Lightkeeper /Destiel//Sabriel//Michifer

So Let's Hunt

"Cas?" Dean yelled from the kitchen, "We're out of pie!"

"No," Cas corrected, shuffling sleepily into the room, "You're out of pie. I don't live here."

Dean glared at him as he shut the cupboard door. True, Cas didn't live here, but he had spent the past week at the Winchester's house. Bobby had been fine with this (not that he'd really had much choice) the only person who wasn't too pleased was Sam. Since Cas was staying in Dean's room, Benny had temporarily taken up residence in Sam's.

"Yeah, well," Dean pouted, looking for something else to say.

"We could just buy more," Cas shrugged, yawning.

Dean nodded, already smiling as he watched Cas, who was still decked in an oversized AC/DC t-shirt and yesterday's jeans. A prefect picture, made even better by the way his hair was sticking up at odd angles.

"Dean? You're staring."

"Yeah, Dean," Sam cut in, appearing out of nowhere.  "Don't be so rude."

"What do you want?" Dean sighed.

"Elsa and I are going to the bowling alley with Gabe and Alfie, just letting you know."

"Okay, fine." Dean waved a hand dismissively, "Good luck with bowling."

Sam shook his head. "We're playing pool."

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam disappeared again. "Where were we?" he smiled, turning back to Cas, who was now standing awkwardly by the counter, his hand clasped behind his back. "Cas? You okay, Angel?"

"Forgot my hoodie," he mumbled. "I left it upstairs."

It only took Dean a second to understand what he meant. "Hey," he soothed, walking over to the raven-haired boy. "It's fine."

Cas shook his head vigorously, fixing his gaze firmly on the floor.

"You're beautiful," Dean whispered, reaching out to place a hand under Cas' chin and tilting his head up ever so slightly. "Trust me."

Cas nodded silently, but Dean could feel him relax as he dropped his arms to his side.

"Can I see?" Dean asked, tentatively.

"They won't go," Cas whispered, turning his arms towards Dean. The pale skin was littered with faint scars, all in ordered lines like rungs of a ladder.

"Doesn't matter," Dean breathed, taking Cas' hands. "I don't see scars. I see you."

"Thank you."

"Still want your hoodie?"

Cas considered this for a moment. "Is it just us in the house?"

"Yeah."

"Then no."

Dean smiled softly. "You want some pancakes?" He asked suddenly, turning to grab a frying pan.

"Wait," Cas said, squeezing Dean's hands and pulling him back.

"What's u—"