Title: Angel Without A Wing
Author: martyred-wings
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: slash, Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: none.
Warnings: A hurt Castiel. ;_; angst, angel!whumping and masturbation in a helicopter, *gigglsesnort*
Word Count: 1495 words
Summary: Dean stared ahead, eyes wide, jaw clenched tight as his fingers gripped the armrests so hard, his knuckles turned white, painful, looked ready to fracture before too long

Written for a prompt by luminare_ardua which goes like this (in the key of G):

"How about Castiel and Dean, in the air (my mind is picturing them in a chopper for some reason, IDK) and Dean is scared shitless and trying NOT to show it. And one of them is hurt. :P"


Dean stared ahead, eyes wide, jaw clenched tight as his fingers gripped the armrests so hard, his knuckles turned white, painful, looked ready to fracture before too long. He blinked, blinked again slowly, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth as he tried to lick his too dry lips. Beside him, Castiel moaned, barely conscious, left wing hanging useless by his side, broken in several places, feathers missing in great clumps.

Dean's eyes travelled to Castiel's closed ones, heart suddenly clenching when he at first thought the angel was dead. In that one instant he forgot his own fear of the helicopter they were currently in, forgot his own fear of the act of flying, forgotten in a rush of fear for the angel's life.

"Don't you die on me, Cas," Dean grated out, before he exhaled sharply at the sight of Castiel slowly opening his eyes.

The once bright blue eyes looked clouded with pain, distant, as though the angel was fighting a battle deep within himself, just to stay alive. Once again, Dean's heart, his nerves clenched, fearful for Castiel's very life. He tried to keep his fear - fear for himself, fear for Castiel, from his face, tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible for the benefit of the angel.

"C'mere, Cas," he said, gruffly, lifting one hand from the armrest with some effort, holding it out at an angle for the angel to crawl under.

Castiel smiled, looked tired, eyes almost closed for a fraction of an instant, before he crawled closer to Dean, settled into Dean's warm body, his embrace, as Dean wrapped his arm tight around Castiel's shoulders.

"Now, you stay with me, Cas, you hear? I want you to stay with me, until we get to Bobby's. Bobby will fix you up, mend that big flapping wing of yours, okay? Okay, Cas?" Dean said, rubbing Castiel's shoulder gently, trying not to knock his shattered wing.

"Okay, Dean," Castiel murmured, his voice sounding as weary, as broken as he looked.

Dean closed his eyes, heart clenching at the pain trapped deep within the angel's voice, and he pressed fervent lips to Castiel's dark and messy hair. He closed his eyes, inhaled the scent of Castiel himself, before he pressed another hard kiss to Castiel's head. He felt the angel relax a little more in his arms, a sigh escaping the angel's lips as he tilted his head up towards Dean's.

His eyes looked larger than usual, sadder, more broken and Dean pressed his lips to Castiel's, tried to take the angel's pain, the angel's sadness, his fear away with that one kiss. Castiel's lips moved weakly against his, tried to kiss Dean back, until slowly, slowly, his kiss grew stronger, more fervent, more like his kisses of old before his wing was damaged, before he almost got killed.

Small mewling sounds worked their way from out of Castiel's throat, as he leant into Dean heavily, and the hunter supported his weight gladly. He moaned as he felt Castiel's hands run across his body, trembling, but still there, and he felt his body react, cock stiffen, and he groaned in sudden desire.

"Cas. Cas, we can't do this," Dean said reluctantly, after pulling away from their heated kiss.

"Why?" Castiel asked, looking emotionally hurt now rather than physical. "Don't you want me?"

"Cas. I do want you, very much, but you're hurt. I don't want to make it worse for you," Dean said, turned away so that Castiel would not see the haunted look in his eyes.

He closed his eyes, stomach lurched, fear blossoming in his chest once more as he saw the ground far below the window near him. He turned away with some effort, looked back at Castiel, still staring at him with those puppy dog eyes that Dean could never refuse.

"Please, Dean. I might not make it. I might not feel this again," he said, eyes never losing that pleading look for an instant.

Dean closed his eyes once again, a tear squeezing past from between tightly shut eyelashes, before he ground out between clenched teeth - "You're not gonna die, Cas. Not on my watch, you ain't! I don't think I'd - "

He broke off his own sentence, but it was too late. Injured though he may be, Castiel wasn't stupid.

"What, Dean? What were you gonna say?" he asked, making Dean open his eyes once more to look at him.

"I don't think I'd make it if you died," Dean ground out, pain filling his voice. "You're all I have that I can count upon."

He looked away, looked back into Castiel's waiting gaze before he said - "Oh, to hell with it, Cas. I'm saying I love you. Happy, now?"

Castiel smiled at that, eyes crinkled at the corners, looking more like his old self again in that one instant.

"So it takes me to almost die, before I can get you to admit you love me," the angel said, looking pleased with himself despite the circumstances.

"Yeah, shut up, Cas," Dean said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, looking away, cheeks flushing slowly in sudden embarrassed heat.

"And I love you, Dean," Castiel responded, looking away, down, his lips puckered in an uncertain pout.

Dean looked for a moment like he was about to tell Castiel to shut up again, but he stopped himself just in time. He stole a kiss from Castiel's willing mouth instead, took the kiss slow, too mindful of the wing hanging uselessly by Castiel's side to take it faster. He opened his mouth slightly, and the angel slipped in his tongue, kissed him desperately, hands clutching convulsively at Dean's body, breath blasting hot from his nose as his lips worked against Dean's.

The hunter lost himself in pliant, soft lips moving against his own, at the feel of Castiel's tongue plundering his mouth, at the taste of Castiel himself against him. He broke the kiss first, leant his forehead against the angel's, eyes closed, gasping for breath, Castiel's name on his lips.

He felt Castiel's hand travel down his body, slowly, carefully, and he let him, leant his head back against the headrest behind him, exhaled when he felt, heard Castiel unzip his jeans. He kept his eyes closed, groaned loudly when he felt Castiel's slightly cool fingers wrap around the heated flesh of his cock, arched his back into the angel's touch, pleaded with him to touch him, to pleasure him, to love him again.

Castiel stroked him, gently at first, before he increased the rhythm, pumping his fingers more firmly across Dean's straining erection, smearing pre-cum along his length. Dean bucked his hips into Castiel's hand, cried out for Castiel repeatedly until he came, spilling his hot release across the angel's hand, across the sleeve of his trench coat. He slumped back against the seat, sweat glistening on his forehead, mouth slack as he smiled in sated pleasure at the angel.

Castiel looked tired, worn, but he smiled still at Dean, as he leant into the hunter, pressed a kiss to Dean's lips gently.

"Thank you, Dean," he said, quietly, as he stared into Dean's eyes intently.

"I was gonna say, thank you," Dean said, with a small chuckle at the angel.

Castiel smiled at that, before he tucked Dean back into his boxers, zipped his jeans firmly closed, before he leant into Dean's side once more, eyes closed, lips parted, brow furrowed in pain. Dean wrapped his arms protectively around Castiel, careful not to knock the angel's damaged wing, cradled him against his body, stroked his arm, his face, kept him warm with his own body heat, until Castiel gently dropped off into sleep.

Dean pressed a gentle kiss to Castiel's head, before he leant his head against the angel's, eyes closed, chest matching the rhythm of Castiel's breathing almost perfectly, as he waited for the helicopter to reach its destination. He knew that Castiel was going to be alright - once they reached Bobby's, the angel would be healed, Dean was sure of it.

He breathed in the scents of everything that made up Castiel, stroked his arm gently when the angel stirred, until he settled down again without ever properly waking up. Dean blinked, blindly staring at the back of the pilot's head, who'd thankfully missed everything that had happened between Dean and Castiel. His attention was on flying, his ears blocked to any sounds behind him by a pair of over sized headphones covering his ears, and Dean was grateful for that.

He closed his eyes again, felt himself drifting into sleep, thinking idly that this must be what it felt like to truly love. He'd been scared that he would lose Castiel, was no longer scared, a little more certain that Castiel would be saved, that between Bobby, Sam and himself, Castiel would be saved. He only hoped that his certainty would prove true ....