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Demons weren’t a problem as much as the croats when the world ended, but they still reared their ugly heads every so often. It had been a shock, all the same, the first time one tried to possess Castiel. Since he was already possessing Jimmy, no one thought it would be possible for a demon to get in there, too. Luckily, an exorcism spell later and Cas was safe. Even still, Dean deemed it necessary for him to get the demon banishing tattoo that very night. One of the guys who joined their camp used to be a tattoo artist and in down time, he taught Dean how to do it, as a hobby as much as anything else. Cas insisted that Dean be the one to tattoo the symbol.
They sat in Dean’s cabin, with Cas leaning back in an armchair that had been left behind and Dean on a stool beside him. Dean wore an expression of concentration as he leaned over Cas’s bare chest, the tattoo gun held in a steady hand. It didn’t hurt, Cas was surprised to find. Falling had changed his perception of the world in ways the former angel never expected. Everything was realer and yet hazy at the same time.
He could not see on all the levels he knew as an angel, but he could physically feel more and more with each passing day as his grace left him. The vibrating pierce of the tattoo gun was real. Very real. In a way, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the firm press of Dean’s hand as he steadied himself. He liked the pain. Not in a masochistic way, but in a way that made him feel alive. It reminded him that even though he had no more grace, though he was not an angel, he was still here.
Dean straightened and wiped away the excess ink from Cas’s chest. His eyes flitted over his work, then up to Castiel’s face, “You doin’ okay?”
“Yes,” Cas nodded. “It’s an odd feeling.”
“Yeah, not so bad, huh?” His voice was nonchalant, but the expression in his eyes told Castiel a different story. The deep concern in his gaze betrayed his true feelings.
“No, it’s odd. Irritating more than painful.”
“Right?” Dean smiled and the worry left his eyes. “It’s lookin’ pretty good so far.”
Cas tipped his head down and looked at the ink staining his chest, “Yes. It is.”
“On we go,” Dean said, smiling more confidently before leaning in again. He was a little bit closer than before, bringing the needle back to Cas’s chest. As Dean’s eyes narrowed and he focused on his work, Cas turned his attention to Dean’s face.
While Dean always looked older than his years, an effect brought on by the hard life he had lived, these past couple years since the apocalypse had aged him more than any years as a hunter had. The lines on his face were deeper, the hard line of his jaw more serious. And yet, Castiel had never found him more attractive. It might have been new human qualities, the desire to be nearer to another being, or to find a different kind of beauty in them, but whatever it was, Cas first felt it for Dean.
The weight and warmth of Dean’s hand, the care with which he colored in the lines of the demon banishing tattoo, the concern for Castiel’s comfort, all had a curious effect on him. The simultaneous sting of the tattoo kept him grounded to this world. Somehow that pain made the pleasure of Dean’s closeness and his tenderness more meaningful.
When the tattoo was finally complete, Dean set the machine aside and wiped away the last of the ink and blood from his chest. Cas’s skin was an angry red, irritated from constant assault of the needle and pin pricks of blood dotted the edges of the fresh tattoo. Dean inspected his work and gave a nod, lips pursed.
“I think that will do you,” Dean said, wiping at it once more. “Should probably cover it up so it doesn’t get infected or something. Assuming you can get infections.”
“I’m not certain,” Castiel hummed in thought, then realized he just wanted Dean to keep touching him. “Just to be safe, maybe you should.”
Without a word, Dean nodded and stood. He retrieved bandages from the first aid kit he kept in his cabin. Then Dean’s hands were on his chest again, spreading the clean gauze across the tattoo, pressing the medical tape around the edges. It was when he finished, though, and slowly slid his hands down Cas’s chest before pulling away, that made the fallen angel respond.
Cas lifted a hand and captured Dean’s, bringing it back to his chest. He made Dean’s finger press to the bare skin at the center of his chest. When Cas lifted his eyes to Dean’s face, he noticed the hunter’s gaze was glued to their hands, his mouth slightly agape. Then Cas followed an urge he hadn’t felt for many years, this time driven by an emotion rather than experimentation. He sat up, curled his fingers around Dean’s hand to keep him near, and pressed his lips to Dean’s.
The reaction wasn’t what Castiel was expecting; not entirely. Dean’ froze, his hand stiffened and his eyes went wide. It didn’t deter Castiel, though, instead the angel pressed his lips harder to the hunter’s, head tilting to the side, mouth working against mouth until Dean recovered from his shock. When the moment of surprise passed, the response was immediate. Dean pushed Cas back against the chair and followed his lips, kissing the angel hard.
Dean’s passion could be compared to a man dying of thirst, greedy with want of something too long denied. He lifted a knee to the armchair, bringing his body closer to Castiel’s, nearly sitting in his lap. The kiss was rough and heated, their lips being crushed by teeth, their hands grasping at whatever could be held. Dean’s hand was in Cas’s hair, holding him in place as he kissed him desperately.
They were both breathless when the kiss broke as abruptly as it began. Mouths open and panting, eyes focused on each other’s lips, they both took a moment to contemplate what just happened. Castiel looked up first and watched as Dean’s eyes slowly raised, filled with awe. He swallowed visibly as green eyes met Cas’s blues.
“The hell was that...?” Dean asked with no venom in his voice, only hopeful confusion.
“Instinct,” Castiel said when no other words seemed accurate.
It must have been the correct response, though, because it made Dean laugh, a warm and amused sound, and brought a smile to his lips. “If that was your instinct, you should think about following it more often.”
“I think I can manage that,” Cas said, a smile touching his own lips now.
“Where did that even come from?” Dean asked, not even sure he wanted to know the answer.
“Not from the pizza man, I can assure you.”
And Dean laughed again. The occasions Dean laughed were few and far between these days and Castiel was certain that if this was the way to get Dean to smile more often, he would certainly employ the tactic again. It certainly helped that kissing Dean was something Castiel would eagerly do again. And again and again and again.
So that’s just what he did now. Sitting up just a little, Castiel set both hands to either side of Dean’s neck, leaned in and pressed their lips together once more. They kissed long and lazy this time, feeling each other out, testing the waters. Castiel decidedly liked what he found there in that kiss, in Dean’s smile, in his mouth.
He also decidedly liked tattoos and the way they made him feel alive. After this one healed, he would have Dean give him another, then another and another.