#it's WAY easier to find GOOD FUCKING WRITING on ao3 because you're not getting distracted by flashy graphics

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hey everyone, welcome to the last chapter. Thank you so much for reading through this. I know it’s a crack ship and not everyone’s cup of tea, but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you all enjoyed it :)

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Ten - Moving Forward

Two Weeks Later

"You feelin' okay?"

That was a loaded question, and one Freed wasn't yet ready to deal with. He and Gajeel were walking from the guildhall infirmary side by side, the first time that Freed had been outside since his demon had left him. It was mid morning and an entirely pleasant day, and Freed found himself angry at the sun beating down on them both. If it were raining or stormy then at least it would feel appropriate for his mood.

A cane. For the rest of his life, he would need a cane.

In terms of a mage's possible injuries, ending up with a cane wasn't much to complain about. People had been killed, mutilated and injured beyond recovery, so having to walk with a cane was hardly the worst that could happen. But every time he thought about it, Freed could only see a future limited by a piece of wood he would need to lean on.

The demon, it seemed, wasn't only eating away at his soul. It had slowly been sapping away at his energy both physical and magical, and the effect was more physical than Porlyiusca had thought. Porlyusica had said that, though she didn't know how long it would take, the demon would have eventually started to make Freed wither if it had been left to stay inside of him. The issue had been that, as the demon was being dragged from his soul, it's influence had exploded and affected Freed greatly, particularly in his lower right leg.

Porlyusica had said the influence had been like an ocean, slowly wearing away the coast. But as the demon was taken, it had turned into a tsunami.

He had been assured that the injury wasn't life threatening, and it was something that he could more-or-less get passed. Eventually, he would manage to bring the strength back to his leg, and when that happened the cane would only be a precaution for the occasional moments where the injury flared back up. Apparently he would be able to work as a mage again once the recovery began, though would have to change his fighting styles and work back up to the missions he had been taking.

Maybe he should be thankful that he would be able to continue working at all. He wasn't.

"Conflicted," Freed eventually said, walking beside Gajeel and determined to keep pace with him despite the unfamiliarity of the cane. "I'm glad you're here, though. Thank you."

"I wasn't gonna be anywhere else," Gajeel said firmly, and that was something of a consolation.

There was a lull in the conversation, and Freed knew what it was. Gajeel couldn't think of anything to say, because there was nothing that he could say to make the situation any better. No doubt, Gajeel knew that Freed wasn't fond of pity, and a lot of what a person might say in the situation might be seen as pitying, and so Gajeel was probably remaining quiet. Freed hoped this wasn't going to be a sign of things to come.

As if reading his thoughts, Gajeel suddenly perked up and looked at Freed with a mischievous smile. It was forced, but Freed didn't want to linger on that and so pushed it to the side and quirked up an eyebrow in a question.

"The stripper and the puppeteer are making Sparky and the flirt do their punishment this week," Gajeel said, and Freed laughed a little. "You wanna see them makin' asses out of themselves while being ordered around by two assholes."

"They actually went through with the butler idea?" Freed chuckled.

"Yeah. Even the thing about them being in their underwear and everything," Gajeel grinned, and maybe he was just happy to hear Freed amused. The last few weeks, he had been downcast at the best of times. "Even made sparky wear bunny ears. Though he was gonna fry all of us with how pissed off he looked. We were all laughin' pretty damn hard,"

"He takes bets seriously," Freed smiled. This topic, as stupid as it was, was a welcome distraction. "Are you sure you wish for me to see my ex in such a state of undress."

"Fuck yeah i do," Gajeel grinned. "You see him, then you see me and realise how much better you are now."

"So you intended to strip off too?" Freed probed. "I am being spoiled."

"Anythin' for my prince," Gajeel said.

Prince. Gajeel had been calling Freed that a lot over the last few weeks, and it always made him blush just a little. There was something so honest about the way he said it, as if Freed really were a man of importance to him as well as being someone to be revered. Freed wasn't the type of man to need complete adoration from a partener, but the fact Gajeel was so unquestioningly open about his reverence for him made Freed delighted. It was certainly better than city-boy, too.

And when he said he would do anything for Freed, it sounded like he meant it. Not just in the sense that he would do anything to make Freed's life easier now that this had happened. No, it felt like Gajeel was naturally happy to do things for Freed because he wanted to. Freed felt the same as Gajeel in that respect; he would do anything for him.

"I think maybe I'd like to go home for tonight," Freed eventually said, and Gajeel nodded.

"Thought you might," He said. "Don't worry about groceries or anything, I sorted 'em out. Spoke to yer team, so I've got everything you normally have, I think. Might make a cottage pie for dinner, Sparky said you like 'em. And I went to that bakery downtown and got you a banoffee pie for dessert."

And with a few statements, Gajeel had gotten Freed to cry.

The man who, less than a month ago, had been nothing more than a tedious acquaintance of Freed's was now somehow one of the most treasured people in his life. Because how could he not be? How could Freed not be entirely enamoured by a man like Gajeel? A man who had visited Freed every day in the infirmary, even sneaking in some nights despite rules saying he shouldn't. A man who, despite being known for his antisocial nature, had spoken to Freed's team to find out what he liked and what he did when the world was getting on top of him. A man who knew that something so trivial and comparatively not important as an empty fridge would be Freed's first thought after what had happened.

Gajeel noticed his sudden emotion and turned immediately. He looked at Freed with such open concern on his face, cupping Freed's cheeks with his large and calloused hands so carefully that Freed might swoon. Damn this brute of a man and his hidden fragility.

"It'll get better," Gajeel whispered. "I know it's shit now, and I ain't gonna tell ya how to feel 'cause that'd be shitty of me, but you'll get past it. Yer Freed fucking Justine, remember."

"I know," Freed chuckled, blinking a few times to cut off the tears. "Thank you."

"I ain't gonna let you do this alone, neither," Gajeel kept on. "Anythin' you need, anytime, I'm gonna do it for you. And you know you've got a whole guild full of people who'll do exactly the same. You'll get through it."

"I will," Freed whispered, and smiled at Gajeel. "You're too good to me."

"Like hell I am," Gajeel argued. "Now move yer ass. I wanna get in that damn bed of yours again. Mine feels shitty after havin' yours and yer runes would only let me in when I was bringing groceries."

Freed laughed at that. Gajeel certainly wasn't going to be treating him like glass. Good.

They walked down the streets of Magnolia side by side. For the most part it seemed normal, and on the few occasions where Freed's grasp on the cane wavered, or his leg buckled under him, Gajeel would help him back to being stable, held him while he walked for a few steps, and then acted like nothing had happened. Respectful, unpatronising, but there for him.

Gajeel was going to be there for him, and at that moment that was all Freed needed.

——

One Month Later

"Come on Prince," Gajeel yelled. "Nearly there, baby. Yer so close."

Gajeel was clapping as a form of motivation, standing on the side of the lake. He and Freed were in the forest that their relationship had begun in, having spent the night camping under the stars. The morning was a brisk and cold one, but Gajeel didn't care, as he watched his boyfriend keenly and with a ridiculous grin across his face.

Freed was so close. He was so close to getting there and Gajeel was so damn proud of him.

The couple had spoken at length about how Freed was going to move past his injury, and Freed had been adamant that he wanted to be as fit as he could and return to his missions as soon as he could. While Gajeel had been a little hesitant, he had worked with Freed on how they would accomplish that, and they had settled on building up his leg's muscle in small bursts. They would make goals for Freed to accomplish, and once he had accomplished one, he would move onto something more strenuous.

Swimming the entire length of the lake was the first goal. Although swimming didn't rely too heavily on his leg muscle, it kept it moving and put some on some burn. Multiple times a week they would get to the forest, and Freed would attempt it. So far, Gajeel had needed to dive in after and help him.

But this time, it looked different.

Freed was getting closer and closer to the shoreline and Gajeel could feel that this was the one. Finally Freed was going to get to the other end of the lake without any assistance. The water parted with each swift motion, and Gajeel was grinning from ear to ear as his boyfriend got closer.

"You can do this baby," He yelled again. "Yer fucking amazing. Yer so close."

Maybe Freed heard, because he seemed to speed up. As he approached the shoreline, Gajeel picked up his cane and rushed to where Freed was going to end up. He was going to do it! He was going to make it.

The moment Freed's hand hit the side of the lake, he removed his head from under the water. A look of shock turned to something close to joy, and Gajeel relished every second of it. To see the man he loved so happy, so proud of himself, was tremendous. Better still, Freed pushed himself out of the lake with no assistance, perhaps on an adrenaline high, and managed to stand up. It was wobbly, and he reached for his cane the moment it was within reach so he could prop himself up on it, but the fact he could do that after pushing his body so hard in swimming was incredible.

"Shit," Gajeel grinned. "You fucking-"

He was cut off when Freed grabbed Gajeel by the collar, pulled him down into a strong, passionate kiss. Gajeel stepped into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Freed's waist, not caring for how wet his clothes were going to be. He kissed back with as much passion as he could, because fuck - Freed had done it!

When they pulled apart, Freed had his left hand wrapped around Gajeel's neck. He looked practically giddy at his achievement. Fuck that was a handsome look on Freed, and Gajeel wanted to see it more. He pulled away, looked his man up and down and grinned.

Bastard shouldn't be able to kiss like that while dressed in a speedo.

Only Freed would be able to take the choice to give up sex until he was feeling reovered and turn it into a game where he'd try and turn Gajeel on every chance he got, just to piss him off. Motherfucking tease

"How d'you feel?" He asked, because Freed's health was more important than his arousal. "Nothing hurting too bad?"

"It burns, but like my arms do after lifting weights," Freed said, tentatively raising his right leg and moving it slightly. "But overall, I feel fantastic. Better than I have since everything began, I think."

"I'm glad," Gajeel grinned. "You wanna have some breakfast. Brought some pancake mix from the store if you wanna try it."

"Great," Freed grinned, and began to walk beside Gajeel to where they had set up camp. He looked up towards Gajeel with a spark in his eye that had been missing for some time. It was incredible to see it again. "I want to try and do it again tomorrow, to make sure that it wasn't a fluke. Would you mind sleeping here another night?"

"Of course not," Gajeel said immediately. Freed didn't need to ask.

"Once I'm sure that I can swim the length consistently, I think it makes sense to start working on exercises that focus on my leg, rather than using it as a secondary point of focus," Freed continued, seemingly unaware as Gajeel wrapped a towel around his bare shoulders. "I have a leg press at home which I could use, though perhaps that might be too much too soon. I suppose we can test it, can't we? You wouldn't mind being there, just in case something goes wrong."

"That's fine," Gajeel nodded, grinning at his boyfriend.

"Or perhaps some kind of ankle weights would be better," Freed continued, walking towards their camp as if walking on air. "They're not the most elegant solution, but they would certainly help build up muscle without too much strain. Perhaps you could make some for me, if you found the time of course. Maybe a continuous piece of iron that would snake around my calf, that way the weight would be distributed better around the leg."

"Makes sense," Gajeel said, chuckling. He was fairly sure he wasn't really a part of this conversation Freed was having with himself.

"I did want to start work on making the barn at the back of my property into a gym, but I've kept putting it off," Freed continued. "The space is rather a mess. Maybe the two of us could clean it out together. That would get me moving and help me be physical while using the cane," He then looked up to Gajeel and frowned. "Why are you smiling like that at me?"

"Yer cute when yer scheemin'," Gajeel grinned. "Glad I get to watch it."

Freed looked like he wanted to argue, so Gajeel leant over, pressed a kiss on the crown of his head, and smiled. Things were getting better.

——

Two Months Later

"Freed, no," Bickslow said firmly. "You can't do this to us."

"Why did you think this was a good idea?" Gray demanded, resting his head in his hands. "You've doomed us all."

"You're all so dramatic," Freed chuckled, leaning back in the chair and moving the wrapped box so it was out of sight again. "And I'm afraid that, when I'm choosing a gift for my boyfriend, I didn't prioritise the opinions of my friends."

"You should have," Evergreen huffed. "This is going to be awful."

The guild's New Years party had been going for hours now, and it had been a fun affair. People had drunk, made fools of themselves, and shared tender moments with their fellow guild members. While Freed hadn't engaged in much of the action, other than beating Max, Loke and Natsu in an arm wrestling contest, he had enjoyed a night of people watching and drinking with his friends and boyfriend.

As the night wore on, The Raijinshuu had flocked to a corner and sat at a table. Not only The Raijinshuu though, as Gajeel, Gray and Elfman were now mainstays of their table. It was odd, how quickly their small group had expanded and how easy these new friendships had been formed. Even Laxus, who had openly shown frustration at the fact he could have to go through the torture of becoming friendly with new people, had managed to find common ground with their new partners, even if he did pretend to be annoyed by their presence.

Or perhaps he was distracted. He and Loke could often be found glancing across at each other in subtle moments. Perhaps being forced to dress as sexy bunny-butlers had brought them together in a way fighting side by side just couldn't.

They were less subtle than Evergreen and Elfman, though. It was frustrating.

At that moment, Gajeel and Laxus had gone to the bar to collect the latest round. Freed had taken the opportunity to have a little fun with everyone else sitting at the table, and told them what his specific gift for Gajeel was. They had been less than pleased when they found out what it was, which only made Freed even more sure he had chosen the correct present.

"Hey," Gajeel said, placing a tray of drinks on the table and kissing Freed atop the head as he passed. "Why does everyone but you look pissy?"

"I told them that we couldn't open our gifts without you and Laxus being here," Freed lied smoothly, ignoring the roll of the eyes from Gray and Bickslow. "They were so enthusiastic to see what we've all got for each other, they didn't want to wait."

"Okay?" Gajeel frowned. "I don't believe ya, but if that's the story yer gonna go with, then I ain't gonna fight ya."

Freed chuckled. Gajeel really could see right through him.

Even though he didn't believe Freed's lie, the group did begin to open the presents they had gotten for each other. Elfman and Evergreen exchanged gifts first, doing so with the maturity of a woman who didn't know how to show off her affection, and the blush of a man who was delighted at even the smallest of compliments. Next, Bickslow and Gray, who had similar minds and had gotten each other gag gifts; Gray had been gifted ten coupons for a night with Bickslow, Bickslow had been gifted a pair of mens lingerie. Even Laxus had been given a gift from an 'anonymous' source, who had gotten him a small pendant shaped like a lion.

They really needed to be more subtle.

When it came to Freed and Gajeel, Gajeel offered his wrapped gift first. The box was long and thin, and Freed looked at it with curiosity as he began to unwrap it. When he looked at Gajeel, the dragon slayer was nervous.

"If you don't like it, that's okay?" Gajeel said, and Freed frowned. "It was kinda risky. So don't feel bad if you wanna change it back."

Not entirely sure what to expect, Freed opened the box. Inside of it was a new walking cane, one made of both wood and metal, a hell of a lot nicer than the one he'd gotten from Porlyusica. For a moment he wondered what Gajeel had been so nervous about, and what he meant by 'change it back', when he saw the handle. Rather than a simple handle, Gajeel had placed the hilt of Freed's sword on top of it.

The sword had been a constant burden for Freed over the past few months. He couldn't use it as his hand was occupied with the cane, so he had been forced to retire it. Looking at it was like a reflection of how much he had lost, and it had gotten so bad that he had put it in the attic and locked it away. Gajeel had apparently found it.

"I know the sword meant a lot to ya, but after what happened it made you feel shitty," Gajeel explained. "But I wanted it to make you feel good. Not something from yer past, but something from yer future."

"It's beautiful," Freed whispered, running his hand over the metal that had once been his hilt.

The sword had been the first thing he had brought with his own money, and the hilt had been the deciding factor over all the other weapons the armory had. For most of his life, it had been his most prized possession. Now, with the hilt attached to something that he could use, rather than something that taunted him with it's past importance, he could look at it with fondness and pride again.

"You sure?" Gajeel asked.

"Yes," Freed said earnestly. "It's perfect."

"You ain't seen everythin' yet," Gajeel was grinning now, and Freed removed it from it's box. "If y' push it into the ground and twist it anti-clockwise, you'll see what else I did."

Freed did as instructed, and heard a small click come from inside the cane. He lifted it up, and a thin blade was revealed to him. He looked at the shining metal with wonderment, and slowly brought the blade towards him. Another sword, more lightweight and agile than his previous blade had been, which worked better for his current state.

"I smelted down the old one and made it from the same metal, so it'll carry all the enchantments you put on it," Gajeel explained. "Thought you'd need one for when you started working again."

"It's perfect," Freed whispered, grinning at the blade. "Thank you so much, Gajeel."

"Happy new year, prince," Gajeel mumbled, pressing his lips against Freed's for a chaste kiss. "Yer gonna kick ass, I know it."

"I certainly intend to," Freed smiled, reaching for his gift to Gajeel. "While I admit it's not as thought out as yours was - I don't think anything could be - I do hope you enjoy what I got you."

Gajeel grinned and began to rip open the present, and everyone at the table who knew what he'd been gifted seemed downtrodden at the thought. Gajeel, however, looked into the large box with sparkling eyes and the biggest, most excited grin on his face. A moment later, he brandished his new electric guitar with anticipation rushing through him. Yes, Freed had definitely gotten him the right gift.

"Holy shit," Gajeel said with an excited laugh. "This is fucking kickass."

"I'm glad you like it," Freed smiled. "I should say, I expect a show."

Everyone groaned, but Gajeel ignored them. "Fuck yeah yer getting a show."

Before leaving, however, Gajeel leant down and pressed their lips together in a passionate kiss that was perhaps too deep for the situation. But with the constant PDA from Gray and Bickslow, the love/hate flirting from Elfman and Evergreen, and whatever the hell Loke and Laxus had between them, Freed felt he was allowed to kiss his boyfriend how he pleased.

"I should say," Freed murmured into Gajeel's ear as he pulled away. "I find musicians very sexy."

"Y' do, huh?" Gajeel grinned, voice a little husky.

"And if a musician were to dedicate a song to me, I could be persuaded to let him do anything at all to me," Freed continued, voice a sexy tease which he hopes would go right down Gajeel's spine. "Including, perhaps allowing him to bind me to my bed with the manicals that he thinks I don't know are hidden in the spare room," Gajeel's breath hitched. "I might let him keep me there all night, even. Though, I suppose, once I was bound, he'd be in complete control of me, so I'd have to do as instructed no matter what."

"Fuck yeah you would," Gajeel growled a little, and Freed smirked.

Once Freed had been recovered enough, the two men had restarted their sex life. Freed was happy both topping and bottoming, but Gajeel had shown himself to enjoy taking the top roll with sadistic glee. Freed had been happy to accommodate, and he'd been beaten and bruised by the man night after night.

"Something to consider before you start," Freed grinned, pulling away from Gajeel's ear to lean back in his seat.

Gajeel walked to the guildhall's stage with purpose, hefting his new guitar and plugging it into the amplifier. It seemed like everyone but Freed was unhappy with this turn of events, but neither man cared. This was for them, and they were going to enjoy themselves.

"I'm gonna dedicate this to my Prince, the hottest motherfucker in this guild," He looked towards Freed with an evil grin. "And this is a warnin' baby. You better be dancin' now, 'cause yer gonna be too fuckin sore to do it tomorrow."

Freed laughed, raised a glass to toast the sentiment, and sat back to watch his boyfriend perform.

——

Nine Months Later

Gajeel woke up with Freed wrapped up in his arms, and he still smiled at the sight of the sleeping man despite how much he'd seen it.

One year. He'd spent one year with Freed, and enjoyed every damn day of it.

Even if the start had been rocky, both with how they first felt anger towards each other as well as the difficulties Freed was facing with his leg, Gajeel wouldn't have changed a single day. Without their arguments on that first week, then Gajeel couldn't be sure that their passion would have turned into something more beautiful and more important than Gajeel would have ever predicted. And while he would give anything for Freed not to have had to face the demon and all the consequences of its possession, Gajeel was so proud of Freed for fighting through it all and was so glad he could be there to help him.

Now, Freed was a lot better. He was stronger on his feet and his cane was rarely needed, even if he always kept it with him. He could go on missions, both with Gajeel and with his team. While they weren't as action-filled as his previous missions, Freed was relearning his craft and creating a new fighting style that could accommodate his needs.

He was a fucking badass, and Gajeel loved him so much.

Life had changed for Gajeel too. Months prior, his contract in the shitty apartment had ended and Freed had invited him to move in with him. Now, every morning he got to wake up with Freed in their shared bed, in their shared home, in their shared lives.

Life was good.

With careful movements, he pressed his lips against Freed's to coax him awake. One thing that hadn't changed was Freed's adorable habit of sleeping in as late as he could, and normally Gajeel would be happy to accommodate. But today was their anniversary and he wanted to spend as much time as he could with his boyfriend. The afternoon and the evening were all planned by Freed, but Gajeel had a few ways of making the morning more fun.

"Wake up, baby," He murmured. "I got a surprise for ya."

Freed, as he always did when he was woken up before he wanted, blinked a few times and pushed his face into Gajeel's chest as if in protest to waking up. Gajeel chuckled, stroked his hand through Freed's hair, and gently pulled the man out from his chest. Freed was sleep worn and tired, but still smiled up at Gajeel.

"Morning," He greeted through a yawn.

"G' mornin'," Gajeel said with a grin. "Y' better not be tired all day. I've got plans for ya."

"Oh have you," Freed grinned lazily, hand resting on Gajeel. "Do tell."

"Not like that, y' horny fucker," Gajeel grinned. Of course, part of the day would be dedicated to screwing Freed senseless, but just not now. "Put on a robe or somethin', I'm gonna make ya breakfast."

Freed raised an eyebrow, but did as instructed and slowly removed himself from the bed. Once out from under the covers, Gajeel saw the man in his naked glory and smirked. Over the year, Freed had shown an interest in getting more piercings, and Gajeel had happily obliged. He had rings decorating his other ear, a stud on his nose, and a single barbell at the base of his cock. That was Gajeel's favourite. Day by day, he was turning his prince more punk.

In response, Gajeel had gotten himself some new tattoos in the shape of Freed's runes. They hadn't figured out how to implant actual runes, but the tattoos looked just the same. He now had the runic word for Dragon on his left arm, and he looked fucking kickass.

"When you said you were going to make breakfast, I hope you meant food," Freed teased gently. "Because at the moment, you look ready to eat me."

"Later, Prince," Gajeel promised, wrapping an arm around Freed.

They walked to the kitchen, and Freed sat at the table while Gajeel got to cooking. Freed mainly cooked for them both as he was better, but Gajeel was by no means bad when tasked with a meal. He also knew each and every one of Freed's guilty pleasure meals, and as such had decided to cook them both pancakes and bacon for their breakfast. They would need the energy for the rest of the day. No doubt Freed had something good planned, and then of course there was the double date dinner with Gray and Bickslow.

Apparently, according to Bickslow, they shared an anniversary, and as such had to celebrate together.

"Y' see that box on the table," Gajeel spoke over his shoulder. "Got you a present. Open it."

"I thought we agreed not to," Freed said, picking up the box.

"Yeah, I know. I had this already and thought it would be good for ya," Gajeel smiled to himself as he whisked the mixture. He heard paper ruffling behind him, and grinned when he heard Freed laugh. "Put it on. Every prince needs one, after all."

It was the wooden crown that he had carved when worrying about Freed in the forest. Once he had been sure Freed was okay, he had gone back to the forest and found where he'd left the carving. He had promised himself that, if he and Freed made it a year as a couple, he would give it to the man. By the amused expression on Freed's face, he had made the right choice.

Freed placed the crown on his head, rolling his eyes a little but smiling. Gajeel grinned and sauntered over to him. He pressed their lips together, grinning.

"Never thought I'd kiss a real prince," He teased. "Ain't I lucky."

"Not as lucky as me, I fear," Freed teased, running a hand up Gajeel's arms. When his fingers traced his runes, he stopped and smiled. "I never did tell you what this meant, did I? I suppose I was embarrassed. Would you like to know?"

"Yeah!" Gajeel exclaimed. He had always been curious.

"It means 'ownership'," Freed chuckled, and Gajeel's inner dragon leapt with joy. "It seems my magic has claimed you, Gajeel."

Gajeel grinned, wrapped Freed in his arms and kissed the hell out of him.

Yeah, life was pretty fucking good.

#Gajeed #Freedjeel #Freed x Gajeel #Freed Justine #Gajeel Redfox #fairy tail #fanfic #Writing #multi chapter #chapter ten #word count: 5.2k

[chokefriends]

Anatomy model Eustass Kid

By @godims0tired ♡ for my fic Life Drawing

Rating: E

Warnings: None

Characters & ships: Eustass Kid / Trafalgar Law

Word count: 2978

Summary: Law practices his anatomical drawing with Kidd as his subject. With his devil fruit abilities he can see right inside him.

Kidd finds this insanely romantic.

~~~

Read on Ao3 or below the cut. I know it's an older fic by now but I havent posted it here before so here!

~~~

Kidd jerked into full awareness as he lay sprawled in his bed. He checked around himself without moving and sensed a second heartbeat in the room, near enough that the dim echoes of its electrical impulses lapped at his skin like waves. Slow and calm. Just watching then; not yet poised to attack…

There were eyes on him.

It took him a moment to remember that the other heartbeat was supposed to be there. He wasn't used to having bedmates stay overnight.

Red eyes slid open and found keen grey ones fixed on him.

“The fuck you staring at.”

“You, idiot.”

The big redheaded sprawl snorted crassly at that and flopped over, returning the stare with sleepy menace.

Law smirked. He was wedged sideways in one of the heavy carved armchairs in Kidd's quarters, loosely wrapped in a sheet and busily scritch scritching in a large book. His gaze flicked from page to Kidd and back.

Kidd prodded him, “See something you want, Trafalgar? Come over here and take it.”

His limbs were still all loose and languid from when they'd fucked a couple hours before, but Kidd could stand to go another round. Especially with the sharp, evaluating looks Law was throwing him right now.

“Come on, c'mere.”

“Later. Go back to sleep, Eustass-ya.” The pen bobbed.

“Don’ wanna. What are you doing still up?”

“Just passing the time until my brain decides to let me fall asleep.” Law's insomniac woes again.

“A good fuck will do that for you. Lemme do the ligature thing and you'll be out like bam .” Kidd offered generously.

“Heheh. Thanks but oxygen deprivation is not the kind of sleep aid I need.”

“Your loss.”

Kidd burrowed into his cluster of satiny pillows with a sigh. For an infamously brutal pirate captain he sure liked his little extravagances. The whole room was draped with horribly clashing bits of luxurious fabrics and furs, and the odd shiny sharp thing. The manic magpie whims of past raids.

“Nah, that's no good,” Law recrossed long legs over the chair’s arm, well cushioned with some spotted pelt. “Go back to where you were a second ago.”

“Are you…? What, taking notes on me? Writing an ode to the sinful curve of my flawless ass?”

“Something like that. I'm adding my own anatomical diagrams to this medical text. It’s my favourite for reference material but the illustrations are scanty and kinda shit -- it's like they've never dissected anyone before.”

“Nice. Add a diagram of these.” Kidd kicked up a leg.

“Hah. I'm nowhere near the section on genital abnormalities, but I'll look you up when I get there. Turn on your side again, I was doing upper body musculature.”

“Ooo. I got lots of that, yeah.” Kidd complied.

The lamplight was flickering low behind Law. Kidd could see him and his book backlit dimly, the small hairs on his leanly muscled shoulders aglow like a nimbus. Tinged subtly blue.

Wait, blue?

“Do you have a Room up?”

“Yeah, so I can scan down and see the actual anatomical stuff.”

“Huh. That's handy. You don't even have to dissect anyone.”

“Yeah but it’s easier to see everything if you physically open someone up. You can isolate the individual structures that way.” Law peeked overtop of the book. “And it's more fun to do it the old-fashioned way, heh…”

Kidd gave a low laugh. Law wasn't even joking, he knew. He imagined waking up one night like this, to find some part of him delicately splayed open and the dark haired doctor sketching away with the same expression. If Law used his devil fruit power he could do it painlessly and bloodlessly, without even waking him. Kidd had seen him sever heads away from bodies completely within that blue sphere, both pieces still functioning as one. He’d never been the subject of that eerie power himself, though.

He didn’t think so, anyway.

Law untangled himself from chair and sheet, and finally came over to join him on the bed. Kidd was gifted briefly with a full view of the lithe figure. His recent handiwork was beginning to show in the mottling that ran up either thigh and the bites framing his chest tattoos.

The long limbs refolded next to him. “Stay there, I wanna do the neck muscles now.”

“Lemme see that first.”

“Don't be grabby,” Law complained, but gave up the book.

“Holy fuck.” Kidd flipped through studies of his back, shoulders, hands. “So that's how I look without skin, huh.”

He had been expecting more… yeah. Skin.

“I did say I was drawing the muscles.”

“And my bones and everything.”

“Yeah. Good skeletal structure too. Several odd calluses where breaks didn't quite set right, though.”

“You can see all of that?”

“Yeah, of course. Like I said, I can scan down to any level. Though it helps if I know already the shape of what I'm looking for.”

Something about the drawings was just so Law. The lines so precise, so sharp, somehow impatient. A little obsessive and overworked on certain details, like the hollow between his collar bones and the knobbly crook of his index finger, broken at least twice. Many practice studies on loose sheets of paper showed that Law had been trying to get these parts just right.

It occurred to Kidd that these weren't just anatomical studies using him as a model -- these were him.

Jotted notes crowded around the practice studies, but Law grabbed the book back before Kidd could read them properly.

“Trafalgar. Does that seriously say I have 8.2 litres of blood in me.”

“Nevermind that. Just an interesting fact. You have a lot of blood.”

Kidd stole another peek as Law held him off. “And that I have a grip strength of 68 kilograms in my right hand?”

“At least. That’s not something I can see; that's from uh, experience.”

Kidd leaned back with his hands laced behind his head to look at Law. “One might misinterpret this as a target profile of some kind.” Because that's exactly what it was -- a detailed map of Kidd’s strongest, and weakest points.

“Whoa, your blood pressure’s spiking.” Law grinned with more teeth than usual and leaned in to hover over him.

“Now you're just showing off,” Kidd complained.

“Does this disturb you?”

That wasn't exactly the feeling that was spreading through him, no. Or not entirely, anyway. Kidd just cracked his neck, stretching it out for Law's benefit, and raised an eyebrow.

“So you wanted some neck action? It's all yours.”

Law seemed to like the sound of that. He angled Kidd’s head away and up with a gentle press of fingers, so the ear and neck were exposed to him.

Kidd watched his shadow flicker on the opposite wall and listened to the pen scratch across paper. The undulating magnetic field of Law’s heart was so close now, washing over him. His own blood thudded in his ears, senses all on high alert from holding himself in this vulnerable position.

He could be fuckin patient. Sometimes. Well… when he had all of Law’s attention focused on him like this, he’d stay still forever. He could feel the sharp eyes on him like a touch. His own eyes started to wander back over…

He jumped a little when Law did touch him, nudging him back into place. And then trailing fingers over the mound behind his ear.

“Sternocleidomastoid,” Law mouthed to himself. “Levator scapulae…” The hand travelled down to his collarbone and rested there lightly, his thumb tracing little circles.

It was so calm. And strange. Rare for the reserved doctor to be so casually intimate. Even while they were fucking, touch was more like a struggle, hands straining against and into each other. Kidd was rough without even trying, but it was Law who seemed to flinch from any contact not resembling combat. Or medical care. Such structured things. He’d objected -- vehemently -- to being “pawed at” and “pet like a lap dog” often enough. As though anything less than bruising force would hurt more.

He was so guarded. It made Kidd greedy.

“You're hard, you know,” Law breathed onto his neck.

“Yeah I'm aware.”

“Heh.”

Tattooed fingers ran along Kidd’s side, over the tight bands hugging the ribs (“Serratus anterior…”), and pinpricks rose in their wake. Kidd found himself arching up against the hand desperately.

“Ah, fuck, Trafalgar…”

“Mhm,” Law responded, distracted. Or pretending to be. He followed a particular cord of muscle down Kidd’s powerful thigh with his thumb. “Sartorius. Gracilis.”

“Dick.”

“No that's not a muscle, Eustass-ya.”

“Oh for the love of GOD.”

Law made a sound that was probably a muffled laugh. “Hold still. I'm doing anatomical studies.”

“Oh is that what we're doing.”

“Obviously.”

“Where's the book.”

“It's…” Law looked around for a minute. “On the floor.”

Kidd covered his face with his hands and just laughed. Law sighed dramatically.

“Well. Guess I gotta start from the top again.”

 

---

Law could be a pushy bastard when he topped. But he kept up the slow, focused treatment this time and it was driving Kidd fucking insane.

“I'm gonna flip this the fuck around and pound you inside out if it takes any longer.” Kidd growled from under his arm, slung across his face.

This was as close as he could get to actually asking for it. Here he was laid out, so open and ready, core clenching and unclenching. Needing to be fucked, to have hands on him, in him, whatever. All of it.

“Nah you're not.” Law countered smugly.

“F-uck,” was all Kidd could come up with when a third finger twisted into his slicked up hole. His body tensed and spasmed before yielding itself open.

By the time Law was actually fucking him, Kidd had nearly popped a fucking vein.

Law pushed in slowly, slowly. Until they were pressed together as tight as they could go, breath hot on each other's faces.

“Shit, Tr--ahh…”

“Eustass-ya…”

He was done with all the slow shit. Kidd was a shifting mass of need under him and honestly, he was even more worked up. He dragged almost all the way out only to grind back in hard, and the tight body jolted.

“Aw fuck, yeah…”

Law braced his weight on his arms, pressing Kidd’s hips into the bed. He watched the muscles bunch beneath him with each impact, Kidd straining to meet him. Watched through skin so pale it was translucent, glowing and rippling.

Kidd still wasn't entirely sure what to make of that gaze. All hunger and splitting seams, open lips and ragged breath.

He quirked up one corner of a mocking mouth.

“The fuck’re you-- ah --staring at?”

Law didn't answer for a moment. Under Kidd's skin it was like… layers of red ribbons, wrapping him up. The ribbons all pulling and straining against each other when Kidd moved (when Law moved in him), like something inside was trying to burst out. Under them, ribs curving -- jealous fingers. Wetly clinging membranes. Then under that…

“Your heart. It's…”

Their bodies collided, beaded with sweat. Harder. More. Law could see, hear Kidd's heart beating faster as he picked up his pace. God, he could feel it in his palms. In his dick. Beating so strong it echoed in his ears, drowning out his own.

“Fucking perfect. It's perfect.”

Kidd laughed breathlessly. His heart. What the hell. “...You wanna get your hands on that too?”

Law did.

He wanted to grip it, feel it flutter, make it burst …

… What if I could? he thought. He slowed, thinking, and spread a hand over Kidd’s breastbone. Not just to incapacitate through dismemberment, but to cut a piece from the whole, one vital piece…

Kidd watched the pensive eyes flicker and gave him a swift jab of encouragement with his heel.

“You'll just have to get hold of it the old fashioned way. Hahahaaa…”

“Hah.” Law shook himself from his distracted state. He picked up a pace that was slower than before, though not less jarring. “Like… I should court you or like I should cut you open?”

“Whichever ...ah ... But you should fuckin get me off first.” Kidd guided the tattooed hand down from his chest to his dripping cock, and Law obliged, finally.

They fucked with foreheads pressed together and grips slipping on sweat slick skin. Kidd thought of Law digging his hands right into his chest and came in jerking starts like it was being beaten out of him, legs clamped tight around him. Skin thrumming with the echoes of hands and heartbeat.

 

---

Kidd flipped through the last few drawings with some undefinable flutter in his gut.

“That's some shit you won't see in any other textbook.”

“Mhm.” Law allowed himself to press against Kidd just slightly as they lay sprawled out, sweat drying in the cool air. He was in a fuckin good mood, kinda dazed.

“I do look damn good without skin, I'll say that much.”

“Heh. And with. You can see the suprasternal notch really clearly even under the skin, it's nice. I fuckin love all of that. That area.”

Kidd choked a little but Law didn't seem to realize what he'd said. And that's not even what he meant anyway, Kidd told himself.

But the whole thing kinda was the same as a confession, at least as far as Law went. The drawings, as vaguely threatening as they were, betrayed an intimate preoccupation with Kidd's finer points. Maybe even admiration. Definitely possessiveness. Need.

“I wanna do you too.”

Law grinned, “Already?”

“Not that, idiot. Draw you.”

“I didn’t know you could draw.”

“Well, draft. I can draft things -- just basic. For engineering stuff on the ship, mostly.”

“Oh, nice!” Law bounced up to get fresh paper from the floor by the chair. “How does one usually draft stuff? Don’t you need a triangle thing? Compasses, etcetera?”

“Maybe. I’ll just make an outline for now.”

Law seemed right into this whole idea. “Draw me like one of your machines, Eustass-ya.” He draped himself dramatically across the bed and Kidd shoved him with a grin.

“How do you want me, though.”

Kidd appreciated that question for a moment.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “I don’t know how to draw from life -- like perspective or anything. So it’s gonna be pretty diagrammatic. I just need a few details and some numbers.”

“Like specifications? How to build a Trafalgar?”

“Yeah, so I can make another if this one breaks.”

That made him laugh.

“Okay lie out flat and lemme measure you.”

“With what measuring tools?”

“I'll just eyeball it,” Kidd insisted.

This turned out to mean that he was going to get his hands all over him, which Law supposed was fair. He tensed and shied but stayed mostly still, letting Kidd explore his dimensions and proportions. Pages filled up with ratios and vectors of movement. Things got off track again around when Kidd was testing the rotation arc of his arms and quickly became vicious rutting. Light, skimming hands could become crushing ones so quickly.

Anyway, turned out that Law could get off while his arms were being hyperextended behind his back. Pretty effectively, in fact.

After, when they were laid out next to each other once again, and Law’s breaths were finally lengthening into sleep, Kidd dared to try another light touch. Without their thin pretense of functionality this time -- just want. He smoothed a hand over all the tattoos he'd taken such careful note of earlier. A large heart on his chest with a grinning skull similar to his Jolly Roger. Hearts on his shoulders. Kidd’s fingerprints blooming dark purple on his upper arms.

Sixty-eight kilograms of pressure and Law hadn't made a sound, but a feather touch over the marks and a quiet ah pushed past his lips.

“Whose emblem is that tattoo?”

Law mumbled with his eyes closed, “Someone who died. Long time ago.”

“Someone…” Kidd repeated to himself, but didn't probe. “You going to get any more?”

“Nah.” His breath stuttered slightly when Kidd trailed knuckles down his jaw. “I just like… your marks…”

He fell asleep with Kidd's lips against the shell of his ear.

 

---

A roll of broadsheet tied with string arrived by carrier gull when Law was back on his sub some days later. He stole away to his cluttered quarters and spread the roll out on the bed.

Inside the broadsheet was a large-format technical drawing.

There were three flat outlines of Law: front, back, side. All heavily marked out in blunt pencil, all surrounded by arcs and lines, dotted and solid, indicating measurements and angles of motion. The insides of the outlines were empty except for perfectly to scale renderings of his tattoos.

#kidlaw #trafalgar law #eustass kid #fanart #thank you so much dude i really mean it! #its exactly how I imagined laws drawing style to be ♡

[destiel-love-forever]

Hi, I hear you're taking prompts? 😊 Could you do a post S13, where Dean is injured during a hunt. As a result, he ends up deaf or blind. I don't mind which. Also, maybe make it Destiel? But not already in a relationship. Thank you. 😊

- Hello! Thank you so so much for this prompt. I absolutely loved writing this. I’ve never done an injured fic for some reason, but I’m glad I got to with this one. 

Read on AO3: Amazing Grace

Amazing Grace

“He’s not talking to anyone about it,” Sam warns Castiel before the angel can even open his mouth to ask.

Castiel glares at Sam as he rips off his trenchcoat. Not only did Dean’s brother fail to call him immediately after finding Dean's vessel emptied of Michael - waiting four fucking hours before telling him that Dean was blinded- but he also seems to be trying to convince him to leave Dean alone. It’s not going to happen. Castiel doesn’t care what stubborn Dean Winchester wants. He doesn’t care that Dean doesn’t like Castiel healing him. He doesn’t care that Dean likes to suffer in silence. Sam isn’t stopping him this time.

Castiel will fix this.

“Cas,” Sam warns again, grabbing his arm when Castiel tries walking by him to get to Dean’s room.

Castiel takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he loves Sam almost as much as he loves Dean. “Sam, I’m going in there. Don’t even think about trying to stop me.”

“He’s really upset.”

“Well, I can imagine. The man can no longer see!”

“No, you don’t,” Sam closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You don’t understand the full extent of it, Cas.”

For the first time since storming inside the bunker, Castiel actually slows down and pays attention to Sam. “What do you mean?”

“It's not just his eyesight. It's - Michael did something to his mind. I don't know what. Whatever it is, though, that's what's making him blind. His eyes appear otherwise fine. Uninjured. Not hazy or weird looking like Pamela's were. There's no reason for him to not be able to see. But he just can't.”

Castiel can hear that there's more, even though Sam stops there. He asks, “What else?”

“Huh?”

“What else has Michael done to Dean's mind?”

Sam winces. “I'm not sure. But he's different. Almost void. He recognized me and smiled when he heard me but it was distant. And he just gives short answers, his voice floaty like he's distracted. Sometimes he winces, too. Like he's in pain. And when he does that, he presses his fingers against his temples and squeezes his eyes shut.”

Rage thrums beneath the surface of Castiel’s skin. When this is over, when Dean is okay, Castiel is going to hunt down Michael and kill him slowly. Painfully.

“I need to see him,” Castiel tells Sam.

Sam nods. “I know. I just needed to tell you - warn you - first.”

With a tight smile of understanding, Castiel excuses himself and heads down the hall toward Dean's bedroom. When be gets to the door, he places his hand against the wood and closes his eyes. He can feel the emotion pouring from the man he loves. It's blue. So very blue.

He pushes the door open and sees Dean jump, clearly unsettled by the fact that he can't see who it is. Putting him out of his misery, Castiel quickly whispers, “It's okay, Dean. It's me. Cas. You are safe.”

Dean relaxes on the bed and beneath all the blue, Castiel sense a slight violet. The same color he sees in his mind when Dean looks at him a little too long, or when his touch lingers on Castiel as he walks by.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Castiel looks into Dean's unblinking eyes. Sam was right, there's no visible injury, but he still needs to at least try.

“I'm going to touch you. Stay still,” he warns. Then he places two fingertips against the center of Dean's forehead and closes his eyes to concentrate. He feels his grace build and build and build before - nothing.

There's nothing for him to fix. Or, more accurately, nothing he is capable of fixing.

“You can't help, can you?” Dean asks, resigned as he sinks into the bed and squeezes his eyes shut.

For a moment, Castiel is quiet. He pulls the thick blanket over Dean and tucks him in, then softly cards his fingers through the man's hair. “No, Dean. I cannot fix this. But we will find a way. We always do.”

“I'm scared,” he admits, his voice cracking down the middle.

“So am I.”

“He did something to my mind too. Not just my eyes. I can feel him inside it.”

Castiel tenses. “What do you mean?”

Dean looks up at him. Even though he can't actually see Castiel, the skin around his eyes tightens when they land on the angel. Emotion floods the bright green irises. “Every time I think, it's like he's pushing against the thoughts. He's making me doubt everything. Making me worry. Making me lose all hope.”

“Dean-”

“Cas, do you love me?”

Startled, Castiel is thankful that Dean is blind - as terrible as that makes him - because Dean can't see the swift reaction the question yanks from Castiel. It takes everything in the angel to swallow the lump in his throat and croak out the question, “Why?”

“Because I always hoped you did, and he's saying you don't, and it's driving me fucking nuts. He's bothering other thoughts too but this one feels like he's screaming at me. Like he's slamming himself against it with all his might. I need to know the truth, Cas. Please.”

With a soft touch to Dean’s cheek, Castiel whispers, “Yes, Dean, I do.”

Big green eyes blink up at him as if Dean can actually see. “Really?”

“Of course.” Castiel shifts his fingers until he’s cupping the side of Dean’s face. He smiles when Dean leans into the touch and hums in appreciation. “How could I not love you, Dean?”

“How much time do we have?” Dean asks with a frustrated little huff. “I could list things all day.”

“Anything you could list would be a reason to love you, Dean. Trust me. I’ve watched you be an idiot for years. I’ve seen you drink until you can’t walk or talk. I’ve seen you make some questionable choices for sexual partners. I’ve seen you sacrifice yourself for family. For the world. I’ve seen you fight with Sam. Fight with me. I’ve seen you hate. Love. Grieve. Fail. Succeed. I’ve watched you laugh until you cry. I’ve watched you cry until you laugh. Dean, I - I’ve seen you in hell.” He pauses, allowing all of that to sink in. “When I found you, you had a blade in your hand, an innocent soul on your wrack.”

“She wasn’t innocent,” Dean mumbles in a weak defense.

“She was in hell because of a deal she made for her dying 3 year old son, Dean.”

Dean slumps back, eyes sliding closed. “You never told me that.”

“You knew they were all mostly innocent, Dean. You’re smart. You understood the truly evil souls didn’t need to be put on your wrack.”

“Yeah. I - yeah.” Dean scrubs a hand against his face. Then he laughs at himself. “Why the fuck would you love me if you knew I knew that, Cas?”

“Because,” Castiel whispers softly. “You were never more human than in that moment I saved you, Dean.”

Scoffing, Dean says, “Yeah. A weak human.”

“No. No, Dean. That humanity was your strength. It always will be. The angels say I gave up everything because I fell in love with humanity, but that’s not true, Dean. I fell in love with your humanity.”

A silence falls over the room, heavy and overwhelming. Castiel knows he needs to let it remain until Dean is ready to talk. It’s easier said than done.

To distract himself, Castiel shifts on the bed so he can pull Dean into his arms. He presses his lips against the top of his head before resting his chin in the spot. One hand is resting on Dean’s hip, holding him tight, while the other strokes soft circles on his bare arm.

With a deep breath, Dean asks, “Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“Have you ever?”

“Not for a second.” Castiel smiles to himself. “I’ve regretted many things, but you, Dean Winchester, is not one of them. Never will be.”

“Even though I’m blind and useless now?”

Castiel chuckles, trying to pretend the words don’t twist a knife in his chest. “First of all, you could never be useless. Second of all, don’t underestimate us. We’ll fix this.”

“One of these days, we won’t be able to fix it. What if this is that time?”

“It’s not.”

“Cas-”

“Dean, it’s not.” He forces himself to move past the fact that he’s pretty sure his relationship with Dean has gone from friends to romance, focusing instead on the problem at hand. “Talk to me about him. What is he doing right now?”

Dean pauses, trying to do an assessment. “Nothing. He’s silent.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I want to test a theory.”

“Oh?”

“Close your eyes.”

For a moment, Dean just stares at him - or a few inches to the left of him - green eyes bright. Then he does as told. It takes him a few seconds but he finally relaxes against Castiel, keeping his eyes closed, and waits patiently.

“Keep them closed until I say. Promise?”

Dean shifts, then nods. “Promise.”

“Good.” Castiel takes a deep breath, then whispers, “Dean, you can see. He’s saying you can’t but he’s wrong. He’s messing with your head. You can see.”

“But I can’t.”

“Just like you couldn’t believe I loved you, until I convinced you otherwise. He’s not inside you anymore, Dean. It’s just like when Sam got his soul back. He saw Lucifer, and Lucifer could drive him crazy, but none of it was real. Michael isn’t inside your head, Dean. I can’t sense him. There’s no grace in your body.”

“Then why can’t you fix me?”

“Because there’s nothing to be fixed, babe. It’s all in your head. You can see, Dean. He just wants you to believe you can’t. But I promise, you can. You can see.”

Castiel feels Dean sink into his hold. “I’m afraid. What if I open them and I can’t?”

“You can, though. No reason to be afraid. Trust me.” Castiel presses a kiss to his forehead. “You can see. Say it.”

There’s a long pause but then Dean nods once and whispers, “I can see.”

“You can. I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Do you trust me, Dean? Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Dean says without hesitation.

“Then open your eyes.”

Dean hitches a slight breath before slowly opening his eyes. He stares straight ahead without blinking and Castiel’s heart begins to sink. Just as he’s about to apologize for getting Dean’s hopes up, for making an educated guess and being wrong, Dean’s launching out of his lap and turning around so he can straddle Castiel.

With wide green eyes, Dean studies every available inch of Castiel’s face. His hands come up to map it as well. He smiles and a tear falls from his right eye. “I forgot how beautiful you are.”

“Rude,” Castiel teases, his lips pulling into a smile as his body sags in relief.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Shut up, you know what I mean. I just - I never let myself look long enough. I never got much of an opportunity to memorize the details.”

“Well, then. Take your time.” Castiel sinks back against the pillows, getting into a comfortable position. “I’m not going anywhere.”

With a shy smile, Dean begins to study him more thoroughly. He maps his forehead, his fingertips dipping into the wrinkles there before smoothing over his eyebrows. Castiel’s eyes flutter closed so Dean can gently touch each eyelid, then caress the soft black lashes attached to them, tickling Castiel’s cheekbones where the hair kisses the skin. He taps the bags under his eyes, worry churning in his gut because angels shouldn’t look so damn exhausted, then traces the crows feet that are barely noticeable at the moment. He smiles to himself, thinking of how deep they get when Castiel grins. When he laughs.

Castiel blinks his eyes open and Dean memorizes them. The color is so deep and pure, but just along the inner edge of his right iris there’s a lighter blue, same with the left. It’s the same shade as angel grace.

Dean blushes when his fingers touch Castiel’s soft pink lips. He’s imagined kissing them so many times. They’re fuller than he thought, plump and giving as he prods at them. The dip in the bottom lip is just big enough for the tip of his thumb to rest there. Castiel parts his lips ever so slightly to make room and Dean’s breath catches.

Their eyes lock and the room fills with an electricity that makes even the angel shiver.

“What are you thinking?” Castiel eventually whispers, when the air around them has built toward a lightning storm.

“How thankful I am that I can see this. That I’m here - right now - doing this.”

The lips surrounding his thumb twitch into a smile. “You’ve touched and seen, but you haven’t tasted.”

If Dean didn’t feel like he was standing on the edge of an abyss, maybe he’d tease Castiel for how smoothe that was. He’s too in over his head, though, and all he can do is grin like a complete idiot. “Maybe we should fix that.”

“Oh, we should definitely fix that,” Castiel says with an air of authority.

Taking Dean’s wrists in a gentle hold, he moves his hands so that Dean is cupping Castiel’s stubbled cheeks. Dean has only a second to appreciate the new texture before those lips he was just studying are against his own. He gasps into the kiss, eyes wide open like he’s afraid if he closes them, he’ll never be able to see again. Then Castiel’s tongue darts out to lick along the seam of his mouth and Dean can’t help but melt against him, parting his lips and closing his eyes.

They spend the rest of the night in Dean’s bed. Each new area that’s exposed to Dean is observed, traced, and tasted. Castiel takes turns too, even though he memorized the man’s body long ago. Castiel kisses each freckle on Dean, and Dean kisses each scar where an angel blade nicked or sliced Castiel. They explore and catalog every inch until they could conjure an image of each other with their eyes closed.

Then they explore a little more, just for the sake of touching and tasting each other. It’s nearly dawn by the time they get around to making love. It’s mid-afternoon before they wake up and manage to emerge from the room. Sam is standing in the kitchen, stirring rice and veggies in a pan on the stove. He turns to Dean with a worried expression, ready to ask how he’s holding up, when his eyes lock with his brother’s. He knows immediately that Dean can see him.

Before he can rejoice or ask how Castiel fixed him, Sam begins to register other details of his brother. He’s wearing Castiel’s white dress shirt with only two buttons done, in the wrong holes by the way, making one side drop lower than the other. It’s slightly too big for Dean, something Sam would never dare point out, but it makes it so one shoulder is uncovered as it droops down. The shoulder matches Dean’s exposed collarbone and throat, which are covered in bruises. Sam grunts, looking over to find Castiel bare chested and wearing a pair of Dean’s worn out sweatpants. His grace has faded most of the marks on his body, but it does nothing to battle the obscene sex hair, flushed cheeks, or kiss swollen lips.

Sam can’t decide if he should be wishing he were blind, or if he should be jumping up and down in a fangirl-like joy. He settles for in between.

“Three things,” he begins, looking between his brother and the angel. “First, how can you see again? And is it permanently fixed?”

“Michael was just manipulating his thoughts through the damage he did while inside him. Once I helped him overcome those mental blocks, he was fine. It should be permanent. He hasn’t heard Michael since last night.”

The two exchange a look that makes Sam uncomfortable. He does not want to know what was distracting his brother.

“Okay - uh, great. Good.” Sam sees a new mark on Dean, a full bite right on his trap muscle, and cringes. “Two, then. If you are gonna be doing - well - this, here, then there needs to be ground rules. Don’t be gross.”

“Gross?” Castiel asks in equal parts curiosity and confusion.

Dean grins mischievously. “Whatever do you mean, Sammy?”

“I mean gross, Dean. I grew up with you, asshole, remember? I don’t wanna be walking in on you two doing things on the fucking kitchen table or couch or - oh, god - or the library! Don’t you dare ruin the library. Or my bedroom! Bedroom and library are strictly off limits, I don’t care if I’m across the country and you know you’re safe. Off. Limits.” When Dean’s smile just grows, Sam points a finger at him like he’s scolding a small child. “I’m serious, Dean! Cuddling on the couch and kissing and what not is fine - but I’ve seen your naked ass too many times in my lifetime. I don’t need to see it again, especially not while you - you - ya know -”

“Actually, Sam,” Castiel cuts in, looking pleased with himself since he now understands. “You would more likely see mine, as Dean is the bottom in our-”

“Hey, no!” Dean yells at the same time Sam sputters, “What?”

All three stare at each other for a long time. Sam breaks the silence with a shudder and a whispered, “How did that whole blind thing work? Were you mentally blind, too? Because I’d like to be mentally blind right about now.”

“No,” Dean says, looking like he’s caught between humiliation and amusement. “You’re stuck with that mental image, little brother.”

“Well, then, the least you can do is keep it mental. Keep the nakedness away from me.”

Dean opens his mouth, but Castiel nudges him with an elbow and rolls his eyes. Sam can’t help but notice how, even when Castiel is trying to silently scold Dean, the angel can’t bite back a giddy kind of smile.

Castiel turns to Sam, nodding. “We promise, Sam.”

“Fine,” Dean says with a dramatic sigh. “We promise to try.”

“Well, I suppose that’s all I can ask for, then.

“Didn’t you say three things?” Castiel asks with his hand in the air like a shy kindergartner.

“Yes,” Sam says, finally allowing himself to grin. He steps forward and grabs both of them by the back of their necks, tugging them into a group hug. “Number three, fucking finally. I’ve been waiting for this since the damn apocalypse. I thought for sure if the world ending wouldn’t get you two to realize you were meant for each other, nothing would.”

Pulling back, Dean smiles over at Castiel, practically creating hearts in his eyes. “Guess all it took was someone teaching me how to see. Really see, this time.”

Turning back to his food, Sam begins to add more ingredients so all three of them can eat. Castiel goes to the fridge and grabs a bottled water to share with Dean while Dean begins to make coffee just a few inches to Sam’s left.

After a minute, Sam begins to hum, forcing back a smile. At first, Castiel and Dean just continue what they’re doing. Dean pours coffee. Castiel sips water. They sit down together, Castiel taking the entertainment section of the newspaper and Dean taking the comics.

It isn’t until Sam starts muttering the words that Dean freezes. He manages to get seven more words out, “- lost but now am found, t’was blind” before the rolled up section of newspaper is wacking the back of his head, sending him into a burst of laughter.

Unaware that Sam was teasing, Castiel picks up the song with his soft, raspy voice, “T’was blind but now I see -” As he continues, Dean settles back against the counter, staring at the angel in wonder as he sings off key and scans the newspaper for what Dean is sure will be some movie for them to go see that Dean will hate.

Sam stops stirring, observing his brother watching the angel. Dean’s never looked so happy. The amount of relief and joy that floods Sam’s body makes tears well up in his eyes.

Amazing Grace, indeed.