14. A Break

Castiel hugs the fold of his tail tightly to his chest. It does nothing to quell the heat thrumming low in his belly. It floods his veins and makes the shower-rain feel like the cold waters of the deep where it falls over his head and skin. He stares hard at the white-squares on the wall and desperately tries to focus his mind on anything and everything that isn’t Dean.

On anything and everything that isn’t Dean and a never ending spread of skin flushed pink from the hot water. Or the way his teeth had pressed into his bottom lip. He tries his hardest to not think about the slide of Dean’s fingers over – Castiel shakes his head violently and pressed his face into his scales. The few seconds he had seen play over the back of his eyelids and he muffles a whimper against his tail at the blooming burn seeping under his scales.

Castiel shakes his head again and looks up at the white-squares again. He picks out a droplet of water and traces its path with his eyes. He’s aware that the tingle dancing over his skin and the twisting pull in his gut is arousal. And he knows, in theory,  how to deal with it. But he’s never had to do it before. The urges of his body were never a problem from him while growing up – much to the annoyance of his nest-brothers.

Balthazar used to complain, on a near hourly basis, about how the females would follow him around and purposefully act seductive just to cause a reaction so they could see his arousal. Lucifer told them it was because the females were keeping track of which males would make good mates. Gabriel told them it was because the females were perverts and had nothing better to do.

It always causes a shudder to shake down his spine whenever Castiel thinks about the time he was ambushed by a group of females. They had poked and prodded and asked him why they hadn’t seen him with an erection yet. He didn’t have an answer for them then.

He does now.

His memories of the colony and the old embarrassment help ease the disquiet singing through his body. Now he knows that he didn’t have any reactions to the females and their budding breasts or fluttering fans not because there was something wrong with him, but because they just weren’t interesting to him.

The females were convinced that, despite being a good warrior, Castiel would make a terrible mate. Most of the colony had been so sure that there was something wrong with him because he had never been seeing showing any kind of arousal. Some had thought that he was simply shy. But no one thought that he would ever father a nest. It wasn’t something that had bothered him too much. It was just a worry in the back of his mind that would make itself known every once in a while. But Castiel had always been fine with just being a soldier, with devoting his time to keeping the colony safe.

He wonders if he would have ever experienced arousal outside of sleep if he had turned his attention to any of the colony’s males. He knows that he’s had dreams – though he can’t remember them clearly – where he would wake with a fading ache in his belly and the scent of his release in the water.

The rustle of one of the hanging sheet makes Castiel flinch. His back is to the entrance of his alcove and he had closed the sheet to block the opening. He’d retreated here after Dean had shouted at him for peeking. Castiel hopes Dean isn’t too mad at him. It’s not like he had told him what he wasn’t allowed to peek at.

He glances over his shoulder at his untouched sheet. If he angles his side-fans right, he can hear the slap of Dean’s bare feet on the white-squares and the muffled noise of his clothing. Castiel doesn’t dare check on what Dean is doing. It’s likely that Dean is getting dressed now, which means that he’ll be naked for a few moments and Castiel doesn’t want him to yell again if he catches him looking again.

Castiel’s fingers play with an adipose fin, rolling and folding it nervously while he waits. The kin-connection still bridges his mind with Dean’s, but it is quiet. He wants to stretch through and touch the edges of Dean’s thoughts, but he’s worried that Dean will shut him out completely if he does. He hadn’t meant to see Dean pleasuring himself and he thinks being tormented by the image is punishment enough.

The gentle touch to the wall surrounding his mind startles him and Castiel’s fans flare briefly. He drops enough of the walls for Dean to feel some of his emotions – his wary anxiety, his regret and his apologies. Dean’s thoughts drift over his own. It’s a cautious touch edged with concern, but there is no anger.

(You okay, Cas?)

Castiel nods and then realizes that Dean can’t see the movement. He sends a pulse of affirmation through the connection and watches Dean’s shadow darken the sheet.

(Sorry for hitting you in the face with the cloth, it was a knee-jerk reaction. It didn’t hurt you or anything, did it?)

He snorts and his adipose fans ripple. (Of course not. I’m… sorry, too. Are you… are you angry with me?)

Dean’s soft laugh can be heard on the other side of the sheet. (Nah, I’m not angry. Embarrassed coz’ you caught me jerkin’ off… But not angry. It was pretty damn stupid of me to do that with you right here and all, but it was kinda a pressing issue and I wanted a hot shower instead of a cold one, y’know?)

There’s a brief moment before Dean laughs again. (Sorry, you probably actually don’t know about that. Cold showers help, um, they help – they make it – it kills erections. Anyway, are you – Is it okay if I move this curtain? You’re not – um – are you?) A kind of anticipation that Castiel doesn’t recognize flickers along the edges of the kin-connection.

(I’m not doing anything.)

The hanging sheet is pulled aside and Dean is already kneeling on a folded towel. The lights are brighter with the alcove open to the rest of the room and Castiel squints against them. He isn’t sure if he should be horrified or pleased that Dean isn’t fully dressed. There’s an odd mixture of both twisting in his stomach. Dean is only wearing the shorts that go under his pants and the blue-sleeve. There are still bruises and faint lines from Pamela speckling his chest and Castiel quickly looks away from them at the first sharp tug of jealousy in his chest.

Dean sticks his hand under the shower-rain and pulls it back immediately. He curses and mumbles something about the cold before reaching up to the metal knobs on the wall and twisting them until the water flow stops. Castiel flicks his fans to shake the water off and Dean jerks away. He glares and Castiel pushes a silent apology through the kin-connection.

(You still want to wash your scales?) Dean reaches around the wall between Castiel’s alcove and the one Dean had been using. He sits back with one of the bottles and another few damp very-small-towels that he called ‘cloths’.

Castiel nods and slowly unfolds. He lets his tail drop enough to  check to ensure he hasn’t started to slip from his sheath. Dean responds to the flash of relief with his own curiosity. Castiel pushes it away as he uncurls and slides around until he’s half-facing Dean, his back to one of the walls. He holds his hand out for the bottle and a cloth. Dean gives him one and squeezes a jelly onto it from the bottle. It’s more watery than the toothpaste was.

Dean passes images through the kin-connection as he puts the jelly onto the other cloth. Castiel mimics the memories, rubbing the cloth together until the jelly becomes bubbles. He turns it upside down and presses the foam against his scales. He rubs the soap over his lap. His face adipose fins ripple when he passes over the head of his sheath and his back fans flare slightly, hitting the wall. Dean looks up, curiosity flickering along his thoughts again while he rubs the other cloth together to make the foam.

He takes several slow, deep breaths to calm the tingling itch crawling over his nerves. Castiel makes a note to avoid touching anywhere near his sheath while there is still arousal pulsing dully in the pit of his stomach. He tries not to make it obvious when he quickly moves to cleaning the scales closer to his hips and fins. It’s not that he would mind having an erection at the moment. But judging from how Dean reacted to Castiel seeing him like that, he doesn’t think Dean would respond favourably to him being similarly aroused in front of him.

His conclusion is extrapolated from this and all the previous times when Dean has changed his clothes outside of small-sea and requested that Castiel turn his back.

The touch of the cloth in Dean’s hand startles him and Castiel makes a soft noise of surprise before twitching his tail away. One of Dean’s eyebrows rises up his forehead and he sits back on his heels, confusion colouring his thoughts. (Something wrong, Cas?)

Castiel had thought that Dean was preparing the other cloth for him to use when his current one was no longer foamy. He draws his tail closer, folding it again until the bubbles start to slide toward the crease of his belly.  Both of Dean’s eyebrows are raised now and Castiel adverts his eyes, dutifully continuing to scrub at his scales.

(Is this because I jerked off right after we kissed? Coz’ I just gotta say that I haven’t gotten any alone time since that night with Pam and that was like, four days ago or something. And if you had seen how you looked after we kissed – Actually, here.)

An image of Castiel rises with his words. His eyes are hooded and unfocused, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted. They look swollen and spit-slick and Castiel automatically licks his lips, remembering how they had tingled afterward. In Dean’s image, his hair is starting to curl as it dries on his forehead and his side-fans are narrowed and flattened in a clear sign of submission.

Castiel hides behind the walls of his mind and imagines Dean looking the same as he did. He doesn’t think of the Dean from the poison-dream. He thinks of the Dean kneeling next to him, eyebrows still raised and watching him expectantly. Almost immediately heat starts throbbing under his skin, spreading quick and vicious under his scales and it makes his fins ripple wildly.

Dean glances down at the flutter of his adipose fins before Castiel flattens them with his hands. He bows his head and when he’s sure they won’t move, he returns to cleaning his scales. At Dean’s prodding confusion and the first misty swirls of paranoia, he relents.

(It’s not because of what you did, Dean. I understand that you were aroused and you had the opportunity to deal with it so you did. It’s a normal thing to do for a healthy male.) He curls his tail up in front of his chest and folds the end over his shoulder so he can rub the soap into the underside. (I pulled away because I haven’t been assisted with maintaining my scales since I was a child. It’s usually an activity one accomplishes alone.)

(Well, okay. When do you usually not do it alone?)

Castiel shrugs and uncurls slowly as he works the cloth closer to the end of his tail. He can feel the blush creeping up along his gills. (One would have to be very close to someone to allow them to assist in cleaning their scales.)

(How close?) Dean takes the cloth Castiel is using and gives him the other one.

He can sense Dean’s amusement when he notices the flush starting to colour Castiel’s cheeks. Ignoring it, he doesn’t look up and works the foaming soap back up along the front of his tail. He still has to clean the scales he’s sitting on, and his side-fans. But he’s not going to be able to clean his back-fans properly. There’s no sand to bury his fans in and it would be rude of him to ask Dean to do it.

Dean repeats his question.

(If you were my sibling and I was either too sick or too injured to maintain my scales on my own, then I would allow you to help me. Otherwise, the only other person that should assist is –) Castiel glances up at him briefly before quickly looking back down at where his hands are working the cloth back up into his lap. (- a bond-mate.)

Dean’s surprise isn’t nearly as bright as Castiel thought it would be. (Oh. Yeah, that – uh – that makes sense. I can understand why you wouldn’t want me helping then. Sorry.)

(There’s nothing to apologize for. You didn’t know.)

(Is there anything I can help with?)

Castiel starts to work the remnants of the soap over one of his side-fans. He flexes the spines of his back-fans and the folded webbing rustles slightly. He’s loath to leave any of his fans unclean, but he’s hesitant to ask for Dean’s help right after telling him about the significance such an action holds.

Dean’s eyes slip to his shoulder and his eyebrow twitches up again. (How are you gonna clean those?)

Castiel shrugs and switches to the other side-fan. He curls his tail under him, the scales slip-sliding over the white-squares on the floor. He folds it under him and lifts up so he can reach the scales he was sitting on.

(So you’re not cleaning them?)

(I’d like to, but I can’t properly reach them.)

(How do you do it at home?)

Castiel responds with the memory of wriggling his back into the sand and shuffling the spines of his fans until his webbing has been scrubbed clean. Amusement flares through the kin-connection and Dean rolls his lips between his teeth, a smile pulling at the corners.

(You… roll in the sand?)

(I don’t roll.)

He narrows his eyes at the snort that escapes Dean. The snort becomes a chuckle when Castiel twists to start cleaning the swell of his tail below the small of his back. He flares his fans and frowns at Dean.

(What’s so funny?)

(It... Dude, it looks like you’re cleaning your ass.)

(I don’t know what that is.)

More laughter starts to bubble up behind Dean’s smile. He explains about humans and the various words for their backsides. His amusement flickers with discomfort when he has to explain their purpose. He stumbles over describing how the muscles play together to keep humans upright and that their words often refer to what he calls the ‘anus’. He shifts uncomfortably when Castiel asks him to explain what that is used for.

He eventually explains but pointedly looks away when Castiel stretches out his front to display the swell of his sheath and the slit at the head of it. He doesn’t really understand what Dean finds embarrassing or uncomfortable about their bodies.

Dean puts more soap-jelly on the other cloth and gestures for Castiel to turn around. (Enough talk about how we poop. Lemme soap up your fans and then you can rinse off while I get dressed. We can go back up to the room, maybe get something to eat, and if you’re not tired or anything we can show you the alphabet and how to read.)

Castiel hesitates before shifting to present Dean with his back. (I would like that. Thank you. Could I swim for a bit? While you eat.) He doesn’t particularly want to go back into the small-sea, especially after finally having a taste of the open ocean again. But there’s unrest sitting in his bones. He needs to move and twist and roll through the waves. Small-sea is the closest he can get to it right now.

He hums as Dean works the soap into the webbing and along the fans. Castiel spreads them wide so he can clean them entirely. He hunches his shoulders and curves his back when Dean drags the cloth over his spine while moving from one fan to the other. It’s a coarse touch that feels oddly pleasing and his reaction to it doesn’t go unnoticed. A curious interest skims along the edges of Dean’s mind and when he’s done with Castiel’s other fan, he presses the cloth to the back of base of his neck and slowly drags it down.

There’s just enough pressure and the cloth is just the right amount of roughness that it feels nearly exquisite.  Castiel’s eyes slip closed and he hums, pushing back into the touch as Dean repeats the process. A purr starts to rumble in his chest. Dean varies where he presses, down one side of his spine and back up on the other, closer to his fans, or even on the other side. When Castiel flattens the spines, Dean rubs the rough cloth over his shoulders a few times before trailing it down one arm.

Castiel has to turn for Dean to be able to properly clean his whole arm without him having to reach behind him. His arousal is still simmering in his gut, but it doesn’t itch under his skin like it did before. There’s an entirely different warmth spreading warm and comforting through his chest, vibrating in tune with his purr.

He can practically feel the heat of Dean’s skin when he leans closer, his breath ghosting over Castiel’s shoulder. (I kinda wanna kiss you right now.)

Castiel doesn’t open his eyes. He turns his head towards Dean and brushes his agreement and his permission through the kin-connection. The cloth smoothes back up his arm and along his collarbone. It moves up his neck, skirting the edges of his gills until it’s dropped entirely so Dean can cup the side of his face, his thumb tracing over the scales on his cheekbone again.

The kiss is soft and slow. It’s different from the first, and different from the second. It’s not a simple press of lips. There’s more movement, and the pressure keeps changing. It doesn’t last more than a few moments before Dean pulls away again. Satisfaction thrums brightly through their link and when Castiel opens his eyes, Dean is grinning widely at him.

(How about you rinse off now?)

Dean stands and turns the knobs until warm water sputters out of the wall-cylinder. He takes the cloths and the bottle of soap back to the low ledge where his clothes are spread out. Castiel lets the water wash away the foam. He twists to make sure it falls across his back and shoulders and he tries very hard not to watch Dean remove the blue-sleeve, or when he puts on his jeans and shirt and the crisscross patterned extra shirt over the rest.

(Don’t let me leave without putting my shoes on again. It’s not really all that safe to walk around the boat without them on.)

He comes back to the alcove and Castiel slides out from under the spray of the shower-rain at Dean’s request. He crouches next to him and checks his fans and scales. Castiel even rolls onto his front and stretches out his tail so Dean can look at the underside too.

(Looks like you got it all.) He turns off the water and Castiel looks up at him when indecision drags over Dean’s thoughts. (Do you, I dunno, wanna shave now? It’s easier to do it here when we’ve got some sinks right over there. Lilith will be back tomorrow and as much as I really, really, hate following her dumbass rules, she’ll be pissed if you’re scruffy when she comes back. If you want to go back and swim now, we can always do it tomorrow. It’s fine.)

Castiel runs his fingers over his cheeks. His stubble is a few days old. With everything that has happened and his worrying for Dean, he hadn’t really noticed it. Now that his attention has been drawn to it, the pull of the hair at his fingers is bothersome.

(Can we do it now?)

(Sure, it’ll only take a few minutes.) He crouches again and Castiel puts his arms around his shoulders. Dean wraps his arms around his waist and lifts, staggering slightly when he stands. Castiel curls his tail around his waist and is very careful about keeping it up and out of the way of Dean’s legs as he turns and carries him to the ledge beneath the mirrors.

The position is reminiscent of yesterday and Castiel dips his head to press a quick kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth before he’s placed on the ledge. A spiral of nervousness twists at the base of his throat. He hadn’t asked Dean if he could kiss him and he’s not entirely sure if he needs permission before every time or not. His tail drops from around Dean’s waist and it hangs over the edge of the shelf. He twitches the end in circles over the white-squares.

Dean’s huff of laughter isn’t missed when he goes to get his brown pouch from the pile of his previous clothes on the low-ledge. (I told you, Cas. You can kiss me whenever you feel like it. If it’s not a good time for it, I’ll let you know.)

(Are there any stipulations to this trial period that I should know about?) Castiel examines the hollowed out basin next to him.

It is white, smooth, and cool to the touch. There is another drain at the bottom of it and there are metal knobs along the edge at the back of it, directly below the mirror. One of the knobs is long and thin and it arches out over the basin. Experimentally, Castiel turns one of the short, round knobs. Water starts to pour from the end of the long-thin-knob.

(No, there aren’t really any rules for this. Just kiss me when you want to. If you’re not sure if it’s an appropriate time, you can always ask me first.) Dean returns and he picks up a flat disk from behind the long-thin-knob. The disk is attached to it by a small chain. Dean covers the drain with the disk and the water starts to fill the basin.

(Okay. I thought we shouldn’t block the drain?) Castiel watches the water pool in the bottom of the basin a little ways before Dean turns the knobs the other way and shuts it off.

(It’s okay to do it for a sink, as long as you don’t let it overflow. That’s what the plug is for, so we can do this and use it to wash stuff.) Dean shrugs and pulls a razor and the cylinder of foam from the brown pouch.

Castiel tilts his head accordingly when Dean starts putting the foam on his face. He leaves some on Castiel’s nose again and laughs when he goes cross-eyed to look at it. Castiel likes that Dean is laughing. He thinks it’s both odd and intriguing that he can find such amusement despite their situation with the boat and Lilith. He continuously finds himself forgetting about the constant desire for his freedom and the ocean when he’s with Dean.

Dean doesn’t clean the foam from his nose before he starts to scrape the foam and the hair away with the razor. He pauses often to swish it through the water at the bottom of the basin. Castiel closes his eyes and the purr starts again while Dean’s gentle fingers on his jaw tilt and turn his face as needed. He folds his tail around one of Dean’s legs, wrapping it until his end-fans cover his feet.

(Are all merma – fin-kin, sorry – are they all touchy-feely or is it just you?)

Castiel’s shoulder twitches in a shrug. He’s used to being close to his nest-siblings. When they were children they used to sleep curled together and he often shared his sleep-shelf with Balthazar when either of them had bad dreams or simply needed the comfort of their sibling next to them. But Castiel has never really felt the need to constantly touch or wrap himself around someone like he does with Dean.

He tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling while Dean works the razor under his jaw and over the stubble on his throat. He thinks a part of the reason why he likes touching Dean so much is the heat of his body. Dean is so warm compared to how cool Castiel's skin and scales usually are. It’s nice, and addicting. And he likes the way Dean smells. He feels calmer, more safe, when Dean holds him and in this strange world of the humans, Dean is one of the few comforts he’s found.

A towel gets pressed into his hands and Castiel looks down suddenly. He hadn’t noticed when Dean finished.

(Wipe up with that. I’m going to give myself a quick once over too.) He steps to the side so he’s in front of the mirror. He sprays foam into his hands again and gestures down at the ledge. (And use those too.)

Castiel rubs the towel over his cheeks and looks down. A toothbrush and toothpaste are lined up next to him. He frowns at them and irritation flickers over his thoughts while he brushes his teeth and Dean shaves. He leans over to spit into the sink when he’s done and Dean removes the plug by pulling the chain. Castiel watches as he brushes his teeth too and turns the water back on to rinse the sink out. Every time he catches Castiel looking, Dean’s eyebrows waggle and he grins around his toothbrush.

He waits on the ledge while Dean cleans up and folds his things into a bundle before handing it to him. Castiel doesn’t ask with his words for another kiss. He sends the desire across the kin-connection. It’s another slow one, the pressure keeps alternating between soft and hard. Castiel slides closer to the edge of the shelf, the bundle of clothes resting precariously on his lap.

He tentatively traces Dean’s lips with the tip of his tongue, mimicking how Dean did it earlier. Anxiety flares brightly and forms a tight knot in his chest when Dean stills. He starts to pull away, confused and worried that he did something wrong. There’s a soft puff of air against his lips, and it’s the only precursor he gets before Dean leans forward, pulling Castiel back to him with a hand at the back of his head.

The twinge of pain when Dean’s fingers press at the base of his skull goes unnoticed. Dean tastes like the toothpaste, but Castiel can still pick out the flavour that he’s labeled as being specific to Dean alone. He chases the taste into Dean’s mouth and a small moan works its way from his throat at the first suck.

Castiel loses himself to the slide of soft tongues and the clean scent that surrounds Dean. He twists his fingers into the back of Dean’s shirt and presses closer. The bundle of clothes is caught between them, a hard point digging into his stomach. Dean’s teeth tug at his bottom lip slightly when he pulls away and Castiel’s tail tightens where it’s curled around his waist.

(As much as I would love to kiss you stupid again, Sam and Jess are waiting and who knows how long those guards’ll wait before they break down the door.) Dean licks his lips and his smile is soft. (We can do this more later, okay?)

(Will you show me how to make these?) He presses at a spot on Dean’s clavicle where he knows one of Pamela’s marks are.

Dean has to pull the collar of his shirt down to see what Castiel is referring to. One of his eyebrows rises again and the kin-connection vibrates with amusement and curls of anticipation. (You want to give me a hickey, Cas?)

(Yes.)

(And where would you want to put one?) Dean lifts his head and tilts his head back, baring his throat.

The action makes Castiel’s mouth go dry. His fingers shake slightly as he slides them over Dean’s neck and jaw.  His claws drag lightly over the skin and he feels Dean’s shudder and the way the front of his throat moves when he swallows. Castiel settles two fingers against the rapid pulse rushing under his skin on the left side of his throat.

Dean covers Castiel’s hand with his own, keeping it pressed to his skin and leans forward until their noses are almost touching. There’s heat behind his eyes and Castiel’s next breath catches in his throat. (You want to put a mark on me here?)

Castiel swallows thickly and nods slowly. He’s having trouble focusing on anything beyond Dean’s green eyes and the freckles across his nose and cheeks. He can’t even begin to try cataloguing every curl of arousal, or desire, or whatever it is that feels like it’s burning through the kin-connection and melting away everything bad he doesn’t want to think about.

(You wanna put a mark right here, where everyone can see? Show them, show Pam, that you’re the one I’m kissing now?)

Yes. Yes, he wants that. He wants to put his mark on Dean so no one else will touch him. Castiel’s chest feels both too tight and too loose and it’s hard to breathe. He keeps trying to suck in a breath but it’s never enough and his fins are rustling wildly against the ledge. Dean’s other hand drifts over Castiel’s gills until his fingers find the same spot where his pulse is thudding heavily in his throat.

(Do you want me to give you one too?) He dips his head out of sight and Castiel stifles a gasp when Dean’s tongue laves over the spot where his fingers had been. (You want me to mark you too? Show Lilith you’re more mine than you’ll ever be hers?)

Castiel shoves at Dean, pushing him away. He nearly falls from the ledge when he doubles over and hugs his belly. It’s Dean’s hands on his shoulders that keep him from tumbling to the floor. Everything Dean was feeding into the kin-connection evaporates and leaves nothing but a bright, trembling apologetic concern.

(Cas, you okay?)

He shakes his head and draws his tail up, folding it against his chest. It’s hard to breathe and his body feels hot, too hot. He can feel the burn spreading low and curling under his scales. The muscles of his sheath are tightening and he needs it to stop. He can’t do this now and not in front of Dean.

(Did I… was that too much?) Dean’s anxiety skates over his own, pulsing hard and worried through their link. (I’m sorry, Cas, I didn’t mean – I got caught up in teasing – I don’t mean that I was teasing and it won’t happen – but I – is it because I brought up Lilith? Or coz’ I said you were ‘mine’? I don’t wanna own you or anything – not like Lilith – I was just trying to be sexy. I’m sorry, please don’t freak out on me.)

Castiel shakes his head again and manages one deep breath. It’s followed by another, and another. He focuses on the in and out of air through his lungs and uses that to calm the pounding of his heart. Even though his own thoughts tremble with his own worry, he tries to soothe that waves rolling from Dean’s mind.

(I’m not ‘freaking out’. I’m just – You are very good at being seductive.) Castiel can feel the blush staining his cheeks and all of Dean’s emotions give way to surprise.

(Oh. Are you…?)

(Yes. Just… please give me moment.)

(Do you want me to step outside? I can give you a moment if you need one. If you’ve been at the tipping point since earlier, you can’t be very comfortable.)

(No. I don’t want to. Please, just… just one moment.) Castiel keeps breathing, in and out, in and out. In through his mouth, out through his nose. It takes several minutes before he thinks he’s calm enough. The muscles of his sheath aren’t twitching and tightening anymore, but there’s still a need pulsing under his skin and it itches.

He uncurls enough to check that he’s not unsheathed before sitting back fully. Dean is watching him closely and Castiel knows, just by the way he’s pointedly not looking lower than his chin, that Dean wants to look down at his lap. There’s curiosity snaking along the edges of Dean’s mind. He has questions but he’s not asking and Castiel doesn’t feel comfortable enough to tell him.

(Are you okay now? You ready to head back upstairs?)

(Yes, please. Swimming will help take my mind off of –) He gestures down at his lap and the bundle of clothes.

Dean glances down briefly and Castiel thinks he might sense a curl of disappointment before Dean purges his current emotions from the kin-connection and forces a smile. (Alright. Let’s get moving.)

x

Castiel circles the small-sea in lazy loops. He’s long since finished the fish and given the bones over to Sam. Dean is eating two pieces of bread with several slices of meat and squares of yellow between them. He called it a ‘sandwich’ and the yellow squares are ‘cheese’. He’s sitting on his bed and flipping through a thin book covered in lots of pictures. The pages are glossy. He said it’s called a ‘magazine’. Jess is dozing, stretched out on top of the covers on the bed. Sam is at one of the computers. Dean said that Sam is writing about the information that he’s learned from Castiel.

For a while, after eating and while Jess and Bobby were getting the food and Sam and Dean were talking, Castiel had swam with his eyes closed and used his echolocation to guide him from the walls. The water is stagnant again and needs to be changed, so the illusion of the sea was incomplete. But it was enough to clear his head to think.

He thought about the trial period with Dean. He thought about tomorrow and Lilith’s return and her promise that Alistair would get to do what he wanted to Castiel. He thought about his home and his family and the poison-dream. He thought about the alphabet that Dean had shared with him during their return to the room.

He thought until his head and his heart hurt.

(Hey, Cas, what’s this?) Dean calls up the image of two parallel lines joined by a single line at their centers.

(That is an ‘H’.)

Dean smiles around his next bite from his sandwich and calls up an image of a circle and Castiel names it as an ‘O’. The human’s alphabet was easy to memorize and Dean has been quizzing him on it since he sat down to eat. He shares a half circle and Castiel recognizes it as a ‘C’.

(If you were out of the water, we could test you on the sounds too. If you know the sounds that letters make, it’ll be easier to recognize words when you read them because then you can just sound them out.)

Castiel flares his adipose fins and paddles to a stop. He twists his tail under him and settles to the floor. (Could we change small-sea’s water while we do that?)

Dean sits up straighter and puts the magazine aside. He finishes his sandwich in two big bites and stands. (Yeah, sure. Stale water is uncomfortable to breathe, huh? I’ll get the mobile tank so you can at least stay in the water.)

(I’m okay with sitting on your bed.)

(Yeah, I know.) Dean rubs his hand through his hair and looks away. A curl of embarrassment rises with his thoughts and shrugs. (I just feel bad that you live underwater but you’re spending so much time outta it because of me. It’s not – I dunno – it’s not right. You should get to stay in your natural element.)

Castiel looks down at his lap and traces the blue dots of his glow pattern where they loop alongside and under his sheath. (I do miss the water when I’m not in it. But I’d prefer being out there with you than alone inside this cage.)

A mix of emotions wash through the kin-connection. All Castiel can pick out is a bright anger toward Lilith. (Is the mobile tank okay?)

(Yes. It doesn’t have bars.) Castiel pushes off the floor to circle up to the top of small-sea. He rolls forward and slaps the bars with his tail before righting himself. (And it willl be much easier to kiss you.)

Dean’s short laugh startles Jess awake and Sam turns to glare at him. Dean shrugs an apology and winks at Castiel before leaving. He returns several minutes later with Bobby. Sam gets up to help Dean maneuver the very-small-sea into the room. They push it up against the front glass-wall. Bobby comes in behind Dean, pulling the pump.

Castiel pulls himself up on the left glass-wall. He crosses his arms over the edge and seals his gills. It’s a few moments of uncomfortable coughing and spitting out the water in his lungs before he can breathe properly. Jess groans when she sees the pump and rolls over, pulling the pillow over her head.

“Really guys? Right now?”

Dean  puts the hose in the very-small-sea while Bobby hooks it up to the hidden hole in the wall. “Sorry, Jess. The water needs to be changed and we might as well do it now.”

Jess makes a disgruntled noise and sits up. “I’m going to go back to our room then.”

Sam looks up sharply. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Pam is alone.”

“She’s the ship’s doctor, they’re not going to do anything to her.”

“Then I’ll go sleep in her room.” Jess stretches and her shirt lifts to bare her belly.

Castiel tilts his head. (Dean. How come you and Jess have different stomachs?)

(Because we’re different people? And I’m a guy. She’s a girl. What do you even mean?)

He pushes an image of the dips the humans have in their stomachs through the kin-connection. Dean’s is a little pit while Jess’s looks like a little nub. Dean laughs again and starts to explain belly buttons and umbilical cords. Castiel’s nose crinkles in disgust. It’s almost as bad as when Jess told him about how humans change their faces and their bodies.

Sam leaves with Jess to escort her to Pamela’s room while the very-small-sea starts to get filled. He's back only a few minutes later. Castiel watches quietly, as Dean, Sam and Bobby talk about their chances of stealing something they call a lifeboat. Dean translates it as a boat that, in the case of emergency, can be used by crew to escape the bigger boat.

Because of Dean’s cast, it’s Sam who helps Castiel out of the tank. It takes much kicking and pulling, and the glass digs into his stomach and scrapes over his scales before Castiel is over the wall and dripping against Sam’s chest. Dean helps him down from the platform and stands to the side as Sam lowers Castiel into the small-sea.

He crosses his arms over one of the short ends of the very-small-sea and  enjoys the feel of the water rushing from the hose over his scales. It feels like a current pushing over his scales and Castiel briefly misses the open sea and the currents that flowed around the trench before he smothers those thoughts.

(Dean. Can we kiss now?)

Dean looks up from checking the pump. (Wait til Bobby is gone.)

(Does Bobby not approve?)

(He doesn’t care about that, but I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. It’s like kissing in front of my dad and it’s kinda an awkward thing to do.) Dean shrugs and looks between the pump and the water in the very-small-sea.

Castiel rests his chin on his forearms. (I’m not sure I understand.)

(Well, would you want to make out in front of your family?)

(I wouldn’t mind it.)

Dean turns off the pump and Bobby lifts the hose out. Together they lift it over the glass-wall of small-sea. His surprise is mixed with skepticism. (You’d be okay sucking face with Balthazar or… um… Gabriel? You’d be okay doing that with them right next to you?)

(I’ve been present when they’ve kissed females. It’s only the actual act of sex that we do in private. Kissing is nothing to be embarrassed of and I would be very proud to kiss you in front of my siblings. If you were a fin-kin, I think you would be a very desirable mate and anyone would be very jealous if I were to kiss you in front of them.)

Dean is pleased with Castiel’s compliment and his thoughts vibrate with a smug satisfaction. Those disappear almost immediately, surprise spreading bright and hard through the kin-connection. It’s so unexpected that it shocks Castiel and his fans flare.

(Didn’t you say that yesterday. What’s that word mean?)

Castiel’s stomach sinks and trepidation squeezes around his lungs. (What word?)

(‘Mate’. You said it yesterday with your goodbye. But right now we aren’t talking about stuff to do with goodbyes so what does it mean?) Dean leaves the hose and stands in front of Castiel. His shoulders are set in a stiff line and his thoughts are hard and sharp.

He knows Castiel lied to him about the goodbye.

That sinking feeling intensifies and Castiel’s throat feels tight. He doesn’t want to tell Dean about the poison-dream and he didn’t think Dean would recognize the word. He hadn’t even thought about using it. He thought that maybe Dean would have paid more attention to the image used to describe it rather than the word itself.

Bobby starts up the pump again to drain the water from the small-sea

(Cas, did you lie to me?)

He can’t lie to Dean right now without hiding behind walls and Dean will be able to feel it. It’s like when Dean found out the bonding song was a love song. If he looks away, Dean will know he was lying. If he withdraws in any way, he’ll know he was lying. The kin-connection is working against Castiel. He presses his lips together into a thin line and his eyes slip closed.

(Yes.)

(Why?)

(I didn’t want to tell you what I said.)

(Why not?)

Castiel looks away. It’s hard to swallow around the lump that’s lodged itself in his throat and his chest feels too tight. (You wouldn’t like it.)

(Let me be the judge of that.)

He shakes his head and presses his face into his arms. (I don’t want to tell you. It will make you uncomfortable.) Anxiety thrums across his bones and his fins are rippling. (Don’t ask again. Please, Dean. Don’t ask.)

(I’m not going to forget this and let it go, Cas. I don’t like being lied to.) An eerie kind of calm settles over the kin-connection. It vibrates with a thin anger that unsettles Castiel and it’s getting hard to breathe again. (You’ve got two choices right now. Tell me what you said or we can break this connection right now and I’ll go hang out with Pam and Jess until I’ve calmed down enough to come back.)

Castiel’s fans flare and he looks up quickly at the mention of Pamela. The last time Dean was angry and left, he went to her and came back bearing her marks. The last thing Castiel wants right now is for that to happen again. Dean knows that. He knows that Castiel hates the thought of anyone else touching him. And Dean is the one who named the feelings that had burned through the core of him as ‘jealousy’.

Dean knows this and he’s using it against Castiel and that makes him mad. Castiel snarls, baring his teeth and flaring his fans unhappily. He turns away and slips under the water, curling at the opposite end of the very-small-sea. The first rush of water over his gills is painful and he chokes slightly as it floods his lungs. Dean could easily walk around to stand over him on this side. He folds his tail to his chest and presses his face to his scales.

Exasperation filters hotly over the kin-connection and Castiel can feel when Dean starts to gather the link, preparing to sever it. Castiel pulls at the touch, tugging at Dean’s mind to stop him. He doesn’t want Dean to break the kin-connection and he especially doesn’t want Dean to go to Pamela. It’s with a heavy resignation that Castiel dregs up the memories of the dream and shoves them through their link.

He takes a slight satisfaction in knowing that he did it hard enough that Dean would have winced.

Castiel keeps himself separated from Dean’s thoughts. He doesn’t want to know what Dean thinks of the memories or how he feels about it. He hides behind the walls of his mind and waits. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, or what he’s even hoping for. Castiel doesn’t want Dean to be mad at him, and he doesn’t want Dean to leave.

But the thoughts that Castiel had – that he dreamed of Dean as his bond-mate – it could make Dean unhappy. He still doesn’t know how Dean feels, or how he thinks about him. Castiel knows that Dean is attracted to him physically. He knows that Dean likes him. But does he like him to the point of accepting him as a bond-mate?

It’s been eleven days since he met Dean.

It’s too soon.

Castiel shouldn’t be thinking of Dean like that, but he has. He does. He wants to put his mouth to Dean’s throat and place his mark on his skin. He wants to cover Dean in marks to show that Castiel was here. That Dean wanted him enough to let him do that.

Even after Castiel has gone home.

But those marks won’t stay. Castiel could leave more permanent ones with his teeth or his claws. He could, but he won’t. Not without Dean’s permission and never unless Dean wanted it too. If Dean wanted to mark him too, Castiel would allow it. He would welcome it. Castiel wants something to take home with him, something to remind him that he knew Dean and that he had wanted him.

His nose starts to tingle and he can feel the sting of tears in his eyes.

When he leaves, he wants to take something more than just memories. He doesn’t know what, but he wants to have something so he doesn’t forget Dean. Castiel never wants to forget him. Dean is the first to kiss him, the first to want him. The first, outside for his nest-siblings and his friends, to say he cares for Castiel.

He can feel Dean’s touch against the walls, pulling and pushing and trying to find a weak point. He can hear Dean saying his name in the kin-connection. Castiel is scared of what Dean will say about the poison-dream. He both does and does not want to hear what Dean thinks about it.

The pressure at the edge of his mind goes away. Dean’s presence is still there,  so the kin-connection hasn’t been broken. Castiel wants to check, to look up and see if Dean has left or what could be happening outside the very-small-sea. He doesn’t. He doesn’t move except to hug his tail tighter.

The water is vibrating with the sound of the pump.

Castiel isn’t expecting the eruption of movement in the water. He jerks out of his fold and his tail knocks Dean’s legs out from under him. He drops the walls and Dean’s surprise and his curses fill the kin-connection. Dean flounders in the water, getting his feet back on the floor before he pushes upright again. Castiel stares up at him from his corner, his back pressed into the junction of the walls.

Dean is wearing only his undershorts and he has the blue-sleeve on again. Castiel can’t see Bobby from where he’s lying at the bottom of the very-small-sea. The water is in level with Dean’s belly-button. It slows his movements as he takes a few steps forward, careful not to step on Castiel’s tail. He watches as Dean’s chest expands in a deep breath before he drops underwater.

(What are you doing?)

Dean doesn’t answer. He reaches down and pulls at Castiel’s arms, trying to drag him up. Castiel’s adipose fans ripple and he curves his tail to knock Dean’s legs away again. He’s still unhappy that Dean used his jealousy against him.

(I can’t breathe down here, Cas. Come up here before I drown.)

(I don’t want to.)

(It’ll be really hard to kiss you if I’m drowning.)

Castiel pauses in his attempts at making sure that Dean can’t stand and get the leverage he needs to pull him up. (You… still want to?)

Dean treads the water awkwardly to get his head above water and take a breath, Castiel’s wrist held loosely in his hand. (Yes. I still want to. Right now, even. If you’d just come up here.)

(Why?)

(Why what?)

(Why do you want to kiss me?)

(Because you asked me to kiss you and Bobby is gone now.)

Castiel frowns in confusion. (But… the poison-dream…)

Dean plants his feet on the floor again and Castiel doesn’t try to brush them out from underneath him with his tail again. He pulls and Castiel goes with it, letting Dean drag him up until he has to seal his gills and cough the water from his lungs.  Dean holds him up, one arm wrapped around his waist while his blue-sleeved hand rubs circles between his back-fans.

(You good?)

He coughs once more before leaning back to check Dean over. He doesn’t look angry, or uncomfortable and there’s no hint of either emotion in the kin-connection. There’s not really anything coming from Dean right now and Castiel brushes his touch against his mind to confirm that there are walls surrounding his thoughts.

(Yes, I’m good. But, Dean… The –)

(It was a dream, Cas. I’m not going to get pissed at you for dreaming. That’s something you can’t control. And, yeah, I’m not really sure how I feel about you thinking of me as your bond-mate – but I looked fucking awesome as a fin-kin and you’re way too generous with your opinion of how desirable a mate I’d be.) A small, self-deprecating smile pulls up at the corners of Dean’s lips.

(I’m not going to say that I would drop my whole life and go home with you if that was possible. Because I really don’t know if I would, not yet. And I wouldn’t ask you to leave everything that you know to come live with me, though it would sure as hell be a lot easier to accommodate you into my life than me into yours. That’s not fair to you and I wouldn’t ever ask you to do it.) His hand slips up to the back of Castiel’s head and guides him forward until their foreheads touch. (But when we get you back in the sea, when you get to go home, I’m going to miss you a helluva lot. If we can stay in contact, if there was any way for that to happen, I’d take it in a heartbeat. You gotta know that, okay?)

The anxiety curled tight in Castiel’s chest releases and leaves behind it a hollow space. It feels light, like his head, and he doesn’t know what to think. There’s too much there for him to process right now, but he’s got the general idea.

Dean wants Castiel with him. Maybe it’s not in the same way that Castiel wants Dean with him at the colony. He won’t stop him from leaving, and he’ll fight to get Castiel his freedom.

But Dean doesn’t want Castiel to go.

Dean will miss him.

When Dean kisses him this time, there’s an edge of desperation to it. Castiel can’t tell who it belongs to – him, or Dean. The water rises when Dean sinks to his knees and the glass-wall of the very-small sea presses into Castiel’s back. He wraps his tail tightly around Dean’s waist and he doesn’t let go.

Mother-sea help him, he doesn’t think he’s ever going to be able to.