The Last Night: Ch3

“There is just one catch,” Cas said to Dean just as the sun was rising.

“Hmm? What’re you on about?” Dean was very obviously distracted.

“Halting my Fall. Restoring my Grace. There is one thing that makes the task rather difficult.” Dean wasn’t going to like it. Cas knew that as well as anyone.

“What’s that?”

“There is one item that is absolutely required for the spell to work. The only place in the world it is available is Israel.”

Predictably, Dean did not react well. “Israel?! I’m not fucking flying, I hate flying, you know that, and you’re not taking Sammy anywhere without me!”

“Dean.”

“No, I’m done. I’m so fucking done with this shit!” Dean stood and stormed out, slamming the door behind him so hard that the noise woke Sam and sent him scrambling for a shotgun.

Dean was not usually that obtuse. He was a demon. He could transport himself near-instantly. There was no need for him to travel on an airplane, nor any reason for him to fear crashing. Cas sighed.

“What’d you say?”

Now Sam was angry with him. Cas did not understand why. “Nothing.”

“It was obviously something.”

“I need an item from Israel. Dean forgot that he is able to transport himself and has no need to fly. I tried to remind him but… that happened.” Cas tilted his head at the door. His left wing very helpfully gestured in the same direction.

Would you stay still? he thought at his wings. He did enjoy having them in physical form, but they had a mind of their own at times, and it was really very frustrating that he could not stop them from betraying his emotions.

Sam shook his head and sighed. “Dean and planes. Some things never change.”

“Dean and pie,” Cas said in a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood.

Sam just stared at him with one eyebrow raised.

Cas turned and went into the kitchen, wings waving softly behind him. Dean would know that was a sign of tension. Sam didn’t appear to have the same instinctive understanding of angelic body language, following him like a lost calf. “So since I’m awake because Dean is mad at you, does that mean you’re making me breakfast?”

Cas was not going to allow himself to get frustrated with Sam. He didn’t know. He just didn’t know. “I am cooking because I find it calming.  Whether you receive any benefit from it depends on if Dean returns before it is finished.”

He put a pot down on the cooktop with a little too much force. The loud bang it made was enough to make Sam startle, and perhaps it was a little uncharitable of Cas to find that satisfying, but he very much did. The pot was soon joined by a frying pan, which was followed by a mixing bowl and then - more carefully - two plates. He raided the fridge for eggs, milk, butter, bacon and cheese, and the pantry for pepper, flour and bread.

“Cheese-”

“Get out of my kitchen,” Cas growled. “You are in my way. If you push my feathers into the cooktop, even accidentally, I will not be impressed.”

Sam retreated, watching from a safe distance as Cas first started making cheese sauce, then put the bacon and eggs in the frying pan.

It was a meditative process. Following simple steps, thinking only about the process itself. It wasn’t until Cas finally managed to relax his wings that Sam spoke again. “I’m not… used to you having so many feelings, Cas… I know I missed something. Sorry.”

“You are forgiven.” It was hardly Sam’s fault.

“Is it because of Dean?”

It was because of many things. Dean was just one of those things. “No.” One wing gave a little twitch. That would have given the lie away if Cas had been talking to Dean…

“Okay,” Sam said, shrugging. “Food smells great, by the way.”

Cas made a noncommittal sound and put the bread in the toaster.

“It does.”

There was an empty feeling in the pit of Cas’s stomach. It was very uncomfortable. He had no idea why it was there, but he knew he wanted to get rid of it. Without even thinking, he got another slice of bread and started chewing on it.

Sam stared. “Dean’s right.” He put a hand on Cas’s shoulder, eyebrows drawing together.

Cas shoved him out of the kitchen with a wing. “Hm?”

“You’ve Fallen pretty far now. Farther than you let on. I’ve never seen you eat before.”

He had hoped to avoid a conversation like this one. “I will be fine.”

“You’re basically a human with wings, and you expect me to believe that?”

“Sam.” The toast popped out of the toaster. Cas put two slices on each plate, then slipped an egg and a few rashers of bacon onto each plate. He followed that with the cheese sauce, put the dirty pans into the sink, and then carried the plates to the table, putting one down in front of Sam. “Trust me.”

“Cas, I-”

“Shush.” Cas sat down and started to eat. It tasted good, though he wasn’t sure what Dean saw in bacon. It was pleasant, but hardly ‘off God’s own plate’. The only sound was Sam starting to speak every thirty seconds or so, and Cas shushing him.

Sam washed up. Cas went back to the chair near the window, but sitting and thinking was boring and he couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“Spar with me, Sam,” he growled after about five minutes.

“Huh?”

“You heard me. I need to move. I need to do something. Dean would be upset if we went hunting without him. So spar with me.” He tucked his wings tightly against his back and put his trenchcoat on over them. “No unfair advantages. Blunt blades, because I cannot heal either of us if one of us makes a mistake.”

“Cas, I want to get started reading this-”

“The book, the book, it can wait!” Everything could wait. If Sam refused to spar with him he was going to go insane. With no Dean here, he could not leave the bunker without Sam. There was nothing to do except listen to music or try to make the television pick up a strong enough signal. Or read a book, but they had nothing Cas felt like reading.

“Come on, spit it out, what’s bothering you?”

“I do not wish to discuss the matter.”

Sam shrugged. “Okay. Just don’t let your Grace slip. There’ll be bruises.”

“On both sides,” Cas agreed, fishing a pair of blunt machetes out of a bag and tossing one to Sam. He abandoned his chair and crossed the bunker with long strides, pausing at the door. “Are you afraid?”

Sam burst out laughing. Cas thought about what he had said, wondering what was funny about it. Maybe he had chosen the wrong words.

---

The bunker was empty when Dean transported himself back to it. His sense of Cas informed him the angel was in the field, so he let himself out of the bunker and went towards said field.

Cas and Sam were sparring. It had clearly started out with the intention of being a serious training session, but the angel’s slightly breathless laughter informed him that not only had this match gone for longer than a normal training session, it had turned into a game.

A game of cat and mouse that occasionally, when the cat - Cas - caught the mouse - Sam - turned into wrestling matches.

Dean wasn’t sure why he felt such a strong spark of jealousy. It was just a friendly sparring match. He had always thought Cas needed to lighten up a bit, and now that the angel had done so, he had a problem with it. Or, more to the point, with the fact that it wasn’t him that Cas was mucking about with.

And it was just mucking about. Friendly shit. Dean shook his head and sat down, watching as Sam got Cas in a headlock and Cas used his wings to shove the guy away and get free.

Cas’s usual three to four layers had dropped to one. The rest was folded in a neat pile not far away from where Dean sat. The white undershirt didn’t leave a lot to the imagination, hugging Cas’s muscles like a second skin, and it had ridden up a little. There was a two-inch strip of bare skin between Cas’s shirt and his pants.

And fuck, it sent shivers down Dean’s spine and straight to his dick.  Heat rose in his cheeks, but he couldn’t look away. Even as Cas teetered on the edge, balancing precariously on the line between Falling angel and human, he was glorious.

A powerful spinning kick from Sam sent the angel flying. Cas hit the ground six feet away from Dean and slid. Dean grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him up to stop him from hitting the bunker. Dazed, Cas blinked at him.

“Hello, Dean.” The angel’s voice was sleepy and went straight to Dean’s crotch.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean was not going to let his arousal show. He was not going to let it get the better of him. “That was a hell of a hit.”

Sam sprinted over, muttering a string of curses under his breath. “Sorry! I thought you’d dodge!”

Cas blinked again and shook his head. “My reactions are sluggish today.”

“You’ve needed to sleep for two days, Cas,” Dean growled. “Of course you’re sluggish.”

“And irritable,” Sam cut in.

“And irritable,” Dean agreed. “And now I can’t let you sleep, because you might have a concussion.”

Cas’s eyes drifted shut. “You will need to find a way to keep me awake.”

Dean had a few ideas, but only one of them was something he was willing to think about when Sam was around. “Open your damn eyes, Cas. Alright. Fine. We’ll go to Israel.”

Cas looked at him groggily. “Israel? Oh. Right. Yes. So you intend to keep me awake with travel plans.”

“Yes.”

Cas mumbled something that sounded like “I was hoping you had something else in mind” and went soft pink. He opened his eyes and started taking a bit more of his own weight. Dean let him, releasing the front of his shirt and pulling Cas’s arm over his shoulders.

“I’m gonna need you to help me pack this place up while Sammy goes and picks up our new passports. You better be fucking grateful, Cas.”

Sam scampered for the bunker to get Baby’s keys. A few minutes later, Dean heard the engine start up. Cas was just staring at him, bright blue eyes slightly glazed over, and if the angel hadn’t been concussed it might have been too damned hot for Dean to resist, but as it was…

“How hard did my brother kick you?” he wondered, not intending to speak the words aloud. They slipped out anyway.

“You saw,” Cas mumbled. “Hard enough.”

---

Keeping Cas awake turned out to be impossible. At least he woke up easily enough when Dean checked on him. Every hour, on the hour. Just a light touch of the angel’s feathers was plenty. A light touch anywhere, really, but Dean found himself going for the wings every single time. He couldn’t get the feeling of those feathers between his fingers out of his head. And he wanted an excuse to touch them.

They did need a straighten… He had contained Cas’s Grace, which he thought Cas would be unimpressed about later - angels hated having demonic powers used on them - but was necessary. He could feel the Grace fighting to be let out. Cas didn’t have the focus right now to contain it himself.

Stuffing the last of the things they would take to Israel into a bag, he dumped said bag on the kitchen table and grabbed a pie from the freezer. Apple.

“Aw, fuck, Cas. You’re the best, man,” he said, as if the angel could hear him. He heated the pie with Hellfire and brought it and the tray through to the living area, where Cas was asleep on the couch.

The pie didn’t last very long. Once it was gone, Dean knelt on the floor in front of the couch and reached for one of Cas’s wings.

A few glossy black feathers came out as he ran his fingers through. He put them aside, smiling when Cas rolled over so he could access both wings more easily.

By the time he was finished with Cas’s right wing, the angel was shivering and whimpering with every touch, very much awake. Each sound he made went right to Dean’s dick. He reached for the left only for it to smack him in the face.

“Stop.”

But why? Cas was obviously… very much enjoying this. Easily as much as Dean was, if not more. He reached for it again. Cas smacked him with it a second time.

“I said, stop.”

The angel sat up and started straightening the feathers himself. Dean watched with one eyebrow raised and picked up one of the feathers that had come out, examining it closely. It wasn’t a flight feather, but it was the biggest feather Dean had ever handled that wasn’t attached to a wing. A foot long, three inches across, its oil-slick shine so intense that if not for the rainbow of colors Dean thought he would be able to see his face in it… and so absolutely representative of Castiel’s beauty.

He recalled his own first sight of Cas’s wings like it was yesterday. Unlike Sam, he hadn’t just stood there with his mouth hanging open like an idiot. He’d stepped forward to touch one of them with his fingertips. It had shivered at the touch, feathers rustling softly.

Cas had an impressive wingspan. Fully extended, they were just over eighteen feet from shoulder joint to feather-tip each, and with the eight-ish inch gap between them, that made his total wingspan nearly thirty-seven feet. Dean wasn’t actually sure how they managed to fold up tight enough to fit under the angel’s trenchcoat. The flight feathers did manage to almost trail across the ground anyway, but the bulk of the wings were easily covered. He’d have assumed it had something to do with Grace if not for the fact that Cas barely had any of that left.

There was a loud rustle of feathers. Dean looked up and laughed. Cas looked funny with one wing so perfect, not a feather out of place, and the other straight but obviously a rushed job.

“Come on, let me get the ones you can’t reach,” Dean pleaded.

Cas shook his head, but said nothing. That was unusual for the angel but not entirely unheard-of.

Dean just shrugged and stood up, picking up the other fallen feathers in the process. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but they were kind of beautiful. It seemed a shame to let them just… go to waste. “Alright. We’re all packed. Sam should be back soon. You feeling better? Less dazed?”

“I am no longer sleepy,” Cas said. His eyes were much more with-it but there was definitely a dazed look about him all the same. And that breathlessness to his voice. Fuck, that was hot. The angel’s eyes snapped to the empty pie tray on the coffee table. “Did you eat already?”

“Well, yeah,” Dean admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was hungry.”

“Hm.” Cas stretched and then pulled his shirt down to cover that gorgeous strip of flesh Dean hadn’t had the heart to hide for him. “I am hungry now.”

Well… that was concerning, but hardly surprising. Cas had never expressed a desire to eat before. Dean had assumed angels didn’t need to eat and they used Grace or something to keep their Vessels fed. Now Cas’s Vessel needed nutrients because Cas didn’t have the Grace left to keep the rebuilt Jimmy Novak going. “I’ll heat up a pie for you.”

“No, that will take too-”

“Seconds. It’ll take two seconds, Cas.” Dean strode into the kitchen, got another pie out of the freezer, burned the box off it, and presented it to Cas on a plate because the heat would probably burn the poor guy’s hands. Angels could handle heat, but Cas was barely that anymore. All it would take was one tiny miscalculation and the angel would become human.

Cas stared at him, half in disgust and half in awe. Dean knew full well that he didn’t approve of trivializing powers like Hellfire.

“What?”

“I… thank you.”