godless_son | For Dean

Castiel is very, very glad that his students have returned.

He suspects that Dean may be more glad.

Of all the disturbing things Darrow tends to throw their way, for him at least, this has been the worst. He'd heard the city had been abandoned in the beginning but to see how easily thousands of people could be stolen away only drove home the idea that Dean could go just as easily. He could wake up to an empty bed in an empty house and only one real way of finding him, one that he'd certainly never discuss with Dean or anyone else. Heaven can really only be accessed one way when one is stuck as he is and it isn't something he'd do lightly. Being left behind, however, is not an option.

As such he's been a little...clingy. Concerned is what he'd say but Dean has insisted on calling it 'clingy'. If it is clingy to insist on updates on Dean's whereabouts twice daily under such circumstance and if it is clingy to insist on joining him on tonight's hunt when no other partner is available, then so be it. He'd agreed to meet him outside the bar immediately after his weekly night class, flying directly to the dark alleyway. It is colder than he'd like it to be, considering Dean's relatively fragile human state and there is a strong chance of sleet, tonight. Perhaps the city will be quiet.

Perhaps he ought to have changed out of his tweed blazer and slacks, as well.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dean's detente within Semele's only extends so far, and he straps on most of his weapons before he's made it outside, not at all surprised to find Castiel already standing there, even though they're not due to meet for ten more minutes. Tightening the gun belt around his thigh, Dean squints at Castiel.

"You can't hunt in that. It's worse than the accountant clothes. Somehow."

"There is nothing wrong with the trenchcoat," Castiel huffs, more fond of it than the tweed blazer but now more than aware that in the classroom setting, makes the wrong impression. That impression being one of a potential flasher.

He peels off the blazer, glad of being relatively impervious (when well) to the elements as he stands in his charcoal slacks and lavender sweater vest.

"This is a little exciting, isn't it? We haven't hunted together in quite some time."

While Castiel does his part to watch over the city, the irony is not lost on him that so much of his time has been taken up with domestic pursuits in addition to his teaching. He can only imagine what his superiors would think of him now.

"Cas," exhales Dean at the sight of him, exasperated and fond and exasperated over being fond, "You cannot hunt in a lavender sweater vest. When did you even buy that? Am I going to have to start packing you a change of clothes next to the machetes and bullets?"

"I will have you know that the women at work all said it brings out my eyes," he snips, smoothing it down as he manifests his blade. "I am an angel of the Lord, I will not stain. These are just as good as any other clothes. Now, I think that I sensed a nest of vampires somewhere in the vicinity.Shall we?"

Dean frowns down at the blade, eyes sweeping over Castiel's clothes a last, defeated time. "Just stay behind me, okay?" he asks. "I got a rep here." A plaid, steel-toed boot wearing rep.

"And really, vamps? You're not just buttering me up?"

"Oh really? Is it a rep as a married homosexual with two cats?" Castiel mutters, humoring him for the moment by falling into place behind him. "I would not lie about a nest of vampires. I will even allow you the first kill."

"I'm bi and they're your cats," Dean returns, conveniently ignoring the whole 'what's mine is yours' part of marriage. He checks the bullets in his Glock and slides it into its holster. "What's this about you letting me have the first kill? I always get the first kill."

"Well, I am an angel of the Lord and could probably take this entire nest out with little to no effort were I fully powered up so I figure at 75% strength I could easily manage the first kill," he murmurs, staring up at the sky for a moment as he tries to ascertain the likeliness of snow.

"But you seem to want to be the more dominant hunting partner, tonight, and our marriage is built on compromise so I am offering you the first kill," he finishes, fixing Dean with a little smile.

"Is it really worth bragging about if it's easy?" asks Dean conversationally, testing the sharpness of his machete against his arm hairs. "I mean if you can just snap your fingers and it's done, it's not really a skill, is it? It's more like...a chore. Like doing the dishes or taking out the trash."

"It is not quite as easy as it once was," he admits, reaching out to rest a hand on Dean's shoulder, leaning in hopefully for a kiss.

"I will follow your lead. You are the more regular hunter, now, between the two of us. But I reserve the right to forcefully remove the spine of any creature that dares to harm you."

"None of 'em will get close enough," says Dean, relenting as he turns his head, meeting Castiel's mouth for a brief kiss. He slows just enough to meet Castiel's eyes and cocks a grin. "We both know you'll zap them before they get within a few feet."

"Not unless they seem to pose a very real and immediate threat," he promises, pulling back to readjust the grip on his blade and nod down the dark alleyway. "I can sense them around a half mile away, in that direction. That seems to be as specific as I can manage. I now defer to your more than capable leadership. Please lead the way."

"Good," says Dean, setting off in the direction Cas has indicated. He's been spoiling for a fight for more than a week, the disappearance of Darrow's populace an uncomfortable itch with no way to scratch, and he needs to draw blood tonight.

"Vamps," he says as they walk. He's borne a particular grudge against them for a few years now. "Was that really the first thing you happened to spot, or did you seek them out?"

"They were the first thing I sensed but it was not that long ago a vampire nearly ripped your throat out right in front of me," Castiel growls, all too familiar with the sight and sensation of Dean's blood staining his hands.

"While I may have my reasons to avoid hunting on a regular basis, I am more than happy to help you rid Darrow of a few more of these particular monsters."

In truth, Castiel is more than happy to lay waste to any creature that would dare touch Dean, but he knows that particular rage is best left largely untouched.

Dean casts a sideways glance at him, grabbing a handful of vest to slow Castiel to a halt. "Hey," he says, tugging Cas into the dark of an alley. "Don't get caught up in it, okay?"

He leans in and kisses him, intent at first at redirecting Castiel's tension, but then he gets into it, a little breathless by the time he pulls back. "Kick ass, raise hell," says Dean, licking his lips. "Let's keep it fun."

Castiel nods against Dean's forehead, free hand clenching at his waist as he takes a deep breath. He does not think he will ever fully understand the way Dean enjoys the hunt but he does understand that his own reaction tends to swing to far in the other direction.

"My apologies," he murmurs, trying to smile before leaning in for another kiss. "Perhaps you ought to do that again when we are done, tonight. As much as I hate seeing you in danger, I very much like seeing you be so capable."

For Dean - A Hunt

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