[ For all of his bravado and bluster, the simmering rage under the surface and the ease in which he can plug someone infected with Croatoan without hesitation, Dean is soft, fragile - delicate in a way that's hidden under a carefully constructed macho persona, unwilling to let the gentleness in his heart free for fear of being hurt.
No one likes being hurt, and yet he and Cas have destroyed each other more times than they can count. Words like sharp steel, sex as a weapon. It's been an unhealthy tango for ages, a battle that couldn't be won, not when each party was foolishly reacting to the others bad decisions. He tugs at the hem of the angels shirt in kind, shoving it up his sides, encouraging him to lift his arms, get it off, because Dean wants to see and touch and scrape his teeth over the planes and valleys of Cas' body. ]
Here, though, in the backseat of the Impala, fresh and smelling of oiled leather and the whiskey on his lips, it feels like a new start. Dean's shirt is easily removed, shoved down on the floorboards of the car and immediately forgotten. All that there is to worry about now are Cas' plush lips, the fingers tracing over Dean's jaw and cheeks.
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No one likes being hurt, and yet he and Cas have destroyed each other more times than they can count. Words like sharp steel, sex as a weapon. It's been an unhealthy tango for ages, a battle that couldn't be won, not when each party was foolishly reacting to the others bad decisions. He tugs at the hem of the angels shirt in kind, shoving it up his sides, encouraging him to lift his arms, get it off, because Dean wants to see and touch and scrape his teeth over the planes and valleys of Cas' body. ]
Here, though, in the backseat of the Impala, fresh and smelling of oiled leather and the whiskey on his lips, it feels like a new start. Dean's shirt is easily removed, shoved down on the floorboards of the car and immediately forgotten. All that there is to worry about now are Cas' plush lips, the fingers tracing over Dean's jaw and cheeks.