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Dean knows it right away. He feels it, hears it – the bone fracturing, just above his elbow, as they’re taking care of a nest outside of Lawrence. A cry of pain escapes his lips as Cas fends off the last of the ghouls, and then Cas is there at his side in an instant.
The pain is excruciating, and Dean tries to tell Cas not to squander the remnants of his Grace on him, but the protest dies in his throat. There's a familiar warmth as Cas’ Grace envelops his injury, wrapping around the broken bone like a warm blanket. However, the pain remains.
Fuck. It’s a moment they’ve dreaded for so long – Cas simply doesn’t have enough of his Grace left to heal Dean. Not for an injury this severe. “It's fine,” Dean grits out through clenched teeth, but Cas’ panicked expression tells him that it’s anything but fine.
Even through the pain, Dean knows that this is Cas’ worst nightmare come to life. Since his return from the Empty, stripped of his angelic powers, Cas has been coping remarkably well. However, there has always been that lurking fear, the dread of being unable to mend the wounds of those he cares for most. Cas’ hand reaches for Dean’s injured arm, and he clutches it gently, the worry etched across his face. “This won’t heal on its own,” he murmurs.
Cas is clearly not handling any of this in stride, and it’s this very reason that prompts Dean to suggest the unthinkable - heading to the nearest hospital.
“But... What about the rule?” Cas asks, referring to Dean’s strict “No Hospitals Under Any Circumstances” rule, a steadfast principle they’ve adhered to for years. Yet, Dean is in too much agony at this moment to deny the necessity of medical care. He’s no longer in his twenties, and the pain has him reeling, his head spinning as he struggles to remain conscious.
“Screw the rule, man,” Dean grumbles, his desire for relief overriding years of stubbornness. His words seem to jolt Cas into action.
Cas allows Dean to lean heavily on him as they make their way back to the Impala. Even as a human, Cas exhibits a strength that’s almost supernatural. The dude doesn’t even break a sweat as he bears the brunt of Dean’s weight and helps him into the backseat.
As they speed towards the hospital, Dean’s recollection becomes hazy. He drifts in and out of consciousness, only vaguely aware of Cas’ voice, urging him to stay awake from the driver’s seat. Dean thinks he might have muttered something about Cas keeping his eyes on the road, but beyond that, his awareness is sporadic, teetering on the precipice of unconsciousness.
--
When Dean awakens, he finds himself in a hospital bed, and the first thing that registers is the reduction of the searing pain in his arm to a more manageable, dull ache. He notices that his arm has been splinted and is secured in a sling. The second thing that catches his eye is Cas, dozing in an armchair a few feet away from the bed. Dean shifts slightly, already growing annoyed with the tubes and wires connected to him that seem to tangle with every move. He hates hospitals.
Cas stirs awake at the sound of Dean fidgeting and is by his side in an instant. “Dean,” he says, his voice filled with relief and concern, as he reaches out to steady Dean, placing a gentle hand on his good shoulder.
“So what’s the verdict? Am I gonna make it?” Dean quips with a lopsided grin. But underneath the jest, there’s a knot of apprehension. He already knows what Cas is likely to say; fractures like these don’t typically heal on their own, and he’s bracing himself for the inevitable.
“You came out of surgery twenty minutes ago,” Cas discloses, surprising Dean. Well, that explains why he feels so fucking groggy. And why the pain in his arm is actually tolerable at the moment. “There was bleeding around the break, and they didn’t want to wait. The doctor was available, so…” Cas rambles, his words reflecting his anxiety of the past few hours. “Charlie was able to send over power of attorney papers so I could consent for your care,” he adds, his voice filled with both relief and the weight of the responsibility that fell on him in Dean’s absence.
Dean’s head continues to spin as he processes this information. Not remembering the surgery is strange, to say the least, but at least the worst part seems to be behind him. “Was I awake at all?”
“In and out,” Cas replies. “You were in a lot of pain and clearly unaware of what was happening.”
“Probably for the best,” Dean mutters. “So when can I check out of this joint?”
Cas offers a hint of a smile. “The doctor wants to see you once, and then the nurse said they can start preparing the discharge papers right after.”
“Cool,” Dean replies, just grateful that he won’t be confined to this uncomfortable bed overnight.
“Dean, I'm sorry,” Cas says suddenly, and Dean can feel the weight of Cas’ remorse. “I tried to fix it myself, but my Grace…”
Anger simmers within Dean, and he wastes no time cutting Cas off. “Nope. None of that, Cas,” Dean insists, his tone firm. “I’m serious. We’re not doing that, man. I’m fine, okay? It’s just a broken bone.”
Cas’ voice grows quieter as he adds, “It could have been much worse.”
And while Dean knows that’s true, he’s really not in the mood for another round of self-blame and apologies.
“Cas,” Dean warns. Pleads, even. He can’t do this right now. Maybe not ever, but especially not right now.
Cas hesitates, then nods, seeming to understand it’s in everyone’s best interest to drop this for now. So instead, he leans in and plants the gentlest of kisses to the corner of Dean’s mouth. Dean stills, then readjusts the angle to kiss Cas fully on the lips. This thing between them, still relatively new and uncharted, sends the heart rate monitor into a temporary frenzy behind them.
Cas pulls back, his brow furrowing momentarily, but then realization washes over his features at the machine’s erratic response. A faint smirk graces his lips, and Dean feels a blush creeping up his own cheeks. “What?” Dean asks, his tone more defensive than curious.
Cas just chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Nothing, Dean,” he replies.
--
Discharged from the hospital as promised, Dean’s mood fluctuates between relief and frustration as he and Cas set off on the four-hour drive back to the bunker. He grumbles and complains about being stuck in the passenger seat more times than he can count, lamenting the loss of his driving privileges. Cas, well-versed in Dean’s shitty moods, simply rolls his eyes and concentrates on the road.
To appease Dean’s irritation, Cas surrenders control of the stereo, letting Dean listen to whatever he wants just to silence his constant griping. Dean always forgets how mind-numbing it can be to ride shotgun, unable to feel the hum of Baby’s engine through his fingertips.
But as Dean sits there, grumbling and fidgeting with his sling, he finds solace in watching Cas’ hands on the wheel, fingers curled firmly, guiding the car with strength and precision. It’s a small comfort amidst this horribly inconvenient turn of events, the steady presence of the one person who’s been by his side through thick and thin.
Still, Dean’s irritation only grows as the hours pass, and the discomfort and stiffness in his arm becomes nearly unbearable. He drifts in and out of sleep, feeling restless and achy. The impromptu naps do little to improve his mood, and by the time they pull into a gas station, Dean is downright cranky.
Cas, ever perceptive, hands Dean a couple of painkillers. It dawns on Dean that the previous dose must be wearing off, explaining his increasing irritability and urge to whine. He washes the pills down with a swig of lukewarm water from a plastic bottle and nods his thanks to Cas.
“Sorry, man,” Dean mutters as they climb back into Baby. “I know I’m not the best patient.”
Cas offers Dean a warm, reassuring smile. “Dean, you’re injured and had surgery just three hours ago. I won’t hold it against you,” he promises, his eyes holding a fondness that Dean can’t make sense of. He’s been nothing but irritable and whiny during the entire drive, but you’d never know from the way Cas is looking at him.
“C’mon, let’s get home,” Dean says.
--
Dean quickly discovers that there’s a harsh truth they don’t tell you about being 42: you don’t heal up as quickly or as easily as you did when you were 22.
And it fucking sucks.
Hunting is undoubtedly off the table until his arm mends, but it’s the everyday, mundane inconveniences that really grind his gears. Taking a shower with a plastic bag over his cast, tossing and turning in bed because sleeping on his left side is a no-go, and even the intimacy he’d been sharing with Cas has taken a hit.
As in, they’re not having sex at all.
And Dean can’t help but sense that there’s more to Cas’ withdrawal than just concern about reaggravating his injury. It’s as though Cas is pulling away, and Dean feels it acutely. Cas’ absence for hours on end, followed by his timely return only when it’s time to administer Dean’s medication, has become frustratingly routine around the bunker.
“Where you always runnin’ off to?” Dean questions one day, the irritation in his voice palpable as Cas pops in to bring him his meds.
Cas freezes. “I haven’t left the bunker,” he assures Dean, though his guilty expression betrays something more.
Dean lets out a sigh, frustration mingling with a sense of vulnerability. “Alright,” he concedes, sinking back beneath the covers. He knows this will all come to a head in a matter of time, but he’s tired and hurting, and now may not be the best time for it.
Dean closes his eyes, feeling annoyed that Cas has fucked off again, but then he feels a soft touch of lips, gentle as a whisper, grazing his eyebrow. He opens his eyes and sees Cas hovering above him.
“Sleep well, Dean,” he whispers.
--
As the weeks drag on, Dean’s restlessness only grows, fueled by the incessant itching beneath his cast and the mind-numbing boredom that gnaws at him. There’s only so much to do in an underground bunker without use of an entire limb.
Cas still won’t engage in anything sexual, but he seems to have gradually moved past whatever had been bothering him in that first month after Dean got hurt. They marathon episodes of Dr. Sexy or settle in to watch classic Westerns together, wrapped in a shared blanket on the couch in the Dean Cave. More often than not, Dean finds himself dozing off on Cas’ shoulder.
After Dean is able to wean off the painkillers, his desire to be close to Cas resurfaces at full force. With his libido finally back to normal, the distance between them is a palpable void that seems impossible to bridge. Dean yearns for Cas, not just physically, but emotionally. He longs for that connection they had, back before Dean’s injury, and the desire for Cas stirs within him.
But as usual, Dean’s self-doubt creeps in, and he wonders if perhaps Cas no longer wants him. He worries that he’s grown too old and too damaged, and that maybe Cas resents him for the loss of his powers. The ache of longing is compounded by the fear of rejection, leaving Dean feeling uncertain where exactly he stands with Cas right now.
--
It feels like an absolute miracle when one night Dean musters the courage to lean in and kiss Cas in bed, and Cas doesn’t pull away. At first, there’s a moment of hesitation, but then the warmth of Cas’ lips meets his own. It’s a long-awaited and deeply appreciated closeness that Dean had missed terribly. You pine over your best friend for thirteen years, and then finally get together – only for it to be interrupted by a broken bone of all things. It’s a cruel twist of fate, sure, but right now, none of that matters.
Because Cas is finally touching him again.
Cas’ kisses are sweet and allow Dean to forget about the persistent ache in his arm for a little while. It’s not until Dean attempts to guide Cas’ hand between his thighs that the moment turns sour. Cas withdraws his hand, still kissing Dean, but it’s evident that this is as far as he’s willing to go tonight. Disappointment washes over Dean, and the longing he’s been grappling with resurfaces with renewed intensity.
Dean pulls away. “What's wrong?” he asks, making little of an effort to hide his frustration.
Cas, still a little breathless from kissing, whispers his response, “Your arm…” and then he's rolling off of Dean.
“My arm is fine,” Dean insists, his voice tinged with exasperation. “You’re not gonna hurt me, Cas, Jesus. What’s with you, man?”
“You need to heal,” Cas says firmly.
Dean’s stomach churns at the way Cas can barely meet his eyes. “Dude, come on,” Dean urges, his frustration growing. “Tell me what's actually wrong. Why won’t you…”
“Dean, can we just... not?” Cas pleads, cutting off Dean's question before it's even fully formed.
Dean freezes, realizing that his worst fears may have been true all along. His voice quivers as he finally says what's been weighing on his mind. “You don't want this.” The words tumble out of him then. “Look, Cas, I know I'm not… young anymore, and I know we tried once after I first got hurt, and I couldn't – I read that painkillers can have that effect – and listen, if I can't be what you want anymore… I need you to just say something, Cas..."
Cas finally looks at him, tears glistening in his eyes, and Dean can see the pain etched so clearly across his face. “Is that what you think? That I only want you for... what? Sex?”
Suddenly, memories of his past, of picking up men in bars and at truck stops for money, flash before Dean’s eyes. His voice is a mere whisper as he responds, “I dunno. Maybe.” It's a moment of raw honesty that hangs heavy in the air between them. He feels exposed. Dirty. “It’s all the others wanted,” he adds quietly.
Dean joins Cas, sitting up beside him, and Cas gently takes Dean’s hands into his own. "I need you to listen to me, Dean," he says with a serious tone. "That is not what is happening here. I am not like the others."
Dean nods slightly, his voice barely above a whisper as he responds, "Okay."
“And you are so much more than that to me. I need you to know that. You have to know that, Dean.”
“Then why…?”
Cas lets out a slow breath. "I... I've been struggling," he confesses, his eyes locked onto Dean's. "With being powerless. After you got hurt, I know you said not to worry about it, but I did. Deeply. And I've been researching ways to possibly restore my Grace. I feel useless without it, Dean.”
"You don't have to do this alone," Dean reassures Cas, his voice filled with sincerity.
Cas takes a deep breath, his gaze never leaving Dean's. "Truthfully, Dean," he says, "It's been hard for me to be around you. To see you injured like this. It's a reminder of what I've lost. What I couldn't heal." His admission is laced with a mixture of guilt and sadness.
"And that's why you won't have sex with me," he says, his voice tinged with understanding.
“I really am worried about hurting you,” he assures Dean. “I have remnants of my Angel strength, and I can't bear the thought of being the reason your arm doesn't properly heal. Not after I couldn’t heal it in the first place.”
"So you're still... attracted to me," Dean says, his vulnerability peeking through his words. He knows he’s just fishin’ now, but there’s a part of him that needs to hear it to know for sure.
Cas rolls his eyes affectionately, a hint of amusement in his expression, but his tone remains earnest. “Yes, Dean,” he replies. “Unbearably so, I'm afraid."
"Phew," Dean sighs, but he’s grinning at Cas like an idiot.
Cas watches him, a hint of amusement dancing in his own eyes, and comments, "The conclusions you reach about our relationship never fail to surprise me."
But something Cas said before sticks with Dean.
"And, hey. You're not useless without your powers. I mean, we can research ways to restore your Grace if that's what you want, but you shouldn’t be dealing with all that by yourself,” Dean tells him. “It's my fault you're human in the first place."
Cas's voice holds a gentle warmth as he reminds Dean, “I made my own choices, Dean.”
Dean meets his gaze and adds, "Because of your feelings. For me."
Cas smiles softly, his unbridled affection for Dean shining through. "Which I wouldn't change for anything," he promises. “And besides, I actually think I’ve changed my mind.”
Dean raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? How so?”
“I miss my powers because I can't heal my loved ones from pain anymore," he explains. "But I don't miss my immortality. I actually quite like the idea of growing old with you."
A wide grin spread across Dean’s face at that. “You old sap,” he teases.
Cas looks thoughtful as he continues. "So no, I don't plan to try and restore my Grace. But I do need you to be more careful on hunts."
Dean falls silent for a prolonged moment, contemplating how to express something that's been on his mind for a while now. "I... don't know that I want to keep hunting," he finally confesses, his voice quiet and uncertain.
Cas stills at Dean's revelation, but his reaction remains guarded. "Oh?" he presses.
Dean sighs, his shoulders slumping as he opens up further. "Getting old is a bitch," he admits with a rueful shrug. "And I'm not just talking about my arm. Everything hurts, dude. All the time. My reflexes aren't as quick as they used to be. I have to start seriously taking into consideration the fact that you can't mojo me back from the brink of death anymore.” Dean pauses momentarily. “And, uh, for the first time in a long time, I actually have something I'd like to stick around for. So. Yeah."
"Dean…" Cas responds in a way that would certainly invite teasing from Sam if he were still living at the bunker.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Dean says, rolling his eyes playfully, "I'm a sap too."
Cas draws Dean close into his chest, their bodies fitting together snugly as Cas is mindful of Dean’s injured arm. Dean breathes in the familiar scent of Cas and revels in their proximity. With their feelings and fears laid bare, he feels as if a heavy burden has been lifted, and that he’ll be able to rest easy for once tonight. Cas presses a gentle kiss to the top of Dean's head, and they doze off in each other's arms shortly thereafter.
--
Cas accompanies Dean to his doctor's appointment where he receives the news that his arm has healed perfectly and the cast can come off in just two weeks. Dean is thrilled by this revelation, and he’s in better spirits than he’s been in months as they head back to the bunker. He even lets Cas take control of the music selection during the drive and taps his foot along to the shitty pop song that blares on the radio.
Later, as Dean is changing out of his jeans into something more comfortable, he's suddenly aware of Cas's presence behind him. Cas slides his arms around Dean's waist, catching him by surprise. Sighing, Dean leans back against the solid presence that is Cas.
"If we do this," Cas says slowly, "I need you to stop me if something doesn't feel right. I still worry about hurting you."
Dean's brain finally catches up with the implication of Cas's words, and a slight shiver runs down his spine. He finds himself at a loss for words, so he nods enthusiastically to make sure Cas knows they’re on the same page.
They don’t do anything crazy, but Dean doesn’t even care. Dean lies on his back, Cas straddling his hips as he jerks him off slowly. When Cas repositions himself so that he can wrap his mouth around Dean, Dean knows right away this is going to be embarrassingly quick. He comes with a cry of Cas’ name on his lips, and Cas makes an obscene popping sound as he pulls off, a bit of come dribbling down his chin.
“Your turn,” Dean says when he finally catches his breath.
“Dean…” Cas begins reluctantly. But that’s not gonna fly tonight.
“Don’t need my arm to suck your dick,” Dean quips back.
“I… suppose that’s true,” Cas finally concedes.
Cas arranges himself at the edge of the bed, giving Dean, who sinks down to his knees on the floor, easy access to his straining dick. His knees will scream at him for this tomorrow, but right now, there are far more pressing matters to attend to.
“I’m still very attracted to you, if you were worried about that,” Cas teases.
Dean eyes Cas’ obscene erection and laughs. “Yeah, dude. Clearly.”
When Cas comes, he chants Dean’s name over and over, like a prayer. He pulls Dean up to his level to kiss him sweetly, and they make quick work of cleaning up and climbing beneath the covers.
“Hey, now that we’re retired, we can do that way more often,” Dean points out as he snuggles in close to Cas.
“Yes, Dean, I suppose we can,” Cas says, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.