32. Validation

If Castiel didn’t know any better, if he couldn’t feel the irritation and the want through the kin-connection, he would think that Dean is purposefully dragging out the length of the dinner. Dean keeps shifting as if he is impatient. They finished eating awhile ago and the empty trays are stacked next to the door beside Benny.

Everyone just keeps talking to Dean, and to him through Dean. And Castiel isn’t enjoying the current topic of discussion. They keep speaking about what they plan to do when they get home and it is not a conversation that he wishes to have. And they keep mistaking his lack of contribution as weariness instead of seeing it for what it really is. The conversation is everything Castiel doesn’t want to think about. Even though he is curious to learn about what Dean will do after he has finally returned to the colony, it still hurts to think about it.

A sharp pain twists in his chest to think about Dean being without him. He knows what Dean was like before him, and there’s every chance that Dean will be the same afterward, that he’ll find someone else once he is home again. It makes Castiel’s stomach turn. It’s hard to swallow or breathe around the tightness in his throat whenever he thinks of someone else touching Dean, of someone else having him in all the ways that Castiel gets to have him – and in all the ways that he can’t.

Whenever the question is turned on Dean he never gives a straight answer. He deflects it by going into a rant about how much he misses his ‘baby’ and someone is always quick to interrupt. Otherwise they  all have to listen to Dean go on and on endlessly about ‘body work’ and ‘engines’. Hearing it once was more than enough. Sam keeps talking about getting something called a ‘dog’ and he makes wide, pleading eyes at Jess every time he speaks of it. She only shakes her head, laughs, and never gives a proper answer. Castiel refrains from giving his opinion on the matter of pets.

Everything segues into Benny explaining how he was released from prison only a few months after Dean and it is because of his experience with sailing and captaining boats that he was hired by Crowley. It was one of the first jobs he applied to once he had his freedom and it was  surprising that he got it, especially because of his time in prison. Benny tells them about how he didn’t get to spend as much time with his ‘girlfriend’ as he would have liked before he had to leave so they could intercept Lilith’s boat, and that he’s thinking of asking her to marry him.

(What does ‘girlfriend’ mean?) Castiel pushes curiosity at Dean.

His response includes what ‘boyfriends’ are. The concept is not so far off from what Castiel knows. Many fin-kin are exclusive with each other before either becoming bond-mates or deciding to share a shelf and have a nest together. And then there are still the kind of fin-kin who don’t take a permanent mate at all.

(Yeah, there’s a lot of humans like that too.)

Castiel leans heavily into Dean’s side, enjoying the weight of his arm around his shoulders despite the hard edge of the cast. (Are we boyfriends?)

Dean makes a surprised noise and everyone glances at him, interrupting Benny’s explanation about what he did that got him put in prison. As far as Castiel can tell, it involves something about taking many things that do not belong to him. Dean waves them off and tilts his head toward Castiel. As if that motion explains everything, the conversation picks up where it left off. He waits for an answer, glancing repeatedly at Dean and privately worrying about the sudden silence laying thick in the kin-connection.

(We’re –) Dean starts and stops, frowning down at his lap where Castiel’s tail curls over his legs. (We’re more complicated than that. Being ‘boyfriends’ doesn’t usually come with an expiration date.)

He ignores the twinge between his ribs. (Then what are we?)

Dean’s irritation increases and he shifts again, his fingers digging into Castiel’s shoulder. (Us. We’re just ‘us’. We don’t need to be anything else but that. Why do you want to label what this is?)

(I don’t.) Castiel  twists, turning into Dean’s side and pressing his cheek to his shoulder. (You humans have names for everything. I was only curious to see if there was one for us. I –)

“Are you tired, Castiel?”

Annoyed that he is interrupted, Castiel lifts his head and looks at Jess. There’s concern in the lines of her face. “If you’re sleepy, we can move our conversation elsewhere and anyone who’s tired can finally go to bed.”

Meg makes a grumbling sound that Castiel thinks might be approval. She relocated to her own bed not long after she finished eating and has been sleepily answering questions or providing commentary from above their heads. Dean’s fingers press in reminder against the adipose of his end-fans, thumb stroking over the scaled end of his tail.

Castiel acknowledges the touch and curls his fingers in Dean’s shirt where his hand rest on his other side. “Not tired. Dry.”

“He wants a shower.” Dean says, and it isn’t a complete lie. He starts to pull away, drawing his legs up to stand. “Cas likes showers better than he does the spray bottles, and I’ve got to brush up for bed anyways. If anyone needs to use the bathroom, you better go now.”

Benny picks up the trays as he stands. “I’ll take these back to the kitchen, then. I’ve got some drink in my bunk if anyone cares to join me for a night cap.”

“Oh, that sounds nice!” Jess pats Sam’s leg. “Let’s go have a drink. I don’t feel ready for bed yet!”

Castiel watches them all get up. He curls his tail out of the way of the many feet as Bobby leaves with Sam and Jess, following Benny from the room. They all say their goodnights to Meg and she waves them off before shutting the curtain around her bed. Dean hands Castiel his bathroom kit and lifts him to the bed. It’s easier for Dean to get his arms under him from the bed than it is the floor.

Meg speaks from behind her curtain. “Just because I’m going to be sleeping when you get back doesn’t mean that you’re allowed to fuck if the others aren’t here.”

Dean laughs and lifts Castiel higher, settling him more comfortably against his chest. “What do you think the shower is for?”

Her groans and mumbles are lost behind the door when Dean hooks it with his foot to pull it shut behind them. The bathroom door is closed when they reach it and Dean leans against the opposite wall while they wait.

Castiel nudges his nose into the space under Dean’s ear. (Are you still upset about my question?)

(No.) Dean laughs, tilting his head away from the rub of Castiel’s stubble against his neck. (There’re just some things that I don’t want to think about.)

Something burns in Castiel’s chest. It’s warm and satisfying, but still a little painful. Does Dean not like thinking about leaving him as much as he does? Does Dean feel like him? Does he want to return to his home, but not lose Castiel too?

He tightens his arms around Dean’s shoulders and ignores the warning that is pulsed into the kin-connection. Even with the quiet scolding, Dean doesn’t turn his head from the sucking kisses Castiel presses to the side of neck and the curve of his jaw. His fingers dig against Castiel’s scales and his side.

Castiel has to stop when a door opens. It’s not the same bathroom door as the one that they went into before. This one is on the other side of the hall, on the same side as the wall that Dean is leaning against. Dean explains through stuttered thoughts that it’s because there are two bathrooms on the hall and that it would be troublesome to have only one for the few dozen people currently on board. Even only having two is annoying.

(If it wasn’t getting so late, we probably wouldn’t be doing this – tying up a bathroom for who knows how long.) Dean nods at the male that comes out of the room and steps in after he’s out of the way. He kicks the door shut and Castiel immediately fixes his mouth to Dean’s skin again.

Dean stumbles to the ledge with the sink and he sets Castiel on it. Castiel lets go of him long enough to fumble the kit from where it is pinned to his stomach by the fold of his tail. Not once does he pull his mouth from the side of Dean’s neck. He doesn’t break from that until he’s certain a new mark has been sucked into his skin.

“Cas –” Dean starts, only to be silenced by insistent kisses.

Castiel pushes the top shirt from Dean’s shoulders. He curls his tail around his hips to keep him from pulling away. Dean wants to get the shower started and pull the towels from their shelves to lay them on the floor. He wants to get straight to business and his thoughts push through the kin-connection but Dean still holds him by his sides just as hard as Castiel is holding his shoulders. Dean tastes his tongue and rubs his growing erection against the side of Castiel’s tail where it’s pressed against his front.

He rakes his fingers down Dean’s back, loving how Dean arches against his chest. Castiel’s hands find the end of Dean’s shirt and push up under it. Dean hums and hisses against his mouth with every drag of Castiel’s blunt claws up his sides, palms sliding over smooth skin – except for the rough scar marring his left hip. He traces the raised edge, amused by how Dean jerks under the gentle touch.

Dean slaps his hands away and breaks from the kisses despite Castiel’s displeased growl. He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before he leans back in. His hands fall to Castiel’s tail, thumbs brushing scales again.

(Let me set up, Cas.) Dean pulls away when Castiel leans forward for more kisses. (I don’t particularly like fucking on the bathroom floor, but if you let me get everything set out, then we can do even more than just this. You want more, don’t you?)

He always seems to ask the most ridiculous questions. Of course Castiel wants more. Castiel always wants more than just kisses and touches. He wants all of Dean; his mind, his body, his heart – everything. He relinquishes his hold, uncurling his tail as Dean moves him to the floor.

Dean takes down all the towels from their shelves and starts placing them on the floor in front of the door to the shower. He leaves them folded so that they’re kept thick to make a good cushion. Castiel watches from where he’s sitting, contemplating how he’s going to have Dean this time. He doesn’t bother hiding those thoughts from the kin-connection. He shares them openly and Dean even offers a few suggestions of his own.

He opens the shower door and reaches in to turn on the water. (Alright, in you go. Get soaked up while I undress and get ready.)

Castiel pull-pushes himself across the floor. He tries not to mess up the towels as he slips in under the spray of the shower. The water is cool on his heated skin and scales. From there he watches Dean shed the rest of his clothing and gets something from the bathroom kit that Castiel had abandoned to the floor. He gathers his clothing and settles facing Castiel on the makeshift bed of towels, the bottle of lube in one hand. 

When he leans out of the shower to reach for the bottle, Dean holds it away. Castiel fills the kin-connection with confusion, annoyed when Dean pushes him back. Dean puts a condom next to the towels and bundles his clothing behind him, like a pillow, when he lays down.

(How about you just watch for now?) Dean grins at him, eyebrows raised as he looks down the length of his body. He spreads his knees and lifts his hips from the floor.

Castiel’s fans snap wide, his back-fans hitting the wall. His fingers twitch as Dean coats his own with the slippery jelly of the lube and starts to touch himself in all the ways that Castiel has before - how he wants to now. But the most that Dean allows him to touch is his legs. If Castiel tries for anything, he warns that he’ll stop. Dean twitches whenever Castiel leans out of the water spray to press his mouth along his legs. He touches Dean with lips or tongue, and a few times the warning press of teeth when Dean’s reprimands for getting too close annoy him.

“Dean.” His name comes out closer to a growl than Castiel intended, but Dean’s fingers stop pushing, rubbing, stretching. Dean sucks in a sharp breath and his hips twitch. Castiel leans out of the shower more, hands running over Dean’s legs. (I don’t want to wait anymore.)

 Once his hands reach his hips, Castiel pulls Dean closer and the towels slide on the sleek floor. (I am tired of watching.)

(Cas –) Dean moves his hand and he grips Castiel’s wrists almost painfully. Desire fills the kin-connection; a trembling song of wantneedyesplease as Dean’s hips roll when he meets the raised edge of the glass-door’s frame on the floor. Alarm flickers through their link. (Cas, I’m not ready yet.)

He ghosts his hands over Dean’s thighs, fingers twitching in time with the muscles of his sheath. (I’m well aware. I’ve been watching closely. Pass me the bottle and I will finish preparing you.)

Dean fumbles for both it and the condom. He shoves the bottle into Castiel’s waiting hand and moments later he pushes one finger into him. He’s already prepared enough that he can easily push in a second, and a third into him. As much Castiel enjoys having the shower’s water on his back, he wishes they were on a bed. The shower is too confining and he can’t stretch his tail in here. And he knows that Dean isn’t comfortable on his makeshift bed of towels, with his pillow made of his clothing.

At least this time Dean won’t be above him. This time Castiel gets to be the one to move. Dean got to do all the work yesterday and now it’s Castiel’s turn. Now he gets to do what he wants, and he wants Dean in a position where Castiel can flare his fans. He wants to show Dean that he is a capable mate.

Touching Dean, working him open with his fingers and forcing a myriad of noises from his throat, gives Castiel the final push he needs. His penis unsheathes and he growls softly against Dean’s hip, pausing in the process of sucking a new mark into his skin.

“Jesus – fuck, Cas – stop –” Dean groans and pushes his fingers through Castiel’s hair when he lowers his head again to lick at the crease of his inner thigh. “I’m ready. Just – lemme get the condom on you – shit, stop already!”

Castiel pulls away, sitting back on the curl of his tail. He’s careful as he removes his fingers and he hisses quietly when Dean touches him. Dean’s fingers curl and tease, rubbing at the head of his slit while he rolls the condom over Castiel’s erection. He smoothes another handful of the slippery jelly over it and strokes him slowly as he leans in for surprisingly slow kisses.

(How do you want me, Cas?) Dean asks and the question sears through the kin-connection, burning under Castiel’s skin as he licks into Dean’s mouth and tastes all that he can.

There are too many ways that he wants to have Dean, and there is only one thing that he really wants right now. He runs his hands over Dean’s shoulders and chest, thumbs circling his nipples and earning him a pleased groan. He drags his tongue and lips along Dean’s jaw to his ear, dipping his tongue in and nipping lightly at the fleshy bottom.

(I want to see it.) He flares his fans and his adipose fins ripple as he touches him. (I want to see what it looks like when I enter you.)

“Fuck.” Dean breathes against his side-fan. “Don’t say it like that.” He pulls away sharply and turns, settling on his knees and elbows. (Just – go slow.)

The breath is stolen from his lungs and Castiel’s ribs tingle hot-cold. He runs his hands over Dean’s back, rising up onto the bend of his tail to get to the position that he needs. Castiel shares what he sees with Dean and Dean guides him through what he needs to do, even as his own thoughts are heavy with anticipation.

There’s that little bit of resistance at the first push again. When it gives way and he slips in, Dean’s strangled gasp is muffled by the makeshift clothing-pillow. Castiel rocks slowly, pushing in only as deep as he can until the kin-connection flickers with Dean’s quiet requests to stop. He can’t look away from how Dean opens around him, or the way the ring of muscles catches against the raised line of bumps on his penis when he pushes in or pulls out.

Yesterday Castiel had been swept up in the want, the need, to feel Dean like this. After his dream he had been almost desperate to have that. He couldn’t get himself to focus then like he can now. It’s like a battle calm has settled in his mind. As much as he wants this now, as much as he’s feeling the heat of Dean under him and around him while his head is full of the warmth that Dean pulses with every breath, his thoughts are completely clear.

He loses himself in watching it all, the in-out slide and the way the muscles in Dean’s back stretch and roll as he rocks back against Castiel’s hips. It’s hypnotizing. When he’s allowed to move deeper, to thrust harder, Castiel folds forward over Dean’s back. He trails kisses up Dean’s spine and presses his teeth – lightly, only lightly – to the back of his neck.

Castiel slides his hands under Dean’s shoulders, pulling him to his knees and leaning Dean’s back to his chest. He ensures his hands stay above Dean’s stomach by wrapping an arm around his waist and using his other hand to tilt Dean’s head back. It keeps them away from Dean’s erection – even though he wants to touch, to feel the weight of Dean’s arousal in his palm and know that he is the cause behind it. He wants to thrust forward and push Dean’s hips into his hand.

But he also really wants to try to accomplish what Dean suggested earlier.

Dean’s head lolls back against his shoulder, baring his throat to the press of Castiel’s hand over the marks he’s left. Castiel fits his mouth to the healing scabs on Dean’s shoulder, running his tongue over the ridges. If he’s lucky, the mark will scar and Dean will always bear this piece of him. The bruises he sucks into Dean’s skin or leaves with too hard presses of his fingers will fade before long.

Castiel is making his own sounds – gasping grunts against the curve of Dean’s shoulders. But nothing he makes is anything like the song Dean sings. He wasn’t nearly this loud yesterday and Castiel revels in every surprised cry and whimpering gasp. One of Dean’s hands is on Castiel’s hip, pulling him forward to meet the roll of his own. The other clutches at the arm Castiel has around his waist, fingers digging in.

“Touch – Christ, Cas – touch me. Forget what I said earlier –” Dean tries pushing Castiel’s hand down, images burning bright in the kin-connection. “If you don’t touch me – fuck – I’ll do it myself.”

(No.) The end of his tail slaps the floor with a particularly hard thrust that makes Dean’s voice break. (I want to make you -) There’s that stupid foreign word again and he can’t remember what it is right now but it’s what he wants. (- without touching you.)

Dean groans and his fingers are scrabbling at Castiel’s hip almost painfully, nails raking at the top of his adipose fins. (Not enough time – not enough foreplay – Cas, don’t you dare make me beg.)

Castiel grins against his bite mark. (I think I would like that. What is it that you’ve said to me before? Ask me nicely?)

Dean swears again in low, quiet mutters as he shakes his head. (Don’t play with me, Cas.)

(That’s entirely the point, isn’t it?) Castiel smiles against the side of Dean’s throat, dragging his tongue over the space under his ear. (Ask me nicely, and I’ll touch you.)

Dean pushes his arms away, dropping forward onto his hands before falling to his elbows. His head hangs between his shoulders and he rocks back particularly hard. (How – shit – how are you so fucking coherent right now?)

He runs his hands over Dean’s back again, tracing the muscles. (I’m used to separating my thoughts, to thinking one thing, speaking another, while doing something else entirely. If I hadn’t been thinking about this for most of the day, I might be just as lost as you are if not worse. But now is different from yesterday. Right now I want to savour this, devote it to memory.)

Castiel bends forward again, kissing between his shoulder blades. He slides his hands over and under Dean’s hips, fingers stopping short of where Dean wants them. Dean groans in irritation and leans to one side. Castiel grabs his wrist before he can touch himself, pulling it up to hold behind his back.

(Ask me nicely, Dean.)

Frustration floods the kin-connection and Dean tries to pull his hand free. Castiel lets it go without hesitation. He won’t hold Dean down like that – not unless Dean wants him to. Dean glares over his shoulder at him and his arms shake when he pushes up onto his hands again. The question in the kin-connection is barely there when he asks it, little more than a desperate image.

When he pulls Dean back up again, appreciation burns hotly through the kin-connection. It’s wrapped in that ever present, too-bright warmth that digs a home in Castiel’s chest. His first touch over Dean’s erection is light, a ghosting of his fingers along its length. With the next, Castiel wraps his hand around him completely and the webbing between his thumb and forefinger catches on the head with every other thrust-push.

He can feel the swirling, burning storm gathering under his scales. It’s settling heavy and throbbing in his gut, and it’s not going to be much longer now. Castiel knows it, and so does Dean. He’s urging Castiel to move harder, faster with every soft ‘oh’ and gasp-whine.

The spray of the shower is completely forgotten. It’s splashing cold water over his flared back-fans and the end of his tail as it whips back and forth in the small space. Stray drops keep splattering onto Dean’s shoulders and Castiel licks them away.

It takes his other hand, pushed down between Dean’s legs and fingers pressed to that stretch of skin behind his balls, to make Dean orgasm. It gets tight – so tight – and Castiel gasps against the back of his neck as Dean’s muscles contract around him. He doesn’t know how many more times he rocks into Dean before he reaches his own completion. He has to press his forehead to the back of Dean’s neck when he does. It’s that or risk sinking his teeth into Dean’s shoulder again.

They both sag forward, Dean on his stomach and Castiel stretched over his back. He doesn’t want to move, but he needs to. Castiel can’t stay in Dean. He’ll be sheathed again soon and he needs to remove the condom before that happens. He doesn’t want to move, but he has to and he does. His arms shake when he pushes himself up and his fingers are clumsy as he pulls that wrong-feeling fake-skin off. He tosses it aside like he’s seen Dean do before and waits until he is sheathed again before he lays across the warmth radiating from Dean’s back.

“You’re heavy.” Dean mumbles into his clothes, thoughts amused and tired.

(You’re warm.) Castiel presses his nose into the short hairs at the back of Dean’s neck and stifles a yawn against his skin. (And I am sleepy now.)

(Don’t go leaving me to clean up this mess alone.) Dean shifts, forcing Castiel to roll to one side.

The lower half of his tail is still in the shower and it’s almost perfect, having Dean and his heat while feeling the comfort of water at the same time. He grumbles unhappily when Dean starts to sit up, starts to pull away. Dean laughs and it sounds tired.

At some point, Castiel finds himself sitting up in the shower completely. He’s not sure when or how Dean moved him. The door is closed and there are bubbles of soap running down Dean’s legs. He’s humming while he cleans himself. The water is warmer than it was before, but it’s not uncomfortable.

Castiel fades between moments. The next time he notices what’s happening, he’s still curled in the shower but the water is off. He remembers lazily brushing his teeth while Dean is pulling on his clothing. Dean smiles down at Castiel when he’s fully dressed and the warm touch to his thoughts is only slightly concerned though it is mostly fond, full of warmth and amusement.

(You really are tired, aren’t you?)

He hums in acknowledgement and watches through hooded eyes as Dean pat-dries his arms and tail with a towel. Dean opens the door to the bathroom before he picks Castiel up. When he does, Castiel curls against his chest, turning into Dean and tucking his arms between them. He’s asleep before they even get back to the room.

x

(Go back to sleep.)

Castiel lifts his head from the pillow, yawning widely and not bothering to cover it. He’s laying on his stomach and his hands are tucked under the new pillow Dean had found for him so that they don’t have to keep sharing one between them – even though that is what Castiel prefers.  He brightens his glow and he catches Dean’s wince in the light when he looks over his shoulder.

The blanket is pulled out of the way and Dean is sitting next to him with his legs crossed. He has one of the spray bottles in one hand and he’s squirting water over Castiel’s tail, rubbing it into his scales and webbing with his other hand. The touches are gentle, but he thinks they’re what woke him. Castiel curls his tail closer, folding it around Dean so he can reach everything without having to move.

(How long have I been sleeping?) Castiel looks around blearily. He doesn’t know why the phone-alarm didn’t wake him sooner.

Dean pulls the end of Castiel’s tail into his lap to dampen it too. (Not long enough. Just go back to sleep.)

(I can help.) Castiel gropes across the bed, reaching for the corner where the other spray bottle should be (Where’s the other bottle? I can take care of my side-fans at least.)

(Already got them. And your dorsal fins, and the front of your tail.) Dean sprays another few times before he tosses the bottle to the end of the bed. (Just go back to sleep, Cas. I got you.)

Castiel lays his head back down, but he doesn’t sleep. He waits until the blanket is drawn back up to his shoulders. He waits until Dean stretches out next to him again, feet tangling with the end of his tail. The adipose of his end-fans flare over his ankles and Castiel curls against his side. Dean makes room for him almost like it’s second nature.

He’s warm on the outside and on the inside. The kin-connection is rolling with waves of soothing warmth and it is lulling Castiel to sleep quickly. Dean presses a kiss to his forehead and Castiel mumbles a drowsy ‘goodnight’ against his shoulder.

He’s going to miss this. Even as he slips toward going back to sleep, he wishes he could keep it. All of it; this warmth and the satisfying feeling that makes him feel – it makes him feel complete. He wants to keep it and he wants to keep Dean long after next week. He wants to stay with Dean and learn all the different sides of him.

He wants to ask Dean to stay.

For a moment, Castiel thinks he feels Dean go still – but then waves of warmth swirl thickly through the kin-connection and Dean’s arm tightens over his shoulders. After that, all he remembers is his dreams. Deep, cool waters; warm hands; his family and Dean swimming with him, staying with him.

When Castiel finally does wake again, Dean is pressed tight against his back and his mind is clear of any sleep-fog. A purr starts to rumble in his chest when Dean lays a line of kisses down the back of his neck. He finds Dean’s hand where it rests over his stomach and hums a quiet ‘good morning’. His answer is a gentle bite that makes his tail jerk under the blanket.

Dean pulls him closer, fingers spread wide over his belly. He opens his mouth on the back of Castiel’s neck and the first suck surprises a soft noise out of him. Castiel squirms under the press of Dean’s mouth and the hands that hold him in place. His purr turns into a groan when Dean’s fingers slip up his chest, brushing over his nipples. The hand keeps going, up his throat and over his chin. It covers his mouth and Castiel’s next sound gets muffled.

(The others are all gone for breakfast but you should still stay quiet.)

Castiel hunches his shoulders and pushes them back into the press of Dean’s mouth, the drag of his teeth and tongue. (Did you have a good dream?)

(I didn’t sleep.) Dean moves, finding the edges of his gills and the bottom of his side-fan. (Not after spraying you down.)

Concern overtakes the burgeoning curls of yeswantheat and Castiel tries to turn to face Dean. (Why not? You were tired after the shower. You couldn’t have gotten enough sleep between then and when the alarm went off.)

(Brain wouldn’t shut off.) He licks over the spines and webbing of Castiel’s side-fan, propping himself up on his elbow to lean over Castiel’s side for a better reach. (Don’t think that I’m not looking for a repeat of last night right now. I’m  still a little too sore for that. I figured I might as well give you a nice good morning and keep good on that promise of mine.)

Dean nudges his nose under the curve of Castiel’s  jaw only to pull away laughing. (Nice peach fuzz. Time for you to shave, I think, before I can give your more hickeys.)

Castiel touches his cheek and shrugs. His stubble isn’t that bad, but it has been a few days. He turns over and Dean smiles down at him, wide and bright. (Good morning, sunshine.)

(For someone who stayed up half the night, you are very perky.)

(I’m just very happy.) He kisses him and even though neither of them have brushed their teeth yet, the kiss is long and it leaves Castiel breathless. Dean pulls back slowly and rests their foreheads together. (Jess and Meg are going to practice all morning. Depending on the results and if the weather stays calm enough, they might want to try to take the chip out tonight. Is that okay with you?)

Castiel pushes his hands under Dean’s shirt to warm his fingers against his skin. (Yes. Since Benny will be stopping the boat for that anyways, I would like to swim until then.) He doesn’t want to say what he has to next, but it’s necessary. (And I’m going to need to break the kin-connection.)

Surprise fills their link and Dean pulls back to look down at him, confusion on creasing his brow. (Why?)

(I need to dive.) Castiel sits up too, stretching his tail out across the bed. (You have a bathroom, I use sand. I would like  clean my scales too, but that takes too much time I would fall behind the boat. I don’t want to risk losing you.)

Dean smiles softly and looks down at where he rubs his hand over Castiel’s hip. (We could clean them now, before I put you overboard?)

He shakes his head, rubbing at the back of his neck and trying to find with his fingertips the new marks Dean made on him. (I like it when you help me, but I – I would like to do it like I used to. It works better than the soap and cloth.)

(Yeah, okay. I get it.) Dean smiles and pats his tail once before pulling open the curtain around their bed. (Maybe you can do that before you come back on the boat later. Are you going to eat breakfast down there too?)

(I think so. I want to hunt. And today I’m going to catch your lunch too so don’t eat what the kitchen prepares for you.) Castiel drags himself to the edge of the bed and watches Dean get dressed. (Do you prefer fish? Or would you like octopus? Clams?)

Dean puts his short pants on – the ones he wears when swimming – and when Castiel gets excited, he explains that it’s only so he doesn’t get too hot while sitting out on deck. (I’m a simple man when it comes to my food, Cas. You don’t need to get fancy on me. Just any old fish will do.)

Castiel gets the belt with his sword and dagger out from underneath the bed, buckling it around his waist while Dean pulls on his shirts. (Should I hunt for the others too? I can provide for all of them.)

Something selfish, something possessive twists into the kin-connection and Dean hesitates before he answers. (Maybe another time. It’s fine to just get something for me today.)

The moment Castiel is in the water, he dives. He goes at an angle, keeping pace with the boat and hoping he won’t lose sight of them when he surfaces again. Castiel keeps the kin-connection with Dean up until it breaks from distance alone. He spends as little time as he can finding a sandy spot to bury his waste.

He catches his breakfast on his way back up. Even rising at another angle in the same direction the boat doesn’t keep him in line with it like he thought it would. Castiel is far off to one side and he’s a little ways behind it.  Dean is out on the deck by the time he catches up, sitting facing the water and eating whatever it is that he has for breakfast. Sam is sitting next to him with his back to the railings.

Dean is looking at Sam when Castiel touches his mind, but he immediately looks out over the waters the moment the kin-connection slides into place. Castiel swims close enough to the surface for his flared back-fans to break the water so Dean knows where he is. He doesn’t particularly like swimming and eating at the same time, but it’s what he needs to do.

Not long after he’s finished eating, Dean starts on his surprise project again. Castiel makes the kin-connection with Sam too and tries to find out what Dean is working on through him. Even Sam won’t tell him and Castiel is certain that the surprise is for him. Everyone else that Dean knows, that the surprise might possibly be for, pass him on the deck several times throughout the hours Castiel swims and Dean makes no effort to hide it from them.

Today Castiel shows Sam all the things he sees. There’s nothing really near the surface but if he dives to the furthest reach of the kin-connection, there is more to see. Sam soaks it in and Dean’s amusement through their link is enough for Castiel to know that Sam is doing what Dean calls ‘geeking out’.

(He even has a notebook, Cas. He’s taking notes.) Dean’s laughs, his thoughts fond. (He’s such a geek.)

(There’s nothing wrong with liking to learn.) Castiel reprimands him, snatching a small fish for a snack as he passes a school. (Are you getting hungry yet?)

(Sorta. You really don’t have to hunt anything for me, Cas. I can get something in the kitchen.)

Castiel brushes the comment aside. (I want to.) Something occurs to him and he hesitates before going in search of the perfect fish for Dean. (Will the people in the kitchen be alright with you bringing in something to cook? If I could prepare it for you, I would.)

Dean’s laughter echoes through the kin-connection. (As I’m sure you’re well aware, I’m a big boy. It’s nice that you want to bring home the bacon – so to speak - but you don’t have to provide for me, Cas. As long as you catch it, then I’ll take care of the rest, don’t you worry. Ellen shouldn’t mind, especially if I cook it myself.)

It’s not what he wants, but it’s satisfactory. He wants to provide for Dean properly. Having Dean cook the meal he’s trying to give him just doesn’t sit well with him. Castiel lets the matter lie, choosing to focus on finding a fish worthy of being given to Dean instead of debating with him further. He catches and releases a half dozen fish before he finds one that is not an obscene size but still has plenty of meat on its bones. He grabs another for himself before he decides to return.

Castiel keeps the fish with him, alive and wriggling in his hands, as he approaches the boat. Dean is talking with the yellow-haired female again. The way she holds herself and touches Dean’s arm makes Castiel’s chest feel tight and dark. He watches from beneath the waves as they talk, not telling Dean or Sam that he’s ready.

It’s Sam who notices Castiel’s shadow in the water. Dean looks away from the female sharply and Castiel knows he’s been spotted at the surprise and delight that sparks along the kin-connection. (You got some fish, Cas?)

He pulses affirmation into their link, but he’s watching the female. She’s standing too close to Dean, even when she leans over the railing and shades her eyes to squint at the water. (I want to come on board now. I’ll eat my lunch with you and clean myself tomorrow.)

Castiel doesn’t say anything more while Dean packs up whatever his surprise is. Dean gives the bag to Sam before he leaves him and the yellow-haired female alone, taking the stairs to go find Benny.

Castiel touches curiosity to the edges of Sam’s mind. (Who is she?)

Sam looks up from his book and glances at the female before turning out to the waters where Castiel is swimming. (This is Jo. I told you and Dean about her yesterday, remember? She’s Ellen’s daughter and just a couple years younger than me. Everyone else on board is older than us and she’s pretty happy to have people more or less her age around. She and Dean have really hit it off.)

(What’s that mean?) Castiel changes his speed to match the boat as it starts to slow.

(It means that they get along well.)

The dark feeling in his chest is back. Castiel recognizes the sick twist to his stomach as the jealousy Dean once told him he was feeling about the hickeys Pamela had given him. Castiel frowns, holding the fish tighter than he needs to. He doesn’t get this feeling when Dean talks with Meg, or Jess. He didn’t feel it when Dean talked with Lilith, and he certainly didn’t feel it when Dean spoke with other females – or even other males – on the deck yesterday.

He keeps those dark feelings hidden from the kin-connection, from both Sam’s link and Dean’s. They don’t make him feel good and he would be ashamed to share them. When the boat stops, Castiel swims in circles before the swim-deck. Dean comes back down the stairs with a container and Castiel places the fish in it before he tries pulling himself up onto the platform. Jo hasn’t left yet and she takes the container from Dean so he can kneel on the swim-deck.

(Hey, hold on. Let me help.) Dean starts lifting him with his hands under his arms.

Castiel wraps his tail around Dean’s waist and curls his arms around his shoulders the moment that he is able to. Sam has to help Dean back onto the proper deck to make sure that Dean doesn’t overbalance and fall into the sea. Castiel knows he’s getting Dean’s clothing wet, but he doesn’t care. He holds on to him tightly, ignoring the worry Dean lets into the kin-connection at how clingy Castiel is being.

“What should I do with this?” Jo asks once the railing-door is shut. She’s looking into the box, eyebrows raised at the flopping fish.

“Could you take them to the kitchen for me? I’ll be there in a few minutes to cook up one of them up and filet the other.” Dean lifts Castiel higher, getting his not-broken arm under the bend of his tail. “And if you could ask your mom if it’s alright for me to use a part of the kitchen for a bit, that’d be great. Thanks!”

Jo rolls her eyes, but she laughs and nods. She winks at Castiel before she disappears up the stairs and Castiel wants to be angry with her for the jealousy that makes it hard to breathe, but he can’t. Sam opens the doors for them when Dean carries him back to the room. Castiel curls on their bed after he puts his belt and weapons underneath it.

(I’ll be back with lunch soon. Is one of those fish specifically mine?) Dean asks as he runs his hand through Castiel’s hair.

Castiel shows him an image in the kin-connection explaining which fish is for him and which is for Dean. He whispers something to Sam before he leaves and Sam immediately puts the bag with Dean’s surprise in it in one of the top most drawers on his side of the room. It’s another clear hint that the surprise is for Castiel. He’s placed it where Castiel can’t reach. Sam gets the laptop from another drawer and settles back on his bed with it.

They talk until Dean comes back, asking and answering questions between them. Sam seems to be carefully keeping his inquiries away from anything that will happen after next week. He asks  things about Castiel personally and things about his past that Castiel is comfortable with answering. Castiel learns that when Sam was eleven he ran away from ‘home’ and had spent a week living on his own with his first pet dog.

When Dean does return, he has a tray for Sam, one for Castiel, and his own. Castiel watches closely as Dean starts eating. He looks up to see Castiel watching, his own fish untouched – served like how Lilith used to do it but without the dried seaweed. Dean’s slow chewing comes to a stop and his eyebrow lifts once before he smiles.

(It’s delicious. Thanks for catching it, Cas.) He leans over and kisses him with just a brief brush of lips.

Castiel doesn’t bother hiding his pleasure. A purr rumbles in his chest even as he eats and Castiel curls his tail across the bed and around Dean’s hips. The fish Castiel got for Dean has a crusty coating now. Dean says he fried it and when he shares a piece with him, Castiel doesn’t find it too bad. The majority of Dean’s plate is full of French fries and he willingly shares them with Castiel. Dean says he only had to cook the fish, and that the fries are from what had been served with lunch for everyone else.

(So what was up when you came back on board?) Dean prods Castiel’s tail with his fork. (You were stink-eyeing Jo pretty badly.)

(It was nothing.)

(You sure?) Dean tilts his head. (I know she’s someone new and you don’t deal with new people that well, but she’s a sweet kid with damn good taste in music.)

Castiel’s side-fans twitch and he looks up from his plate, relief folding through his chest. (Kid?)

(Yeah. She just turned twenty-two last week.) Dean shrugs, continuing to eat. (Her dad was a soldier too – like mine. I don’t know if they were in the corps together, but they were both Marines and that’s pretty cool. We’ve been swapping our dad’s war stories – though she doesn’t know a whole lot. She was pretty young when she lost her dad.)

His tail tightens, curling up into Dean’s lap instead of resting along his thigh. (So you see her as a child?)

(Not really. She’s definitely not a kid. I mean, have you seen her? She’s pretty cute.) Dean gestures lazily with his fork toward the door and Castiel fights a frown. (It’s just nice to talk to other people – find a kindred spirit, y’know? We have the same taste in music. We haven’t reached what kind of movies she likes to watch, but I’ve got high hopes that her tastes don’t suck.)

Castiel picks at his fish. What little relief he had felt is gone and his adipose fins rustle unhappily. (I see.)

Jo can relate to Dean better than Castiel can. All he has is their experience together when they were imprisoned by Lilith and what they’ve learned of each other through the kin-connection and their bodies. He’s heard a few of Dean’s songs – his favourites – but he knows so little about Dean’s culture and his world. Castiel hasn’t even seen any ‘movies’ beyond what videos Dean had filmed on his phone.

Dean looks at him, head tilted and concern tripping through the kin-connection. (You not hungry?)

(I ate a few times while I was swimming.) Castiel pushes the tray away, his appetite lost. It’s partially true and it’s enough to keep Dean from feeling any lie to his statement.

“Hey, I’ll take your trays back to the kitchen.” Sam offers as he stands. “I want to go check in with Jess and Meg, see how they’re doing. I’ll be back in a half hour, maybe less. Either way, you won’t have enough time to do anything.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Dean grins, handing their trays to him.”We’re saving that for later.”

Sam makes a face. “Seriously, jerk, not in our room. Okay? You have no clue when Bobby will be back, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Go on, bitch. Jess is waiting.” Dean flaps his hand at him and Sam leaves while muttering under his breath.

Castiel slips lower down the bed, curling on his side and half-hiding his face in the pillow. Dean checks the drawer where Sam put the bag and he starts looking through a few other drawers before Castiel speaks again.

(Can you show me more of your music? Or can we watch one of these ‘movies’ you were speaking about?) He twists his tail in the blanket, fingers playing with the seam of his pillow. (I’d like to learn more about the things you like.)

Dean looks up from the drawer he’s poking through. (Oh? Really?) He manages an expression that is a mixture of doubtful and knowing. Castiel can’t meet his eyes, continuing to fidget with pillow. Dean sits on the edge of the bed and slides his hand up Castiel’s hip. (Things I like, huh? Well, I like you.)

He hisses and slaps Dean’s hands away. (That’s not what I meant and you know it.) Castiel turns onto his stomach, completely hiding his face in the pillow. He wants to know all the things that Dean likes. And he wants to like them to. He wants to have that connection with Dean in addition to all the other ways he and Dean are already linked.

His back-fans flare, knocking Dean’s hands away when they touch along his back. Dean’s weight leaves the bed for a moment before the mattress dips again. Castiel doesn’t look up until a cacophony of noise starts up next to him. He jerks away from the sound, sitting up sharply.

(This, Cas, is Metallica. Learn it, live it, love it.) Dean pats the top of the laptop as the sound of guitars and other ‘instruments’ play. (I prefer their earlier stuff, but their newer songs aren’t too bad.)

What’s happening on the screen, the moving wavy lines, isn’t at all as important as what Dean calls ‘music’ coming from the laptop. Compared to it, Castiel prefers when Dean sings and plays the guitar himself. Dean lays on his back and puts the laptop on his stomach. He hums along when it’s just the instruments and he sings or mouths the words when they’re there. His foot taps against the wall in time with the underlying beat of the music. Castiel watches Dean while he listens. He looks calm, almost peaceful. The kin-connection is settled through with a comfortable haze and it’s calming to that dark burn souring the warmth in Castiel’s chest.

The first few songs that Dean plays are from the group called ‘Metallica’. Then he takes Castiel through songs by other groups of people – Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. Some of it just sounds like someone screaming and Dean is quick to change to a new song when Castiel shows his dislike for them by poking at the buttons on the laptop.

(Tomorrow I can show you movies.) Dean pushes his hand away during a particularly screeching song and changes it to a new one. (We’ll start you off easy with the best of the classics – Star Wars. To save you the confusion, we’ll watch them in the order they’re supposed to be in – instead of the order they were released in.)

Castiel tilts his head and regards Dean skeptically. (I’m assuming you’re aware that I am going to understand next to nothing about these videos, even with your translations, and that watching them seems more for your pleasure than my benefit.)

(You’ll love them. Big explosions, gripping storyline, hot actors. What more could you ask for?) Dean grins at him, bright and wide and more than enough to help Castiel forget the sick twist in his stomach.

Bobby comes back with Sam and he climbs up into his bed, grumbling about taking a nap and complaining about the people taking care of the engines on this boat. Dean turns down the music, but he doesn’t have to stop it. Sam tells them that Meg and Jess had a few hiccups this morning but their practicing has really improved throughout the day.

“They’re almost out of jello molds, but Meg hasn’t made a – er – a fatal mistake in the last three attempts. When they’re done with them all, Jess says they should be able to take out the chip tonight. If you’re ready, that is.” Sam explains to them in hushed tones, barely heard over the music.

Castiel curls closer to Dean’s side, winding his fingers in his shirt. (I will be ready.) He’s scared of what could happen if Meg misses, if she hits one of the things that Dean told him could hurt him badly. But he wants the chip out.

Dean relays the message to Sam and he leaves again to go tell Jess and Meg. He’ll need to tell Benny that he has to stop the boat again so they don’t rock too hard in the water. Castiel pushes the laptop off of Dean’s stomach, making room as he lift-drags himself to cover most of him. He worms his arms under Dean’s back and presses his face into his neck.

(It’ll be alright, Cas.) Dean sits up slightly, shuffling to get the other pillow behind his back too. (You heard Sam. They’ve been practicing. You’ll be fine.)

Castiel tangles his tail around Dean’s legs and his fans rustle unhappily. (I don’t want to lose the ability to move. Being locked in small-sea was one thing, but never being able to swim again, even in the sea is – I can’t, Dean. I won’t want to live if that happens.)

(I’ve told you before not to think like that.) Dean’s arms tighten almost painfully over his shoulders and Castiel can the feel the press of lips to his forehead. (You don’t have to do it if you really don’t want to. We can leave it in and let Ash handle the signal.)

(I don’t want to go home with this thing stuck in my body.) Castiel shakes his head. (I want it out.)

Dean runs his hands over the back of his neck. (It’ll be okay, Cas. You’ll be asleep for the whole thing and then you’ll wake up and everything will be okay. I’ll be there for the whole thing.)

(You promise?) Castiel lifts his head to look at Dean. (You’ll won’t leave even if someone tells you to? You won’t leave even if –) It’s stupid to ask this, but that sick burn in his chest puts the question into his thoughts and Castiel hates it the moment he shares it. (-You won’t leave even if Jo shows up?) His adipose fins start to rustle against Dean’s legs and Castiel tries not to frown. He tries to keep his expression neutral.

Surprise fills the kin-connection, and it is quickly followed by confusion. (Jo? What does Jo – oh.) The confusion almost immediately gives way to understanding – without Castiel having explained anything – and Dean starts to laugh. (Was that why you were all grumpy during lunch? You can hide as much of your emotions as you want, Cas, but I’ve already seen what you look like when you’re jealous.)

He slides one hand down Castiel’s side, settling it below his hip and he tugs at Castiel’s adipose fins. (These get all ripple-y.) He pokes Castiel between his eyebrows. (And you get a little frown line right here. It’s pretty hard to tell apart from when you’re pissed. But I know you’re not angry right now and you’re asking about Jo. Two plus two is four - you’re jealous that she was flirting with me.)

Dean looks far too smug when Castiel doesn’t say anything. (You’re welcome to correct me if I’m wrong.)

It’s with a certain amount of bitterness that Castiel shares the feeling of the dark burn. As soon as he’s sure Dean’s felt it, he erases it from the kin-connection. He hates having that feeling tainting their link. But he still lets Dean feel his irritation – especially how annoyed he is by Dean’s teasing grin.

(I don’t know what you’re so worried about. I don’t cheat, Cas.)

(I don’t see what fraud has to do with –)

Dean sighs and he rubs his hand almost absently over Castiel’s arm. (Let’s try this a different way. I said before that we’re more complicated than boyfriends. But we are something. We’re us – we’re you and me. There’s no one else in that equation, right?)

Castiel nods.

(I may have a sordid history of sleeping around, but I’ve never slept with anyone else while I was actually with someone.) His smile turns cocky. (I don’t share my bed with just anyone, y’know. I’ve slept with blanket-stealers, pillow-stealers, cold-feeters, you name it. But I’ve never shared it with a heat-stealer.)

To accentuate Dean’s point, Castiel works his hands under his shirt and spread his fingers over his sides. There’s a pulse of caution through the kin-connection – a warning to not tickle him.

(So you’re already special all on your own there. And then there’s these.) Dean continues. This time his fingers play over the marks he placed on the back of Castiel’s neck, on the side of his throat and along his collarbone. (I haven’t given someone a hickey since high school. And I sure as hell have never let anyone put one on me where it could be seen.)

That un-named warmth fills the kin-connection, rolling through it in shuddering waves that makes Castiel’s fans flare. He ducks his head, pressing quick little kisses to Dean’s mouth and the smile pulling at his lips. Dean tilts his chin up, guiding the kisses into long, slow pulls of lips and tongue.

(I’ll admit that I’ll probably flirt back when someone turns on the charm with me – but everyone on this boat, including Jo, knows that I’ve got something going with you.) Dean runs his hands through Castiel’s hair, tilting his head as he pleases. (I’m well fed, Cas. I’m not going to try and get anything anywhere else when I haven’t been this satisfied – this happy – in years.)

Castiel pulls back, just enough so that he’s breathing roughly against Dean’s mouth. His chest feels too full. Warmth is twirling around his ribs and digging deep behind his sternum. But there’s still doubt. There’s still something marring that warmth and Castiel wants it gone. He needs Dean to say exactly what will make it go away.

He drops his forehead to rest against Dean’s jaw, unable to look him in the eyes when he asks this question. (Jo is attractive. She’s human. She can stay. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be with her?)

Castiel is not expecting the sharp movement that ends with him on his back, staring up at angry eyes. Frustration and discontent are filling the kin-connection and Dean’s mouth – so pliant and welcoming only a minute ago – is set in a hard, unhappy line.

(Don’t you ever ask me that again, Cas.)

This time the kisses are rough to the point that they almost hurt. Castiel tastes blood and he can’t tell whose lips or tongue was cut by his teeth. Dean is a heavy weight over his hips and he’s holding Castiel’s shoulders against the bed, fingers curled tight and cast digging in painfully. (We’ve been over this before – if I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t be doing this.) He purposefully rolls his body, rubbing against Castiel’s sheath. (You got me, Cas?)

A desperate noise gets muffled between them. Castiel is almost certain that it came from him, but he doesn’t care. He folds his tail up Dean’s back, the end curving over his shoulder again. It’s just like the day before yesterday, but this time the goal isn’t physical release. The moment Dean moves his hands, Castiel locks his arms around Dean’s shoulders, one hand in the short hairs on the back of his head. He fills the kin-connection with all the warmth and his apologies that he can give.

Dean doesn’t let him properly breathe or move until someone clears their throat. By then Castiel’s thoughts are nearly lost to the hurricane of wantminewarmth that fills the kin-connection. His chest is rising and falling under Dean’s hands at a too rapid rate and Dean is practically vibrating with satisfaction.

He waves over his shoulder at another rough cough. “Just a minute, Sammy.” Dean leans over him again, waiting until Castiel can meet his eyes. (Now, you’re not going to think stupid shit like that again, are you?)

Castiel shakes his head and Dean smiles. He presses a kiss to Castiel’s forehead before he slips out from under his tail, sliding from the bed in one smooth motion. Sam is waiting by the door and he doesn’t look happy.

“Oh lighten up, Sammy. We weren’t fucking.” Dean stretches until his spines make popping noises. “So what’s on the agenda now?”

“They think they’re as ready as they’re ever going to be.” Sam shoots one last distrustful glare at Dean before he looks at Castiel more softly. Castiel picks up the slack in his link with Sam, strengthening the kin-connection so they can talk again. (If you’re up for it, we can do this now. You should be awake by supper time if all goes well. Though the meds might make you feel sick instead of hungry.)

Castiel sits up and hooks his tail over the edge of the bed to help pull himself closer to it. He shares his answer with both Dean and Sam. (Let’s get this over with.)

Dean carries him back out onto the deck and for the first time he takes Castiel up the stairs. Sam follows close behind to make sure that Dean doesn’t fall. Castiel prefers being carried chest-to-chest, but it’s easier for Dean to walk while carrying him across his chest, his tail over one arm and his back against the other.

There are more people on the second deck. There are chairs and tables squeezed into an open space at the head of the boat and Sam explains that this is where most of the crew eats their meals since the kitchen is on the same level. There is a third level that does not have a deck around it. The stairs that follow the wall lead up to a door. It’s open and Jess is waiting for them.

The room they’re in is eerily similar to Lilith’s office. There’s a desk on one side of the room with plush chairs before it. Big pictures cover the walls and two couches have been pushed to the side of the room, leaving an open space that Meg has filled with a shiny table and the x-ray machine. The male named Crowley is sitting behind the desk with his feet propped up on its top and he’s holding another short glass full of amber liquid. He doesn’t look particularly interested in what’s going on, but his eyes are sharp when he glances toward them as they enter the room.

Dean sits Castiel on the metal table and it is cold under his scales. Sam and Jess balance several plates of wiggling, multi-coloured shapes in their arms, picking them up from Crowley’s desk. Some of the shapes are mutilated and missing pieces, others look like they haven’t been touched. Meg is sorting through an open box on the table next to Castiel and he recognizes the hollow-tube before she picks it up.

His fans flare and he only manages to stifle a hiss because of Dean’s hand on his arm. Castiel glares at the hollow-tube and its needle end while Meg sticks into a glass container and pulls the piece at the end that moves the liquid from within the container to within the hollow-tube. His adipose fins keep rippling throughout Meg’s explanation about the sleep-poison she’s going to put into his arm.

 “It’s just like the stuff we had in the darts you used to get shot up with. Only this mixture has a temporary paralytic in it so you don’t move while you’re out. You know what that is – Alistair used it on you before.” She taps at the hollow tube, squinting at the see-through part.

Castiel bares his teeth at the memories. He doesn’t like being reminded of that time – or any of the times – when Alistair, Gordon, or Lilith had any sort of power over him. It’s in the past now and that is where it should stay, where it should be forgotten. He’s still glaring at Meg and the tube when they have him lay out on his stomach across the table. Most of his tail is hanging over one edge. His face fits into a padded, circular extension sticking out of the other end of the table. The center is hollow and Castiel ends up staring at the floor and the tops of Dean’s shoes.

“Nice head rest. Who made it?” Dean asks, tapping the side of the circle-pad.

“Bobby.” Meg answers and her fingers on Castiel’s arm makes him flinch in surprise.

Sam is still away with Jess when Meg touches the needle to his skin, telling him to relax and not be so stiff. He wishes Castiel good luck and promises to see him when he wakes up. Castiel severs the kin-connection with him after thanking him. Dean is standing on the other side of the table from Meg. When he touches his  hand, Castiel automatically turns it to grip his fingers and Dean squeezes back just as tightly.

(I’m going to be right here the whole time, Cas. Straight through until you wake up.) Dean rubs his back with his free hand, pushing Castiel’s back-fans flat. (Just keep breathing.)

(Why would I stop?)

Dean snorts laughter. (It’s what you say to help someone calm down. But that’s a little moot since Meg just hit the plunger. You’re going to be out in a moment.)

Castiel didn’t even feel the push of the sleep-poison into his skin. But he does feel the all too familiar weight of it on his mind, pulling at his thoughts and starting to drag them into the dark that always came after he was hit with the darts. He thinks he might feel Dean’s hand in his hair, and that might also be his breath against his side-fan, but Castiel can’t be sure. Everything is fading out too quickly.

There’s a sharp tug in the kin-connection and a memory pushes through, flaring across Castiel’s mind before it gets sucked away too. It’s familiar and bright enough to be recent. It’s less than a day old and for a moment Castiel sees himself through someone else’s eyes. It’s a memory of a bed-cave and a cool body against him-but-not-him, a tail wrapped over and around his-but-not-his legs. It’s a memory of a thought, unshielded and sleepy, warm and wanting.

Castiel vaguely recognizes it, but he can’t focus, can’t think clearly enough to understand what Dean is showing him. The last thing Castiel knows before he slips completely into the dark is Dean’s lips brushing the spines and webbing of his side-fan as he speaks.

“Ask me.”