Castiel opens the door to the new patients room. The guards standing either side of the door have thrown him off a little, but after all he's here to do a job, and that job was never the same twice, not in this hospital.

Besides, how dangerous could a man handcuffed to the bed be?

As the door closes behind him Castiel has to do a double take, he'd expected a death row inmate to be lean and pale from lack of sun and poor food. He'd expected a pinched and evil face and lank, colourless and greasy hair.

The only thing he got right were the orange overalls.

"Hey doc." The man grins, hips shifting uncomfortably on the bed, his strong wrists twitching in their steel bracelets, the chain clicking on the metal runners at the side of the bed. "So, what's on the menu today?"

Castiel stands, frozen in his blue scrubs, looking at the man on the bed.

The larger, stronger man in the prison uniform.

He's kind of wishing he'd brought a guard in with him.

"Relax doc, I only ever killed three people and none of 'em were doctors."

Castiel looks the man in the eye and the prisoner winks lasciviously, a smirk decorating his almost prettily feminine features.

"Um...Mr Winchester."

"Dean." The guy stretches again, stubbornly developed muscles shifting under his clothes. "I hear too much 'Winchester' where I'm from."

Castiel flips over the chart and tries to ignore the shaking in his hands. He's alone in a room with a multiple murderer, he just needs to get this over with and get out.

"You're kinda nervous huh?" Dean drawls. "You don't have to be." He smirks. "I'm really affable, kind of a peoples prisoner...'specially with doctors as pretty as you."

Castiel swallows the lump in his throat. "Your...uh...your CT and MRI were clear...the attending cleared you to go back to..."

"Prison." Dean licks his lips. "You can say it, I kind of figured they wouldn't just let me out." He laughs to himself and Castiel flinches.

"Well...I'm going to do one and...then you'll be able to go."

"Free as a bird huh?" Dean rakes his eyes over him again and sighs. "Awesome." He quirks an eyebrow. "Any chance of you throwing in some extras with the physical?"

Cas blinks.

"Don't freak, I was kidding." Dean sighs. "Get on with it."

Castiel checks his blood pressure and then undoes the top of the orange overall to listen to Dean's heart with his stethoscope. Dean flinches at the coldness of the steel, outright jumping when Castiel jerks in response to the sudden movement and presses the chilled steel to Dean's right nipple. The man on the bed grits his teeth and sighs unsteadily.

"Sorry." Castiel mutters, withdrawing the instrument and breathing on it before returning it to Dean's chest.

"Not a problem." Dean hoods his eyes and watches Castiel's intent face, the doctor flushes under his scrutiny. "This is actually the most action I've gotten in...oh, five years?"

Cas's fingers trace the broad expanse of Dean's chest, feeling the place where Dean's cracked rib has healed. "It seems fine." He breathes.

"I'm more than fine." Dean looks up at him and Castiel can smell the talc and chemical smell of Dean's clothing and skin. He frowns.

"It's like disinfectant." Dean murmurs. "For for lice and crap like huh?" His eyes have hardened when Castiel looks into them again.

"A patient's bowel exploded on me this morning." Castiel mutters. "I'm not so sensitive."

"Good to know."

"Could you look straight ahead please?" Castiel shines a light into Dean's eyes and checks that they move and dilate correctly. He glances down and notices the long scars trailing down Dean's abdomen. Without thinking he lays his hand there, Dean's flesh contracts, the muscles clenching.

"You're colder than that thing." He nods at the stethoscope with a hiss.

"Sorry..." Castiel attempts to move his hand back, but Dean's hand closing around his other wrist stops him. Dean is still handcuffed, but holding the hand that isn't currently resting on his stomach.

""Beautiful aren't they?" Dean frowns down at himself. "My Dad, great guy."

"Did you kill him?" the words spill out before he can stop them, and really he should be shouting for help, because a killer has hold of him.

"And my Mom...and my brother." Dean looks at him unblinkingly.

Castiel's fingers rub over the scars and Dean sighs, stretching like an overfed cat.

"They're putting me a week." Dean murmurs.

Castiel looks at him, eyes round and innocent and so blue that Dean can't help but flinch. He releases the doctor's wrist.

"So finish up, I've got a lot to get back to in solitary." He mutters.

Castiel backs away a little.

"Turn on your side please..." he registers the all in one uniform, they've left Dean in it to prevent him blending in if he should escape, but it's going to hamper his work. "I need to uh...I need you to undress."

"Just cut it." Dean sighs, not even looking at him. "They'll just stick me in a new one."

He rolls onto his side and Castiel uses a pair of scissors to cut the jumpsuit from the small of the larger man's back, right down to his thighs, he parts the fabric and slides the underwear underneath down as far as it'll go.

"This might be a little uncomfortable." He murmurs, squeezing clear jelly onto his gloved fingers.

"What part of, I've been in prison escapes your...ugh..." Dean winces as the slick, cold finger worms its way into him. "Well, there goes the last of my dignity." He murmurs.

Castiel feels his apology wither and die on his lips.

Dean's legs part a little further and he grunts at the deeper pressure. Castiel fixes his eyes on the wall.

"Ok, now can you..."

Dean's moan is like a gunshot into the silence, low and gruff and helpless. Castiel's fingers jerk of their own volition and another sound of involuntary pleasure escapes the man on the bed.

"I'm sorry...I..." Castiel stammers, making to remove his hand, a blood rich flush rising all over his body.

"If you stop...I will kill you..." Dean pants, and Castiel freezes, unsure if it's an idle threat or a promise. Dean wriggles against his finger and then rubs against the thin mattress, groin rutting against the surplus of sheet and orange canvas. "Fuck, that's good." He rumbles, eyes slipping shut as he works himself between the mattress and Castiel's frozen hand. Dean makes a soft, frustrated sound. "More."

Castiel remains frozen and Dean clenches around him needily.

"I'm dying in a week..." Dean pants. "Put your damn hands on me."

Castiel's body jumps into motion before his mind can fully catch up. Dean growls as another latex covered finger slides into his body, Castiel's other hand reaching around to cup the bulge in his overalls firmly. Dean's head thrashes on the thin pillow as another finger makes its home in him, a dull, reverberating heat spreading through him. His hands rattle at their restraints, one stretching out and managing to grasp the top of Cas's thigh as he leans over his patient. The contact only makes his skin burn hotter, his fingers steadily fucking the bound man into the bed even as Dean curls on his side and mewls unrestrainedly.

Castiel pushes his fingers as deeply as he can, groping and rubbing inside, his other hand massaging the leaking hardness hidden by layers of cloth. Dean's hips jerk abortively and he gasps upwards.


Castiel's body leans against his as the doctor presses closer automatically, the hand groping Cas's thigh slides between his legs, fingering his ass and between his legs before finding his crotch and rubbing, quickly and roughly, until Castiel is bucking into the hot palm and shoving his fingers deep into Dean in time with its movements.

They shudder, coming apart within seconds of each other, Dean cursing and thrashing, Castiel going still as a statue, then arching as if struck by lightning.

Dean is left half naked and exposed on the bed, Castiel with a wet spot on the front of his scrubs. Dean buries his face into the pillow and sighs, eyes slipping closed. Castiel covers him back up with the slashed overalls and Dean turns onto his back, a pronounced damp patch on the front of his prison clothes.

"Thanks doc." Dean rasps.

"Castiel." He says, then, licking his dry lips he bends down and kisses Dean quickly on the mouth. Dean kisses back, hungry for any kind of attention, his tongue slicking against Cas's intimately. They part and Dean watches him like a caged animal, for the moment harmless but with a killers ferocity.

"If I wasn't tied down...I would ruin you." Dean rumbles, and Castiel wonders why he feels anything but fear at those words.

Castiel tells his attending that Dean is fit to go back to prison. The guards assemble, the protocol is followed to the letter as the armoured vehicle is brought around to the ambulance bay.

When Dean escapes, Castiel is surprised at how unsurprised he feels.

When he goes down to his car at the end of the shift and finds a piece of paper under the wiper he's a little more curious than concerned, it says simply 'Thanks again.' And Castiel folds it and puts it in his pocket before heading home. Once there he makes himself dinner and pours a glass of wine, fingering the note as his microwave meal turns on its plate in the microwave.

It's only then that he notices the script on the reverse of the note.

"Be seeing you."