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“Get down!” Dean shouts ducking his head as a grenade of some kind hits somewhere close to him, showering him with earth, rocks and other various rubble.
Through the ringing in his ears, Dean can make out the steady rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire coming from what seems like all around them. Raising his head, Dean squints through the air thick with dust, gunpowder and smoke trying to see who’s left in the tight position he’s in.
There wasn’t very many of them to start off with. No one had anticipated an attack this far out, which is why they only sent five of them to scout the wooded area ahead. Technically, according to the maps, these woods were part of the area their allies won, gaining them advancement a few weeks ago. Even walking through Dean and the others could plainly see the fresh battle wounds covering the trees, as well as the muddy, torn up earth leaving trenches from their military vehicles.
Looking around his limited area he spies Kevin Tran a few yards away behind a tree clutching his rifle close to his chest with one hand, while the other lays over his helmet in some poor attempt to cover his head. A stray bullet whizzes close to him, taking off a good chunk in the bark of the tree he’s leaning back against.
“I thought we pushed ‘em back!” Benny Lafitte yells, his voice carrying through the thick haze.
Dean’s eyes flick towards the part of the forest he can see, trying to figure out where it’s coming from. Not that it matters, he thinks gritting his teeth. It’s not like anyone can get to anyone else without risking getting shot without a medic around.
“We did!” Balthazar Roche shouts back. The loud sound of his rifle firing in return sounds, followed by a chuckle. “That’s two.”
“Well someone fucked up,” Dean snaps gripping his own rifle tighter before raising it to the crook of his shoulder and peeking up over the cramped foxhole he was lucky enough to fall into when the shooting started.
Letting out a slow breath, Dean closes his left eye and lines up his shot with the quick flash coming from one of the gun men and fires. The gun stops mid shot, as Dean lines up another shot and takes it. Just as he lines up a third shot the dust in the air parts just enough he sees the barrel of the rifle already pointed right at him.
“Son of a —”
Throwing himself back into the small hole, he hears the bullet whistle above him, right where he was peeking out moments before. The solid sound of it embedding itself in the mound of dirt behind him makes his stomach twist and bile rise in the back of his throat.
That could have been his head.
“Dean!” He hears Castiel shout. “Damnit! Tran, can you see him?”
Dean hears Tran whimper, probably not really hearing anyone at all. The kid (it’s still something Dean can’t wrap his head around. A fucking kid. Jesus, are they really that hard up on people that they have to start sending over kids that look younger than his own damn brother?) just arrived in their unit, maybe, a month ago. Dean loses track of the days easily out here, but he figures it’s somewhere around there. Either way, the kid hasn’t seen much in the way of fighting. He honestly doubts he’s ever had to shoot someone before, let alone deal with something like this. From the way he’s been carrying his rifle across his chest as they’ve been walking, Dean wonders if Tran actually got any real training at all before they shipped him out.
Gritting his teeth and swallowing down the stinging bile building up in his throat, Dean grunts as he rolls over and calls out, “I’m fine!”
“Shit, that was close cher,” Lafitte says before his rifle goes off again.
“Coming to you,” Castiel calls.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Novak!” Dean yells as he pushes himself up into a crouch. “There’s not enough visual for you to know what’s out there! Stay where you are!”
“Can anyone get to Tran?” Roche asks. The sound of his rifle goes off again followed by, “that’s five”.
“I can see ‘em, but there’s not enough cover for me to get over there,” Benny replies. The sound of his rifle goes off, a lot more closer than Balthazar’s. Dean wonders where they both are and what kind of cover they have.
The sound of German’s yelling carries over the battlefield as the gunfire increases so much Dean can’t make out the difference between the Nazi’s and Balthazar’s, Benny’s or Castiel’s. The sound of a human grunt and footsteps running his way makes Dean jerk his head up. Are they really rushing them?
Straining his ears to hear something more, Dean tightens his grip on his rifle ready to shoot whoever is coming his way. He’s always been an okay shot, but hand to hand combat is where he really shines. It’s rare he’s ever gets too close to a enemy that he’s able to use anything other than a gun. Still, there has been a few rare occasions over the past year where he’s been cornered and had to. His team couldn’t look at him right for a few days after that. It took Lafitte explaining to him that everyone was scared of him because it looked like he was enjoying it.
Dean lied and said he hadn’t. But truthfully, it felt good to feel something for the first time in months.
Over the sound of bullets whizzing past him, hitting everything but a solid, flesh mark makes Dean’s heart beat faster. The sounds of boots skidding to a stop right above where he’s crouched down has Dean holding his breath. He hears Lafitte’s voice yell something too distorted in the noise to make out, and then a dark blur of a figure appears above him before falling down on-top of Dean.
In the half a second the body appears over the edge, Dean has the gun discarded, and knife unsheathed, shoving it against the guy’s neck as he falls on top of him. It takes half a second more to realize the wide, blue eyes that Dean would know anywhere staring back at him belong to Castiel.
Dean’s anger spikes as he carefully pulls back the blade. “I almost fucking stabbed you!” A bullet whistles above them, hitting the opposite side of the hole. Just inches away from where the top of Castiel is. “What the hell were you thinking?!”
“My cover was comprised when the explosion went off,” he yells, eyes narrowing.
Carefully Castiel nudges Dean’s legs apart as much as he can with the space that’s there, and he slips his right thigh in between them, pressing their bodies closer together. Grunting, Dean takes Castiel’s weight on top of him as he wiggles and adjusts to try and get lower.
“Stop fucking moving and get down!” Dean hisses reaching up and grabbing Cas by the lapels of his jacket and pulling him down on top of him.
Another explosion goes off above them, raining dirt and rocks down over them as they both knock heads trying it duck their heads away. Dean’s ears ring as he reaches up, wiping the dirt away from his eyes as best he can. Castiel’s weight lifts just slightly as he lifts himself up just enough to rub at his own eyes, blinking and staring back down at him barely a breaths distance away.
“We have to wait them out until dark,” Dean says, hoping the ringing in Castiel’s ears isn’t as bad as his own.
Novak’s eyes drop to his lips, watching them move, his face slowly breaking out into a scowl. “There’s at least another two hours!” He hisses.
“The only thing we can do is hope to stall ‘em enough that our unit comes for us,” he snaps, holding back from pushing his face right up against Cas’ to get his point across. “If they’re not here by the time night comes, hopefully the dark can give us enough cover to fall back.”
“We’re sitting ducks out here!” Roche yells followed by a curse. “I need to reload, cover me Lafitte!”
“Winchester! Tran’s hit!” Lafitte yells over the noise. “I can’t get to him, but he…I think he’s —”
Swearing, Dean jerks his face away from Cas’ and squeezes his eyes shut tight. He was so fucking young. Too young. Didn’t the kid talk about a mother at home? Fuck, he wanted to be a doctor. He had dreams. But because of Dean thinking they were safe and not paying enough attention to their surroundings, Kevin’s dead.
“Save your ammo!” Castiel yells. “We’re going to have to wait them out until dark!”
“What do you have for cover?” Dean yells, trying to push himself up into a sitting position. Castiel catches on and starts moving with Dean, keeping low the whole time, until they’re both pressed up against each other awkwardly, but more of hunched sitting position.
“Two thick trees,” Balthazar says with a laugh. “Just enough gap to get my barrel through.”
“Hole right beside you,” Benny says with a grunt as something metal jingles. “Got ‘em.”
As much as Dean should yell at Benny for risking exposing himself, he just doesn’t have it in him. If they can survive till dark it’ll be a damn miracle. Then he can yell at Benny for being a dumbass.
Castiel shifts his arm slightly before laying his head back against the dirt. It gently knocks against Dean’s, and he lets his own rest against Cas’. The closeness is welcoming – a comfort, even – despite the circumstances. They’ve learned to take little, stolen moments like these for what they are and to enjoy them whenever the opportunity arises. Slowly, always making sure Dean can see what he’s doing, Castiel rests his hand over his thigh. Turning his head to the side, Dean’s stubbled cheek rubs rough against Cas’ before they both lock eyes.
Above them, gunfire is still going off, grenades going off around them, only further away now. Dean searches Cas’ eyes for what is barely a few seconds before finding the permission he needs. Slowly, just barely tilting their faces, their lips brush with the faintest of touches.
“I’m out!” Lafitte calls out, interrupting the illusion of a moment.
Tipping his head back against the dirt once more, Dean watches as Castiel closes his eyes, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Dean wonders, not for the first time, if Castiel truly wants him or if he’s just seeking comfort from wherever he can get it. It’s not uncommon, though you have to be careful. He’s heard of guys being caught and getting pulled out of the war just to tossed into jail. Where Dean finds himself craving a taste of Castiel more and more, Dean can’t help but think that Castiel deserves better - something more - and he isn’t worth quite that big of risk.
Shivering at the though, he searches for his discarded weapon and reaches for it. From what he can hear the shooting is becoming less and less, which isn’t normally a good thing. Dean’s pretty sure the fucking German’s are planning something worse than just some bullets and a grenade. They are probably waiting for dusk before they rush them. Dean refuses to voice his concern. If war has taught him anything, it’s that any type of false hope people can hold onto, they need to fucking keep it.
Adjusting the gun in his hand, Dean looks at Castiel as he cracks open an eye. He purses his lips, giving the tiniest of nods to Dean. Careful to keep low, Dean turns his body, kneeling on either side of Cas’ legs, straddling him and slowly pokes his gun and head over the foxhole. Two bullets hit the ground beside him as he looks through his scope and lines up his shot.
Letting out a breath, he focuses on the gentle weight of Castiel’s hand still on his thigh as he pulls on the trigger.