A few brush strokes, some hair gel and an entire pack of gum later, I'm standing in the makeshift bunker opposite Jensen, ready for call time. At least, as ready as I'll ever be.

I wring my hands nervously while the First A.D. oversees the crew, and soon the director makes an appearance. Jared gives me a small wave and blows me a raspberry from behind the camera crew.

What are you doing here, I mouth.

"Voyeurism," he returns unabashedly. "Don't miss your mark, loverboy."

The trench coat I'm wearing has been expertly 'riddled with bullets' and corn syrup 'blood' has been splattered all across the front, as well as on my face. I'd say I'm looking pretty damn kissable.

"You ready?" I look at Jensen, but he neither sees me nor hears me because he's too busy glaring at the boom operator.

While the crew unloads the trucks and sets up, Jensen and I are walked through the shot to help us figure out what they want us to do in relation to the camera. Normally, blocking is a piece of cake since we all know the script and what the higher ups have in mind, but today it's just nerve-wracking.

Before long, everyone's in position and ready for filming. All I want to do is jump on the earliest flight back home and go see Vicki and West and Maison.

"Picture is up," the A.D. calls. "Quiet, everybody!" He calls roll sound and the production sound mixer announces the speed.

"Roll camera."

"Speed!"

The clapper, already in position before the camera with the clapperboard, calls "marker" and I gulp apprehensively.

This is happening...

I take a deep breath as the director assumes position, and prepare to become Castiel.

"And...action!"

"Cas?" Jensen - Dean - rushes towards me immediately, voice hoarse.

"Dean," I sway on the spot, and he grabs me by the shoulders.

"Cas, what happened?"

I spit blood out of the corner of my mouth and stare dully into his eyes, which are ringed with panic and fear.

"The angels, they..."

Before I can explain, my legs give out from under me and I groan, sinking to my knees.

"Hey hey hey. It's okay. You ain't kickin' the bucket just yet, buddy. Stay with me, okay?"

Through hooded lids, I watch as Dean's face contorts in pain. He grabs my face.

"Dean."

"No. Come on man, you can't go out yet. Not like this. There's things we gotta do first, like spit on the graves of the flying dicks that did this to you, so you can't-"

"Dean..."

"No."

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"I said no, damnit."

Desperately, he pulls me to my feet and I stumble backwards against the wall of his room.

"Dean, I tried to stop them, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't," Dean seethes, tears gleaming in his eyes. "Damnit, Cas. I've had it to here with you almost getting yourself killed. You have no idea what you put me through, and all you have to say to me is, oops, sorry? Does your life mean nothing to you?"

I peer at him through narrowed eyes, lips slightly parted as he fills the gap between us.

"What do you want me to do, Dean?"

He's so close now, his breath hot on my face and his broad shoulders filling my view. I can't help it; my breath hitches in my throat and I avert my gaze just as he cups my chin gently in his hand.

"I want you to... I..." A beat of silence hangs between us. An audible swallow. "Shit, Cas...y-you know what I want."

Eyes widening, I look up into his own sparkling, emerald orbs with confusion. I let out a rushed breath, feeling heat flooding my cheeks.

Those lush, pink lips, framed by a faint honey-brown beard, are slowly approaching my own, and I mentally curse myself for forgetting Chapstick. "Don't pretend like you don't want this too."

Then I gasp as his mouth presses against mine and stifles my protest. My thoughts are fragmented, shards of smooth and soft and hot... His lips are moving now, gently caressing mine, and I kiss him back.

This is exactly what they wanted: an emotional, chaste kiss - powerful but brief.

I move my hand up to his face and let the pads of my fingers trail lightly over the rough stubble. I can feel the tension in his jaw, the anger still rolling off him in waves. I move my hands to his waist, fully intending to rest them there in a comforting gesture.

Instead, I surprise myself by hooking my fingers in his belt loops and pulling him against me, until our bodies are flush against the wall. He moans and deepens our kiss, his tongue instantly seeking permission. For a moment I forget that this isn't part of the plan, isn't necessary, and I take him in eagerly.

His hands are rough and possessive as they pin mine against the wall and he slams his hips against mine. This time I'm moaning as I tilt my head to allow him better access. My blood is roaring in my ears and that musky cologne of his is sending me into sensory overload...

"Mish," he moans and bites my bottom lip slightly. I gasp against his mouth as he pushes a knee in between my legs. He releases my hands, shoves the flaps of my trench coat aside and slides them under my shirt.

I'm pretty sure I heard cut a while ago, but my body is shutting out everything except him and he continues to kiss me with wild abandon.

Finally free, my hands grip the slabs of his back, pulling his firm chest against mine and relishing the rippling of his muscle under my nails as I dig them into the hot fabric of his shirt.

"Dmitri," he moans in immediate response, and I'm grateful for the cover of our laboured breathing because that was definitely not-

"I said cut!"

This time, the roar of the director is unmistakable.

My eyes snap open and I stare at Jensen. His lips are swollen - did I do that? - and his eyes are blown dark with shock.

What the hell just happened?

He pushes off of me, but not before I register the bulge in his jeans. Oh God.

This certainly rings a few bells.

Camera and sound have already stopped recording and the script supervisor is simply gawking at us.

Before they can assail us with questions like who told you to do that and have you even read the script and how much of that do you think we can use, Jensen fixes them all with a murderous glare.

"You wanted a show," he seethes. "We gave you a show."

"But that's not-"

"Well, edit it," he snaps. "I'm not doing any more takes."