Destiel One-shots

Scars

Dean and Cas took their relationship very seriously.

After so many years of quietly being in love with each other, when they finally started dating, both of them were terrified of messing things up. 

But they took chances, and they loved each other, and they shared things with each other that no one else had seen before.

And now they were about to take another step.

It had occurred to Dean that he had never seen Cas shirtless before. Well, there was that one time when April stabbed him, but he didn't count that.

Cas had rarely seen Dean shirtless either. Sure, there were countless times where he had stalkerishly watched Dean in the shower, or accidentally walked in on the hunter while he was changing, but he never saw much, and one of those incidents hadn't happened in years.

The two had no idea what the other was hiding under his shirt.

"How come I've never seen you with your shirt off?" Dean asked, grinning at Cas. "I bet you're totally ripped under those button downs." Cas scoffed, but there was an element of pain in his eyes at the thought of Dean seeing what he was hiding.

"I've never seen you shirtless." Cas countered. "Well, not really. I've had glimpses of the six pack you're hiding." Dean half smirked, but his eyes were dark, not wanting Cas to see either. He'd never had a problem with taking off his shirt before, especially not with girls. But Cas was different. Cas meant more, and the idea of revealing that to him was more meaningful.

"I uh....." Dean trailed off. "I guess I'm just a little afraid of your reaction."

"I know how that feels." Cas agreed. 

"What if we both do it at the same time?" Dean asked. "Shirts off; no questions asked?" 

"You'll ask questions."

"So will you." They stared at each other for a long moment, considering it.

"Okay." Cas whispered. Dean nodded in agreement.

"Back to back," he insisted. They stood back to back, not facing each other. "We'll turn around when we're both ready, okay?"

"Okay." Cas agreed, neither of them peeking as they peeled off their shirts.

After a minute, Cas spoke up. 

"Ready?" He asked.

"Ready." Dean breathed, and they turned to face each other.

Cas's breath caught in his throat. At first glance, Dean was incredibly handsome. The exercise of the hunting life had given him a perfectly toned chest, and Cas had to momentarily restrain himself from running his hands over the hunter's abs. 

But if he looked a little closer, he started to notice what Dean had been afraid of. 

There were scars. Dozens of them, some of them small and pink, others thick and gnarly. Scars from claws of various monsters, from knives and rusted objects that had stabbed at Dean, from bullets and gunshot wounds, from the hundreds of stitches he'd had sown in over the years. Then there were the markings. The thick scar left from the spear Michael had been stabbed with, Cas's own hand-print imprinted proudly, all mixed together with the rest of the scars and the anti-possession tattoo inked near Dean's collarbone.

Dean wasn't quite sure what the angel had been afraid of. Cas was also perfectly toned, and relatively untouched. There were a couple long scars left from stab wounds and angel blades, but not nearly as many as Dean had. He looked closer, and thought he saw something strange near the top of Cas's shoulder. Frowning, he reached out to spin the angel around. Cas's breath hitched in fear as he turned, revealing his back to Dean, who froze.

There were two scars on Cas's back, mirrors of each other. They were awful, and it looked like someone had hacked at Cas's skin, bit by bit. Cas shuddered as Dean's hand neared the markings, and he jumped away as Dean tried to touch the scars.

"Please don't touch them," Cas whispered. "They're....they're still sensitive." Dean didn't say a word, staring into Cas's eyes. Slowly, the hunter turned, letting Cas look at his own back. The angel winced.

More scars. These were different from the clawings on Dean's front, though. They came in pairs, in long lines down Dean's back, like they'd been left by a whip... or a belt.

"...John?" Cas asked. Dean nodded, and the angel's heart squeezing in sudden pain for the hunter before him. The hunter that was practically baring his soul to him.

"What are they?" Dean questioned. Cas knew what he meant.

"They're all that's left of my wings." Cas admitted, the scars on his back stinging at the memory. "I'm pretty sure all of the angels have them now."

"They look painful."

"They were at first. Now it's just a dull throb sometimes." Cas reached out tentatively, tracing the scars on Dean's back. He shivered under the angel's touch. 

"Mine don't hurt anymore. The fresher ones sting sometimes, but I'm used to it." Cas nodded. He could imagine how bad the scars on his back must have hurt when they were fresh.

Dean turned so that they were face to face, finally having revealed another piece of themselves to each other.

"If it's any consultation," Dean offered. "Wings or no wings, you're still very handsome." Cas smiled.

"And you're...." He shook his head. "Above average temperature." Dean laughed.

"Hot, Cas. Just say hot."

"You're very hot, Dean."

"So are you." Dean smirked and pulled the angel closer to him. "What did I do to deserve someone as great as you?"

"Well, you did stop the apocalypse, so I think that entitles you."

"I also started that apocalypse...."

"It was a group effort." Dean shook his head and kissed him. Cas grinned and kissed him back, both of them content.