Title: Next Best Thing
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2,022
Content Notes: established relationship, hurt/comfort, human!Castiel, show level violence, sleepy cuddles

Summary: Castiel can't heal anymore, but that doesn't mean he won't try to soothe the aches and bruises Dean brings home with him.

---

Something bumped against the dresser. Large boots hit the concrete floor.

Castiel mumbled from beneath the comforter, settling onto his back. He was warm and comfortable, body lax atop the mattress. He vaguely registered another presence in the room, but the thought was distant, dim, like something caught on the edge of a dream. Bangs fell across his forehead and tickled, and he shifted again onto his side, nose tucked into the folds of the pillowcase.

Another thump. Someone hissed.

Castiel blinked his eyes open, languid, drowsy. The bedroom door was open a crack and light from the kitchen stained the room a dull grey.

A shadow hovered near the small nightstand and Castiel tensed, startled.

"Hey," the shadow murmured. Clothing rustled and a jacket was dropped to the floor. "Did I wake you?"

Castiel breathed a long sigh and relaxed, fingers uncurling. "No," he said.

Dean chuckled, disbelieving. Metal clinked as he pulled open his belt and his jeans slid easily over his hips. "So those weren't snores I heard a minute ago?"

Castiel yawned and pulled the blanket tight around his shoulders. "I don't snore."

"Course you don't," Dean said.

Castiel frowned, but he pushed himself upright, bedclothes falling to pool around his hips. "Everything go alright?" he asked, rubbing a hand against his eyes.

"Yep," Dean answered, a little too quick.

Castiel dropped his hand to his lap and stared at the shadow hovering near the edge of the bed. "Didn't run into any trouble?"

Dean stepped out of his jeans and kicked them away. "Nope."

Castiel's frown deepened.

There was a new bar in town, a trendy sort of establishment that they didn't typically frequent, the kind of place that served fancy drinks to fancy college kids who had too much money and not enough sense to not spend it all in one place. The lights flashed too bright there and the music thumped too loud, and everyone smiled their fake smiles and collected pictures and phone numbers they would probably delete the next morning. But there was a pool table in the back and a few dart boards hung on the wall. "Easy pickings," Dean had mentioned one night over dinner.

Castiel had hummed a noncommittal response. "Guess we could use the extra cash."

It was supposed to be simple. In and out, a couple hundred dollars richer and no one the wiser.

Leaning across the bed, Castiel switched on the lamp.

Dean groaned, squinting in the sudden flood of light.

Castiel sat back, eyes sweeping up and down Dean's body. His face and chest were decorated with bruises, sickly yellow and purple-green. His left eye was swollen and red, lower lip split and crusted with dried blood. Fist- and finger-sized shapes covered his torso, wrapped around his throat and wrists, and his knuckles were scraped and dirtied.

Castiel swallowed. Dean pursed his lips and shrugged, gaze averted.

Looking away, Castiel found the lamp once more and switched it off. He laid down, head on the pillow, sheets pulled back. "Come to bed."

Dean sighed. "Couple guys caught onto my game," Dean explained, voice tight. "Got the jump on me when I tried to leave."

"Come to bed, Dean," Castiel repeated.

"I don't want-" Dean's words caught in his throat, hand rising in frustration only to fall back to his side. "I don't want to do this tonight. I just want to go to sleep."

"Fine," Castiel said, tone even, flat. He tilted his head, eyes finding Dean's through the dark. "Come to bed."

Dean grumbled and stalled, weight shifting from foot to foot. Castiel waited him out, patient in a way that never failed to agitated Dean further.

Finally Dean mumbled, "Fine," and left his clothing in a pile on the floor, footsteps quiet on the concrete as he crossed to his side of the bed. He dropped onto the mattress like a stone, tugging irritably at the sheets. "G'night," he muttered.

Castiel watched him settle, allowed Dean a moment to breathe.

Then he pounced.

Dean yelped when Castiel fell heavily across his body, legs tangling together, weight pinning him in place. "Damn it, Cas," Dean growled as hands found his shoulders and forced him back against his pillow, holding him still. "Not tonight."

Ducking his head, Castiel nosed along Dean's throat before placing a soft, delicate kiss to the bruise hiding beneath his ear. "Yes, tonight," he said, kissing Dean's earlobe, kissing the shell, every touch gentle, measured. Reverent.

Dean's jaw clenched. Castiel kissed that too.

Warm palms settled on Castiel's hips, not pushing, not pulling. Castiel breathed against Dean's skin, hands leaving Dean's shoulders to frame his face, fingers carding through his hair, thumbs tenderly tracing the dark circles beneath his eyes. Dean sighed as his body relaxed by degrees, anger bleeding away even as he struggled to keep up the pretesne. "You know I don't like this," he grumbled.

"I know," Castiel said, small smile touching the raised knot on Dean's forehead, brushing feather-light across the puffed skin surrounding his black eye. "But I take a certain delight in torturing you." Lips quirked as they touched Dean's eyelashes, stroked across the bridge of his nose. Dean huffed, but he let Castiel tilt his head this way and that, allowed him to touch to the scrape on his chin, to taste the cut just above his eyebrow, grazing every hurt with the barest pressure.

Castiel sank onto Dean's chest, breathed him in, tasted the heady tang of salt and iron on his tongue.

He pressed a kiss to Dean's lower lip.

Dean's fingers dug into Castiel's hips. "Cas," he mumbled as he lifted his head, urging Castiel closer.

Castiel turned away, kissing a soft line across Dean's jaw. "Thought you didn't like this," he said, teeth scraping over the long column of Dean's throat.

Dean growled, a low, dangerous sound, and then there were arms wrapping around Castiel's back and knees locking vice-like along his sides. His back hit the mattress and Dean rolled above him, on top of him, hand firm on his chin as he pulled Castiel into a hard kiss.

Castiel opened his mouth eagerly, sucked on Dean's tongue, and Dean collapsed atop him, crushed him into the pillows and sheets. A hand reached down, cupping Castiel's ass, guiding his leg to hook across Dean's waist, and Castiel moaned, loud and breathless in the quiet room.

Dean gasped against Castiel's chin, pecking a quick row of kisses there. "I don't like being coddled," he murmured, stubbled cheeks rasping together.

"You think that's what I'm doing?" Castiel asked, hands settling on Dean's lower back, fingers kneading into the tight muscles.

Dean groaned, shoulders slumping. He bowed his head, foreheads and noses rubbing together. "I don’t know. Maybe." Warm breath fanned over Castiel's mouth, and he tipped his head back, dragging slow, sloppy kisses wherever he could reach.

Dean's hips rolled and Castiel's lifted to meet him.

There were no more words for a time, just the rustle of clothing, the wet sound of mouths on skin. Hands fumbled, pushed their underwear aside and Castiel spit onto his palm before he reached to touch, the little bit of slick making Dean shudder above him.

Dean buried his face in the crook of Castiel's neck as they took each other in hand, fists tugging to their own frantic tempos. Teeth worried the tendons flexing beneath Castiel's skin and he arched his back, jaw loose and open as he stared at the ceiling.

He came first, body pulled taunt and tight as Dean held him down, hips thrusting steadily into Castiel's slack fist. "Come on," Dean grunted, messy hand wrapping around Castiel's as he worked himself between Castiel's fingers, other hand buried in Castiel's tangled hair, urging him to watch. "Come on."

Dean cried out when Castiel clamped down, hard, and then warmth spilled across their knuckles and he collapsed, lax and lazy atop Castiel's chest.

They breathed in tandem, hearts pounding behind their ribs as they slowly came down.

Castiel hummed, wiping his hand on his underwear. Dean did the same, flopping onto his back.

Castiel followed him, rising onto an elbow to stare down at Dean, face barely visible in the dark. He could see the wild way his hair stood, clumped together in sweaty tufts. He could see how his lips were parted, full and flushed. He could see the shadowed shape of his eyes, gaze turned towards him.

Lifting a hand, Castiel gently touched Dean's forehead, a gesture all too familiar. Useless now, but still familiar. "I'm not coddling you," he said.

Dean licked his lips and grabbed Castiel's hand, fingers twining together.

"I just…" Castiel sighed and curled himself along Dean's side, head resting on Dean's shoulder. "I can't take the pain away like I used to."

Dean squeezed Castiel's hand. "I'm not asking you to."

"I know," Castiel said. "You never have. Doesn't change the fact that I hate to see you suffer."

Dean shifted onto his side, forehead bumping Castiel's. "I'm hardly suffering," he said, sending a pointed glance to the mess staining their boxers.

Castiel nudged a knee between Dean's legs. "You can't put yourself into a dangerous situation and then scold me when I want to take care of you."

"Okay, one - it was hardly a 'dangerous situation'," Dean said. Castiel rolled his eyes and Dean gestured to himself with their linked hands, Castiel's arm hanging loose and heavy in Dean's grip. "See? Didn't even break anything. And two…" He dropped their hands between them, fingers untangling to touch Castiel's chest. "I'm not used to being treated… so gently, I guess." His cheeks colored slightly and Castiel could feel their warmth across the few inches that separated them. "Sam wasn't exactly the type to snuggle me better."

Castiel stared at Dean. "I'm sorry," he said, consolatory.

Dean's face scrunched and he chuckled. "Don't be," he said. "I'd have probably punched him if he tried that. Or doused him in holy water. Besides," he added, pulling Castiel closer. "I'd rather snuggle with you anyway."

Castiel smiled. "In that case," he said, rising up onto his elbow again, schooling his face into something serious, severe. "Next time you come home in less than perfect condition, you will receive an extreme bout of snuggling, the likes of which you have never known."

Dean blinked up at Castiel, bemused. "I'm not sure if I should be turned on or terrified," he said slowly.

"Terrified," Castiel answered, ducking his head to brush his lips to Dean's ear. "I'll catch you when you're least expecting it, hold you down and let you feel how much I want to take care of you. I'll make you taste it, make you hungry for it." His tongue peaked out, flicked the lobe of Dean's ear. "I'll make it last for hours," he said.

Dean shuddered, eyes sliding closed. "Is that a promise?"

"I'll touch you everywhere," Castiel said. "And where my fingers travel my mouth will follow." Dean sucked in a quick breath as Castiel trailed a hand down Dean's sternum, across his belly, lower. "I'll ravish you," Castiel said, toying with the slit in Dean's boxers. "I'll worship you. I'll make you wonder why you were ever so foolish to leave my bed in the first place."

Dean laughed, grin curling across his face. "You know," he said. "Threatening me with healing sex isn't exactly the best way to persuade me to stay out of trouble."

Castiel pecked a soft kiss to Dean's temple. "Would you rather I threaten you with something else?"

"No, this," Dean said, hands settling on Castiel's hips. "This is good."

Castiel stared down at Dean. "Do you feel better?"

Dean smiled up at him. "Almost."

"Almost?" Castiel asked.

"I could, uh," Dean said, pulling Castiel onto his chest, hands dipping to cup his ass. "I could probably use another round of snuggling, if you're up for it."

Castiel lowered his head, catching Dean's lips with his own. "Always," he said.

Dean returned the kiss eagerly as he rolled them across the mattress, bruises and bar fights all but forgotten.

---

End.