Dean/Cas, canonverse, Cas has to drive the impala for some reason. :D
“I know you’re awake,” Cas tells him, eyes fixed on the road. “You tense up every time I turn. Or brake. Or accelerate.”
Dean sighs, sits up a little straighter in the seat. They’re on some nameless stretch of Southwestern highway he could probably name if the moon was out and bright enough for him to pick out some landmarks.
“How are you feeling?”
He tries to stretch, and his muscles protest in unison. His hands tighten into a painful clench as his back goes rigid. His legs and feet go sharp and awkward. It’s like one big charley horse all over his body, and the only thing he can do is breathe through it. “Shitty,” he hisses through his teeth, and closes his eyes to focus on being still and not fighting the pain.
He only sort of feels Cas pull the car over onto the shoulder.
Cas’ hands smooth over his shoulders. Strong fingers start at the base of his skull, working the cramped muscles there, as well as the muscles of his jaw, his temples, his brow before moving down to release his neck and shoulders.
“Fucking death worm venom,” Dean groans. “Seriously. How the hell did those kids get their hands on this shit?”
“I believe they mentioned the Internet being involved,” Cas says, and yeah, it’s like the fifth time they’ve had this conversation, but he was sarcastic the first time too. Dean can’t help but smile.
Well, almost smile. His body’s still a little vague on the whole “volitional movement” thing. Then again, if the net result of that is full-body massages from Cas like the one he’s getting from Cas right now–
He tries to adjust his position and gets a sharp warning twinge in his back.
Okay, so maybe he’d rather get this stuff out of his system and never, ever run into it again.
Cas works on him for about half an hour, undoing the worst of it with his hands while Dean’s body slowly relaxes on its own. By the time Cas helps him back upright he feels closer to a bowl of jello than a knot of razor wire, and it occurs to him that he might well be the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.
“C’mere,” he says, risking a small gesture for Cas to lean in. Cas smiles, expression soft, and presses a soft kiss to his lips before turning his eyes back to the horizon.
“We should get back on the road if we’re going to reach Elko by sunrise.”
“You think I’m gonna be better by sunrise?”
“No, but it’s certainly easier to care for you when you’re not wearing so many layers.”
Dean groans. “Not helping.”
Cas shrugs, and starts the engine.