Supernatural fic - "Leap That Makes the Fall" (Part Nine)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
Dean did his best to put aside most of his grudge against Cas and be a little more approachable to the former angel… for Castiel’s sake. Dean didn’t forget or forgive what Castiel had done right after Sam went into the cage, but he tried to shove it into a corner of his mind and turn his back on it. He’d pledged to be an anchor for Castiel, and he would do that. Castiel deserved that much for having been the champion of humanity while the rest of the universe seemed dead set on watching mankind burn.
It was late. They’d parted ways with Sam almost two hours ago outside Dean and Castiel’s motel room. They’d met for dinner at a nearby restaurant where Castiel took a surprising liking to curly fries. He’d also done an admirable job of acting like he hadn’t been on the cusp of a meltdown earlier that day. Dean was actually kind of proud of him for that. God forbid, but if being human turned out to be a permanent affliction for Castiel, coping skills would be indispensable. No doubt Sam would have called it ‘repressing and denying’ skills, but Dean didn’t care what anyone wanted to call it, as long as it worked.
Dean was reclined on his bed, watching an episode of Dr. Sexy, MD, when he heard the shower shut off. Not really thinking about it until after he’d done it, he sat up and turned off the television.
Castiel came out of the bathroom along with a cloud of steam (he took unbelievably hot showers), naked but for a towel wrapped around his hips. He was getting better at bathing. The first time - when Dean had explained how the taps worked, the general idea of how to wash, and given Cas a ‘godspeed’ shove into the bathroom - the angel had taken more than an hour in the bathroom, the shower running the entire time. And he’d come out with his hair tacky from shampoo he hadn’t quite washed out. Dean drew a line at sponge baths or getting into the shower with Cas for a tutorial, so he just told him what he needed to do differently and sent him back in. It was like teenage girls trying on prom dresses in a store dressing room: Castiel came back out fifteen minutes later, and Dean gave him a good once-over and declared he’d passed inspection. Since then, Castiel tended to personal hygiene on his own.
While Castiel was standing in front of the mirror, barefoot and his skin pink from the hot water, Dean walked up behind him. He noticed how scruffy Castiel was starting to look. Sorting out how to shower on his own was one thing, shampoo and washcloths weren’t in the least bit dangerous, but…
“Looking pretty furry there, Cas.”
Castiel looked up at Dean’s reflection in the mirror. “What?”
Dean stepped forward and peered more closely at Castiel’s grizzled jaw. It was weird to see Castiel with the start of a beard. “I’d say it’s time you shaved.”
While Castiel curiously ran his fingers over his hair growth (like he was only then really noticing it was there), Dean filled the sink with water and dug out his razor and shaving cream. Then he turned to face Castiel. “I think you should let me do it this first time, just so you get the idea before I give you a razor.”
“Very well.”
Dean put some shaving cream on his hand then smeared it over Castiel’s chin, jawline, and throat. It was odd doing it to someone else… it had been a long time since Dean shaved anyone but himself. Probably fifteen years, the last time Dad broke his right hand on a hunt and wasn’t good for shit with his left hand.
Castiel stood perfectly still while Dean lathered up his face. Then Dean washed his hands, took his razor in hand, and hopped up to sit on the counter beside the sink. “Come here,” Dean beckoned. When Castiel stepped closer, Dean guided him with a hand on his wet side to stand right in front of him between Dean’s knees.
“Okay… important thing when you do this on yourself is to be careful about how much pressure you use. You don’t want to slit your own throat. Just, start off easy and press down harder until it feels right.”
“I don’t know what feels right,” Castiel pointed out needlessly.
“That’s what I’m going to show you. Now stand still.”
Dean urged Castiel a little closer then brought the razor up to the angel’s throat. With a thumb, he nudged at the underside of Castiel’s chin. Castiel tipped his head back obediently, eyes never leaving Dean’s face while Dean took the first careful swipe with the razor over Castiel’s throat. He washed off the razor and stubble and went back for another swipe. He slid the razor’s edge over the top of Castiel’s adam’s apple, watching it quiver a little. “That okay?”
“Yes.”
Dean nodded, rinsed, and resumed his work. Castiel stood perfectly still, framed between Dean’s legs, and Dean was struck by how vulnerable Castiel was at that precise moment. He was wearing nothing but a towel and had his throat exposed to Dean, trusting him with a razor against his flesh. Castiel of all people, who knew what Dean had done with a razor, should have better sense than to let Dean with a sharp weapon anywhere near him. But there wasn’t even a hint of caution or trepidation in Castiel. He watched Dean intently, conveying nothing but absolute trust while Dean dragged the razor, catching and cutting, across the hair on the soft skin of his throat.
He doubted anyone else could know him so completely the way Cas did, everything good and bad, and still have so much faith in him that they’d let down their guard so totally. Castiel wasn’t impervious anymore… he was as breakable as any of them. He could bleed just as easily. But he still didn’t hesitate to put himself in Dean’s hands… even when one of those hands hefted a razor with too much expertise.
It was dizzying and humbling, and that shocked the hell out of Dean. He didn’t think having someone trust him so implicitly would be so heady.
Dean finished on Castiel’s throat and bade, “Look straight at me.” There was a rumble to his voice he hadn’t expected.
Castiel did as Dean commanded, and Dean was surprised at the intensity of the look in Castiel’s eyes when he was looking at it head-on. It was like being in the crosshairs, and Dean swallowed thickly.
This wasn’t the first time he’d taught someone to shave. He remembered teaching Sam. But that lesson hadn’t felt so charged. Not like it did now. Dean imagined he could feel the heat coming off Castiel’s bare skin, still gasping from the scalding hot water of the shower. And the way Castiel stared had always been electric… that hadn’t changed with his falling.
Dean cleared his throat and moved to start shaving Castiel’s right cheek. He paused when he saw Castiel do a full-body shiver. “You cold?” He probably should have thought of that earlier and let Castiel put some clothes on instead of asking the guy with an internal thermostat set to crazy high to stand around wet and (mostly) naked.
“No.”
Dean eyed Cas a second, dubious, but Castiel merely stood there and waited for Dean to continue. He made no move to go and get his clothes. So after a slight pause, Dean pressed on.
Shaving him, Dean found contours in Castiel’s face he’d never noticed just looking at it. He never paid much attention before to where his cheeks dipped or rose into his cheekbones. Or to the soft sweep from the corners of his lips to his ears. The hard edge of his jaw. The shape of his chin or the way it met his bottom lip. “Do this,” Dean pulled his lips into his mouth. Castiel copied him, and Dean saw to the narrow strip between Castiel’s nose and upper lip.
Much too soon, Dean was done and sitting there a moment to survey his work. Castiel hadn’t yet looked at himself once in the mirror just past Dean’s shoulder; his eyes stayed completely on Dean. Maybe it was the steam from the bathroom getting to him, but Dean didn’t mind all that much. Though he was uncomfortably hot… next time, he’d crack a window before Cas got out of the shower and turned the place into the Amazon rain forest.
Dean put aside his razor, picked up a washcloth, and wiped the stray bits of shaving cream off Castiel’s face. Technically, it was something Cas could have done himself, but Dean felt like he was seeing through a mission to its conclusion. He’d come this far and he had to finish.
When he was done, he smiled. “How’s that?” Although Dean had his own opinions, either way. He’d noticed before that Castiel, the angel, rocked a permanent five o’clock shadow. Clean-shaven, he looked younger. How much of the wisdom he’d always seen when he looked at Castiel was really just Cas’s ancient knowledge behind Novak’s eyes? Because the human, stripped of angel dressings, looked so much younger.
Castiel still didn’t look at himself in the mirror. He seemed to gauge his appearance by the look on Dean’s face. “I like it very much. Thank you, Dean.”
“Don’t mention it,” Dean replied, then he shifted to get off the counter. That was when he realized Castiel had a hand on his thigh. He couldn’t for the life of him remember when it had gotten there. Dean glanced down. It wasn’t the hand he saw. His eyes widened when he discovered that Castiel was visibly aroused. The towel didn’t hide much.
He sucked in a breath and shot a look up into Castiel’s vivid blue eyes. “Uh… Cas…”
“Yes, Dean.”
That gravelly voice did something to Dean’s insides. For a split-second, it was nice. Then Dean was in panic mode. For one crazy moment, he wanted to curl his hands around Castiel’s hips and draw him closer. Instead, he put his hands on Castiel’s bare chest and pushed him away just enough to slide off the counter and move a step away. “You, ah… you shouldn’t…”
Castiel looked down, considering his traitorous body and its reaction that had freaked Dean out so much. He didn’t look embarrassed so much as wearied. “I apologize. My body’s response was not under my control. I’m sorry I’ve upset you.”
“Yeah, totally not cool, dude.”
“I understand… I know you have no interest in men.”
“It’s not that,” Dean said before he could stop it. When he realized what he said, he wanted to kick himself. Cas looked up, maybe nursing a kernel of hope, and Dean shook his head. “I just… I can’t.”
“Of course.”
That should have been that, but Dean hated how readily Castiel accepted it. He actually thought the guy might fight him a little. Was that all the effort Castiel was willing to put into it? Did he just not want it enough to try?
Then Dean realized what he was thinking and took another step away. “It’s fine, Cas, just… you know. Next time you’re in the shower, maybe you should try working off a little tension… you know what I mean?”
“I believe so.”
And even if he didn’t, no way was Dean about to explain the mechanics of that one to him.
“Good. Go, uh, go ahead and put some clothes on, then. I just need to hit the head.”
Before Castiel could say anything in response, Dean had sidled around Castiel and closed the bathroom door, gratefully putting himself on one side of the door and Castiel on the other.
And he most definitely, certainly was not turned on in the least.
Part Ten
Dean did his best to put aside most of his grudge against Cas and be a little more approachable to the former angel… for Castiel’s sake. Dean didn’t forget or forgive what Castiel had done right after Sam went into the cage, but he tried to shove it into a corner of his mind and turn his back on it. He’d pledged to be an anchor for Castiel, and he would do that. Castiel deserved that much for having been the champion of humanity while the rest of the universe seemed dead set on watching mankind burn.
It was late. They’d parted ways with Sam almost two hours ago outside Dean and Castiel’s motel room. They’d met for dinner at a nearby restaurant where Castiel took a surprising liking to curly fries. He’d also done an admirable job of acting like he hadn’t been on the cusp of a meltdown earlier that day. Dean was actually kind of proud of him for that. God forbid, but if being human turned out to be a permanent affliction for Castiel, coping skills would be indispensable. No doubt Sam would have called it ‘repressing and denying’ skills, but Dean didn’t care what anyone wanted to call it, as long as it worked.
Dean was reclined on his bed, watching an episode of Dr. Sexy, MD, when he heard the shower shut off. Not really thinking about it until after he’d done it, he sat up and turned off the television.
Castiel came out of the bathroom along with a cloud of steam (he took unbelievably hot showers), naked but for a towel wrapped around his hips. He was getting better at bathing. The first time - when Dean had explained how the taps worked, the general idea of how to wash, and given Cas a ‘godspeed’ shove into the bathroom - the angel had taken more than an hour in the bathroom, the shower running the entire time. And he’d come out with his hair tacky from shampoo he hadn’t quite washed out. Dean drew a line at sponge baths or getting into the shower with Cas for a tutorial, so he just told him what he needed to do differently and sent him back in. It was like teenage girls trying on prom dresses in a store dressing room: Castiel came back out fifteen minutes later, and Dean gave him a good once-over and declared he’d passed inspection. Since then, Castiel tended to personal hygiene on his own.
While Castiel was standing in front of the mirror, barefoot and his skin pink from the hot water, Dean walked up behind him. He noticed how scruffy Castiel was starting to look. Sorting out how to shower on his own was one thing, shampoo and washcloths weren’t in the least bit dangerous, but…
“Looking pretty furry there, Cas.”
Castiel looked up at Dean’s reflection in the mirror. “What?”
Dean stepped forward and peered more closely at Castiel’s grizzled jaw. It was weird to see Castiel with the start of a beard. “I’d say it’s time you shaved.”
While Castiel curiously ran his fingers over his hair growth (like he was only then really noticing it was there), Dean filled the sink with water and dug out his razor and shaving cream. Then he turned to face Castiel. “I think you should let me do it this first time, just so you get the idea before I give you a razor.”
“Very well.”
Dean put some shaving cream on his hand then smeared it over Castiel’s chin, jawline, and throat. It was odd doing it to someone else… it had been a long time since Dean shaved anyone but himself. Probably fifteen years, the last time Dad broke his right hand on a hunt and wasn’t good for shit with his left hand.
Castiel stood perfectly still while Dean lathered up his face. Then Dean washed his hands, took his razor in hand, and hopped up to sit on the counter beside the sink. “Come here,” Dean beckoned. When Castiel stepped closer, Dean guided him with a hand on his wet side to stand right in front of him between Dean’s knees.
“Okay… important thing when you do this on yourself is to be careful about how much pressure you use. You don’t want to slit your own throat. Just, start off easy and press down harder until it feels right.”
“I don’t know what feels right,” Castiel pointed out needlessly.
“That’s what I’m going to show you. Now stand still.”
Dean urged Castiel a little closer then brought the razor up to the angel’s throat. With a thumb, he nudged at the underside of Castiel’s chin. Castiel tipped his head back obediently, eyes never leaving Dean’s face while Dean took the first careful swipe with the razor over Castiel’s throat. He washed off the razor and stubble and went back for another swipe. He slid the razor’s edge over the top of Castiel’s adam’s apple, watching it quiver a little. “That okay?”
“Yes.”
Dean nodded, rinsed, and resumed his work. Castiel stood perfectly still, framed between Dean’s legs, and Dean was struck by how vulnerable Castiel was at that precise moment. He was wearing nothing but a towel and had his throat exposed to Dean, trusting him with a razor against his flesh. Castiel of all people, who knew what Dean had done with a razor, should have better sense than to let Dean with a sharp weapon anywhere near him. But there wasn’t even a hint of caution or trepidation in Castiel. He watched Dean intently, conveying nothing but absolute trust while Dean dragged the razor, catching and cutting, across the hair on the soft skin of his throat.
He doubted anyone else could know him so completely the way Cas did, everything good and bad, and still have so much faith in him that they’d let down their guard so totally. Castiel wasn’t impervious anymore… he was as breakable as any of them. He could bleed just as easily. But he still didn’t hesitate to put himself in Dean’s hands… even when one of those hands hefted a razor with too much expertise.
It was dizzying and humbling, and that shocked the hell out of Dean. He didn’t think having someone trust him so implicitly would be so heady.
Dean finished on Castiel’s throat and bade, “Look straight at me.” There was a rumble to his voice he hadn’t expected.
Castiel did as Dean commanded, and Dean was surprised at the intensity of the look in Castiel’s eyes when he was looking at it head-on. It was like being in the crosshairs, and Dean swallowed thickly.
This wasn’t the first time he’d taught someone to shave. He remembered teaching Sam. But that lesson hadn’t felt so charged. Not like it did now. Dean imagined he could feel the heat coming off Castiel’s bare skin, still gasping from the scalding hot water of the shower. And the way Castiel stared had always been electric… that hadn’t changed with his falling.
Dean cleared his throat and moved to start shaving Castiel’s right cheek. He paused when he saw Castiel do a full-body shiver. “You cold?” He probably should have thought of that earlier and let Castiel put some clothes on instead of asking the guy with an internal thermostat set to crazy high to stand around wet and (mostly) naked.
“No.”
Dean eyed Cas a second, dubious, but Castiel merely stood there and waited for Dean to continue. He made no move to go and get his clothes. So after a slight pause, Dean pressed on.
Shaving him, Dean found contours in Castiel’s face he’d never noticed just looking at it. He never paid much attention before to where his cheeks dipped or rose into his cheekbones. Or to the soft sweep from the corners of his lips to his ears. The hard edge of his jaw. The shape of his chin or the way it met his bottom lip. “Do this,” Dean pulled his lips into his mouth. Castiel copied him, and Dean saw to the narrow strip between Castiel’s nose and upper lip.
Much too soon, Dean was done and sitting there a moment to survey his work. Castiel hadn’t yet looked at himself once in the mirror just past Dean’s shoulder; his eyes stayed completely on Dean. Maybe it was the steam from the bathroom getting to him, but Dean didn’t mind all that much. Though he was uncomfortably hot… next time, he’d crack a window before Cas got out of the shower and turned the place into the Amazon rain forest.
Dean put aside his razor, picked up a washcloth, and wiped the stray bits of shaving cream off Castiel’s face. Technically, it was something Cas could have done himself, but Dean felt like he was seeing through a mission to its conclusion. He’d come this far and he had to finish.
When he was done, he smiled. “How’s that?” Although Dean had his own opinions, either way. He’d noticed before that Castiel, the angel, rocked a permanent five o’clock shadow. Clean-shaven, he looked younger. How much of the wisdom he’d always seen when he looked at Castiel was really just Cas’s ancient knowledge behind Novak’s eyes? Because the human, stripped of angel dressings, looked so much younger.
Castiel still didn’t look at himself in the mirror. He seemed to gauge his appearance by the look on Dean’s face. “I like it very much. Thank you, Dean.”
“Don’t mention it,” Dean replied, then he shifted to get off the counter. That was when he realized Castiel had a hand on his thigh. He couldn’t for the life of him remember when it had gotten there. Dean glanced down. It wasn’t the hand he saw. His eyes widened when he discovered that Castiel was visibly aroused. The towel didn’t hide much.
He sucked in a breath and shot a look up into Castiel’s vivid blue eyes. “Uh… Cas…”
“Yes, Dean.”
That gravelly voice did something to Dean’s insides. For a split-second, it was nice. Then Dean was in panic mode. For one crazy moment, he wanted to curl his hands around Castiel’s hips and draw him closer. Instead, he put his hands on Castiel’s bare chest and pushed him away just enough to slide off the counter and move a step away. “You, ah… you shouldn’t…”
Castiel looked down, considering his traitorous body and its reaction that had freaked Dean out so much. He didn’t look embarrassed so much as wearied. “I apologize. My body’s response was not under my control. I’m sorry I’ve upset you.”
“Yeah, totally not cool, dude.”
“I understand… I know you have no interest in men.”
“It’s not that,” Dean said before he could stop it. When he realized what he said, he wanted to kick himself. Cas looked up, maybe nursing a kernel of hope, and Dean shook his head. “I just… I can’t.”
“Of course.”
That should have been that, but Dean hated how readily Castiel accepted it. He actually thought the guy might fight him a little. Was that all the effort Castiel was willing to put into it? Did he just not want it enough to try?
Then Dean realized what he was thinking and took another step away. “It’s fine, Cas, just… you know. Next time you’re in the shower, maybe you should try working off a little tension… you know what I mean?”
“I believe so.”
And even if he didn’t, no way was Dean about to explain the mechanics of that one to him.
“Good. Go, uh, go ahead and put some clothes on, then. I just need to hit the head.”
Before Castiel could say anything in response, Dean had sidled around Castiel and closed the bathroom door, gratefully putting himself on one side of the door and Castiel on the other.
And he most definitely, certainly was not turned on in the least.
Part Ten