Destiel Fluff One-Shots

Remember?

"Stay still. I can't do this unless you stay still." Cas commanded Dean. He was beginning to be frustrated by the man who wouldn't stop pulling his arm away. He had been shot in his arm when a new hunter screwed up. Tweezers were inside Dean's arm, prying at the bullet. "Almost done."

Cas soaked a rag in alcohol and rubbed it over the wound. The belt in Dean's mouth didn't help enough with the pain. Next, a clean rag was tied around his arm. The belt fell from his teeth. Deep teeth marks showed clearly on the black leather. "Are you okay, baby?" Cas asked sweetly.

Dean could do nothing but nod. He poured himself a glass of scotch, downed it, and filled another.

"Are you sure?" Dean swallowed his fourth glass. "Dean, what do you need?"

Gravelly, Dean replied. "I'm fine."

Cas could tell he was lying. "Dean, do you remember our first date?" Dean just looked at him, seemingly bored. "Do you remember how you opened that motel door to me?"

Dean waited anxiously. He tapped his foot in anticipation. He couldn't have been gladder that Sam was out for the night. Finally, a knock came from the motel room door. As he opened the door, Dean's breath caught in his throat.

Cas wore a tight, button-up shirt. His black pants were equally tight. His blue tie swung to the side, semi-hidden by his black suit jacket and trench coat. Dean never thought a trench coat could be so attractive.

Dean felt unbelievably underdressed in his black T-shirt and plaid. His jeans were even slightly ripped. It was his normal attire, but he felt he should've dressed up more.

Cas looked pale and nervous. Dean could tell he didn't want to go out in public as they had planned.

"Hey, trench coat, ready to go?" Cas gulped and nodded. Dean felt suddenly bad for him. He wasn't used to dating at all.

Instead of forcing Cas, Dean asked. "Would you rather come in? Sam's out tonight." Relief flooded Cas' features. His shoulders relaxed as he stepped over the threshold.