misachan: (No personal space)
[personal profile] misachan
Title: Terms Of Service (Art Masterpost)
Author: [personal profile] misachan
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: Character death, dubcon, explicit sex
Word Count: 4190

Summary: Winchester Auto Body has seen better days. With their father gone and Sam away at school it's all on Dean to keep the place afloat – so it's hard for him to admit he's failing. Bills are piling up and creditors are calling but Dean knows that if he could just push a little bit harder, find a few more hours in the day he could turn it around. In fact, there's a restoration job in the shop right now that would go a long way toward solving his problems. Unfortunately, the due date is the next morning and Dean knows there's not a chance in hell of him finishing on time.

But when he wakes up the next morning the car is perfect. This becomes a pattern, Dean waking up in the morning to find work he'd left undone finished overnight until his curiosity gets the better of him; he stakes out the shop one night and finally discovers the identity of his mysterious assistant: a beautiful, winged – and naked – elf calling himself Castiel. As the two of them start working together the curiosity turns to fascination and finally to something more but there are words Castiel can't say and choices he can't make – not without consequences Dean can't understand. An AU based on the fairy tale "The Elves And The Shoemaker."


Dean made a point of being there every night when Cas showed up, even if some nights he only stayed long enough for the two of them to share a beer (staying up all night on a regular basis was a real bad idea when you worked around heavy equipment all day.) Castiel never asked for his help again, making Dean wonder if that hadn't been some kind of transgression after all. Dean didn't push, although the temptation to create an excuse to get that close to Castiel again was hard to deny. Dean had to content himself with doing detail work on the Firebird and trying not to be completely obvious about the staring – ogling, if he was going to be completely honest. But if Cas had noticed he hadn't mentioned it, so Dean could at least tell himself the guy didn't mind.

Still, it made him feel like a lech and the last thing Dean ever wanted was to feel like he was in the way in his own shop. "I'm gonna call it a night, Cas," he said, knocking back the last of his beer.

"Goodnight, Dean," Cas answered, already starting the mechanical lift to hoist the car up and sliding underneath.

Dean was halfway up the stairs when he heard a sharp cry of pain. He froze mid-step, his heart pounding so hard he could hear the blood rushing through his ears. "Cas?" There was no answer and Dean ran back down, pausing by the shop door. "Cas, you okay?" The only answer was a moan that went through Dean like a knife; he threw open the door and for a second all Dean could think was Fuck, that's a lot of blood.

Castiel was sitting on the floor next to the lift and for a horrified instant Dean thought one of his wings had been torn off. Then he moved and Dean realized that was just the angle but the relief fell away when he rushed toward Cas and saw that while the right wing was still in one piece the white feathers were rapidly turning red with blood. "Cas," he said, kneeling next to him and tipping up his chin to force eye contact. "Cas, what happened?"

Castiel's eyes were so wide Dean could see white circling the blue irises. "I...I got tangled," he said, his voice dazed.

"I told you those wings would get you in trouble," Dean said, keeping his low. Cas was already shaking hard and Dean knew he had to stop the bleeding before the shock got any worse. Castiel tried to move his wing away when Dean went to touch it, the movement making him whimper. "Shh, Cas," Dean soothed, putting one hand on his shoulder. "Let me take a look at it, okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, trying to get back to his feet, something Dean put a stop to right away.

"Yeah, you are really not." Castiel reached for his dropped wrench, his hand trembling so hard he could barely hold onto it, and Dean put a stop to that too. "Cas, stop that. Let me help you."

"I have to get back to work," he said, the way the words slurred together sending fear spiraling through Dean's gut.

His eyes started to lose focus and Dean snapped his fingers right in his face. "Cas!" He said, relieved when that shocked him back to awareness. "You are losing a lot of blood. You understand? You have to let me help."

Castiel's brow furrowed, making Dean think that maybe he really didn't understand. "I'll be fine," he said again. "I always am. The dawn will restore me."

"You sure? Losing this much blood is one of the things that tend to kill people."

Cas shook his head. "We can die, but not from this."

That made Dean feel a little better, although he still couldn't be sure that wasn't the shock talking. "Okay, fine. I still want you to let me patch you up. I can't have you bleeding all over my shop." That seemed to be the right argument; Cas finally nodded and Dean didn't think he'd ever been so relieved in his life. "Good. You sit right there for a second, okay?"

Dean got up and grabbed his first aid kit and knelt back beside Castiel, pressing a clean towel against the gash in his wing. Cas whined high in his throat as Dean felt his way up the wing, sweat beading up across his forehead but all Dean cared about was that nothing seemed to be broken. "You're one lucky son of a bitch, Cas," Dean said, checking to see if the bleeding had slowed.

"Am I?" he said, as if he wasn't sure whether Dean was making fun of him.

"I've seen some scary things happen in shops, Cas. Trust me, you're lucky."

After a few more minutes the bleeding had mostly stopped and Dean took out the roll of bandages and started wrapping the wing. The instant he was done Castiel tried to get up again, forcing Dean grab him around the waist to pull him back down. "Stop that."

"I have to get back to work," he said again, shivering so hard the words shook.

"Yeah, well right now you're taking a break. C'mon, I'll lay you down up in the house...."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I...I can't leave the work area." Dean took a second to debate the wisdom of just dragging him out and decided the risk that Cas would fight him made it not worth it. He propped Castiel against a nearby wall instead and ducked into the hall closet to grab the old quilt he'd thrown in there months before. By the time he got back Castiel had already pulled himself back to his knees and was reaching for the wrench again. "Dude," Dean said, pulling him back against the wall and wrapping the quilt around him. "Stop that. What is your problem?"

"I have to get back to work," he said again, even as he snuggled into the warmth of the quilt.

"Wait," Dean said, his eyes narrowing. "You mean you have to work, don't you. This is one of your rules." Castiel just gave him a miserable look that told Dean everything he needed to know. "Okay," he said, smothering the hot flash of rage under his skin. "Okay, but you're gonna take a breather if I have to hold you down and force you to," he said, putting his hands on Castiel's shoulders to make the point.

Castiel looked up into Dean's eyes for a few moments before slumping against the wall, apparently accepting that Dean was serious. Dean sat beside him on the floor, keeping one hand on his shoulder just in case. He felt Cas shiver and tucked the quilt closer around him. "You said you were 'always' fine, Cas,” he said, to keep him awake as much as anything. "This happen a lot?"

"Enough," he sighed, resting his head against Dean's shoulder as if holding it up himself was just too much effort. "This is a mild injury compared to some others. I'm much more careful around threshers now."

Dean winced. "Jesus, Cas. Thanks for that nightmare."

Castiel craned his head to look at Dean. "Do you dream about me?"

Dean felt his cheeks flush and hoped Cas was too out of it to notice. "If I did, would that be a problem?"

Castiel gave him a confused look, as if he couldn't imagine why Dean would think that. "We don't sleep," he said, his head back against Dean's shoulder. "I wonder what I would dream about?"

"Dreams aren't always awesome, Cas. You might be better off." He traced just his fingertips along Cas' bloodstained wing. "How about I clean you up a little bit, huh? I'll be careful, I promise."

Castile nodded. "If you like."

"You move and I'll punch you." That seemed to confuse Castiel enough for him to stay put while Dean got a damp cloth and a bowl of warm water; Cas sighed as Dean started washing the blood out of the feathers, his eyelids fluttering. "You okay? This hurt?"

Castiel shook his head. "No, it doesn't."

Dean grinned and kept going, glad for the excuse to finally touch his wings even if he never would have wanted Cas to get hurt first. Cas sighed again, a contented little sound that made Dean want to keep doing this for as long as he possibly could. Before too long though he'd done all he could without reopening the wound and Castiel was starting to squirm with impatience, the threat that Dean would hold him down starting to lose its bite. "Dean, I can't remain idle this long."

Dean took a good look at him, worrying his lip; the shakes had mostly gone away but he was way paler than Dean cared to see, and his hands were still trembling. "I don't think you're good to be let loose around machinery yet. How about this," he said, before Castiel could start arguing. "What do you say I do some work on the Firebird and you hand me the tools, huh? Would that count as working?"

Castiel's lips pressed to a thin line as he mulled that over. "I...perhaps," he said, and Dean realized how lousy he must be feeling if he was going for this.

"Cool." He dragged over his toolbox and started working on the busted taillight, staying close enough to Castiel that they could touch if they both reached out their arms. "Okay, hand me the Phillips." Dean kept asking for a new tool every five minutes whether he needed one or not, until after a few rounds Castiel didn't respond when he asked for a socket wrench. Dean crept back over, panic grabbing him by the throat until he could reassure himself Cas was breathing. As quietly as he could Dean sat back down beside him; he knew you weren't supposed to let people in shock fall asleep but Castiel's pulse was strong when he checked it and anyway, he didn't know what shock even meant for someone who could apparently fall into a thresher and wake up the next morning just fine. The quilt had fallen off his shoulder and Dean tucked it back around him, wondering what he should do now.

Then Cas made the decision for him, snuggling against Dean with his head on his shoulder and his good wing curled tight around him, murmuring something in a language Dean didn't know. "Okay, okay, I'll stay," Dean groused, settling back against the wall. As if he could actually ever be able to go up to his warm bed knowing Castiel was down here alone. “And you guys totally can sleep, whether you need to or not,” he said, checking his pulse again. Dean didn't know how long he sat there listening to Castiel breathe before finally falling asleep himself; he woke with the dawn, the quilt tucked around his own shoulders and the soft flutter of wings echoing in his ears.


Dean couldn't even put words to how relieved he was to see Castiel appear safe and sound and whole at midnight. "Hey, Cas," Dean said, tossing him the customary first beer of the night.

"Hello, Dean." It was almost as if the previous night had never happened. He tilted his head, brows furrowing. "Are you all right?"

"Am I...?" Dean let the words fade into a disbelieving chuckle. "Yeah, Cas, I'm fine. I'm just glad to see you're fine."

"I did tell you," he said, starting to work on the rust along the Firebird's roof (and staying away from the lift, Dean noticed.)

"Still glad to see it." In fact Dean could hardly believe it; if he hadn't known Castiel had been mangled up the night before he never could have guessed. He nursed his beer and managed to watch Cas work for almost a full half hour before his curiosity got the better of him. "You mind if I check out the wing? Just to see for myself."

Castiel didn't even look up. "I told you, it's healed."

"You mind if I take a look anyway?"

Castiel shrugged, a gesture Dean could tell he'd meant to be casual but was betrayed by the flare of his wings. "As you wish."

Dean grinned as he made his way over. "You been watching The Princess Bride over in Elf land?"

"The what?"

"Never mind, Cas," Dean said, shaking his head. "Maybe one of these nights I'll rig up a TV in here so you can watch while you work." He stood behind Castiel, fighting back the urge to trail his hand down the line of his back now that he had the opportunity in front of him. Instead he stroked his fingers through the soft feathers along the top of the wing, trying to find the spot he'd wrapped the night before. "There we are," he breathed, stroking gently over the skin that had been gashed open hours before. "Here and here."

He felt Castiel quiver and froze. "That hurt?"

"No," Cas said, too quickly. Dean noticed he was breathing harder than a few seconds ago. "Are you satisfied?"

If that wasn't the most loaded question Dean had ever heard. "You do look healed up," he allowed, going back to stroking along the top wing and over the curve of the joint. "Wish I could heal myself like this whenever I got hurt."

"I doubt you would care for the other requirements."

Dean knew he had a point there. Castiel sighed as Dean started massaging the site of the injury, a breathy little sound that went straight to Dean's groin. Dean kept massaging his way up the wing, the silky feathers sliding between his fingers. Castiel shivered and Dean stepped closer. "Thought you didn't get cold, Cas," he whispered into his ear.

"I'm not cold."

Dean chuckled, feeling him shiver again as he made a point of breathing against his ear as he pulled away, the delicate point all but begging Dean to lick it. He moved on to the other wing and repeated the process, drawing a deep urgent sound from Castiel that Dean wanted to hear again immediately. "Dean, that...that wing wasn't injured."

"That okay?"

Castiel just breathed hard for a few long seconds. "As...as long it's not too distracting."

Dean wondered if that was the best green light Cas could give. Either way, Castiel hadn't said stop and Dean didn't intend to. He could see that Cas was hard, a flush coloring his inhumanly pale skin. It took all of his self-control to keep his hands limited to the wings when all he wanted to do was to turn Castiel around and kiss him until neither of them could breathe, to push him into the back seat of the car they were putting back together and take him apart with every trick Dean knew and then drag him upstairs and do it all over again.

But there was definitely something to taking time to savor the moment. Dean started at the tip, massaging with deliberate, teasing slowness as he worked his way back in. There was a spot near the biggest joint that made Castiel jump, his breath stuttering in his chest as he tried to regain control and Dean was merciless, working the spot until Castiel made a desperate little sound somewhere between a whine and a moan. Dean moved on then, over the joint and into the strong muscles closer to the base, feeling them go loose and pliant under his fingers. "Dean," Castiel whimpered, holding onto the empty driver's side window frame to hold himself up.

"What, Cas?" Dean whispered back, keeping his voice low and teasing. He started massaging the bases of both wings and Castiel moaned, his hands going tight on the door frame. He was so hard Dean knew he must be aching from it. Dean found another sensitive spot and Cas' whole body bucked against him, a single, convulsive movement and God, Dean was wearing too many clothes.

"Dean," Castiel forced out. "This...this is very distracting."

"You want me to stop?" Dean said, working the sensitive spot some more. "Say the word. Tell me to stop and I will."

Castiel just moaned again, his hands so tight on the door Dean could see the white in his knuckles. "I...I can't work like this."

There was a plea there but Dean wasn't sure if he was asking Dean to stop or begging him to finish. "Tell me to stop."

Castiel just let out a long, shuddery breath. "Dean," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Dean reluctantly stepped back, giving Castiel space to regain his composure. "Okay. Wouldn't want to keep you from working," he said, probably the worst lie he'd ever told in his life.

Castiel nodded. "Thank you for understanding."

Dean reached out to smooth some of the feathers he'd left ruffled. "I'm gonna head upstairs," he said, not missing how the wing stretched into the touch.

He also didn't miss how Castiel stared after him as he left.


They finished the Firebird two days before the due date and Dean pocketed a nice big early delivery bonus. Roman gave him the promise of future business but cautioned that it might not be for another week, which was just fine with Dean; between the restoration and the regular day business Dean had not only gotten up to date on his debts but he actually had a little cushion of money to put away. The experience was such a novelty that Dean had to remind himself to put it in the banks and not blow it on the best bottle of booze he could find, and it was still a pretty big temptation.

Business was actually in a bit of a lull at the moment; he expected it to pick up by the end of the week, there was a Chrysler with a blown engine being towed in once the owner got back in town and he'd gotten a call earlier that day about doing some work with the car lot up the road to spiff up their older cars to get a better price, but at the moment he actually didn't have any unfinished jobs in the shop. He couldn't remember the last time he'd carved himself a night off and didn't intend to waste it, splurging just a little bit on two six packs of microbrew to split between himself and Cas and actually rigging up the TV in the shop so he could show Castiel the movies he kept referencing so Cas could finally start getting his jokes.

Dean counted the seconds until midnight, hardly able to stand waiting to see the surprise on Cas' face.

But that night Castiel never showed.


The next day started by getting hit by a glut of work from a five car pile-up on the freeway, which on the bright side meant Dean was so busy he couldn't dwell on how fucking pissed off he was at Cas. Dean knew the anger was irrational – he doubted Cas would intentionally stand him up – but Dean let it sit at the back of his mind anyway because at least that meant he couldn't entertain the other festering emotions that sent bile up the back of his throat. Castiel was too insistent that he had to work for him to just decide to take a night off; if he wasn't in the shop Dean knew that meant he'd spent the night with someone else and he would never have expected that thought to burn the way it did. He wondered who it had been, what job they needed that had been magically shoved into Castiel's head.

Whether whoever it was had seen him.

By the time midnight rolled around Dean still had shattered husks of cars littering his shop and he was more than a little drunk. When he heard that flutter of wings he felt a quick stab of relief go through him. He realized then that if Cas really had stood him up two nights in a row he would do everything in his power to make sure the streak didn't go to three.

But that didn't matter now because Castiel was standing there in front of him and Dean took a swallow from the whiskey bottle he'd been working on the past hour, fighting the urge to punch him in the mouth. "The hell were you last night?"

He couldn't believe Castiel had the nerve to look affronted. "You didn't have any work for me. I was sent elsewhere."

Dean wasn't usually this mean a drunk. "Just like that? Not even a word, huh?"

"You didn't require my aid. I'm sent to where I'm needed, I told you that the first night you saw me." He looked around, taking in the mess consuming most of Dean's shop. "What happened in here?"

"A mess on the freeway. Did some work a while back for one of the highway cops who got called to it and he thought he was doing me a favor by giving out referrals." Dean shook his head, putting the bottle down. "I forgot. We've been doing this long enough now that I forgot that you're not here because you want to be."

Castiel had already started evaluating the demolished front end of the Chevy that had caused the accident and while he didn't look up Dean felt his eyes flick up toward him for an instant. "When did I say I didn't want to be here?"

Dean tried his best to ignore how that made his chest squeeze tight for an instant. "So what was wrong with the poor slob they sent you to last night?"

"His temper, from what I could see."

"He got a look at you?"

"I've apparently gotten much worse at deception since meeting you."

Dean could only scoff at that, walking over to join Cas in evaluating the damage. "Dude, you sucked at it then, too." He watched Castiel from the corner of his eye, noting the uncharacteristically tight lines around his eyes and doubting it was because he was mourning for the Chevy. "Bad scene last night, huh?"

That made his jaw go tight for a moment, too. "He was...displeased to find me there."

"He put his hands on you?"

Dean knew he'd utterly failed to keep the anger out of his voice and could tell Castiel had caught it. "I'm quite capable of defending myself, Dean."

Castiel shrugged as he spoke but Dean could see the tension in how Castiel held his wings flat over his back. "That was my fault," Dean said. "Forgot the rule." Castiel shrugged again, his wings spreading forward to shade his face the way someone with long hair might hide behind it without realizing. "Worried you wouldn't come back," Dean admitted. He hoped Castiel could take that mushiness as the mea culpa he'd intended.

Castiel actually paused in his work for a second, staring up at Dean with that intense, direct look that marked him as inhuman even more than his ears and wings. "I told you, Dean. I'm bound to you until you either no longer have need of me or until you dismiss me.”

Dean tried to shrug off how the undertone to those words wrapped around him like a snake. "Good thing I have all this crap littering up my shop then, huh?"

Dean had never known anything could make him feel the way dragging that reluctant smile out of Castiel did, the one that always came and went in the blink of an eye like a guilty secret.


Castiel frowned at the tarp-covered lump sitting in the middle of the shop. "Dean, what is this?"

"A little project." Dean pulled off the tarp, revealing the crushed and twisted wreckage of a black Chevy Impala. It always hit like a punch to the chest, seeing his baby mangled like this. "She's been like this since the accident," Dean said, hoping it didn't show on his face how often he had guilty nightmares about that. "With Dad gone I just...." He just shook his head; if he still couldn't find words after all this time he doubted he ever would. "And then I got so backed up with trying to run the shop by myself and getting Sam squared away at school that I couldn't find time to fix her up. I wanted to do it right, not in fits and starts like those jackasses who restore cars in their back yards, y'know?" He doubted Castiel did but at least the guy was starting to get the hang of rhetorical questions. "But it's time now. Long past time. And if it's a slow day around here this way there'll always be something to work on."

He wasn't even sure Castiel heard; his eyes were narrowed as he looked the car over, trailing his fingers along the chrome on the right side door. "This will take a very long time.”

Dean grinned. "That's the plan."

-On To Part 4-

-Back To Masterpost-

-Back To Part 2-
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