Astronaut3 : Shake it off (the mark of Cain)

Dean instinctively jerked away from that kind, harmless touch. He gulped down, finally managing to lift his eyes up and look at Castiel. But he couldn't bear to withstand his eyes more than a few seconds. He wetted his lips, and finally spoke up. "If you'll want to cut the thread... I will understand", he rasped out, his voice hoarse.

Dean leant into the kiss almost as desperately before turning away from him, gently pushing Castiel's shoulders. "Cas, how can you-" He bit his lip to force it to stop trembling. He took a deep breath. "How can you still be here? After all I said to you. After all I did, I... I deserve nothing that's even close to you."

In that moment, there was a lot going on in Dean's head. First and foremost, the shock value of the harsh slap he had just gotten straight in the face. Second, the powerful surge of emotion that filled him whe he had heard Castiel's words. He stared at his soulmate, eyes open wide. He wanted to ask questions. Or to go down a bit more on the self-depreciation road he knew so well. Instead, all that came out of his mouth was an honest, awe-filled "Damn me, I love you so much."

It was as if his words had opened a dam. Dean didn't keep himself from kissing Castiel back this time, with all the yearning and all the affection and love he could muster. He grabbed the angel's cheeks, making that one kiss a thousand more. "I love you", he repeated amongst the kisses. "I love you so much."

Dean felt the familiar rush of Castiel's grace running through him, and observed as the burning mark around his finger healed up in a matter of seconds. He smiled to the angel, but frowned quickly after. "You shouldn't have done that", he said. "I know you are low on grace." He laid his hand on his arm, squeezing it gently.

Dean got up from the chair. He was feeling a bit weak himself, but he had to help Castiel out. He offered his shoulder to the angel, ready to sustain him. "Let me help", he said immediately.

"Do you want me to get you somewhere particular?", Dean asked as he escorted Castiel out of the torture chamber - and out of the archive room, in the more lit corridors of the bunker. He was trying hard not to feel shitty, but seeing the angel drained out like that didn't make it easy.

Dean nodded, walking him to his own bedroom. He made Castiel sit down on his bed and went to close the door. With a pang of pain he realized he still owed at the very least a 'sorry' to Sam. He went back to his bed, sitting close to the angel, and shyly reaching for his hand.

Dean squeezed his hand back. "It feels good to be back", he murmured, shame still laced tight in his words. "To find you back", he added then, looking at him.

Dean threw him half a smile at that question. Then he closed his eyes, bringing Castiel's hands to his mouth to kiss his knuckles as he displayed his wings for him.

Dean smiled at him. "Does that mean I don't look like a chick anymore now?", he joked a bit, his wing pushing against Castiel's hand to get more of his touches. He thought about his wings for a bit. That was grace that Castiel had given him, selflessly, to bound them tighter.
Castiel's grace...
... could it be... maybe that could help?

Dean's expression got pensive. Reflective. And honestly that was seldom a good sign. "Cas", he started then, a bit hesitantly, after some seconds of silence. "Don't you think... couldn't my grace help you with yours? I mean", he continued quickly, "somehow, it is your own grace, right? So- if you take some- right?"

Dean seemed genuinely glad he could help Castiel after all of... well, that. He grimaced a bit, though. "Do you know any angel that wouldn't actively try to kill us instead of helping?", he asked, try not to sound too sarcastic. "I don't think that list exists."