The Bodyguard (is the Omega)

14.

It took two shots of suppressants from his personal medic kit to get Castiel through the evening. He knew his body was going to demand his attention later but he couldn't just leave Dean the way he was. Castiel made sure that Dean had a shower, fresh pyjamas, a bowl of tomato rice soup. By the time Castiel coaxed Dean into bed, he had colour in his cheeks and a little more life in his eyes.

"I think its broken," Dean showed Castiel the bracelet. "I pressed the alarm too hard or something."

Castiel held the bracelet and in turn Dean's hand, looking it over carefully. "The band is a little frayed but it'll stay on your wrist for a while. When it falls off you'll find true love. I'm not sure how the jeweller built that into it but I was assured it would be good luck when it does eventually break. Personally, I think they are trying to avoid paying out the warranty."

"Oh it's a wish bracelet," Dean said softly. "I don't need it to break, my wish already came true. Last year I wished to meet my mate."

"Dean, that's probably just the traumatic bonding talking," Castiel teased.

"Who said I'm talking about you?" Dean yawned. "My birthday again in a couple of days. Might wish for my dream mate to finally get a clue."

"It's Ketch isn't it?" Castiel pulled the covers under Dean's chin. "You did meet him earlier this year."

"Yeah, it's Ketch," Dean closed his eyes, rolled over and let out a soft sigh. "Cas, stay with me tonight?"

"I have to go wash and eat and sleep, Dean." If he stayed in Dean's room all night, Castiel was going to go mad.

"K, you do that," Dean murmured. "Thanks Cas."

* * *

It had been a long time since Castiel was last troubled by an uncontrolled heat. Castiel had learnt as early as his twenties to manage his omega biology with meditation and exercise. He satisfied his libido from time to time, but they were life long friends rather than master and servant. What Castiel could not meditate away he sated with masturbation if he felt disinclined to seek out a sexual partner. More often than not the the slightest sign of interest in his scent brought alphas to him in droves, on occasion he indulged in alpha company. He had never been struck by uncontrollable heat in the course of duty. His work preoccupied him mind and body.

It had never burned beneath his skin the way it was doing now, stirring his loins, slowly boiling his brain. Being out of Dean's house was marginally better, sitting in the guest cottage, Castiel doggedly sliced an apple with a sharp little paring knife. The air felt too hot and dry despite the thermostat being set low. He should have showered first but he still carried Dean's scent on his suit, tiny traces of Dean's blood and sweat, pungent little reminders of sweet perfection. He had the television on low, just to drown out the sound of blood rushing through his own veins. The reporter was talking about the 'inducer attack' downtown, saying that with the aid of a group of courageous omegas all the patrons made it out and the fire department pressure hosed down the alphas with water soluble suppressants. Castiel envied those alphas. He didn't have any more emergency doses of suppressants left, nor should he inject another because cardiac arrest was not a viable option. What he needed, Castiel thought as he bit down on a wedge of apple perched on the edge of his blade, was to let go.

He could hear the sound of feet stomping up the gravel path. Took him long enough, Castiel thought wryly. The kitchen door busted open with a booming kick and Ketch stormed in. He looked sweaty and red faced, chest puffed up even more than usual, arms bulging beneath his suit sleeves, eyes alpha-ed out with rage. Castiel almost sighed with relief. As Ketch lunged for him, Castiel rolled his chair back, scraping the stool loudly on the hardwood floors. He ducked the first punch Ketch threw and winded him with a perfectly nasty jab to the throat. Clapping his hands over Ketch's ears, he used the attacker's momentum to pull his head forward and smash it into the kitchen bench with a satisfying boom. Ketch lunged again and Castiel tripped him, grabbed his shirt collar like a misbehaving puppy and wiped the dining table with him. The cacophony of glasses, plates, crockery shattering as Ketch slid through them, face scrunched up, too heavy and too slow to not hit the floor in a heap made the Castiel gasp with pleasure. He was impressed when Ketch didn't even whimper, sprung back to his feet and threw himself at Castiel again. So Castiel punched him again, in the solar plex, kneed him in the groin and then the knee while he was doubled over and hit him in all the soft tender spots till he was slumped with his back to Dean's nice kitchen cabinetry, unable to breathe. Eyes watering, tears of pain mixing with perspiration.