Smoke

Pulling back, Dean met Cas’ eyes. The glow was gone, and now the usual deep blue of Cas’ none-Graced up eyes met Dean. He hadn’t realised how sacred he’d been he’d never see that again.

“Hey,” he said, and let himself stroke Cas’ hair back from his forehead.

Behind him, he heard a sound as though someone was cutting themselves off from speaking. Probably Sam. Well, screw it. Watching Cas bleed out in front of him, and knowing the guy was praying to save Dean, had been too much.

“You kissed me,” Cas said, because he was Cas.

Dean felt his lips curve into a smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did. I did kiss you.”

And he’d become a babbling dick, just like that.

“Do you two want us to give you the room? Personally, I’d go for a bed, but if you’re set on having celebration sex on the library table, that’s your call,” Bela said.

“Bela!” Sam said. He sounded at least as amused as he was angry, though.

“What?” Dean said. “No. No, we’re not going to have sex on the table.”

Which did slightly imply they’d be having sex somewhere else, but he pretended not to realize that. Cas probably wouldn’t be feeling up to going that far yet, anyway.

Holy crap, he was thinking about having sex with Cas.

Standing up and taking a step back from the table, Dean looked up at Hannah.

“It worked?” he asked. “Cas is gonna be okay now?”

“Hannah?” Cas asked. “How are you…? You’re alive.”

She had a soft smile on her face and, Dean noticed, Bela’s hand in hers. Looking down at Cas, and apparently not finding anything odd about speaking to him while he was still flat on his back, she addressed the other angel.

“I am. We can discuss it later. How does it feel, Castiel?”

“Almost whole,” he said, sounding thoughtful, and apparently fine with leaving finding out how Hannah was back for later. Then again, if anyone could roll with not knowing how a resurrection happened, it’d be Cas. “There’s something…strange about it, but I feel much better.”

As thought he’d been suffering from a cold or a hang-over, and hadn’t almost been dead. Then again, given what Dean had learned about Heaven and it’s methods over the years, maybe this didn’t seem so much worse than a dressing down.

“We’ll need to keep an eye on it,” Hannah said.

“If you’re good for now, let’s get you up,” Dean said, before Bela, who had more of a smirk than a smile going on, could make another comment, maybe about Dean joining Cas on the table. There was every chance with Bela that she’d really try to freak Dean out by suggesting they all watch and award marks. “See if you have your sea legs.”

“We’re not at sea,” Cas said.

Dean was nearly certain that was a Cas version of a joke. Almost certain.

He took hold of Cas’ hand again and hauled the guy up, part of him worried that Cas still didn’t have the strength to manage it himself. Cas let him do it, a fond look in his eyes. Had that been there all the time? Or was Dean just noticing it now he’d kissed Cas?

Once on his feet, Cas swayed slightly as Dean patted at his shoulders.

“You good? Not needing to fall over?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas said. “And you? How are you?”

He peered at Dean as though he could tell how Dean was just by looking. The times Cas had insisted on poking and prodding at Dean suggested he couldn’t, but maybe that had just been Cas overreacting to Dean being unwell. Dean wasn’t keen on letting go of Cas’ shoulders right now, even though Cas seemed steady enough on his feet.

“Me? Don’t worry about me. I’m not the one who nearly died.”

Cas looked surprised. Dean wanted to believe Cas had somehow not really known how close he was to death, but Cas had told Dean it was too late. He couldn’t have meant anything else. Which meant Cas’ surprise was for Dean being worried about him.

There were times Dean wished he was as dumb as he sometimes pretended to be.

“Seriously, Cas, I’m fine. If it makes you better, heal me all up.”

He didn’t need Bela’s snicker to know how dodgy that sounded. Cas’ look of gratitude was enough that he just didn’t care.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam said. “Why don’t you take Cas off to get some clean clothes. We’ll straighten up in here.”

The mention of clothes had Dean glancing down at Cas’ shirt. Or where his shirt should be. The demons had left it ragged with cuts, the main one across Cas’ stomach tearing across the fabric, and Sam had pulled the buttons off in his haste to get to stitching Cas’ wound. Dean had no idea where the angel’s jacket, coat and tie had got to. They hadn’t been on Cas when Dean had been dragged in and chained.

Now that he looked, Cas’ Grace must have healed up that wound, because Cas’ stomach was whole and flat and toned.

“Er, yeah. Good idea.”