winchester-reload:

Inktober Day 6 Topic: “Lips”

-Pink-

Doing this thing

@winchester-reload : I hope you don’t mind? It’s cool if you do, though!

Dean is failing, fading. Castiel can feel it. Not sure how he can, but he can. Too cold, too wet, and ten minutes ago was not the time to discover that Dean Winchester could only swim where there weren’t currents. 

And right now wasn’t the time for Castiel to realize that he’s an angel of the lord, and never felt the need to learn first aid until this second. He can heal wounds and illness, scrapes and stabs, but he’s not a witch – he can’t just make a room warmer. He can’t do anything for low body temperature.

Except. One of his Netflix marathons might be useful now. He strips them both of their sopping clothes, Dean limp and barely awake against him. It’s a trial in the cramped back of the Impala. But he gets it done. Gets the car started to blast the heater. Sprawls out in the backseat with Dean against him, cold and not shivering yet, but something about the sensation of skin on skin feels incredibly final to Castiel. And not in the bad way that they’re so accustomed to. This is the other way.

His arms feel trapped where they’re wrapped around Dean’s torso, palms flat against his stomach and belly. He’s getting warmer. That’s a good sign. When Dean starts to shiver, Castiel can’t help himself, really. He slides his head forward, convincing himself that rubbing their cheeks together is completely innocent. Just checking the human’s temperature, of course. That’s what he’ll tell Dean if either of them survive what’s happening right now. Dean trying not to freeze to death, and Castiel trying not to burn up. 

But then Dean starts to shiver. Small tremors at first that wrack him almost painfully. His blue lips part on a breathy moan, and that has to be a good sign. “Cas,” he whispers.

It’s pained, but to Castiel’s ears it sounds… it sounds like he wishes it would sound in another place. Or perhaps right here under better circumstances.

Castiel stares at the plush bow of Dean’s lips, transfixed. He swallows. Is acutely aware of his breath on the side of Dean’s face when he answers softly, “I’m here, Dean.”

Dean’s head tilts up, eyes still closed as he trembles harder. His lips are losing their gray tinge. That’s a good sign. They look so much better this way. A particularly violent shudder lances through Dean, his whole body arching as he gives a startled, hurting grunt. Castiel’s arms tighten around him helplessly and he tries not to be afraid. The fear is making him want things much more than he usually does. “I’m right here,” he murmurs, voice seeming to soothe Dean again. “You’re okay.”

Dean sighs, turning his head, eyelashes tickling Castiel’s neck to make the angel tense as lightning shoots through him at the tiny sensation. “Thanks,” he breathes. His breath is warm. So very, very warm.

After all this time, Castiel thinks. I’ve been so good. I’ve tried so hard. Dean had told him that everyone has a breaking point. It’s true. And it’s in the backseat of the Impala on a frigid night. A silent sob chokes Castiel’s throat.

Dean’s cold fingers slide up over Castiel’s arm, over his neck, into the curled hairs behind his ear. Castiel is shaking as badly as Dean is now. Maybe more. Definitely more when Dean opens his eyes, gaze hard and irrevocable. “It’s okay,” he says. Nothing else. No explanation.

It has to mean what Castiel hopes it means. He’s been so good. So long. Too long. He tilts his head further down against the awkward angle and kisses Dean’s perfect lips. Mild pressure. No teeth. No tongue. Just lips.

Dean’s fingers spasm and tighten in his hair. That and the sudden acceleration in his heartbeat are the only signs that Castiel has guessed correctly.

It must go on and on the careful meeting and parting, warm gusts of breath, the gradual deepening of the exploration. And when it’s over, Dean sighs like a truly sated soul. His weight falls heavy against Castiel’s chest, head tucked into the space below his jaw. “It’s okay,” Dean whispers again, finally done shaking. “Cas, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

It sounds so much better when Dean says it now that the urgency is gone. Castiel plants one soft kiss against the arch of Dean’s eyebrow before settling back, too. “We’re okay,” he agrees.