isn’t just referring to how he blacked out when he was healed, but to the fact that Castiel could kiss.
“I can control when I want to heal someone, but I should’ve warned you that it was powerful enough to leave you unconscious,” he says apologetically. The wistful tone of his voice is as soft as a sigh.
Dean slowly nods, trying to understand. “So if you’re kissing someone but not healing them, you can turn off the whole knocking-someone-out-thing?”
“It’s complex, but yes.”
Interesting ..
“Good .. ‘cause I really don’t want to pass out right now,” Dean murmurs. He reaches over and gently presses their mouths together once again.
Author: ifrenchfriez
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Word Count: 1,743
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Supernatural.
Summary: Dean freaks out after finding out how Castiel healed him yesterday night.
Notes/Warnings: Continued from Part 1. Schmoop.
Dean groggily wakes up and fidgets in bed. Groaning, he sits up and looks around the quiet motel room, noticing that he’s alone. A loud yawn escapes from his mouth when he rubs at his droopy eyelids. He looks over to the alarm clock on bedside table-11:06. Blinking away the yawn-induced tears, he tries to recall yesterday’s events.
Let’s see .. I had a breakfast combo at the diner .. Sam and I hunted a psycho fox spirit in some chick .. and Castiel saved my ass before my eyes were clawed out.
He also figures he was really tired yesterday, since he fell asleep wearing his old jeans. The heavy denim fabric constricts his legs when he tries to move.
And then he remembers something else. Something having to do with Castiel on his bed last night. Castiel. His bed. Last night. What was a freaking angel doing on his bed last night?
Dean’s eyes widen in horror. Did I .. No, that’s impossible. I didn’t right? .. I better not have .. Oh crap.
He shakes away the thought, even though he’s starting to panic at the fact that he and Castiel might’ve done something. Wondering if you had sex with an angel of the same gender was not something he wanted to be thinking about this early in the morning. Actually, it’s something he’d rather not ever think about.
Dean shifts out of bed and lifts his arms over his head. He groans in satisfaction when he stretches out the kinks in his limbs.
Something’s wrong. Shouldn’t I be sore all over? That fox girl got me pretty good. Anxious to look at himself in the mirror, Dean hurriedly walks toward the restroom.
He sees an expression of disbelief in the reflection. He raises a hand to his warm cheek and leans closer toward the mirror, green dumbfounded eyes staring back at him. There’s not a single scratch on his face.
Dean moves his rough hand along his arms, brows furrowing in confusion. The purple bruise on his right forearm is gone. Well I’ll be damned.
And what’s even more mind-boggling is that he doesn’t have any slashes or cuts on the rest of his body, none on his chest or stomach. His skin is pleasantly smooth and warm under his fingertips.
He hears the door creak open and recognizes Sam’s shuffling footsteps.
“Dean?”
“In here.”
From outside of the restroom, Sam looks at Dean with raised eyebrows. “Huh. Looks like Castiel took care of you pretty good.” He tries not to overthink that statement.
“Where were you?” Dean tries to change the subject. He must look uncomfortable because he sees Sam biting back a smirk before answering.
“Ordered some take-out because you were sleeping like the dead,” Sam snorts, sitting on his bed.
“How long was I out?”
“12 hours.”
Dean walks toward his bed and grabs a brown shirt hanging off the side of it. He pulls the shirt over his head. Twelve hours? He’s never slept for that long, regardless of how tired he would be after a job. Things could not get weirder.
Sam clears his throat from across the room. “So did you and Cas ..?” he asks innocently, making hand motions in attempt to convey the question.
“No!” Dean snaps. He mumbles the next part in a low tone in hopes that Sam might not hear it. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean you don’t think so?” Dammit.
“It’s like, I don’t remember anything last night. Except that Cas was there, stitching me up on my bed or something,” he grumbles. Why where they still talking about this?
Sam looks at him skeptically. “And you guys didn’t do anything afterward?”
Dean glares at him and barely refrains from punching him. “Dude! I told you, we didn’t-”
Apparently, popping in during private conversations is Castiel’s specialty.
“Castiel!” Sam nearly shouts.
Dean clears his throat and looks at the ground. Even though he’s not exactly sure of what happened last night, he wishes he could just disappear right now because he’s ninety-nine percent sure that he and Castiel are going to have to talk about what happened last night sooner or later.
“Sam,” he greets. Castiel’s enigmatic gaze trails to him. “Dean.”
He nods slightly, still staring at the floor. Talk about awkward.
After a moment of silence, Sam gets off his bed and says, “Er, I’m just going to .. go .. get stuff.” He points toward the door and ducks his head.
Well. Isn’t this just awesome?
“Uh ..” Dean begins to say. Castiel patiently waits for him to collect his thoughts. “What happened last night?”
“A kitsune wounded you multiple times, so I tried to treat your cuts,” he says matter-of-factly.
“ .. But?”
“But then I found a more efficient way to do so.”
The angel slightly tenses, just the teeniest bit of muscles seizing. His expression hasn’t changed since he got here.
“And what way was that?” Dean raises his eyebrows.
For a second, something like dread crosses Castiel’s face and disappears just as quickly. His lips twitch as if he doesn’t what to speak. Wait. Why am I even looking at his lips?
“The healing method might’ve required a specific form of.. physical contact,” he says reluctantly.
Dean gulps and stares past his figure. “W-what form of physical contact?” The words are stuttered out forcefully.
He sneaks a glance at Castiel and relaxes when he notices that he’s looking away, too. Dean sees him toy with his hands in his lap, feeling anxiety in the air. If angels could get nervous, then this is a dead-on depiction of it.
“.. A kiss.”
And the freaking out starts .. right about now.
Dean’s jaw drops as he desperately fumbles for words. Heat flushes up his neck and settles into his cheeks. He feels overwhelmed at first, and then nauseous, followed by taken advantage of. He was injured for god’s sake! But that’s the least of his troubles, he kissed a guy, and not just any guy, he kissed Cas! “We-I. You-Kissed? What?!” He hears the hysteria and lack of coherency in his voice, cheeks flaming now.
Then, another question surfaces. “Why don’t I remember any of this?”
“You fell asleep right after I healed you.”
Dean runs a hand over his face and decides he doesn’t know how to react to this whole thing. Castiel’s pretty calm (or looks like it at least), so why isn’t he?
“Was it like-a you know ..” His hands move in strange forms and shapes. Looking at Castiel to see if he gets it, Dean grumpily sighs and drops his hands once he figures his gesticulations aren’t very helpful.
“If you’re referring to the length of the .. kiss, you’ll be reassured to know that it only lasted a matter of seconds.”
Dean still feels the growing hotness in his cheeks. “And .. that was all we did, right?”
Castiel nods.
“Did I kiss you back?” The words tumble out of his mouth before he can realize what he just asked. His eyes dart away before Castiel answers.
“.. More or less.”
So I kissed him back. And then Dean thinks about it some more. Wonder what it was like.
“It’s a complicated pro-”
It’s a spur of the moment when he decides he wants to know what kissing Castiel feels like again.
Dean doesn’t know what he’s doing when he nearly tackles him. Castiel makes a startled sound when he clutches at his collar and steers him toward the bed. They both clumsily flop onto it, Castiel making a discreet “oof” sound.
“I think you need to refresh my memory ..” he says.
“Dean ..” He hears something dark and unfamiliar in the angel’s voice.
They’re suspended in time, his hands on both sides of Castiel, anticipating the next move. Their uneven breathing sounds louder than it really is, pounding in the still air. Dean sees his deep blue eyes flicker down to his lips and then back up to meet his gaze.
Dean closes his eyes and leans in. The briefest touch of lips sparks something in him. It’s like his brain is rewired and suddenly, he remembers. So that’s what we did last night ..
Flexing the muscles in his arms, he slowly draws back so he can tell Castiel. It seems like he already knows what he’s about to say, because he nods slightly and pulls Dean back down.
Firm hands press against the back of neck, velvet smoothness of incredibly soft lips shaping perfectly around each other.
Castiel tilts his head, cool air sweeping through Dean’s heated mouth. Oh God. The aroma is overwhelming. His crisp scent mingles with Dean’s warm breath and he starts to feel pleasantly light-headed and dizzy. There are no words that can describe the extraordinary taste of the angel. It’s simply marvelous and breathtaking, everything wonderful about a kiss you can imagine.
He doesn’t know how long they’re like that, tongues tasting and twining around each other. Soft tugs on even softer lips making his head spin. This must be heaven.
When Castiel has to literally pry Dean off of him, he gasps for air. Dean gulps and blinks several times before looking at Castiel, who has a dazed expression on his face. Laughing quietly, he decides to move, re-arranging his arms and legs so he can sit up properly.
He notices how Castiel’s hair is tousled and spiking in all directions when the angel also decides to sit up. It’s actually kind of .. cute, not that he would tell him that anytime soon.
Dean clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. “So .. Why am I still conscious?” He isn’t just referring to how he blacked out when he was healed, but to the fact that Castiel could kiss.
“I can control when I want to heal someone, but I should’ve warned you that it was powerful enough to leave you unconscious,” he says apologetically. The wistful tone of his voice is as soft as a sigh.
Dean slowly nods, trying to understand. “So if you’re kissing someone but not healing them, you can turn off the whole knocking-someone-out-thing?”
“It’s complex, but yes.”
Interesting ..
“Good .. ‘cause I really don’t want to pass out right now,” Dean murmurs. He reaches over and gently presses their mouths together once again.