Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1,286

Warnings: Swearing & blood

Author's Notes: So, basically, I've decided to start a series of mini-fics inspired by prompts/art/other stuff. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning Porcelain, but I just think I need to write more and this will help me do so :) This is the first which was inspired by the prompt: 'Imagine your OTP getting into an argument and eventually person A just kisses person B passionately as a way to shut them up.' I guess it could be seen as being set at the start of season five. And the title comes from a Meatloaf song :) Enjoy!

Dean hisses as the peroxide bites at his wound, causing sharp pain to shoot right through his whole arm. His head spins slightly when he glances down at the blood pooling on the floor, dripping from his arm, coating one of his old shirts. There's just so much damn blood and he can't stop the deep wound from bleeding. He grabs for the shirt again, pressing it against the wound with a pained groan.

"Need some help?" Sam asks from the other side of the room where he's typing away on his laptop, no doubt looking around for new cases already. As if their last one hadn't been stressful enough.

In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to fall into a blatantly obvious trap. They'd been lured into an abandoned house by some demon bitch who turned out to be a little more powerful than first expected. Sam had insisted on going in first, gun drawn and guard up. But, when Dean heard Sam's scream of pain from outside the house, his primal instinct to protect his little brother kicked in immediately. He kicked in the door and went straight for the basement where he could still hear his brother's deep voice booming in Latin, trying to exorcise the demon.

When he peeked in the basement door, he could see the demon beaming up at Sam arrogantly. She had her back turned to the door. Big mistake, Dean thought with a smirk as he sneaked in and slowly made his way towards the demon who still had her attention focused on Sam who she'd pinned up against the wall with her demonic power. He watched as Sam's eyes flickered a little when he noticed him, thankfully Sam quickly began to talk to the demon more in order to distract her. This gave Dean the perfect oppurtunity to pull out Ruby's knife and slam it right through the demon's back, causing her to turn around in shock.

Dean hadn't really anticipated the demon having a knife of her own in her hand. As the life crackled out of her and blood trickled out of her mouth, she slashed viciously at Dean, letting out a loud high-pitched scream. "Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled, trying to wrestle the knife out of her hand. This lasted a few moments before her eyes went black as shoe polish and she dropped the knife to the ground with a metallic clunk. Her whole body then went limp as she collapsed to the ground face-first.

He hadn't really noticed the severity of the wounds left on his arm thanks to the adrenaline pumping through his veins at the time which numbed the pain. Now that is calmer though, his arm is shaking with pain and covered in blood.

"Nah, s'just a scratch," Dean says nonchalantly, examining the wound on his arm which is gaping and steadily leaking blood.

Sam looks up from his laptop. "Just a scratch?! Lemme see then," he says as he gets to his feet and walks quickly to where Dean is sat on the motel bed. He takes the shirt away from the wound which makes Dean hiss slightly and Sam's eyes go wide. "Dean, I think this needs proper stitches."

Dean quickly yanks his arm away from Sam's grip and covers it with the blood-soaked shirt again. "No. No hospitals. I'm fine, Sammy. I can patch myself up," he says, getting up and walking over to his duffel bag where he searches around for his first-aid kit. He hears Sam sigh wearily, but chooses to ignore it. Sam's just being a big drama queen yet again. The wound really isn't that bad ... or nothing bad enough to be worrying about.

Suddenly, the sound of wings flapping fills the air and Dean feels someone grab the back of his shirt and haul him up straight before spinning him around to face- Castiel. It takes Dean a moment to get his bearings and for the room to stop spinning before he lets out an exasperated, "Geez."

"How could you be so reckless?" Castiel asks, voice deep and full of anger as his eyes land on the gashes on Dean's arm.

Dean can see Sam shutting down his laptop and packing his things away into a bag and slinging it over his shoulder before heading towards the door.

"Where're you going?" Dean asks, avoiding Castiel's intense gaze.

"Out. I'm not getting in the middle of one of your lovers' tiffs again. Especially considering what always happens afterwards," Sam grumbles before leaving Dean alone in the motel room with a very angry, very worried angel.

"It's not that bad," Dean says, eyes on the floor as he walks back over to his duffel bag to search around for his first-aid kit.

"Drop the act," Castiel growls and Dean's never heard his voice waver quite like that. "You don't always have to be the hero. You don't always have to-"

"Sam was in trouble. He needed me. I did it for him. If you can't understand that, then you obviously don't understand family."

He can almost hear Castiel frowning before saying, "You should've asked for my help. You could've prayed to me, Dean."

Dean snorts humourlessly and turns around, walking right up into Castiel's personal space with an icy glare. "You weren't there. I hadn't seen you in weeks, Cas. I had no idea if you'd even hear my damn prayer. I had to do something. That demon was killing people, I didn't have the time to sit on my ass and-"

Then Dean finds himself unable to speak as a pair of soft lips are suddenly on his, caring and insistent. He barely has time to process this when Castiel's arm snakes around his waist and pulls him closer, tongue swiping across his bottom lip making him groan and part his lips to let Cas in. Their tongues tangle up as Dean rests his hands on Cas' shoulders, moving his lips and tongue against the angel's desperately. Oh god, he's missed this so much. It's been too long. One of his hands slide up to thread his fingers through Castiel's hair, gently tugging from it every now and then to remind himself that he's real, he's here and it's all for him.

Once they finally pull away for air, Castiel rests his forehead against Dean's and the way those blue eyes look into his is enough to make Dean's heart leap in his chest. They're so full of love, and care, and emotion that it makes Dean's stomach fill with stupid butterflies. "I'm sorry," he says breathlessly, lips brushing against Dean's as he speaks.

"Me too," Dean replies softly, cheeks flushed and lips wet as he catches his breath. "I just ... missed you."

Castiel nods understandingly, tightening his hold around Dean's waist before placing his other hand over the wound on Dean's arm. With a slight tingling sensation, Dean feels the wound closing up and all that's left when Cas takes his hand away is the dried blood clinging to his arm. He'll never get used to his boyfriend's healing angel-mojo crap. "I promise I won't be away so long next time."

"Good," Dean says, unable to tear his gaze away from those perfect blue eyes.

"Good," Cas repeats, a small smile gracing his lips.

Later that night, as Dean lies naked and boneless with his arms around a sleeping angel in the bed of a dark motel room, he chuckles to himself as he reads a text from Sam. 'I hate you.' Obviously, Sam hadn't paid for a room far enough away to not be able to hear his brother and Castiel making up for lost time.