Caring Hands - Dean/Castiel
Title: Caring Hands
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: ~750
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dean is sick. Castiel takes matters into his own hands to try and help make him feel better.
Author's Notes: Written for spn_30snapshots, prompt #12 from A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words table.
“What’s that?” Dean asks groggily, referring to the bag in Castiel's hand.
“Where’s Sam?” Castiel asks in return, looking around, ignoring Dean’s question.
“He said he didn’t want to catch the flu, so he checked into another room.”
“He’s handling the hunt on his own."
“I can’t go out there like this,” Dean replies. “He can handle it.”
Dean tries to sound like he’s okay with it, but Castiel knows better. Castiel knows Dean would rather be out with his brother. More often now, he has been wishing that he still had the power to heal Dean. And while he might not be able to now, he wanted to try.
“So, what's that?”
“I was hoping to make you feel better.”
Castiel begins to take the contents out of the bag.
“Uh, thanks but I think I’ll pass,” Dean says as soon as he sees Castiel pull out a bottle of what looks to be massage oil.
“You were complaining about being sore.”
“Yeah, but, guys don’t give other guys massages. Unless you know,” Dean tries to explain without explaining.
“Don’t be stubborn, Dean.”
Castiel ignores Dean’s protest, mostly because he knows it is half-hearted. Dean is probably thinking a massage would feel good and telling himself it'll be okay since no one is going to know about it.
“Fine. But not a word about this.”
Castiel smiles slightly and nods. He moves to pull he blankets off Dean, but Dean beats him to it.
“I can do it.”
“Your legs hurt the most,” Castiel comments, looking down at Dean’s bare legs.
Castiel's words make Dean feel naked, and leave him thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Not when he’s only wearing a t-shirt and boxers.
But after Castiel removes his trench coat and places it gently on the other bed before unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves, Dean feels a little better. He can’t help but think Castiel looks a bit naked himself, considering he's always wearing that damn trench coat.
“Relax,” Castiel says as he pours the oil into his hands.
Dean lays back against the mattress and closes his eyes.
Castiel starts with Dean’s right thigh. Any doubts Dean had about getting a massage from Castiel go away. Dean finds it easy to relax as Castiel’s hands work to ease the tension in his legs. They still hurt, but the pain temporary dissipates under Castiel’s hands.
Dean isn’t really sure how long he lets Castiel work over his legs. His brain isn’t really good at keeping track of time at the moment. “My back hurts too,” Dean comments before realizing what he’s saying.
Castiel nods as he pours more oil onto his hands. “Do you want to roll over?”
“I’ll just sit up,” Dean answers as he pulls off his shirt.
Castiel moves behind Dean, sitting behind him. He begins with massaging Dean’s shoulders.
“Thanks for this,” Dean says as he leans back towards Castiel slightly.
Castiel doesn't reply, but Dean isn't really paying too much attention to anything other than the feeling of Castiel's hands along his shoulders. Except, when Castiel’s hand grazes over Dean’s scar, Dean feels dizzy and is suddenly thinking Castiel's hands feel really good.
Dean will blame the flu for his actions. There's no way he was thinking clearly when he grabs Castiel’s hand and moves it around to his chest.
“Dean?”
He isn’t thinking, Dean knows that when he eases Castiel’s hand lower.
Castiel pulls his hand away and is off the bed around the time Dean realizes what he’s doing.
“I--” Dean doesn’t know what to say, because what the fuck.
“I should get going,” Castiel says.
“No, wait,” Dean reaches out to grab Castiel’s arm, but he misjudges and has to catch himself on the bed before he accidently tumbles out.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Dean rambles. “I’m really, really out of it.”
And he means it. He doesn’t know what he was thinking. Except Castiel’s hands felt really really good, and he was thinking they’d feel good somewhere else... He was sick. In more than one way.
“Dean, it’s okay.”
“No. It’s not.”
“Dean.” Castiel places his hand on Dean’s shoulder, the one bearing his scar. “It is okay. Let’s just wait until you’re feeling better.”
Dean looks at him, it hits him what Castiel's talking about. “No, I’m not...”
“Rest,” Castiel says, placing his hand on Dean’s forehead.
Castiel eases Dean down against the bed, pulling the covers back over him. He then takes a seat on the edge of the bed, watching the steady rising and falling of Dean's chest.
"Just rest."
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: ~750
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dean is sick. Castiel takes matters into his own hands to try and help make him feel better.
Author's Notes: Written for spn_30snapshots, prompt #12 from A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words table.
“What’s that?” Dean asks groggily, referring to the bag in Castiel's hand.
“Where’s Sam?” Castiel asks in return, looking around, ignoring Dean’s question.
“He said he didn’t want to catch the flu, so he checked into another room.”
“He’s handling the hunt on his own."
“I can’t go out there like this,” Dean replies. “He can handle it.”
Dean tries to sound like he’s okay with it, but Castiel knows better. Castiel knows Dean would rather be out with his brother. More often now, he has been wishing that he still had the power to heal Dean. And while he might not be able to now, he wanted to try.
“So, what's that?”
“I was hoping to make you feel better.”
Castiel begins to take the contents out of the bag.
“Uh, thanks but I think I’ll pass,” Dean says as soon as he sees Castiel pull out a bottle of what looks to be massage oil.
“You were complaining about being sore.”
“Yeah, but, guys don’t give other guys massages. Unless you know,” Dean tries to explain without explaining.
“Don’t be stubborn, Dean.”
Castiel ignores Dean’s protest, mostly because he knows it is half-hearted. Dean is probably thinking a massage would feel good and telling himself it'll be okay since no one is going to know about it.
“Fine. But not a word about this.”
Castiel smiles slightly and nods. He moves to pull he blankets off Dean, but Dean beats him to it.
“I can do it.”
“Your legs hurt the most,” Castiel comments, looking down at Dean’s bare legs.
Castiel's words make Dean feel naked, and leave him thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Not when he’s only wearing a t-shirt and boxers.
But after Castiel removes his trench coat and places it gently on the other bed before unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves, Dean feels a little better. He can’t help but think Castiel looks a bit naked himself, considering he's always wearing that damn trench coat.
“Relax,” Castiel says as he pours the oil into his hands.
Dean lays back against the mattress and closes his eyes.
Castiel starts with Dean’s right thigh. Any doubts Dean had about getting a massage from Castiel go away. Dean finds it easy to relax as Castiel’s hands work to ease the tension in his legs. They still hurt, but the pain temporary dissipates under Castiel’s hands.
Dean isn’t really sure how long he lets Castiel work over his legs. His brain isn’t really good at keeping track of time at the moment. “My back hurts too,” Dean comments before realizing what he’s saying.
Castiel nods as he pours more oil onto his hands. “Do you want to roll over?”
“I’ll just sit up,” Dean answers as he pulls off his shirt.
Castiel moves behind Dean, sitting behind him. He begins with massaging Dean’s shoulders.
“Thanks for this,” Dean says as he leans back towards Castiel slightly.
Castiel doesn't reply, but Dean isn't really paying too much attention to anything other than the feeling of Castiel's hands along his shoulders. Except, when Castiel’s hand grazes over Dean’s scar, Dean feels dizzy and is suddenly thinking Castiel's hands feel really good.
Dean will blame the flu for his actions. There's no way he was thinking clearly when he grabs Castiel’s hand and moves it around to his chest.
“Dean?”
He isn’t thinking, Dean knows that when he eases Castiel’s hand lower.
Castiel pulls his hand away and is off the bed around the time Dean realizes what he’s doing.
“I--” Dean doesn’t know what to say, because what the fuck.
“I should get going,” Castiel says.
“No, wait,” Dean reaches out to grab Castiel’s arm, but he misjudges and has to catch himself on the bed before he accidently tumbles out.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Dean rambles. “I’m really, really out of it.”
And he means it. He doesn’t know what he was thinking. Except Castiel’s hands felt really really good, and he was thinking they’d feel good somewhere else... He was sick. In more than one way.
“Dean, it’s okay.”
“No. It’s not.”
“Dean.” Castiel places his hand on Dean’s shoulder, the one bearing his scar. “It is okay. Let’s just wait until you’re feeling better.”
Dean looks at him, it hits him what Castiel's talking about. “No, I’m not...”
“Rest,” Castiel says, placing his hand on Dean’s forehead.
Castiel eases Dean down against the bed, pulling the covers back over him. He then takes a seat on the edge of the bed, watching the steady rising and falling of Dean's chest.
"Just rest."