Dean having noticed Cas always longingly splaying his hand over Dean's biceps whenever they are making love, so when they're at it at the night of their anniversary, he breaks out red body paint he specifically bought for this occasion and offers Cas to use it to his heart's content.
When they finally fall asleep in each other's arms afterwards, exhausted and sated and smiling, there is a precise and beautiful hand print on Dean's biceps once more, and the rest of his body is so flaming crimson, it looks like he was just pulled out of Hell again.
By the time Sam noticed, he realized it was probably supremely belated.
Castiel standing too close to Dean was never anything new, hardly notable. So when that escalated to hands on forearms or the back of the neck or shoulder blades, it was a logical progression. Sam didn’t think much of it.
He did start to think much of it as soon as Dean was moon-eyeing the angel while they were trying to take down Lilith. As soon as Dean got worked up talking about him when Cas wasn’t around, Sam started to pay attention.
When he caught Dean in the bathroom, a towel wrapped tightly around his waist, Sam hesitated. Dean’s hand was pressed over the mark Castiel had left on his shoulder, fingers flexing against his own skin. Sam blinked. Dean’s eyelids were fluttering, his body swaying gently, and Sam booked it out of there as soon as Dean’s free hand started to drift downward.
So, Dean had a thing for Cas, Sam surmised. Sure.
But it wasn’t until later that Sam put it together. When Castiel’s casual touches landed right there on Dean’s shoulder and Dean would close his eyes and shudder, Sam caught on. No amount of research or studying could explain the connection between that scar and Dean’s dick, but honestly, Sam didn’t try that hard.
He had to think it had something to do with the Grace that hummed under Dean’s skin, and something about Castiel’s touch brought that to the surface and it must have been overwhelming. Sam was just fine with that explanation.
He avoided touching Dean on hunts as much as possible, especially that arm, and Dean was starting to notice. He would give Sam the most befuddled glare every time Sam jerked away from him, but never said a word. He didn’t say a word until Castiel started to push it.
The first time Sam said anything was when Castiel was admonishing Dean for putting himself in danger, and he slowly, gently, laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s hands fisted at his sides and Sam groaned loudly, covering his face.
"I know what you’re doing," he admitted between his fingers, peeking one eye open. Dean looked scandalized, but Cas was stoic as ever. "The handprint. I know."
Dean started to sputter, fighting for an explanation, but Castiel just watched Sam with unending patience. “You should get another room, Sam,” he said evenly.
Sam sighed, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders as he grabbed his duffel bag. “More than happy to.”
A smirk had found its way to Dean’s lips, taunting Sam with its arrogance. “You should see what happens when he licks it-“
He and Cas had stayed awake to an unholy hour enjoying the pleasures of one another's bodies, but had eventually collapsed, hot and sweaty, into the mattress. The human fell asleep first, more accustomed to it in his thirty-something years of being around, while Cas stayed awake, watching Dean's chest rise up and down as he breathed. Dean would never fall asleep cuddling.
Castiel, if he slept, would do so flat on his back, which dreaming-Dean found made a perfect pillow. Rolling over as he slept, he'd collide with the wall of flesh, but would snuggle into it, eventually finding that being sprawled never try to actively seek that one form of contact that, for some reason, seemed far more intimate than sex ever did.
He would fall asleep on his side, usually facing away from the angel, self-conscious, but his sleeping self knew better. It happened every time. Castiel, if he slept, would do so flat on his back, which dreaming-Dean found made a perfect pillow. Rolling over as he slept, he'd collide with the wall of flesh, but would snuggle into it, eventually finding that being sprawled across Cas, cheek nestled into the warm chest, was the most comfortable way to sleep.
The first time he had done this he had, true to form, freaked out, running into the bathroom to shower, thankful when Cas wasn't there when he finally finished. But he had grown used to waking up attached to his lover, and in the morning would now snuggle closer, a leg thrown over, foot hooking under Castiel's knee. This morning he woke up after his angel, humming happily and he clutched into his side, enjoying the soft tickle of Cas stroking his skin with his fingertips, gently dancing over his shoulder.
"Mornin'." He grunted, voice thick with sleep, and he felt a soft kiss placed against the top of his head.
"Good morning, Dean," Castiel replied. "You slept well." Not quite a question, as the angel kept watch over him as he slept, considering it his duty that even though he could not always protect the hunter when he was awake, he could keep him safe while he dreamt.
"Yeah, nothin' but sweet dreams over here." He clutched a little tighter at Cas, chuckling slightly at the involuntary twitch it produced. The angel's vessel was slightly ticklish, which Dean would occasionally exploit.
Cas huffed in annoyance, moving his left arm to pull at Dean, tugging him closer into him, while his right still traced patterns on Dean's shoulder. After a few minutes, Dean tilted his head up, trying to look at his lover, though not really getting a good view from this angle; mainly just chin.
"I sometimes miss it, you know." Cas peered down, trying to understand his words. "Your handprint, on my arm?" Dean specified. "You healed it all up. Didn't like it much when I had it, it wasn't easy to explain to chicks," Castiel bristled slightly, but continued tracing, now following the lines where he knew the mark was. "But now it's gone, now we're...." he trailed off, not wanting the conversation to veer down that route. "I dunno. Just feels weird it's not there." He exhaled, weirdly nervous to have admitted it, and the angel could feel Dean's increased heartbeat against him.
Cas shifted slightly, moving so that he could place his palm fully on the flesh, pressed exactly where it had been so long ago. Dean shivered. "I could put it back, if you wanted." The angel offered. Dean hesitated, but then shook his head.
"I'll think about it." He whispered, unsure. It didn't have to be a decision he made straight away. Castiel frowned, peering over at the nightstand. He moved, leaning towards it, and Dean made a disgruntled noise as he fell off of Cas's warm chest, unceremoniously dumped on the mattress.
"Hey!" He protested. "I thought we were snuggling. What happened to snuggling?" He pouted as sarcastically as he could muster this early in the day, but propped himself up on his elbow to watch. The angel opened a drawer, and quickly retrieved a pen from inside, before turning back to Dean, who frowned.
"Sunday morning crossword?" He suggested, managing a quirk of a smile before the air was pushed from his lungs in surprise. Cas had flipped him over, placing the man flat on his back against the mattress and straddled his hips, looking down at his lover, pen held aloft. "Sunday morning sex?" Dean corrected himself, smiling as he reached down, placing his hands on the angel's thighs and squeezing slightly.
"Course, we usually do it the other way round but if you're up for it..." Cas ignored the pun, and Dean, instead placing his right palm on Dean's shoulder, right where it had been a minute before. With the other hand he took the pen and began to trace around his hand, pen pressing lightly enough to tickle Dean, who squirmed slightly underneath him, but didn't protest. Castiel took notice of how he felt Dean's body take interest in this as well, feeling slight pressure rising where he sat.
Apparently Dean did really like the mark. Removing his hand, he completed the line, joining it at the base, before putting the cap back on the pen, surveying his handywork. Dean peered down, craning his neck to see the ink on his skin, reaching with his free hand to gently touch the ink. "You gonna replace this every time I take a shower?" Dean asked, and the angel contemplated this.
"If you'd like." He said simply. Dean smiled, taking Cas's hand, looking at the ink stain around the edges of the fingers, before pulling it a little closer and kissing them in turn, before letting it rest on the side of his face, a warm caress as Cas stroked the stubble. "The print wasn't skin deep, Dean." He reminded him. "I touched your soul, my mark is branded there too. I can see it every time I look at you."
The hunter sighed, a smile on his lips, nuzzling into the palm a little more. "Yeah, I get that. The ink can stay." He conceded, before squirming a little bit, pressing his now-awake sex-drive into the small of Cas's back. "But about that Sunday-morning-crossword-sex?" ~END~
