Dean and Castiel Winchester

Chapter 8

Castiel's POV
Dean had booked us a room with two single beds. It's not that I'm not grateful that he has actually got us both a bed but you know. You, your crush, a room. It would be a whole lot easier if there was one double bed. Not for sex. No, I wanted a real relationship with Dean not just a one night stand.
The room smelt kinda funny and had a few mystery stains on the carpeted floor. I'm not entirely too sure what the color of the carpet was supposed to be but now it was a mixture between grey and brown. But the beds were decent enough. The bathroom was decent. The room was generally decent. There were no hairs from the previous owners in the shower and the whole bathroom looked as if had been dipped in bleach, it smelt that way as well. The taps didn't drip, the walls and ceiling had no damp. It was decent.
I had just walked back into the room from the car, I had gone to get my rucksack and my pillow. I know, I know , stupid idea; now the only person you care what you look like in front of them is gonna think your a wimp. But honestly if Dean isn't a dick like Crowley he'll say nothing.
Dean was laid on his bed. Dean was laid on his bed topless. The rim of his boxers slightly peeking over his black skinny jeans. Facing the ceiling, one ear phone in, the other laid next to him. I could hear the music blasting out though. As I moved closer I realized he was asleep. He was cute when he slept. He was laid on his back. One arm by his side, the other propped behind his head. One leg straight, the other slightly bent at the knee. His muscular torso rising and falling. On the left side of his chest he had a tattoo. It was star like thing surrounded by ...flames? It was in bold black. Everything about him was muscular. Toned to perfection. He looked like an angel; well a fallen angel. No, he didn't look like an angel. He looked better than an angel. His mucky blonde hair spiked up in a devilish way. The small smirk he had on his face. Everything was perfect about him. He looked like a picture. He looked like a picture and it was a picture I was going to sketch. My bag was on the table. The A4 sketch book was roughly at the bottom. The pencils, rubber, sharpener and paints; they were in the side pocket.
I swear, Dean was meant to be drawn, the way the light hit his torso, his proportion, his jawline, his eyelashes, his torso, his lips, his hands, his arms, his lips, his neck, his chest, his torso, his jawline. His lips. The pencil flowed over the page. The outline of Deans features were done. The details were next. The way the light hit Deans left arms was the trickiest, it was in a awkward position and then because Dean was laying on that arm ... He made it a nightmare. But Dean was worth it. I liked to draw Dean. He was nice to draw.

Dean's POV

Fists were swinging at me. Sammy was in the opposite corner. Shivering and cowering. His long hair getting matted with blood from his nose and from his head. He was whimpering. Trying to stop calm. I didn't care about the swings catching my jaw and stomach. I cared about Sammy. He finally got his head out of his lap. He looked up at me and started whimpering even more."Dean. Please help me." Tears were streaming down his face, his lips chapped and bust and bloody. His cheek starting to form discolorations of blue/purple/yellow. His eyes doing the same. I wanted to get up and help him, to protect him. But I couldn't move. I'm screaming, trying to throw myself towards Sam. "Sammy!"
My palms were clammy, my chest and abs gleamed slightly from the thin layer of sweat coating my body. A head phone caught around my arm the other only slightly in my ear, playing Led Zeppelin (of course). I untangled my arm and stopped the music. That night terror was too much. I hadn't had one of those in ... Well I've never had one that bad. Sammy's screams still rang in my head. His whimpering and crying was practically burned into my ears. I couldn't stand it much longer. I wanted to scream to throw things until all of my frustration and anger was out. I knew Sammy was safe at Cas' house but still... I wasn't with my little brother.
I took a shaky breath. Just focus on Castiel. My mind wandered to him. Everything about him, even him mumbling Slipknot in his sleep. His lips. His lips against yours. His hair in your hands. His arms around you. His hands tracing your torso. Unfortunately my thoughts were disturbed, fortunately it was by Cas mumbling more lyrics.
His cheeks were bright red. He was still wearing his black hoodie; and he was in the most awkward position ever. He had a sketch book in his lap and pencil were around him, strewn all over. He was mumbling lyrics, this time to .... I actually think it was 'Sleep' by MCR. Quite ironic actually. He was mumbling the lyrics to Sleep while being asleep.
I know I shouldn't have but I couldn't help. I quietly trudged over to his bed. He really did look like an angel. A flustered angel. But an angel.
I moved all his pencils and sketching things into the round table near the door. I sat down next to him on his bed. I had he sketch book in my hands. He had drawn me. He had drawn me sleeping. Cas was incredible at sketching. He'd even got my tattoo spot on. It was amazing how real the sketch actually looked. He had a real talent.
He also had a real temperature. Shit did he have a real temperature.
I was used to getting people out of their clothes while they were asleep. And oh crap how that makes me sound like a creep. Right I used to make sure Sammy wasn't over heating. And well, Sammy was always falling to sleep with about 150 layers on. Bless him.
Anyway back to Castiel. Unfortunately he was quite a light sleeper so he kept stirring while I was taking his hoodie off. Under his hoodie he wore a plain white shirt, like the ones he wears for college. He wasn't wearing his blue tie though. Just his shirt. It was 3/4 length and rolled up to his elbows. He stirred a little and moved so he was now on his side instead of his back. His face unbelievably close to my thigh. He looked so peaceful, happy.
His arms were red raw. Covered in scars and cuts. Some close to being gone and some only just stopped bleeding. They showed the exact opposite of the expression on his face. They showed so much pain and they let me see my angel from a new perspective. My angel was broken.
I couldn't breathe. My head was spinning. I felt sick. My stomach had dropped. Everything physically hurt. My eyes welled up. My eyes stinging from the tears threatening to spill. His arms were such an important part of him. Especially since he drew; and he was slicing them open to cope. They were horrible. It looked like something out of a horror movie. Only the inside of his arms though. It looked like two different arms on one person. The topside perfectly intact not a mark on them. The underside ....
I couldn't do it. My legs somehow managed to carry me to the bathroom and well I lost my tea. All the time one question was screaming in my head.
How could I let my angel become this broken?

Once again sorry for the dark side of the story. Heads up, your gonna have to wait for the cliffhanger to be solved. The next couple of chapters is actually going to be Sabriel. Although I've got something good lined up when we get back to Destiel. Sorry this chapter took so long to write I promise I'll start having like set times when the next chapter has got to be by. I'll try every Sunday but I can't promise anything. Thank you for being loyal! And HOLY SHIT!!! Over 100 views!! Thank you!!

~Smudge xx