Hunting Season // A Destiel Fanfic (AU)

A Cold Excuse

"Now let's talk about the mess shall we?"

Those were words Castiel did not want to hear. He almost forgot about the mess, but now with that serious face glaring at him all he could feel was guilt and fear turn his stomach. Glimpses of the past pushing at his mind as he remembered a similar tone from his previous masters...

Wednesday // 6:16 pm

Dean stood infront of Castiel. Back straight with his arms crossed infront of his chest. The living room, bedroom, kitchen, and even bathroom were messier than how he left the house. The man let out a frustrated-sounding sigh through his nose as he glanced around. "How do you even make a mess this big in a few hours in your condition?"

"I-I was cold..." Castiels voice was soft enough to be on the edge of a whisper.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, "That's what the blankets were for..."

"I'm sorry..." Castiel apologized once more.

The angels owner rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's fine... Just... Clean up the bedroom and living room." He began to walk towards the kitchen.

The angel nodded and went towards the fire in the living room. His body aching as he bent over to pick up pieces of wood, pillows, books, and other items and place them back relatively close to where Castiel found them before messing up the area. He couldn't quite remember where because he was rushing during the search. Castiel stayed close to the fire, however— trying to help his soft shivers from the cold room and the invisible eyes of Dean glued on his shoulders. Those angered, disappointed eyes that also held a twinkle of hope that Castiel wouldn't be punished severely for what he'd done.

Dean began to put away the knives, close the drawers, and check up on everything that was messed with in the kitchen. Crouching down to see newer engravings on a drawer he decided to lock, he glanced over at the injured angel who was figuring out where to put a folded blanket.

"Hey Cass,"

Castiel didn't like how the man sounded like they were going to interrogate him. Shoot out questions the angel might not even know the answer to, even if he would answer truthfully.
"Yes Sir?" Castiel began to turn his gaze behind him.

"Did you try to open this drawer?" Dean pointed to the drawer with a knife he was about to put away in the dark-oak knife block.

Castiel hesitated. The blade shined, reflecting a few rays of light near their eyes. The man looked intimidating with the weapon. "Y-yes," Castiel said.

Dean smacked his lips a little, "Of course you did..." he pushed the knife in the block before making his way to Castiel. "Didn't I tell you not to try opening that?"

"I- I was cold.." Castiel began to feel small, as if shrinking down to a finch when Dean moved closer. What kind of excuse was he making? He already said he was cold... It was really the reason he had that overall led to this, but it definitely didn't justify to go against Dean.

"I know you were cold Cass, but why would you think there were anything useful in there?" Dean crosses his arms.

"I-"

"Don't. Say that you were cold," Dean interrupted, holding up a hand as if stopping someone from coming closer to him. Eyebrows furrowing as well.

Castiel immediately shut his mouth. That's what he was going to say, because thats the only excuse he had. Castiel learned Dean liked honesty, and managed to get a bit used to it. Resting his hand upon his thighs and peering down towards the ground, "I thought there would be matches to start the fire," he managed to cut around saying he was cold.

Dean kept his arms crossed across his chest. "Well now it's even more damaged, I'm going to have to repair and repaint it," Dean huffed. Of course he wasn't going to hit Castiel or anything, but his voice was definitely filled with annoyance and a tad of anger mixed in there.

Castiel flinched, expecting a hit but just heard Dean heavy footstep grow softer with each step, heading back towards the kitchen.

Wednesday // 8:30 pm

Castiel sat in bed once more. Waiting for Dean as they showered after dinner. The angel managed to clean up before the man was finished, waiting patiently. His head was down, looking into the fabric that covered his nude half of his body. He wondered how long it would be before he was allowed to wear clothes, he did have a bed after all.

Castiel thought about how nice Dean had been. Of course there were the expected times he felt pain by his masters hands, but it wasn't much he wasn't used to. All the angel could think was why. Why did he get Dean? Did his silent prayers work? His begs for peace, to an end actually be answered? He couldn't tell.

"Hey..."

Castiel jumped a little, eyes flicking quickly to the voice. He definitely got lost in thought as Dean seemingly appeared out of thin air on the bed already dressed, just drying off his hair a bit more with their towel. "S-sorry," Castiel curled a loose thread from the sheets hem around his finger.

"You're so quick to apologize," Dean sighed softly with a smile. "Cheer up, It's almost time to check up on your wings— Aren't you excited?"

Castiel nodded. Excited wouldn't be the term he'd use though. Happy, maybe. Anxious? Definitely. Last time he saw that short doctor he felt so much pain. Pain that made him pass out a few times. He hated doctors. And they hated him back.

Dean probably noticed the fear in Castiels eyes as the angel felt their warm hand brush up against their cheek. "Hey, things are going to be okay... You haven't been disturbing your wings so they should've healed nicely," Dean smiled.

Castiel forced up a smile back. Feeling the gentle press of Deans warm pink lips upon his forehead, Castiel closed his eyes and laid down with the other. Instinctively, he curled up a bit closer to Dean, breathing the fresh scent of their chest and neck to fill his lungs.