The Wonder of Devotion

Title: The Wonder of Devotion
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warning/Spoilers: Post 5×19, “The Hammer of the Gods”
Word Count: 1170
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dean didn’t fail. Castiel discovers a new way to reward him.
Notes: For , because pretty men making out in the rain is very, very pretty.

“I’ll be right back,” Dean tells Sam, and ignores the worried look Sam gives him before the hotel room door shuts. It’s raining again — it seems to Dean it’s always raining lately, like the world has to end soaked and dark and shivering.

Despite the damp and chill, Dean steps out of the room and faces the parking lot, the wall of the hotel to his back. He presses Castiel’s speed dial button. He hasn’t gotten a response to any of the messages he’s left since they lost Cas and Adam, but he can’t stop trying, even if all he can do is leave another message.

He leans against the wall of the hotel and says, after Castiel’s confused recorded greeting, “Cas, it’s me, again. I know it’s stupid of me but I keep hoping on one of these calls you’ll pick up the phone and say hey, and, honestly, man? Honestly? That would make me happier than … just about anything.”

He scuffs his boot against the concrete step and says, “Okay. That’s me. And fucking pick up the phone already, would you?” He clicks off the phone and tucks it away, and stands for a moment just watching the rain hit the cars. It’s a dark night and the parking lot is poorly lit, just the neon sign by the highway and a couple lampposts out in the lot itself, half of which have burned out or busted bulbs. The others make the rain look real pretty, though, make the drops look like bits of silver.

It’s so dark that when lightning flashes, it leaves afterimages on Dean’s retinas and he covers his eyes a moment to blink away the colors.

When he takes his hand away there’s a man leaning on the Impala. His head is bowed and his arms are on the roof as if he stopped to catch his breath and can’t summon up the strength to move further.

Dean starts toward him, to tell him to get off his damn car if nothing else, and then lightning flashes again and Dean realizes he knows that coat and that neck and those shoulders, and he whispers, “Cas,” and splashes across the parking lot. “Cas,” he says again when he reaches him, and Castiel lifts his head. Dean pulls him away from the car and holds him by his shoulders, and he says, “Cas,” again, so happy and relieved he doesn’t know what else to say.

“You,” Castiel says as he meets Dean’s eyes, “are very hard to find.”

“You did that, remember?” Dean chokes out, almost laughing. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” He steps back to inspect him, still holding Castiel. Castiel is soaked through, as if he’s been walking in the rain for hours, and his tie is loose and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone, and Dean can see the still-red and angry wounds on Castiel’s chest through the wet white shirt. “Did they hurt you – worse?”

“I am well enough,” Castiel says. Raindrops cling to his eyelashes and roll down his cheekbones, and one slides over the corner of his mouth. His tongue darts out to taste it.

“Yeah, you look good,” Dean whispers. He wipes some rain from Castiel’s face even though it’s futile against the storm. He knows he should get Castiel into the room and some dry clothes, but he can’t bring himself to suggest it just yet. Going inside means sharing him, means planning and talking and picking up the fight again, and Dean – he just doesn’t want to. Just for a few minutes more, he wants Castiel to himself. He says, “I mean, it’s good to see you.”

Castiel smiles a tiny bit, the corner of his mouth tugging up a moment as if he doesn’t quite know what to do. He says, “It’s good to see you, too,” and steps closer to Dean, his hands in the pockets of his raincoat and his skin goospimpling from the cold. They stand for a moment, toe to toe and foreheads almost touching, and Dean can feel him breathe.

“Cas,” Dean says, and apparently that’s some kind of signal because Castiel grasps Dean’s coat and pulls him that last inch or so, and there’s Castiel’s mouth on Dean’s, lips soft and cool and uncertain.

Castiel steps back almost at once, blinking in astonishment, and when he starts to speak Dean says, “No, like this,” and kisses him back, harder and with a questioning flick of his tongue. The answer is yes – Castiel’s lips part and his tongue meets Dean’s, and his mouth tastes like the rain.

Castiel’s fingers flex and clutch at Dean’s coat, and Dean whispers, “It’s okay, you can touch me more, it’s okay,” and Castiel’s hands move, hesitantly, to slide into Dean’s hair. He’s careful, he’s so careful, like he’s afraid he could break Dean, so Dean mutters between kisses, “It’s okay, Cas, anything you want, don’t be scared.”

Castiel grunts and turns him, presses Dean against the Impala, and kisses Dean even more urgently. His hair is wet when Dean touches his head, but despite the rain Castiel’s skin is starting to feel warm, and he’s not shivering. He’s not shaking at all. He’s just kissing Dean , small kisses that are gentle and careful, longer, deeper kisses that taste like water when Dean sucks on his tongue, soft kisses that land on the corners of Dean’s mouth and the tip of his nose, nipping kisses along Dean’s jaw.

Dean kisses him back, licking up raindrops from his cheeks, kissing them off Castiel’s eyelashes, tasting and learning his mouth and the angles of his face. He breathes in Castiel’s breath and that makes Castiel startle, and then he smiles and leans in and sucks the air from Dean’s lungs in return. They grin at each other and kiss again, a series of pecks that grow progressively longer until they barely part, until each kiss blends into the next.

Castiel began it, and he ends it as well, gently nuzzling his lips against Dean’s face and then tucking his head against Dean’s neck. Dean keeps his arms around him, even though he’s the one who’s shivering. Castiel is solid as ever, strong as ever, warm again. His hands are still in Dean’s hair, and he strokes his hands through Dean’s hair a few times before he speaks.

“Dean,” Castiel whispers, and Dean mutters, “Yeah,” and starts fumbling for the door handle to the Impala. They can’t stay in the parking lot, of course, but there are always deserted roads in towns like this that are as good as private.

He’s positive Castiel wants more, wants him. You don’t kiss someone like that without some kind of desire behind it.

“Dean,” Castiel says again, more firmly, and gently tilts up Dean’s face so that their eyes meet. Castiel says softly, “You didn’t fail,” and there’s that little bit of a smile again.

“Yeah,” Dean says, “I didn’t,” and he kisses Castiel again.


These are the seasons of emotion and like the winds they rise and fall
This is the wonder of devotion – I see the torch we all must hold.
This is the mystery of the quotient – Upon us all a little rain must fall

– “The Rain Song”, Led Zeppelin

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