[fanfic] [supernatural] three unintentionals
Three Unintentionals
Castiel was well-familiar with sleep even if he didn't require it. But Dean's sleeping habits were.... odd, even to his view. Dean slept different each night. Sometimes on his back, with his eyes squeezed shut so that sleep would miraculously come to him. Sometimes, on his back, with his head deep into the pillow... and his hanads underneath, clutching the knife that lay there. Sometimes, it would be the side (the side facing Sam, looking at Sam, even if he was asleep, Sam had to be there, in his line) or sometimes away from Sam (for guilt? for Sam? ... for himself?). For all of Dean's rapacious replies to loving food, sex, his sleeping was spare and uncomfortable.
Do you really want to sleep, Dean? Castiel thought as Dean tossed and turned that night. Sam was gone and Dean had gone red in dreams. Castiel watched, his eyes flickering through Dean's mind (he didn't want to touch Dean's dreams too much. Dean valued his privacy) and an unbidden memory of a younger dean, closing his eyes as his mother bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead.
Curiously, he bent down and did the same, dry lips brushing against sweat. Almost immediately, the tremors ceased and Dean began breathing, a shuddering light calm around him.
Unusual, Castiel thought, but not unpleasant.
-xx-
"Fucking knuckles are all--Cas! Goddamnit, I told you not to do that!" Dean cursed as he immediately swerved.
Castiel blinked, "You're bleeding."
"Keep this up and you'll be Einstein," Dean grumbled, reaching for the washcloth, "What're you gonna do about it, kiss it and make it better?"
Castiel paused. Then he took one of Dean's hands, bleeding, sore, red, and lightly kissed them.
Silence.
"... I was joking."
"I know," Castiel said, "But I was not"
Dean's ears went red too.
-XX-
When Dean was beginning to bleed himself out, out of the person he used to be, Castiel hurt him. And when Dean was bleeding and dying of himself, Castiel kissed him hard on the lips, thinking fixthisfixthisfixthisdean.
"Cas, you bitch," Dean wheezed. Castiel couldn't tell if he was crying or yelling, simply weary at the lack of mending, "Don't kiss me when I'm like this."
And when Castiel took Dean back to Sam, he touched his lips, bitter, coppery, bled-out dean taste in his mouth and thought forlornly that not all things are easily fixed with a kiss.