Chapter 1
Summary:
Dean ventures into the Empty to get Cas back.
Notes:
Hiiiiiiii guys. It's me. I know, I disappeared. My mental and physical health got a little (read: horribly) out of whack, but my doctors and my therapist have me feeling MUCH more like myself. I had sort of lost interest in everything and it was taking all my energy to just get through the day. I was exhausted all the time because my body was pumping out so much more adrenaline than it was supposed to that it was messing with my heart and mood and basically everything. =/ It's pretty lame and I had some personal and social problems resulting from it. Yeesh. I can't promise not to ever disappear again, but I can promise I still love Destiel as much as ever and I will probably find my way back at some point if I do go off the radar. <3 It's been a rough year but I'm just glad to be feeling more like myself.
So, this fic came from a tumblr post from user howsdeanshole (I love your username btw, that's amazing). The post has some spoilers so I'm going to link it here instead of copying and pasting as I usually do. I'm not sure a multiple chapter fic was what howsdeanshole had in mind, but I was inspired to smush together a few ideas I had after their inspiring post and so it's gonna be a long-ish one. Not sure exactly how long yet. Also, I'll be updating tags as I go, so if you choose to subscribe and wait for chapters to come out, please just remember to have a peep at the tags before you dive in :) I'll also put any new tags I think could be relevant in the beginning chapter notes going forward.
I've missed you all, and I hope you can bear with me as I'm a little rusty, but I think this will be a really fun one =]
**EDIT** Feb 11 2025 - I was today years old when I realized the Empty refers to the location oy, not the location and the entity in control. Edited to change references to entity from The Empty to The Shadow. Sorry for being the actual worst ever person and my moral and ethical failing to remember a significant apparently canon detail as simple as a name. Idk how I forgot that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Are you sure you want to do this? I don't know exactly what will happen once you go in there. I can't protect you there," Jack asked. His earnest eyes locked on Dean. They reminded him of Cas’s eyes in a way. There was something so ancient and powerful in them like Cas, but there was also a beautiful innocence that reminded Dean that he was still new to life. Despite all he’d seen and the tragedies and loss he had experienced, there was still childlike wonder and hope alive in his eyes. Dean gave him a warm half-smile and clasped a hand on his shoulder affectionately.
This would normally have been when Dean would perform a last check on his gear. He would pore over every weapon, and sharpen every blade, check all the ammo, one last time. Once everything was right, he would usually feel confidence build up. Where he was going this time, though, none of those things mattered. He had to be strong enough to make this work with no protection. No bells or whistles, just Dean.
"Yeah, kiddo, as long as you got the door open and woke him up, I got this,” Dean said with a half grin. He hoped he looked more confident than he felt. He pulled Jack in for a hug.
The truth was the Empty scared him. That wasn't the fundamental problem though. Monsters were scary, but it was the sort of scary Dean had been dealing with since he was wearing velcro buckled shoes and Garanimals. The Empty didn't scare him half as much as the other thing. But the other thing was the whole point. As scared as he was, he'd never felt more sure of anything he'd done in his life. Sam came over to stand next to him and Dean could see his little brother was nervous.
"Hey, why the long face? What would the Shadow even do with me? I'm way too loud. It would spit me back out. If it wants peace, I ain't the guy to try and trap in there. Don't sweat it, Sammy. I’ll be back here annoying you in no time."
Sam gave Dean a twitchy, hesitant smile. He said nothing, but then again, he didn't have to. Dean pulled him in and gave his brother a bear hug.
“I'll be fine. You two just hang tight," Dean quipped. He wondered if Sammy noticed he was sweating and shaking. If he did, Sam didn't acknowledge it. He just nodded. Dean slapped Sam on the back and released him. Sam wouldn’t feel completely assuaged until he was back, but he seemed a little better.
“Alright Jack, ready to launch?" Dean asked with a wink and an encouraging nod.
“Roger that. All systems go?" Jack grinned.
Dean gave a sharp nod and took a deep breath. “No time like the present, then. Do it."
Jack nodded. He opened a portal with a simple gesture toward the center of the war room. Time and space seemed to bend and then snap back in place. The yellow-gold energy of his power came into form and pulsed around the thin edges of a crack in reality. In the small gap in the center was darkness. Well, no, he realized it was much more than simple darkness. The Empty was a complete absence of anything at all, resulting in the deepest blackness Dean had ever seen outside of his handful of observations of the Shadow.
The hunter thought about giving one last word of reassurance to Jack and Sam, but he knew he couldn't delay. He had to do this before his knees turned weak and his constitution failed him. Dean thought it best to rip the bandaid off and get to work. He went forward and leapt into it. Like jumping into frigid water on a sweltering day, he went from the cozy, soft light of the bunker to a vast, still darkness.
The Empty was an uninspired name for the place Dean found himself in, but it was apt. He could perceive nothing. Nothing to see, hear, touch, taste, or smell. He couldn’t find even tiny reminders of reality. The true absence of anything made the hairs on his neck stand up and his blood run icy. There were no background sounds, not even the small ones people take for granted, like a house settling, or a passing bird disturbing the leaves of a tree. Dean realized that there was no light here or anything for it to bounce off of except the light of the portal Jack had opened. It didn’t seem to work the same way, though. It just stood alone, and the light didn’t spill out from it. He noticed he could still somehow see his hands in front of him, but that seemed to be some magical property of the place. With a mild panic, he felt there was no air, although he realized after a moment that he seemed to be fine. Dean didn't feel any air moving in and out as he respired, which was a bizarre sensation. He also couldn't feel whatever he was standing on. He wasn't floating, but he couldn't feel the ground. Dean felt like he was outside of reality that deeply unsettled him. In hell and purgatory, there was a sense of realness and there were things to see, feel, interact with. That wasn’t the case here..
He stood still for a moment, trying to orient himself. Dean looked all around, but he couldn’t make a choice and where to go. It was hard to wrap his mind around the true emptiness. He'd never experienced absolute unending nothingness before and it was doing a number on his very human brain. The hunter turned around, walking all around the crack in reality Jack had opened. He couldn't see anything else, only himself and the portal. He realized that if he didn't look at the portal while he walked around, he couldn't tell he was even moving. The total deprivation he was experiencing was overwhelming, as impossible as that seemed.
Dean meandered around as he called out for Cas. At first, the strange lack of echoes and the way the surrounding vastness seemed to eat up his words was merely unsettling. His focus was on his mission. His focus was Castiel. Dean knew Jack had woken him up, but as time passed without finding the angel, he wondered how big the Empty was. Or if the Empty had done something to Castiel.
As time passed, he heard his heartbeat. The longer he went without seeing, hearing, or feeling, the more he noticed little things. Things like the sound of his blood moving inside him. He'd never noticed a sound when he blinked before and it made him feel sick. He heard the wet sounds his tongue made when it ran across the back of his teeth. The hunter noticed the taste of his saliva.
Worse than that, he started to think, and he was not fond of his innermost thoughts on the best days. Dean kept remembering the last things Castiel said to him. He kept remembering the shock and soul-rending pain of his loss. He thought of the look on Castiel's face as the Empty swallowed him up. Pure adoration. Dean wiped a tear away from his face.
Dean noticed another oddity about the Empty. As time passed, he realized he couldn’t tell if he was getting farther away from the portal or not. It never seemed to change in size or brightness. Dean started remembering all the transgressions he'd made against Castiel. All the unkind words. Missed opportunities. All the times he'd taken him for granted. Things he hadn’t done, things he wanted to take back. All the times he had pushed Cas away and blamed him for leaving. All the things he'd left unsaid. That had plagued him most of all. He couldn't leave things the way they were.
“Cas!” he called again. Again the call remained unanswered in the infinite nothingness.
Dean rubbed his face, partly in frustration, and partly to get some sort of sensory feedback. He kept feeling this peculiar tickle in the back of his brain that said he wasn’t real. Dean shook it off. He knew that it was just the strangeness of this place he wasn’t meant to be in getting to him. He thought for a moment, and then he did the thing that made the most sense. Dean Winchester sank to his knees and pressed his palms together with a shaky sigh, and began to pray.
“Cas, you got your ears on? Jack called to you. He said you woke up, but I can't find you,” Dean whispered. He felt another tear welling at the corner of his eye and sliding down his cheek. His heartbeat sounded like violent war drums in his ears.
He looked around, but everything seemed the same. He closed his eyes and continued.
“Cas, come home. I'm here. Right now. I'm here to bring you home."
He peered around again. He focused hard and listened for a while, but there was still nothing.
“Please, Cas. I'm here. I'm here. Please wake up, please come home. It's not… I need you, Cas. I need you to come back with me. Come home with me."
He swallowed the lump in his throat. Nothing. He was still the only person here.
“C’mon, Cas,” Dean implored as more tears escaped. “Please."
He waited. More nothing. "At least show me where to go, I'll find you. C’mon, Cas. Please. I want… I need…”
He trailed off; he didn't want to have this conversation here. “Cas, I need to tell you something. What you said, I - I-,”
“What are you doing here?” Hissed a muted voice from behind him. In the pure nothing of this place, it felt cacophonous. "You're going to wake them up, and I just got everyone to sleep!”
Dean spun around to come face to face with someone he knew - Meg. This false visage didn’t fool him, though; he knew it wasn’t her. Before he could do anything, its hand darted out, and she seized him with impossible strength. She lifted him up by his neck as she stared into his soul. An unsettling, cold fury filled her eyes.
“You don't belong here," she snarled. “Not yet. I can’t take you alive. Let’s get you ready for sleep.”
Dean hoped that the lack of oxygen needed in the Empty would mean that her death-grip on his neck couldn't kill him. It didn't choke him, but he felt a wet, frigid, ooze spreading out from her hand, crawling over his skin. It crept upward to fill his eyes, nose, and mouth. The substance blotted out his vision and flood into his throat.
“CAS!" he spluttered. He spit the ooze everywhere with a sickening burbling sound. More ooze rushed up the Shadow's arm to replace it.
“Shut up! Don't you dare wake them!" The Not-Meg shushed. She gave him a vigorous, violent shake and tightened her grip. She was crushing his throat and cutting off his blood supply by the sheer, unnatural force of her grip.
He clawed at her hand and spat the ooze out over and over. The ooze had obscured his vision and his lungs were so full with it. He couldn't break her grip. He couldn't see, speak, or breathe. All he could think of was reaching Cas, talking to Cas one more time, but he knew it was too late. He wasn't sure he could die here, but he knew there was no getting out of this now. The Shadow had so much more power than he had bargained for. He was also well aware that the Empty and the Shadow had eternity tipping in their favor. He wondered if it would put him to sleep too. Would he rest in this place with Cas? Could the Empty even keep human souls? Billie had threatened to throw him there, once, but he had never quite believed it was that easy, or they would have done it much sooner. Regardless, Dean felt the cold realization that he would not make it home set in.
The Not-Meg’s hand squeezed his neck with even greater force. He felt sure she was going to separate his head from his body just by forcing his flesh to compress and collapse. Dean forced the last of his energy and focus into a mental prayer.
Castiel. If you can hear me, please wake up.
He was running out of time. It was taking all his energy. He had so much more he needed to say. He wondered if he had waited too long.
I need to talk to you… I need to tell you… that I -
He couldn't finish the sentence before his brain ran out of oxygen. With that last effort, his body went limp and motionless. He hung from the Shadow's vice grip on his crushed neck and his awareness slipped into the inky black of nothingness.
Notes:
Okay, I know, I know! Kind of a violent and bummer start. Please trust the process, I see a lot of humor and cuteness in the future for this fic. It's also a lot shorter than my usual chapters because I am trying to evolve to a point where I write several small chapters instead of a 10,000 word chapter. Feel free to tell me what you think. If you hate short chapters, I'm open to hearing how the reading experience feels for you.
My motivation has a directly correlated relationship to the proportion of lovely readers leave me comments, kudos, tumblr mssgs/comments/asks because I have low self esteem =D Please consider leaving one (or more) if you enjoyed the work. I recently logged in after almost 2 years and realized I had dozens of comments on my existing works and a lot of the encouragement from reading those helped me gather up the courage to start writing another fic. It really means more than I can say when I get to interact with readers and hear what you think. 3
I'm planning to publish biweekly at least, but I will post more often if I can.
Chapter 2
Summary:
Dean and Cas work to get back from the Empty, but they cannot make it out unscathed.
Notes:
Hey folks! I want to warn you that there is a **major character INJURY** that is very serious in this chapter, but I try to be a conscientious tagger. Please note there is NO MCD tagged in this fic. So however tough things seem, they will pull through! That's a Minxy guarantee! Scout's honor <3 As a reminder, I am updating tags with each chapter, so keep an eye on that as we go if you need to. That's more for spoiler reasons though, I wouldn't hold out on with something like MCD or anything potentially triggering.
**EDIT** Feb 11 2025 - I was today years old when I realized the Empty refers to the location oy, not the location and the entity in control. Edited to change references to entity from The Empty to The Shadow. Sorry for being the actual worst ever person and my moral and ethical failing to remember a significant apparently canon detail as simple as a name. Idk how I forgot that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean was trapped in a state of hazy half-awareness that he was fading in and out - mostly out. He felt pain so intense that he couldn't hang onto reality. Thoughts and slipping from his grasp. Gaping holes formed in his recollections and awareness. Things were happening around him, to him, but his ability to focus on or understand them felt muted and hard to reach. He was in pain, so much pain, but he was also going numb. His brain felt staticky, and it was as if he were too tired to react anymore. He felt the urge to let go of it all and let the sleep take him, but he has this pressing feeling that he couldn't, not yet. The hunter felt separated from whatever was happening around him, or tucked away in some cold and forgotten corner of reality away from it all. He noticed a crawling, cold, wet sensation rippling all over his skin, but even that was drifting from his tenuous grasp on his surroundings. It was all quite familiar to him. He was dying.
He could recognize that someone was shouting, but who? What were they saying? He thought perhaps he was falling, but he couldn't even tell. There was nothing to fall from here, no sensation that would mark its occurrence if he did, and the horrible ichor of the Empty still blinded him. More than all that, though, he didn't have enough energy to care. What he could perceive was pain, and cold, and even that was too exhausting to process. He didn't want to go yet. He couldn't remember what, but there was something important he needed to do first. .
Dean felt the heavy wetness of the ooze on his face get whisked away in a violent burst of sound and light. Something strange was happening. He'd never died like this before. The hunter felt a little more grounded. He opened his eyes. His blurred and swimming vision lurched in and out of focus in a way that made him nauseous, but he could see Cas. He was hard to see because the hunter's vision was shadowy, and fading in and out of his focus. He reached for Cas, and his vision lurched again as the angel hauled him up sharply. Dean landed in a limp, rag-doll flop against Cas. Dean’s face pressed against something soft and dark, but this was not dark like the Empty. It was comforting. It was a darkness that felt full of life. Of warmth. He felt Cas gripping him fiercely. Dean clung as best he could in his limp, near-lifeless state to Cas. He tried again to speak, but the ooze was stuck in his throat. It caused a burst of pain so intense that had him convulsing. He felt Cas held him more tightly before he blinked out of consciousness once more.
He did not know how long he was out this time, but it didn't matter, anyway. Even with the second wind (of sorts) he'd gotten, he didn't have the energy to string together coherent thoughts, let alone move. There was a thudding and dragging sensation. Where was he going? Who was taking him? He noticed dully that his shoulder felt like it was going to give out, but he was so feeble he couldn’t even react. He remembered hands holding him and being lifted. There was movement, yelling, urgency, someone talking to him, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. It felt like time was dripping through an hourglass at a leaden pace, with long waits between the clusters of wet sand trickling down. After a while, the clamoring voices, and hands drifted away, and he didn't remember or think of anything else.
Jack and Sam waited with concerned impatience for Dean’s reemergence from the portal. Hours had passed when Sam gave up his nervous pacing.
“I should go in after him."
Jack shook his head. “No. Please don’t, Sam. That's one place I'm not powerful enough to help you. I don't want anything bad to happen to anyone else. I can call to Castiel, but the Shadow has dominion, I can't do more than that. I know it's scary having Dean somewhere we can't follow him, but I know he can do this. Let’s have a little faith in him."
Sam couldn't help but hear the silent plea of a child in the things Jack hadn't said. Sam had felt that fear when John and Dean had gone away and he'd been alone in some stale cigarette-scented hotel room with only cockroaches and salt circles for company. He'd sat alone in the dark with the door locked and holy water in his hand, praying that his brother and father would come back to him. Praying that he wouldn't lose them, too, just like the mother he couldn’t even remember. So Sam swallowed hard and nodded at Jack. He gave him a sympathetic half-smile that didn’t touch his eyes. He understood. Jack may not need him, but he needed someone. And right now, if this didn't work out, Sam would be the only one left. He stroked a hand through his hair and sighed.
The time passed like molasses.
“Why is it taking so long? Something is wrong,” Sam muttered, more to himself than anything.
“I think time is different there. I was there once, just for a bit, but it seemed like it was longer over here. It was hard to tell for sure. I hope we didn't send Dean too soon.”
That somewhat reassured Sam, who gave Jack a wan smile and returned to his pacing ritual.
Not long later that the two had their concerned yet companionable silence broken by the sudden emergence of Castiel, bloody and focused with martial precision though the portal. Along with him, he yanked a viciously battered and unconscious Dean by the arm. Cas pulled Dean through the portal with what looked like intense effort. The former angel was panting and wild-eyed, but clearly focused on Dean and the Empty.
“Close it, CLOSE IT NOW!" Cas bellowed in a fearsome voice.
If Sam hadn't been more concerned with the state of his brother, that tone of voice and intensity of command would have served as a sobering reminder that Castiel existed to command the host of heaven's soldiers. Any gentleness he ever exhibited was a choice. It was not his nature, his nature was holy command.
As it stood, Sam could not tear his eyes away from the dark, pulpy look of the flesh of Dean’s neck and the sallow paleness of his skin. There were bruises and abrasions from Dean’s collarbone up to his jaw. His neck was damaged, misshapen in some grotesque way. He barely seemed to breathe and what little air he did get in made a sickening, stridorous whine and crackle. His lips and gums were a pallid blue-grey. In short, Dean looked like absolute Hell. “No, Dean, Dean, Dean!” Sam cried, dropping to his brother’s side.
Jack did as instructed and the portal snap closed, even amidst his bewilderment. Just as a bit of the inky ooze rushed to the portal and spilled out, the portal snapped closed. Jack hurried over to it and burned the sickly jet-colored goo away in his hands. He looked up at Castiel and noticed the angel’s nose was bleeding in a thick, dripping stream. His eyes looked unfocused and dark, yet his skin looked eerily pale.
Jack blinked up at him. “Cas…? What happened? Dean went in to save you, and -,"
Castiel took another heaving, ragged breath as his head lolled in an eerie, slack motion toward Jack, “I think… someone may still have a chance at that."
He swayed on his feet for a step, his eyes rolled back in his head, and then collapsed on the floor next to Dean with a sickening thud.
“I don't know if I'm just new at my God powers or if something is wrong, like, really wrong, Sam. I know the Empty kinda works weird. Both of them are beyond what I can fully heal right now,” Jack explained. He looked near tears. "I mean, they're stable now at least. They're better than they were, especially Dean. But they're not well. I’m God, I’m supposed to be able to bend reality and do anything I want.”
Sam looked at him with sympathy. "Hey, it's okay. They're alive, they're here. Besides, they've both pulled through way worse. You did great.”
Jack nodded with a small smile. Sam often found it hard to believe that the power of God lived in what was basically an overgrown four-year-old. Moments like this reminded Sam that some part of Jack, the part he has helped raise - still needed love. He may have the power of the Alpha and Omega dwelling within, but he was still Jack, and Jack was still a child. Sam pulled Jack into a big hug and ruffled his hair. It was confusing that Jack was a toddler and older than the universe, but what was life if not confusing?
“Really, Jack. They're gonna pull through. I feel good about it." He patted Jack’s back gently and let him go. Sam was glad to see the boy smiling a little.
And Sam was relieved to realize he did, in fact, feel good about it. After Jack had healed what he could in both of them, Dean had coughed up what seemed like endless amounts of black ooze (which Jack disposed of). He breathed with a steady rhythm now, which was a relief. He looked bruised and battered, but alive. When he had first arrived, he looked absolutely maimed, at imminent death. Sam found it a significant improvement that he only looked freshly pummeled and slightly peaked now. Cas was looking rough around the edges, but nothing too scary. Dark rings rimmed his eyes, and he looked haggard. That was fixable. What was important to Sam was that everyone was here, everyone was stable. Everyone was home.
Cas woke up first. He looked around the infirmary, pleased to see Dean lying in the next bed over, blessedly breathing. Sam was sleeping on an awkward, cramped position in a chair on the other side of Dean. It seemed to Cas he was all elbows and knees at concerning angles. He couldn't help but crack a smile at the sight. Sam was a sweet and caring brother. Sometimes, Cas felt a little jealous that not one of his thousands of angelic siblings was that loyal, but most often he was just glad Dean had one that cared so much.
He noticed a strange feeling in his throat. It took him a few minutes of lying there examining the sensation with curiosity. It took him some time to realize he recognized it. He was thirsty. Castiel pondered that for a moment and came to the sluggish conclusion that it made some sense. He got up and slid out of the bed as quietly as he could and moved towards the kitchen for a glass of water. With each step, he marveled at his renewed life. Castiel chanced another glance back at Dean before leaving the room, and his heart felt full. He was so beautiful lying there, so peaceful. He tried, fairly successfully, to ignore the less pleasant feelings knotted in his stomach. Cas smiled to himself and continued his journey. He got to the kitchen and began walking back with his water when reality sunk in.
The existential feeling of icy dread filled him from toe to tip in an instant. His stomach lurched, and he just about dropped the water glass. He felt dizzy as he recalled the last things he'd told Dean before the Shadow took him into the Empty.
I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean. I love you.
The point of saying it when he said it was to save Dean, but he also had thought he'd never have to deal with the consequences of it. Thinking of that, Cas veered away from the infirmary where he'd been returning to, clutching his chest. He didn't think he could look at Dean right now. He wasn't sure what that conversation would look like, but he didn’t feel prepared for it now.
Castiel has been around for eons in a literal sense. He'd slain mighty Hellspawn, led many angelic crusades, led seraphs into the bowels of hell itself time and time again, but he wasn't sure if he'd experienced a more intense feeling of dread in all his time. Castiel considered it more or less his job to be a rock for the Winchesters, to be calm and constant. In this moment, he couldn't have felt less capable of that role.
He just froze there in the hallway, thinking of what he could do. He took a sip of the water, which seemed absurdly loud for such a simple task, so he pivoted on his heel and went the opposite way back past the kitchen to the war room. Cas hadn't even crossed the threshold when he heard a gasp.
“Cas!" Jack laughed and ran toward him with a sunny smile.
Cas jumped at first and nearly dropped the water again, but couldn't help but relax at the sight of his child. He couldn’t help but think of Jack that way. He knew Lucifer fathered him, but Castiel felt a lot more paternal and protective of Jack than Lucifer ever could have.
"Hello, Jack,” Cas said warmly, and embraced him.
He marvelled at the sensation of joy and the overwhelming swell of pride he felt when Jack greeted him. He felt it blooming in his chest and melting the icy feeling that had taken root in his stomach.
“I'm so glad you're back,” Jack said with a barely audible sniffle. His eyes were brimmed with glistening tears. “I really missed you, Cas. I couldn't believe you were gone." His voice was strained and he couldn't seem to release Castiel from his embrace.
“I knew I could wake you up again, but I didn't think the Shadow would let you out this time. So Dean wanted to go and get you. He said it would be better, because the Shadow has ‘beef’ with me,” he explained, finally releasing Cas from his embrace to use air quotes.
Cas nodded with a soft chuckle. “I can't argue with that. I believe Dean had some… beef with the Shadow too.” His face darkened after a moment and he added, “Not to mention his generally reckless nature.”
“I'm just so glad you're here. Everything is changing, and it's been so hard to go through that without you," he murmured, shuffling his feet.
Cas noticed he looked quite childlike at that moment. He couldn't shake this feeling though that there was something undeniably older and stronger in him than when Cas had last seen him. They sat in the war room and Jack talked to Cas about what had happened since he's gone into the Empty while Cas sipped his water.
"...so I'm God now, I guess, but I still hang out here with Sam and Dean when I can, which is kind of a lot really because I can do a lot of stuff at once. The main problem is, I don't really know what to do. I took all Chuck's powers but I don’t know what to do with them. Like, I have all this new knowledge and power, but I'm still me. I don’t know what people need. I'm still figuring it out," Jack finished with a shrug.
Cas blinked a few times and tried to process everything. That was quite a lot of information. In one sense he was glad their plans had worked out, in another... He really hadn't believed they would get that far. Certainly it had all taken a bit of a strange route to get there. He looked off and pondered quietly, slowly fidgeting with his jacket sleeve. Finally, he looked at Jack with his brow furrowed and mouth set in a grave expression.
“That's… a great deal of responsibility, Jack. How do you feel about being God?” He asked.
Jack shrugged again. “I guess it's fine because I've always been pretty powerful for my age. I learned to deal with everything before, I'll learn how to deal with this."
Cas nodded, but his brow was knit into a serious expression and his mouth formed a tight line, with the corner quirked downward. He looked at Jack and wondered how a child with a human soul could handle omnipotence. He resented that Chuck was such a failure that Jack should even have to take on the burden of all that power and responsibility. Cas had really hoped for another way for Jack. He eventually patted the back of Jack’s hand with a soft sigh.
“Well, I'm very proud of you. I am… of limited use as far as power goes, but if you need any advice, I will offer my opinion. Although,” Cas said and his frown deepened, "I realize I haven't had the best record on decision making.”
Jack smiled and gave Cas’s hand a reassuring pat in return.
"You've done a lot better than you think. I know a lot more now - about a lot of things, things that happened before I was born, even at the beginning of time. Everyone makes mistakes. You made yours with good intentions."
Cas let out a weighty sigh and nodded. “That's true. There are some people that follow Kantian ethical philosophy and would say that absolves me of my misdeeds, but there are more utilitarian philosophers that would say that the ‘road to hell is paved with good intentions’,” he said with a sigh and rubbed his forehead. “In any case, I suppose that it will ultimately be your decision now how that all falls.”
Jack shook his head. “I've seen hell. I don't think it's such a bad thing to have a road there. It's not that bad these days. Rowena has really made it pretty nice. She's sorta mean to some of the demons, but she's pretty nice to a lot of the human souls, really. Well… I guess nice is sorta relative when it comes to Rowena, but she's only hard on the really messed up people.”
Cas raised his eyebrows. He'd forgotten about Rowena’s new role. She was a complicated person, but he had to admit that despite his vocal objections to her at first, he'd grown fond of her.
“I suppose there's truth in that. Hell seemed different when I last met with her,” he admitted with a light laugh.
They sat in companionable silence for a while as Cas finished his water.
“Do you still eat, Jack? I was thinking of making something."
Jack smiled and tilted his head. “I don't need to anymore I don't think, but I like to. I'll help you."
They shuffled off to the kitchen and looked through the groceries. Castiel had hoped for bacon and eggs or something hearty like that, but he just found Sam’s almond milk, Jack’s cereals, and a half a loaf of bread. When Cas found the peanut butter and concord grape jelly, he felt a little less apprehensive about breakfast.
“Cas, what happened in the Empty?" Jack asked with a tone that sounded a bit too casual. It sounded forced, even.
Cas sighed and shrugged. “Um, well, we got out. I'm here now. Dean is safe. That's what matters."
“Yeah, of course. I just mean, you're not usually hungry and thirsty. So I was wondering what happened in there that caused that,” Jack said with a shrug. Cas couldn't help but notice the dubious quirk of his brow line, though. The young God still needed to work on his poker face.
Cas paused for a split second as he looked through the cabinets for bowls. "Well, I… I'm not sure… I don’t remember,” he said slowly.
"You know something is different, though."
Cas glanced over his shoulder at Jack, frowning, but he didn't respond.
Jack nodded with a thoughtful expression and a slight frown. “You're human."
Castiel sighed, and his shoulders dropped a bit. The lengthy stretch of dead air seemed to feel heavy in the room. Finally he spoke.
"It’s a bit soon to tell. I have felt hunger or exhaustion at times as an angel, although rare. However, I don't feel any connection to Heaven or my grace at all. It’s just this, I’m simply here, in my vessel.”
Cas found it curious Jack was asking him - surely as an all powerful God, Jack would know. He reasoned that perhaps Jack just chose not to invade his privacy enough to analyze him that way, but even angels recognized other angels and demons. Could God not? Could a nephil not? He had never thought to ask Jack before, but that struck him as peculiar.
Jack tilted his head as he gazed at his father. "That's a big change. Are you okay with that?”
Cas sighed and looked up as he contemplated his answer. Finally, he looked at Jack with a wistful half-smile. "I think that depends on…Well. A lot of things.”
Jack gave a concerned look but said nothing more about it. The two instead busied themselves with making breakfast.
Notes:
Bit of a sad one and maybe it little smackerel of scary in there I suppose, but it will al work out in the end. As always, I hope you enjoyed reading and got something out of it. I am trying hard to keep up with my biweekly or more often promise, and so far its going well as I'm already finished with the rough draft of Chapter 3. I hope if you're enjoying so far you consider giving me a like, kudos, and/or reaching out on tumblr . I adore hearing from readers, it is the fuel that keeps me ticking! =]
Chapter 3
Summary:
Cas and Dean reunite, but it doesn't go quite like Dean imagined.
Notes:
**EDIT** Feb 11 2025 - I was today years old when I realized the Empty refers to the location oy, not the location and the entity in control. Edited to change references to entity from The Empty to The Shadow. Sorry for being the actual worst ever person and my moral and ethical failing to remember a significant apparently canon detail as simple as a name. Idk how I forgot that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean’s eyes fluttered open, but almost immediately winced shut again. Even the soft yellow light of the infirmary seemed like daggers in his eyes. He was groggy for a moment before he sat bolt upright in the bed. He looked around and saw only Sammy, curled up in a bizarre fashion in a chair next to his bed. Dean smacked his brother's arm.
"Sammy! Wake up,” he demanded.
He winced at the pain. His voice was raspy and weak to the point it was a scarce whisper, almost lost in the soft drone of the air circulation system. Dean rubbed his throat and winced again.The younger Winchester flailed a bit, startled, then grimaced at Dean for the rude awakening.
"What?” He hissed angrily, then yawned.
“What happened? Where is he? Did he…” Dean trailed off, looking around the room.
Sam's disgruntled expression softened when he looked over and saw Cas was not in bed.
"Ah. Cas is okay. He must have gotten up before you. He's here, he's fine," Sam reassured him warmly.
The tension in Dean's body seemed to dissipate a bit at that. He sighed in relief, and Sam would swear his brother even shed a tear, which he masked by rubbing his face and faking a yawn.
"Gotta find him, I gotta talk to him," Dean muttered, tossing back the blanket and getting out of the bed.
"Talking might not be the best idea right now, Dean. You were pretty hurt. Just take it easy on the chit-chat, okay?”
Dean nodded. Then he looked down, then back at Sam, scowling.
“What the hell? Where's my shirt?" Dean mouthed, gesturing at his bare chest to get his point across.
Sam shrugged as he got up to stretch all the kinks out of his neck from the uncomfortable resting spot.
“It was covered in the Empty goop. Jack destroyed it.”
Dean scrunched up his face in disgust and stuck his tongue out. With that, he marched towards his room.
Dean was beyond eager to see Cas. Fervid would have been a better description. He was shaky and his stomach was so full of butterflies he thought they might have flown off with him. Dean's intention has just been to put a shirt on and go find him and talk. As he thought about it though, he realized he wasn't sure what to say. That seemed impossible, because he had thought constantly about it from the moment he'd lost Cas until he'd jumped into the Empty - months. Now it seemed like all the words he'd thought of had washed away. It didn't help ease his nerves that he remembered nothing from after going into the Empty until he woke up.
He noticed his pants were wrinkled and smelled grungy. He set out a clean outfit. He was about to change when he realized he noticed he looked a little grungy too. Well, he couldn't talk to Cas looking like that. He'd gone into apocalypses better groomed than that, and he didn't think this was the time to start slacking. So he thought about what to say to Cas in the shower. Then, he thought a bit more on what to say while he brushed his teeth just in case, combed his hair, and shaved. This proved to be a pretty unpleasant experience given the recent strangulation he appeared to have undergone. There was quite a bit of soreness and he realized holding his head at certain angles was painful. But he would not rush this and he would not face Cas looking gross. He had his pride, after all. So he put on a little aftershave too. Couldn't hurt, he figured. Then he thought about what to say a little more just standing there by the sink, completely zoned out. He might have stood there forever if his growling stomach hadn't interrupted him.
He took a deep breath and straightened his shirt one more time. He was putting effort into thinking of something to say, but his mind was blank. And that was a problem, because Cas had left him pretty dumbfounded and with a lot to say that he feared might never be said at all. He didn't want to waste the chance, but where to even start? He resolved to figure it out when he saw him. He felt sure that something would come to him then.
He entered the kitchen to see Cas making himself some of Sam’s heart-smart oatmeal and a PB&J, Jack crunching on what appeared to be three different and, in Dean's opinion, incompatible types of cereal he'd put in one bowl, and Sam making toast. They were all talking and laughing. Dean's gaze settled back on Cas. He was here. He was happy. He was alive.
He studied the scene and committed it to memory. If it weren't for the other less pleasant, more confusing feelings floating around in his stomach, the joy he felt from observing the scene might have led him to believe he was full of Djinn poison right about now. But it couldn't have been the case, because there were about a dozen little feelings nibbling away at the edges of the happiness and their voices were nagging at him. Not to mention there would have been pancakes, bacon, and eggs on the stove if it was a Djinn fantasy breakfast.
“Oh," Cas said as he looked up from sneaking jelly on the bread and noticed Dean. He looked wide eyed at Dean, who flashed him a bright smile in return and took a step through the threshold to join them.
“Hello, Dean," Cas muttered, looking askance. He then turned back to his tasks and busied himself once more with breakfast.
That somewhat reassured Sam, who gave Jack a wan smile and returned to his pacing ritual.
The smile faded from Dean’s face. He looked at Sam with a furrowed brow and opened his arms in an incredulous gesture. What the hell? He mouthed. Sam shrugged in response. Jack appeared oblivious as he completed a maze on the back of one of the cereal boxes.
“Close it, CLOSE IT NOW!" Cas bellowed in a fearsome voice.
“Mornin’ to you too, sunshine," Dean grunted as he walked over to pour himself some coffee. His voice didn't carry well over the din of breakfast preparation sounds, but the tiny, freezing hesitation Cas had when purring the lid back on the jelly jar told Dean he'd heard fine. Castiel didn't even look up at him. Dean accidentally spilled some on his hand in his haste. He refused to fuss over it though and silently went to sit with Sam and Jack as he nursed the steaming beverage and ignored the red mark forming on his hand.
Cas said nothing, which soured Dean's mood further. The voices were nagging at him more loudly now.
Maybe he didn't mean it.
Or maybe he doesn't feel the same anymore.
Maybe the only reason it made him happy is because he thought he'd never have to deal with me again, maybe that was the real happiness.
Dean scowled into his mug and looked at his reflection on the dark brew. He took a sip just to break up the still surface and banish the face looking back at him.
“How're you feeling? Those bruises look pretty rough," Sam asked, gesturing to Dean's neck.
“I've had worse," Dean mumbled as he glided his fingers over the marks. “It's fine."
Jack reached out to heal him, although he's already tried. There was radiant light and a soft sound, but nothing happened. Jack’s face crumpled a bit and he let out a sigh.
"S’alright, Jack. Really, I ain't sweating it,” he rasped.
The microwave beeped, and Dean grimaced at it. The sound was jarring and piercing and on his nerves.
“I could go get you some ibuprofen from the infirmary," Sam offered. "Or something stronger, if you need it.”
“Huh?" Dean had been so focused on the noises of the microwave and Sam's butter knife scraping against his toast he'd gotten lost.
“For your neck," Sam said as he made an impatient gesture around his own neck. "Do you want some painkillers?"
“No, it's fine, Sammy. I'm fine,” Dean grumbled with a dismissive gesture.
Cas set down the jar of peanut butter down on the counter with a bang, but didn't turn around to face the table. “I think it's nice that Sam wants to do something for you. He wants to ease your pain. I think you should just accept that people want to do helpful things for you and just let him do it."
Dean scowled. “What's eating you?" He grumbled. Although, his grumble was barely audible.
Castiel didn't respond. He came to sit down beside Jack and prodded at the oatmeal with his spoon. He'd also brought over two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with enough jelly squishing out the sides to put a man in a sugar coma for a week.
"Um, okay. Well, I'm gonna get the ibuprofen,” Sam said with an awkward chuckle.
"No, Sammy,” Dean barked (or, attempted to) as he extended his arm to pull Sammy back to a seated position. "Don't worry about it. You sit down and enjoy your breakfast. Know why?” Dean asked with a dramatic pause. He turned to Castiel. "Because I can get my own meds if I want and handle my own pain. I don't need anyone to sacrifice their…breakfast time for me, especially when I didn't ask them to.”
Sam huffed out an exasperated sigh and looked at the ceiling.
"Okay, Dean. I don't know what's up with you two, but sure. I'll stay here and let you get it whenever you want it. Happy?” he asked as he started buttering his toast.
"That's an awfully ungrateful way to treat someone who - who cares about you. He just wants to protect you," Cas said coldly, arching a brow and setting his jaw as he stirred jelly into his oatmeal. Sam watched him turn the oatmeal an unappetizing purple-grey. The younger brother's lip curled up in disgust.
Dean shot a look at Castiel that would have withered a lesser man. Cas just narrowed his eyes slightly and stared back. Jack was just looking back and forth between them as he crunched on his unholy cereal mixture with his head tilted.
Sam cleared his throat. “Hey guys, uh, what the hell is going on? I kind of expected you to hug and, I dunno, be friendly. Did something happen that I don't know about?”
"No,” Dean and Cas both snapped in unison, neither taking their eyes off the other.
"Dean does too much himself and doesn't accept the acts of kindness from others as they are, and he doesn't have a concept of gratitude. I just think he should be thankful to you for wanting to help him,” Cas grumbled.
Sam and Jack shared a look of concern.
"And I think that Cas expects me to sit by and watch people do stuff for me I didn't ask them to do with my thumb up my ass. Plus, he needs the ibuprofen too. He looks like hell."
“I don't look like hell. That’s physically impossible.”
“You're missing the point, Cas!" Dean shouted, or at least tried to. It was more like an angry breeze. He grimaced and cleared his throat.
Sam and Jack got up from the table slowly, as if afraid to set off an explosive if they left too abruptly.
"Oh? What is the point, Dean? Pray tell!"
Dean slammed a fist down on the table. His coffee mug went skittering off and smashed on the floor.
Sam rolled his eyes and ushered Jack out of the room in a hurry.
"The point," Dean whispered, although Cas couldn't tell if it was purposeful or not, “is that you left me. I thought after our last trip to Purgatory you knew how…” - his eyes darted to the doorway Sam had left through for a split second before settling back on Cas - “how much I hate that. And you left me again anyway, permanently, and you left me - well, with a lot on my mind."
Cas drew back as if Dean had slapped him and raised his lip in a terrible, pained expression. “I did what I had to do. It was the only way to save you, to save the world, Dean. Then you walk right into the lion's den and put yourself at risk so it meant nothing. You threw it away. It's the same thing as always. I give everything up for you, and time and time again you throw it in my face."
Dean nodded and bit the inside of his cheek. His gaze bounced around the room wildly before landing on Cas. His eyes looked dead cold for a moment.
“If that's really what you think, fine,” he rasped, his voice barely more than a wheeze at this point. He grimaced like there was a foul taste in his mouth and stalked out of the room.
Jack came back into the kitchen after a while and joined Cas as he cleaned up the broken coffee cup and the breakfast mess. They didn't talk at first, they just worked together in silence.
When it was all done, Cas turned to see Jack looking at him with a curious expression. He had his head tilted and his eyes fixed on Cas. It seemed like Jack was analyzing him. Cas felt… uncomfortable. He supposed it made a bit more sense to him why humans got antsy under prolonged eye contact and close observation now. If he wasn't more familiar with Jack, it would not have been unlike a predatory bird watching prey. As it stood, he felt more ashamed than afraid.
“Normally, Dean is the one that pushes people away," was all Jack said. He mumbled it with earnest curiosity.
Castiel swallowed and looked away.
“I'm not pushing him away," he breathed.
When he finally met Jack's eye again, he knew that the lie hadn't landed as hoped. His face was becoming hot and a strange, unpleasant sinking feeling erupted in his stomach.
“Are you pushing him away because you can't fly away anymore?" Jack asked with the gentle, non-judgemental curiosity of a child. The ease the simple question left his mouth made it more upsetting. Cas knew Jack wasn't attempting to provoke him or make him feel worse. He was just probing with the uninhibited curiosity and bald observations of a child.
Out of the mouths of babes indeed, Cas thought ruefully.
"No,” Cas stated simply and firmly. He shot Jack a stern frown. The unpleasant sensations inside him worsened. “Besides, I could fly again. We've yet to see.” Cas’s voice had faltered a bit at that last part to his dismay.
Jack continued to hold him captive under his curious gaze, but said nothing in response. for several long beats. Finally, he quirked his head to the side and asked, “What are you so afraid of?"
Everything, his mind helpfully supplied in answer. “Nothing," he said instead.
Jack raised an eyebrow.That golden-hazel gaze just held him. Cas had a sudden spike of fear that Jack was going to peel his mind open and pull the truth out of him by force. Cas wasn't sure he'd ever felt so small. But Jack just shrugged and released Cas from his gaze. Cas felt a palpable relief in his chest. Even as much as he loved Jack, the way he'd been studying him made Castiel feel strangely naked. He considered how it must have felt like for humans he'd looked at like that in the past. Cas had simply never thought of it like that before.
“Alright. I hope you and Dean can figure it out," he said simply. “It scares me when you fight like that," he added with a troubled frown.
The horrible sensations in his vessel went wild at that. He felt like his face was about to light on fire and he was concerned he may lose his breakfast.
"It will be fine, Jack," Cas said firmly and with finality over his shoulder as he left the room, unsure of where his feet would take him but certain he couldn't stay put.
"Well, looks like your yelling match cost you,” Sam said as Dean scowled at him.
Dean was already leaning back in one of the library chairs, scowling and rubbing his throat. He abruptly removed his hand from his throat and picked up his phone instead as Sam came to sit across from him. Sam crossed his arms and looked smug. Dean continued to scowl.
“Don't mean mug me man, you made your bed on this one.”
Dean typed furiously on his phone and held it up to Sam.
Screw you bitch
Sam just rolled his eyes. “Wow. Mature." He sighed and rubbed his face with his palms. “Dude, I don't know what's going on with you and Cas, but can you just give it a rest for a couple days before you go off on him again?"
Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam for a moment, then typed. Sam gently reached over and pushed his phone out of the way. Dean's scowl deepened and anger flashed in his eyes as he looked back up at his brother.
“Look, all I'm saying is Cas is your best friend. You guys always have this weird, bitter reunion phase before you get back to baseline. Normally you at least hug first but I guess not this time. Maybe just make the most of losing your voice, okay? Stop shooting yourself in the foot for a couple days and you can get back to normal a little faster."
Dean’s nostrils flared, and he threw his hands up.
“Sure, nobody hears you, Cas started it, poor Dean. Blah blah blah. Quit being a jerk and just suck it up, please?"
Sam gave him puppy dog eyes. Dean made a choice gesture to let Sam know exactly how he felt about that, but Sam noticed the upward twitch at the corner of Dean's mouth and knew he was fighting a smile. Something more serious came over his face before he could lose that fight, though. Dean started typing something. He shook his head twice as he tapped out his message before handing it off to his brother.
He DID start it. I shouldnt yell. I shouldnt hit things. but youd be angry too if someone pulled that. Be on my side this time Sammy
Sam's mouth tugged downward at the corner as he thought about the message. His expression lost its smugness and became more serious. After a few moments, he handed the phone back to Dean with a deep sigh and a far off look.
“You have a point. He was definitely being an ass,” Sam admitted. He stroked his chin for a moment and sighed. He leaned forward in his seat and stared at the floor. He seemed to debate for a moment if he should continue.
At last, he said quietly, "Actually Dean, I think… I am unfair when you get angry."
He paused. He looked down for a few moments, his mouth twisted. He blinked whatever the feeling was away and looked back up at Dean with a sad smile. Dean was looking back at his brother with a soft, stunned expression.
“Sorry, man,” Sam said sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck and fidgeted in his seat.
Dean could not believe his ears. It felt nice to be validated. He knew he had anger issues, but he was also trying hard to overcome that. He was gripped by an involuntary recollection of that night he'd lost Cas.
I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive, and you're angry, and you're broken… And you think that hate and anger, that's... That's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not.
Dean's stomach dropped as he remembered those words. He wasn't sure what, if anything, they meant to Cas now. Regardless, he felt proud of how he'd been using those words and trying to live up to them since he'd lost Castiel. He was glad that Sammy could see that, at least. He wanted to be a better man, the man he'd always hoped to be and felt was just out of reach. The person he thought he was inside. He was making strides towards that and that felt good, regardless of anything else.
Sam cleared his throat and shifted in his seat again. This was a bit more awkward than even their usual heart to hearts. Dean would typically have some sarcastic quip at this point in the conversation that would lighten the mood or at least shift the frustration around, but now he was silent. It was Sam's job to amend the awkward silence this time.
"A-After the Mark, and how things got with Michael... It put me on edge more when you got mad. Things were just so volatile then and none of us really knew what was going to happen, you know? But even before that I think… I had some issues with it. You're right, though. It's normal to get pissed about certain things. And I can admit Cas was out of line. You're right, I'd have been pissed. I actually was upset with him too, but… I don't know, I fell into old habits. It felt easier to talk to you than him. I shouldn't have come down on you like this. Want me to talk to him?”
Dean shook his head fiercely and typed.
He can talk to me him damn self
Sam rolled his eyes. “That’ll go well. He's probably thinking the same thing.”
Dean shrugged. He sucked his teeth and frowned. Sam was still looking at him so he shrugged again with more intense movement, and frowned more deeply to communicate that he didn't give a damn.
Sam laughed. “Don't do pouty face."
I don't pout, Dean mouthed, shaking his head.
“Broody face?" Sam suggested with an eye roll and a grin.
Dean shook his head again but Sam caught the ghost of a grin twitching at the corner of his brother's mouth again, and this time, it wasn't chased away.
Cas walked through the woods outside the bunker. The smell of autumn, that pleasant earthy smell of seasons turning over, spiced the cool breeze. It felt so strange to experience things without his grace available. Even though it has happened before, it didn't make the transition any less bizarre. It seemed so limited and it gave him a vague sense of claustrophobia. Everything he could take in this way was so... limited. He felt very small and his vessel seemed to feel suffocating around him in a way. He sat on a fallen log and watched the sun shine through the changing leaves.
He observed the small bracket fungi growing on the log next to him and the beetles eating the forest litter at his feet. He drew a finger over the firm, velvety surface of the fungus, marvelling at its lovely texture. Even as strange and uncomfortable as adjusting to the sensations of a world without his grace was, he wasn't sure if he would be upset if he never regained it. Certain things felt much richer. Not only physical sensations, but seeing the world as a simpler place without breaking down the sum of each part was quite beautiful. As he had told Jack, it would depend on other things. Things he didn't know how to approach or what to do to figure out.
Then again, the strange aching in his chest and the odd flipping feeling in his stomach were cause for alarm. He wasn't sure what the benefit of all these physical components to emotional response was supposed to be. Something in the evolution of man has benefited from it he supposed, but Cas found it quite distracting. He wanted to think. He wanted to create a plan. He was created to do that, after all - plan, strategize, fight, obey. He had broken free of the chains of obedience, but he contemplated the possibility that perhaps he needed to learn to be content without a strategy.
The concept of wandering through life without a plan or next goal distressed him at first. He studied the beetles chomping at the leaves more closely.
“What is it like for you, I wonder. You don't have a plan. You just eat, mate, and die,” he said under his breath to them as they scurried below. “Can it be so simple? Can that be enough?"
He scooped a beetle up in his palm, then plucked it up between his thumb and index finger and held it close. He admired the strength of its pincers and the shiny smoothness of its jet black carapace. It was a fine creation.
"Are you fulfilled? Is it true that ignorance is bliss? Are you happy?” He demanded. He knew there would be no answer, but he studied the insect closely.
"You are probably not very happy at the moment. You seem nervous," he told it as he inspected it with a raised eyebrow as it frantically wiggled its legs. “I suppose it would be intimidating to be in your position. You don't know if I will crush you or let you free. Perhaps you're even worried that I will eat you. Rest assured that I mean you no harm."
The beetle continued its wild movements until Castiel set it down with care and watched it scurry off. He sighed. He wondered if that's how Jimmy had felt when he took his body as a vessel, like a tiny beetle between two great, strong fingers it was helpless to resist, stuck between life and death at the whim of fate. His description of being strapped to a comet seemed worse now that he thought about it. Cas covered his face and tried to rub the stinging sensation from his eyes. Things hadn't worked out for Jimmy. That weighed heavily on him.
He wondered if Dean had felt like that beetle when the Shadow had grabbed him. Castiel felt a fiery streak of anger ripple through his core, but it mellowed into a feeling of sadness and… something else, be wasn't sure. It was so physical that it overwhelmed him. He didn't fully understand why he felt all these things, either. Could he get used to that, he wondered?
He was angry that Dean put himself at risk. He had come within a hair’s breadth of dying in the Empty. He was furious that Dean would go in half-cocked to such a dangerous place. He didn't belong there, and he had no right to nullify the sacrifice Cas had made. He was also terrified. He didn't know what Dean would do next, or what Dean wanted from him. If Dean wanted him at all. Still, he couldn't deny he was grateful to be alive again. Dreaming endlessly of his regrets had been… unpleasant, to say the least. Angels didn't sleep or dream under ordinary circumstances. The Shadow was intent on making his eternal sleep full of the eons of nightmares he hadn't had. He was happy to see Jack, Sam, and Dean again. He was looking forward to calling Claire at some point and seeing how she and Jody and the gang were doing. He felt the warmth of joy and softness of love within, but a moat of trepidation, confusion, and frustration surrounded it. He could not ignore the enormous guilt that was eating at him, either. More than the anger, he thought that his outburst at Dean this morning was some attempt to shed some of this guilt. He felt it sitting like a weight on his chest.
He watched as the beetle finally disappeared under an orange fallen maple leaf. He wondered if he would be the beetle now, or if he would again be the one holding its tiny, tenuous life between two fingers. Time would tell, he supposed.
They had avoided each other most of the day. Not that either of them were hard to find or hiding per se, but they were not seeking one another out, either. Dean spent some time in the basement shooting range letting off steam, some time in his room, and later he took Jack into town at his request to practice driving some more and to get groceries.
Along with their staples and Sam's “health junkie garbage” as Dean usually called it, Jack got eight boxes of cereal and 3 gallons of milk, but there was no reason to be worried about him developing cavities anymore, so Dean allowed it.
The two of them had been spending more time together since Chuck was off the board. Dean wasn't exactly sure what, if anything Jack was doing as God, but he wasn't worried, either. Just not having an active instigator as the all powerful deity was already proving helpful. There were a lot fewer cases popping up, which made sense now that Sam and Dean weren't being forced to be stars in God's favorite fucked up personal TV show anymore. It may not be the paradise on Earth Jack had shown Cas back when he was just a bun in Kelly's oven, but it wasn't too bad either. If Jack wanted to spend some time getting used to everything and loafing it, Dean figured he had earned it. Hell, he could have all the time in the world - it was his now, anyway. The poor kid had been through a lot, and no small part of that had been because of Dean. He had been working hard to make that up to Jack.
They loaded up the groceries into Baby's trunk in pleasant silence. Jack had a broad sunny smile he'd worn all day. He occasionally talked to Dean, but it had mostly been about movies he hoped to watch or things he had read. Dean had asked him once if he had access to infinite power and could just know anything, why didn't he just choose to know all the movies by heart? Jack just said it wasn't very satisfying if there were no surprises. So, Dean had started a weekly movie night tradition. He made a ton of popcorn, gathered with Sam and Jack, and they watched movies. Old movies, cult classics, new movies, whatever. The only thing that has been missing was Cas. Dean shook his head as if to shake out the thought of the angel.
It occurred to Dean that it was nice that he'd gotten to know Jack for himself. There was a time not so long ago that Dean just associated him with loss - of Cas, of Mary, of his own control. These days though he realized Jack was a pretty interesting guy and a fun kid to spend time with. It was kinda nice to have his own rapport with him now, even if things had felt…complicated in the past between them. He held a lot of guilt, but Dean was trying to let more positive feelings guide him. So far, it was working.
You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.
The words had bubbled to the top of his mind, unbidden. He scowled anew into the sunlight as Jack drove them back home. Jack looked over at him during a routine and frequent mirror check.
“You look upset," he observed.
Dean shook his head and made a flippant gesture to show it wasn't a big deal.
“I know what happened this morning upset you."
Dean shrugged in response. He couldn't exactly deny it, but he had a convenient excuse not to talk about it. He couldn’t shut Jack up about this, but he hoped if he ignored it, Jack would move on to something else.
“I think that's fair. Cas doesn't usually act that way. Not to mention it was hypocritical."
Dean nodded in agreement. He hadn't expected such a cold welcome. It really wasn't like Cas.
"Do you remember what happened in the Empty?”
Dean shook his head. Jack had been doing a decent job of just glancing over very briefly to see Dean's reactions, but this time he seemed to linger with a pained look of concern. Dean shook his head no, but also gestured to his eyes and the road as a reminder.
"Oh, right, sorry,” he muttered, snapping his eyes back to the road. “You were nearly dead when you got back.” His voice was so sad and so small.
Dean’s brow knit in confusion. He croaked out a weak, "I feel fine.”
“Cas healed you what little he could. I think that's why he's hungry and everything. I tried to heal you too. You're still pretty beat up, but it's the best we could do,” Jack said.
That was news to Dean. His eyes widened as he thought about that. He wished he could remember.
“Can I tell you something?”
Dean nodded, still looking at Jack perplexed.
“I know I don't need a soul anymore, and even if I did, my powers are fixed now… but I'm still afraid. My powers have caused a lot more harm than good. I thought I couldn't heal you because of the Empty and the Shadow. But I think the truth is that once you were safe, like stable…I just got too scared. I'm more powerful than ever, but… not very much good has ever come out of that. I kind of lied to Cas about that earlier. I could tell he was worried about me, so I didn’t want to make it worse. But my powers scare me.”
Dean didn't know what to say to that. It was a pretty reasonable fear for Jack to have, given his experiences. He wasn't wrong. Dean clasped a hand onto Jack's shoulder and gave it an encouraging squeeze.
“You did great," he croaked. “Sounds worse than it is. Don't worry. There is all the time in the world for powers later."
It was a bit of a lie. The pain when he talked or breathed too deeply or swallowed was pretty intense, but by the sounds of things, it was a lot better than how he'd come back through that portal.
Jack smiled at him. “Thanks for understanding. I think I feel a little better. Can I try again when we get home?"
Dean considered. He gave a sharp affirmative nod and returned Jack's smile.
Notes:
OKAAAAAAYYYYY don't hate me! I promise it will be okay. They're both emotionally constipated. I'm just trying to be true to their character.
I hope if you're enjoying so far you consider giving me a like, kudos, and/or reaching out on my tumblr. I adore hearing from readers, it is the fuel that keeps me ticking! =]
Chapter 4
Summary:
Sam and Cas have a chat after the morning's antics
Notes:
Written sober, edited while wine drunk on leftover New Year's wine <3 forgive me if I fucked it up please. I LOVE YOU GUYS
**EDIT** Feb 11 2025 - I was today years old when I realized the Empty refers to the location oy, not the location and the entity in control. Edited to change references to entity from The Empty to The Shadow. Sorry for being the actual worst ever person and my moral and ethical failing to remember a significant apparently canon detail as simple as a name. Idk how I forgot that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
While Jack and Dean were out, Sam caught Cas coming back from his walk as he was just heading out for a quick run. He invited Cas along. They made it maybe a quarter of a mile when Cas announced that this form of exercise was not enjoyable and he should probably be resting anyway, so he would go back and wait in the bunker.
After Sam had returned and showered, he caught up with Cas in the library. He was reading a dusty blue canvas covered book. Sam didn't notice the way Cas's index fingers slid up and down the sides of the cover, taking in the sensation of the texture of the old cloth
“Books have an interesting smell. I was always aware of it, I suppose. I just never took it in fully before." Cas said in an absent tone, without looking up.
Sam chuckled. "Yeah. Some people find the smell comforting. I do.”
Cas nodded. "I would agree with that,” he said, turning the page.
A few silent beats passed. Sam leaned against one of the massive tables, looking at Cas. He was waiting for him to look up, but when it became apparent that would not happen, Sam cleared his throat.
“Why do people do that? Can't you just say you need something instead of making that unpleasant sound?" Cas’s tone was curious and mild, even though his words were jarring and blunt.
Sam's eyebrows went up and frustration painted his face. "Alright then. I need to talk to you.”
Cas finally looked up from the book which he laid open faced on the table.
“Of course. What's on your mind, Sam?" Cas asked evenly.
“What's going on with you and Dean?” Sam asked with a reprimanding look. He seemed very much like a disappointed parent or teacher. It was hard for Castiel to take that very seriously. He was older than the human species many times over, it was hard to be very concerned by it.
Cas looked at the ceiling, as if looking for guidance through a prayer for patience or strength.
"Nothing,” he lied. Then he turned back to his book.
after a few seconds, Sam sighed. Cas gave him a blank look. Sam crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows in response.
“C’mon, Cas. That wasn't like you at breakfast. What happened?”
The corner of Castiel's mouth quirked downward in a tight frown as he thought about what to say. He was aware of his hands and the fact that everywhere he put them seemed wrong. Folded in his lap. Crossed across his body. On the table. Wrong. All wrong.
Finally, he took a deep breath. "I don't know,” he said, then let the breath out with a hiss of pressure. Sam looked at him, expecting more. Cas rubbed his face and tried to muster up some more explanation, something sufficient to satisfy Sam’s inquiring mind.
He let the breath out with a hiss of pressure. Sam continued looking at him with an expectant gaze. Cas rubbed his face and tried to think of what could satisfy the younger Winchester’s curiosity.
“He got himself hurt after I… did what I did to save him. I know he came from a place of caring, I do. Part of me is so touched and so grateful," he explained with an earnest expression. He wrung his hands. His face became darker and breathed out forcefully, nostrils flaring before he continued.
“Another part of me is furious. He nearly threw his life away after everything I did, everything I gave to make sure he could carry on. I suppose that’s selfish. It’s all confusing me. I also feel… uncomfortable about how I acted this morning. I feel concerned because I did it without even intending to, words just came from me and I didn't stop them."
Sam nodded and relaxed his stern posture. He gave Cas a sympathetic look. “I get that. Everyone loses their temper sometimes."
“I don't," Cas said. “I shouldn’t even be able to."
Sam shifted a bit and looked off in thought for a moment. "Yes, you do. You've beat Dean up and you removed the wall in my brain because you lost your temper. Not the healthiest way to express it, but when you're dealing with high stakes stuff like the end of the world, it happens."
Cas shifted uncomfortably. He would not tell Sam that those instances hadn't been him losing his temper. It was extremely deliberate and controlled. If he'd lost his temper back then, they wouldn't be here at all, they'd most likely have been smote down in a brutal ray of holy retribution. He took a deep breath and shook his head.
“It's not the end of the world right now, Sam. It was just me. But," he said, looking up at Sam with a thoughtful, concerned expression, “If emotions can control you, is it really free will?"
"It might not be the end of the world, but you did just come back to life. It's kinda disorienting, you know? As for emotions, they don't have to control you. Emotions are little signals to let you know if you're on the right track or not, that's all. You can learn to control them,” Sam said with a small smile.
Castiel contemplated this. He knew Sam was right. He'd spent all that time loving Dean and keeping that very quiet and on a tight leash, not that he was keen to talk to Sam about it. He supposed, however, that it was a testament to his ability to control feelings.
“I think the problem is not that I can't control it. I think I'm just confused… I don't know why I feel what I feel. It's unsettling to be so unsure." Castiel's stomach churned, and he shifted in his seat again.
Sam nodded and rubbed his chin in contemplation. "That can be tough. Usually people get angry because they're afraid, deeper down. Were you afraid of something?"
Cas shot a glare at him, reminded of Jack's interrogation earlier. "No,” he grated out.
Sam put up his hands in mock surrender, but his face looked more bemused than anything. Castiel looked away, huffing quietly.
“Well, I suppose…” He murmured after a few moments, “I was afraid of Dean getting hurt."
Or dying. Or pushing me away, Cas thought. His blood ran cold and his head swam. He blinked away a stinging sensation in his eyes.
"Yeah. That makes sense. It was hard to see him like that. He was pretty hurt until Jack did what he could,” Sam said with a grim, yes understanding look
Castiel looked at Sam with barely guarded anguish. He decided not to tell the younger Winchester how much worse Dean had looked before Cas had gotten to him.
“What did Dean tell you about… when the Shadow took me?” Cas asked with a cautious curiosity.
“Eh, not a lot. You know how he is. He was pretty devastated. He just said you were gone, the Shadow ook you, and you saved him.”
Cas nodded looking at SamHe listened carefully and took it in. Nothing unexpected there, he supposed.
"He takes it really hard when we lose anyone, but you're special to him, Cas."
Cas perked up a bit. “Special?"
“Well, yeah. You're special to all of us, of course, but y’know, you and Dean have that ‘profound bond’," he said with a smile and a vague wavy gesture.
Cas gave an enthusiastic nod and leaned forward in his chair.
“I mean it makes sense, you're like a brother to us both. But you're also Dean's best friend. I don't think he's ever had someone like that in his life, someone that close to him. Neither of us really have," Sam said with a shrug. “He's not an easy person to get close to. He has other friends, sure, but not like you."
Cas tried very hard not to let the pain that ran through his chest like a sternum-cracking spear through his heart show on his face. "Of course. You're both family to me too," he said and gave a weak smile.
It sounded like someone else was talking instead of his own voice. He felt so distant from his vessel. All he was aware of was a sensation of ice in his veins and the heaviness in the pit of his gut. Even though he knew he was sitting in the library it felt like he was being stretched inside out.
Sam said more things, things Cas was sure were sweet and, in another world or another circumstance Cas was sure he would have appreciated hearing them. It's not that he didn't appreciate them now, but he was returning them on autopilot.
Sam parted with an amicable goodbye to go do something else. Cas hadn't even paid attention to what he said he was going to do, waving him off with a forced smile and some platitude.
As soon as he was out of sight, Cas made his way into his room and found his belongings, such as they were, still in place. He sat on the bed and tried to calm himself down. He'd known this information, it wasn't new to him. He knew he couldn't have Dean, he'd always been well aware of that. It has always confused him, because he always sensed the longing rolling off the hunter, but he knew Dean was a lonely man. It occasionally fanned a spark of hope in the angel that perhaps it meant that Dean felt the same, but over time he accepted that was impossible. The longing was for simple and uncomplicated companionship, nothing more. Dean had said repeatedly that Cas was like a brother, Cas was his best friend. Cas knew that and had accepted it years ago. What Sam had said should not have felt so devastating.
He took a deep, unsteady breath and tried to calm the turbulent churning emotions within. He felt like his chest was going to explode. He laid down and curled in on himself. He wished he had access to his grace. He felt sick.
It hit him with merciless swiftness why he'd been so afraid, as Sam and Jack had brought to his attention. That Dean rescued him had fanned awake a new, errant spark of hope. He has worked so tirelessly over the years to kill those sparks anytime hope dared to pop up. He would summarily snuff it out, without fail. Until today. It was a fool's game and here he was, so heartbroken and pathetic, curled into a ball on the bed. He wasn’t tiny by human standards, perhaps, but he felt tiny right now. He felt like a beetle, ready to be crushed by the weight of his emotions. He used to dwarf skyscrapers and knit together cosmic bodies from stardust.
If freedom was a length of rope God wanted him to hang himself with, he thought that hope must be nothing more than a hand grenade God has pulled the pin on and handed to you. Castiel looked at the ceiling and felt the room spin around him. The edges of his vision seemed warped. He felt he couldn’t breathe; he felt the skin of his vessel crawling; he felt constrained in his skin. Castiel was breathing heavily and his heart raced even though he sat still. He couldn’t do this, he realized. There was no feasible way to continue this way. He couldn't stay here. He had to go; he had to leave.
He looked around the room with a semi-frantic fervor until his eyes rested on the keys to the rusty blue truck lying on the bedside table and snatched them. He walked at a brisk speed to the garage and slammed the button to get the door open. He climbed inside and cranked the engine. To his surprise, despite sitting idle all this time, it roared to life without hesitation.
Driving was not anything like flying. It was painfully slow, imprecise, tedious, and not nearly as instinctual. It wasn't nearly as freeing. It felt like trading one cage for another, but at least this one was fairly mobile. It would have to do for now. He was not a particularly reckless driver, and he made no exception. He didn't peal out of the garage or stomp the gas to the floor. Even if he had, the old truck probably would have groaned in protest as the engine became boggy. He had to go, though, and so he made his way. He was suffocating to death in the smallness of his vessel and it felt like the bunker walls were inching closer.
He pulled out of the garage and parked, intending to quickly get out and close it behind him. In his haste, Castiel hadn't even noticed the Impala being gone. As he heard its rumble rapidly approaching, his stomach did somersaults, and it felt like a ghoul had a death grip on his heart. He cursed himself. That was another thing he hated about working with only his vessel’s brain. The human brain tended to skip over information it deemed “irrelevant", which turned out to include more relevant information too.
Jack was driving, and Dean looked at him from the passenger seat. He looked… devastated. Castiel felt a sharp pain beneath his breastbone. He could understand the expression" heartbreak” better now. It felt accurate to say something was shattering in his chest. He couldn't look away from Dean. Dean held his eye with the most weary, agonized resignation. He got out of the car and took a few steps towards Cas. There was still a good 12 feet between them at least.
They stood there, staring at one another for a moment. Jack watched them with patient curiosity from behind the wheel. Cas realized he did feel like he was flying, his heart was racing and his mind was speeding through thoughts. It wasn't as nice as he'd hoped. Perhaps, he mused, that's why Dean got so nauseous when he's flown with Cas before. Maybe it reminded him too much of this.
Dean mouthed a single word, or maybe he said it aloud. There was no way Cas would have heard it over their engines regardless.
“Stay.”
Notes:
Don't panic! I posted two chapters at once today. <3 Cuz I love y'all! Chapter 5 is out now! But if you'd care to stop and give a kudos, comment, or come 'round my tumblr to say hi first, I'd be so grateful because I run on other people's praise =D
Chapter 5
Summary:
Jack has deemed it time to talk.
Notes:
Also written sober. Also edited wine-drunk on old stale wine. Please enjoy.
**EDIT** Feb 11 2025 - I was today years old when I realized the Empty refers to the location oy, not the location and the entity in control. Edited to change references to entity from The Empty to The Shadow. Sorry for being the actual worst ever person and my moral and ethical failing to remember a significant apparently canon detail as simple as a name. Idk how I forgot that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean mouthed a single word, or maybe he actually said it aloud. There was no way Cas would have heard it over their engines, regardless.
“Stay.”
He went up to Dean and placed a hand near the dark purple bruises on his neck. Light appeared and heavenly sound filled the air, and this time, though very slowly, the strangulation marks and bruising faded. After a few moments, they were entirely gone.
"Thanks for listening to me earlier, Dean. I feel better. I'm glad I could try again. I think it worked!” Jack said with childlike glee. "I'll take the groceries in. You guys… talk.”
"Thanks, Jack,” Dean said. His voice was normal, and he smiled at the boy, a curious look in his eye.
Jack got back in the car, turned it on, and parked it. It was very slow, and to Dean it was painful to watch, but he did okay. Jack went to the garage door and waved at them happily as before pulling it down. It was a creaky old manual door so it was very loud and very awkward waiting.
It was just the two of them now. Dean tore his gaze from the garage door back to Cas. His eyes flicked to the truck for a moment before returning to the angel, but he said nothing.
"Dean, I'm not trying to hurt you,” Cas began.
"Well, you are hurting me. I don't want you to go. You gotta do what you gotta do though. I won't make you stay,” Dean said with a dark, tragic look in his eye. Helpless, yet angry.
“It will only hurt both of us more if I stay,” Cas said. His voice was low and strained. His eyes gleamed with the threat of tears.
Dean crossed his arms and nodded. He was scowling, but there was a tender aching expression that showed it was more complex than that. He sighed heavily.
“I'll just say, I get you think I was being reckless. I tried to save you and I wound up getting both our asses kicked. Stupid. Humiliating. But I couldn't leave things like they were. And I couldn't lose you again. I need you," Dean said. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. His voice quavered at the end, still strong but holding things back like a dam, letting only what was needed through.
Cas rubbed a hand over his face. He bit his tongue. His coat billowed behind him in the breeze. He wished it would carry him away.
“I don't want to leave. I just… I can't do this. I’m sorry. I ruined it, Dean,” Cas said. His chest felt tight, he felt like forcing words out was taking all his breath.
Dean was quiet and the pain in his eyes was more intense. There was a shining flare behind them. His nostrils flared, but then the anger slipped away. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. It was an expression of such momentarily unguarded and unadulterated pain and fear that the man Cas knew slipped away and Dean looked like a lost little boy for a moment. It was a split second, like a flash, but Cas saw it. He blinked and it was gone. Dean crossed his arms more tightly and looked sharply at Cas, fear and sadness still hidden behind a veneer of steady anger. But now, Cas knew what lay behind and he could not unsee it.
"If that's what you want. If it's worth anything, and I’m sure it isn’t, I don't want you to go, but I won't stop you,” he nearly snarled. A few beats passed, and he uncrossed his arms and stepped forward a couple steps. The anger on his face slipped a bit to reveal the sadness and fear just a bit more once again. “I…I just need to know first…Do you take it back?” he asked softly. His eyes shone brightly. In an instant, he'd gone from angry to insecure. Cas expected to see the little boy inside Dean again, but he didn't. Still, he didn't need to see it to know he was there.
“Take it back?" Cas couldn't wrap his mind around the question.
“What you said. When the Shadow took you," Dean urged, trying to get Cas to remember.
Cas narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow.
"That I love you? No! Of course not. I meant every word,” he said. There was anger rising in Castiel's voice now, shock that Dean could think that he was insincere.
Dean looked confused, upset. He took a step closer. "Then… did something change?"
“No! How could you think that? Dean, you mean so much to me. Everything to me. That's precisely why I can't keep doing this."
Dean gave him a bewildered double take and held his hands up in a questioning gesture.
“Then… why do you have to leave?” he said. His voice was loud and his face screwed up in confusion and frustration. “What - oh. You - do you still not get it?” he asked. The frustration and confusion seemed to recede slightly from his face as he let out an incredulous chuckle. It was a sound that hung in balance between amusement and desperate frustration.
“Get… what?" Cas asked, tilting his head. Dean was showing him so many different feelings, things Dean rarely shared, that Case didn't know what to do. He felt a headache forming.
Dean groaned and clenched his fists. He stalked over to Cas. He looked intense, serious. Cas was just standing there, bewildered. Dean got close, very close and put his hands firmly on Cas’s shoulders. Cas met his eyes and searched Dean for something, any clear signal of what was in the hunter's mind. Cas was trying diligently to piece it all together. He hesitated, but gently put his hands over Dean's wrists, unsure where else they should go or what was happening.
"I don't know why you were a dick this morning. I don't know what is going on in your head. Hell, I didn't know you were even capable of - well, of… that kind of feeling before the Shadow took you. Took you from me," Dean said in a voice that was low and raw. His eyes were alight with emotion, practically glowing in the orange of the sodium light outside the garage.
"So I can't speak for you. I have no idea what's going on with you, apparently I never did. And I won't try and tell you what to do. But you said the one thing you want, you can never have. As for me, all I can say is that you can have me,” he said, and his voice broke then. Cas felt like the Earth had dropped out from under his feet.
”What? No…” Cas said, shaking his head.
“Yes. Cas, you can have me. You could always have me.” He pronounced each word slowly and punctuated each with a soft swaying push on Cas's shoulders, as if it would press the words into him so he couldn't miss it this time. His eyes were pleading, but Castiel could only shake his head again.
Castiel’s eyes were wide and his heart was thudding like a war drum. His grip on Dean's wrists tightened. He was not usually left speechless when the moment called for response (even if it could be a very blunt response), but he could almost feel the moment his vessel's brain disconnected from its mouth. He couldn't form words. He just stared at Dean for what seemed like an eternity - and Cas would know what an eternity felt like. He stood in stunned silence long enough that Dean started to look nervous and went to withdraw his grip on Cas’s shoulders
“What-," Cas said and nearly frantically pulled Dean's hands back into place on his shoulders. "I…Dean,” he breathed. His pupils were huge, suspended in a thin ring of azure, but there was a glassy, detached quality as if he were miles away in his mind
The hunter could see that Cas was confused. He could practically see the gears in Castiel's head grinding and sparking as they jammed up and halted at some spanner in the works his mind had conjured up. His eyes were searching Dean for some sign of a joke or sarcasm. Dean felt like he'd swallowed a cannonball made of ice. He wanted Cas to say something, damn near anything.
“You said I was like a brother to you,” Cas said. His jaw set then, as if he thought this was some big, cruel joke on poor naïve Castiel.
Well, he wanted Cas to say damn near anything but that.
The hunter grimaced deeply and breathed out forcefully with his nostrils flared. He looked down, but didn't release Castiel's shoulders. "I lied.”
"Why?” Cas demanded.
Dean sighed and shifted his weight awkwardly back and forth. “I don't know, I didn't think you could feel… that way, I didn't want to make it any more difficult than it already was. You're an angel. I knew you had more emotions than the average bear, but that - I didn't think that was possible."
“Sam said I was like a brother to you just today. A friend. Family."
“Well, I said you're not, so take it straight from the horse's mouth," Dean grumbled. He frowned and shot a nasty look back towards the bunker over his shoulder for a moment, shoved his hands in his pockets, and shifted on his feet uncomfortably.
“Did you get a horse while I was gone? Where do you keep it?” Castiel said, evidence of his frustration and doubt momentarily superseded by an inquisitive look.
"No, no, never mind that part, it's a saying. Means listen to me and not Sam. Ever,” Dean said firmly, internally cursing himself for using a metaphor right now.
Cas nodded and paused for a moment in thought.
“What about women?" Cas asked. The dubious expression was back. Dean felt like he was under a criminal investigation. It wasn't quite like he'd imagined his reciprocation would be received.
Dean sighed and rubbed his face vigorously before shrugging. “What about ‘em?" he snarked.
“You love women,” Cas said with a pointed look.
"I know. Shame for them and all, but they'll be fine without me,” Dean said, crossing his arms and grimacing.
"Dean,” Cas said with an eye roll and a frustrated furrowing of his brow, "I do not inhabit a female vessel, I'm sure you noticed." He raised his arms up and then dropped them back to his sides in a gesture of exasperation.
Sarcasm was not a go-to for Cas but when he used it, it dripped from his words so thick you couldn't miss the incredible level of sass. Dean was frustrated not just with the content of what Cas was saying, but the level of skepticism and disbelief he was being met with. This was a hard thing he was doing, and it was crushing him that he was being met with an interrogation and disbelief. The sarcasm wouldn't bother him normally, but it stung at this moment.
"Yeah, well, that's not a problem," he mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose in utter exasperation.
Dean was content to leave it there but Cas just kept looking at him silently, clearly not getting it. The hunter rolled his eyes and crossed his arms with a sigh.
"I like your vessel just fine. More than fine, okay? I don't just love women, okay? I like… other people too. I contain multitudes or whatever. I haven't even been with anybody in ages, anyway. I've been too hung up on you. Can - are we done with the twenty questions thing yet?” His frustration was getting hard to contain.
It was hard to tell what passed over Castiel’s face just then. He opened his mouth in a soft expression of surprise before looking down and furrowing his brow anew. He absently chewed on a nail for a moment and then looked up at Dean with a pleading, sorrowful expression.
"I was rude to you today because I was afraid," Cas blurted.
Dean had to stop himself from grumbling. He really wanted to know more specifically what Cas wanted and needed from him now and if he still felt the same way he did before getting ganked. He wanted to know if Cas believed him yet. He was searching for acceptance and for confirmed reciprocation, not a recap of what already happened. Feelings were really not his favorite conversation topic.
With great effort, he held his tongue and nodded slightly, encouraging Cas to continue. He was trying to be more empathetic and patient lately. It was not something that came easily to him, but he had found it to be worth the effort so far. He was, however, reaching the end of his fairly short rope. He was nearly ready to grab Cas and give him a good shake, the. ask him if he wanted to be with him or not, dammit.
"Afraid of what?” he said instead.
"I was afraid of this, of you, of all of it. The version of this conversation where you said I couldn't have you,” Cas nearly whispered, as if he was afraid to even speak it.
“Of me?” The hunter murmured, furrowing his brow.
”Yes. Of all of this,” Cas said softly.
Dean's frustration evaporated. His arms uncrossed and he stepped a little closer to Cas again. This is what he wanted to talk about, they were finally back around to the meat and potatoes of this damn thing. He supposed patience had paid off again. It was a little annoying how that went because patience was not his strong suit.
“You can, though. Have me, I mean. Always could . If you, y’know, still want," Dean said softly back with a half shrug and an earnest look. He was hoping the second time would be the charm, that Cas would let it sink in this time.
Castiel blinked at him and his eyes slowly widened. His brow furrowed - Dean wondered if it would ever unfurrow after today - and then his eyes widened again and he seemed to freeze with his eyes locked on the hunter. Dean swallowed hard, trying to be patient. He was starting to get nervous.
"You in there, buddy?” Dean asked softly. He tried to ignore the heartbeat in his ears and how dilated the second between each one felt. He couldn’t tell what was happening in Cas’s head and he was afraid to spook him down another rabbit trail of reasons Dean couldn’t possibly want him.
"I - yes. I want!” Cas spluttered after a long moment, and a lopsided dawning smile broke through the shock and bewilderment. That smile started to melt the ice in Dean's gut.
Cas pulled him abruptly into a rib crushing hug. Dean had missed that so much, Cas was the only person that hugged him tightly like that, and Cas was the only person that made him feel like he was protected as well as the protector. He couldn't help but smile and squeeze back. He had imagined this moment differently, but he wouldn't trade this for the world.
Cas felt once again as if he were flying, and it was ebullient this time. The breeze was at his back and his heart was soaring. He never felt that sensation when his vessel was fueled by grace. Maybe the beetle didn't have it so bad.
Something was still on Dean’s mind. He looked at Cas quizzically and asked, "Why were you so angry I came to save you? Or try to save you, at least.”
"My delivery was…lacking, but I meant what I said. I gave you my life. I died for you. I hoped you would accept that gift this time and be a little more intentional with your life. I never want to see you hurt, especially not for me. The Shadow is powerful and dangerous. I never wanted you to deal with it. I thought I could spare you from that.
Dean drew back a step and gave Cas a bewildered look. "What, are you kidding? You're ‘always happy to bleed for the Winchesters’ but you don't think you deserve to be saved? You really thought I wouldn't try to get you back? That's crazy, man."
Dean scoffed, and kicked at the gravel. He looked at Cas sharply, with his nostrils flared. He became very serious and the look on his eyes bordered on anger, but Cas remembered what Sam said. Dean wasn't angry. He was afraid.
“I never wanted people bleedin’ or dying’ for me. That's been my life since I was a kid. I'm tired of it. If you don't like seeing me hurt, think of all the times I’ve seen you die. It kills me, Cas, everytime, or close enough to it that I feel like dying. You really wanna show me how you feel? Then live for me. Stay.”
“Oh,” Cas murmured thoughtfully. It was as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Well, yes. I will,” that angel said firmly, looking Dean in the eye.
Dean relaxed with a soft sigh. The fear in his eyes began to recede.
"What happens now?" Castiel asked with a dazed but joyful expression.
Dean grinned and bit his lip. He could definitely think of a few things. He looked at Cas’s awestruck, shell-shocked face and decided maybe there would be time for being rowdy later, though… Looking into Castiel's eyes also made him feel shy once more. He was looking back at Dean with a raw vulnerability that made the hunter shiver.
"Well, um. We could always seal the deal with…a kiss?” Dean suggested - or he had intended to suggest it, it came out much more like a question. He felt like a kid talking to his first crush.
Cas smiled brightly with a nod, but it was pretty clear that Cas was going to stand there until Dean did something. Dean took in a breath and took the one step closer to Cas he needed to. He pressed a hand into the center of Cas’s back and put the other on the back of his neck. Dean realized he was shaking. Cas was just watching him with that reverent adoration that was always present, he didn't seem nervous at all. Dean envied that. And there were those swarms of butterflies beating their wings furiously in his stomach again, too.
Dean closed his eyes and hoped Cas would do the same. He inhaled and closed the scant distance between them. The bridges of their noses bumped and Dean internally admonished himself for being so clumsy. He hadn't been nervous to kiss someone like this since his very first one when he was a pimply faced middle schooler behind the bleachers of a school he couldn't remember the name of.
He'd imagined the moment hundreds - maybe thousands of times. He'd always assumed that it would be like a spark lighting a powder keg, that it would be an explosion of light and fire and intensity. He thought it would be like the impossible moment where the unstoppable force finally broke down the will of the immovable object and swept it away in a wave of violent passion.
It wasn't at all like that. It was the most innocent kiss he'd ever given. Just a soft, tender brushing of lips. They pulled apart, just barely. Cas breathed in softly, not quite a gasp, then their lips met again. Just a few, tender seconds before slightly pulling back. And then their lips met a third time, tender, soft, slow, sweet. Slightly parted, but the hunter didn't want to push Cas too far or too fast, so he didn't push to deepen the kiss. Cas exhaled softly and Dean felt a tingle run down his spine.
It did not explode, it was not turbulent or irresistible. It slowly smoldered beneath his skin. There was a growing hunger inside, certainly there and waiting to be seated but not so badly that he couldn't be patient and gentle. They weren't grasping at each other like wild animals in the throes of ancient primal instinct. It was soft, deliberate, slow. It was full of intention. It was full of emotion. He was fully clothed, but he had never felt more naked in all his life. He knew Cas couldn't read his mind right now, yet he felt absolutely certain that if he had a thought Cas would see it instantly with utter and unmistakable clarity.
It burned him up, but it didn't take him over. There was a roaring intensity as his heart thundered away inside his chest, but it was just there, it didn't compel him to push for more, not yet. It amazed him. It ached inside, but it was the kind of ache he wanted to hold onto forever. He was afraid to open his eyes, but he did. Cas was looking at him. It wasn't in the insatiable way he'd imagined. It was soft bewilderment and awe. The hunger was there, that was undeniable. But it was waiting, patient. There was time to savor this morsel. There would be feasts to come.
Dean took a half step back. He felt damn near euphoric but there was a lingering concern that Cas wouldn't feel the same. With only a couple of exceptions, the angel had seldom seemed interested in physical intimacy beyond hugging, and even that had taken him a while to work up to. Dean looked at the ground for a moment to gather his thoughts. It felt like he should say something, but nothing was coming to mind.
A breathless “Um," was all Dean got out before Cas looked at him strangely, with his mouth open and eyes distant and Dean fell speechless.
“Dean, I…” Castiel started and trailed off. “Well, I-I, uh…I have to put the truck away,” he finished abruptly.
“Oh,” Dean said absently, looking at the truck, still running with the door hanging open. “Sure.”
Cas awkwardly opened the garage and got the truck parked back inside. He looked wide eyed back at Dean, then swiftly turned and went briskly into the bunker.
“What the fuck,” Dean whispered to himself.
Notes:
Oops. Still a bit of cliff hanger, eh? Don't come for me. I love you guys. But feel free to yell at me in the comments or on my tumblr because really, everytime I get a comment I feel an overwhelming burst of self-worth, and I have a deficiency of that actually. When I have more self worth (comments/kudos/tumblr mssgs/asks) I write more and better! But you don't have to. I'm shy too, I get it. <3
Chapter 6
Summary:
Castiel has some difficulty processing everything that is going on.
Notes:
Sorry! I didn't die (obviously). I got a new job and it's been really crazy. :'( I didn't forget about you guys, I just started a new job and it got pretty intense. There was a local disaster (no one was hurt tho) that kept me very busy for a while. Truthfully I'm still busy, but I haven't quit writing this fic, I'm just moving at a snail's pace with it currently. My hope is that in the next 6-8 weeks things will stabilize and my hours will be more manageable. Until then, unfortunately, uploads will be slow and delayed. I apologize <3I think I'm helping people though, so that's good. I think it's safe to say my biweekly update schedule is not going to be on target, but I'm still writing! Just very * v e r y* *s l o w l y*
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Castiel went inside and slipped like a silent shadow into his room. Once there, he carefully closed and locked the door. He slid down the cool wood of the door to sit against it on the floor. Everything in his vessel was overwhelming right now. He couldn't think. Then again, he realized, maybe the problem was that he was thinking too much. Endless strings of words ran through his mind but they meant nothing to him right now. It was the images and impulses gripping his mind without his grace to temper the instinct that was so difficult.
In his mind’s eye, he saw himself pressing Dean against the retaining wall. He could visualize it with such stunning clarity that his vessel tingled as if he could really feel his tongue deep inside the man's mouth. He imagined sealing their mouths together with the searing heat of a dying sun. Cas wanted to explore every part of him his fingertips could reach while doing so. He wanted…
But if Dean wanted that, he surely wouldn't have been so genteel. It's not as if that sort of softness was in Dean's nature, he was an incredibly tactile man who had little patience for soft brushes and timid touches. Cas had seen how Dean interacted with lovers - generally when the hunter couldn't see him, which Cas had some shame in now - but Cas had seen Dean kiss Lisa dozens of times and it was never so… soft. He didn't know what that meant, exactly.
Cas touched his own lips softly and breathed in sharply at the memory of Dean’s lips on his. It had been unbelievable. He never thought in all this time Dean could possibly want him back. The revelation of that alone was enough to take his breath away every time he remembered Dean saying it.
Cas, you can have me. You could always have me.
It was euphoria inducing, but it was also overwhelming. Dean wanted him. It seemed impossible. How could that be true? How could he have misinterpreted the signs? How could it be true that Dean had admitted his feelings to him, and yet Cas wanted more in his hubris and greed? The angel pondered if he was ungrateful, or perhaps worse. He felt guilt bubbling inside his chest. Whatever happened next, at whatever pace Dean decided, must be enough. And yet…There were so many questions and possibilities flooding his vessel's brain.
When he had his grace and noticed his vessel panicking, overly excited, or any undesirable reaction, it was a simple matter to correct. Castiel just used his grace to activate the correct neural pathways, open or constrict the correct veins or arteries, or activate the correct mixture of hormones and endorphins to return it to baseline. He had noticed the first time he was human that it was not that simple to return the vessel to a more manageable state, but he'd felt more despondent and depressed then. His vessel's nervous system had been more suppressed. Presently, he felt it was overactive and overstimulated. It wasn't that either situation served him well, but now he was in unfamiliar territory.
What did humans do to relax the system manually? How did they get endorphins to release?
Sex, his vessel's brain suggested eagerly. Sex releases endorphins.
“Stop it,” he huffed indignantly in reply.
He was growing increasingly frustrated by the fact the human brain was separated into left and right hemispheres, hindbrain, and frontal lobe. Each had their own separate functions, and when one was at odds with the others, it felt… hectic. When he had his grace, he was able to bypass the vessel's brain and its odd little compartments. His grace had no such separation. The way that parts of the human mind could hide or filter information from parts of itself or insert additional thoughts based on the hindbrain’s so-called needs pissed him off. He felt very much like it was trying to trick him. He had forgotten that part of being human.
He searched his memories and knowledge for something to help with the excitement the vessel's nervous system was experiencing. That was another problem. Neurons suspended in a wad of fat were so much slower than grace. Grace was composed of wavelengths of celestial light. It didn't take time or focus to recall anything; it was like comparing the speed of a quantum supercomputer to the processing speed of a beat-up, dusty Compaq Presario. His memories and knowledge were all there, but it took so much more effort to locate them by comparison.
He supposed he could stimulate the vagus nerve. He remembered a simple breathing exercise he could do and sat on the bed. He got comfortable and sat straight, pushing his shoulders back to open his chest. He closed his eyes and began counting as he inhaled for six seconds, held for two, and exhaled for eight. He did this for a few minutes and felt the tension on his chest slowly base. The racing thoughts slowed, and in time quieted. He felt more in control. His vessel was less sweaty and frantic now. That suited him much better.
It turned out there was another problem with relaxation. The blood vessels relaxed too, and he'd just had a very erotic, if not remotely satiating, experience with Dean that had been his deepest desire for over a decade now. His vessel seemed to have a mind of its own, not just his brain. In fact, his head felt fractionally dizzy at the moment with the rate his blood was flowing away from his brain.
He looked down at his lap with a reprimanding expression.
“Stop that,” he mumbled gruffly at his dick.
It did not stop.
Cas sighed, feeling frustrated but knowing there was, at least, a simple solution. He wasn't a stranger to the concept of masturbation. He had, after all, witnessed it many, many times while observing Earth. Humans and several animals did it frequently. He didn't want to deal with this, however; he wanted to talk more with Dean, maybe hold his hand or have another kiss…
His vessel reacted strongly to that, because the images in his mind were not stopping at the sweet, soft brushes of lips they had shared. They were diving into thoughts of tearing away clothes and poring over every single inch of Dean's skin, mapping every freckle with his fingers and tongue.
When he'd kissed Meg, he wasn't very in touch with his vessel. It had seemed like the correct thing to do, but he thought it had more to do with how he wanted to make Meg feel than any physical want of his own. There were no persistent physical effects on him from kissing her in an outright pornographic way like there seemed to be from barely a whisper of a kiss from Dean.
A wave of tingling heat ran through him at the thought. But a wave of guilt quickly chased it. Just because Dean cared for him in turn didn't automatically mean he wanted to engage in sex. He knew enough about humans now to understand that sex and love were separate desires. Cas wasn't a stranger to these fantasies. Angel or otherwise, he'd held these thoughts inside for over a decade now. He usually quashed them with his grace and a firm mental reprimand to himself because Dean didn't feel the same. Or so he'd thought.
Now, knowing Dean felt something in return, whatever the true nature of it was, and having the intensity of a vessel completely unrestrained by grace to grapple with, these fantasies were intense and beyond his control. He'd never had to resort to animal means to quell the onslaught of mental images and corresponding vessel reactions. His grace had always just smoothed it away and brushed it off. Admittedly in recent years it had been harder to do, but not to the point of causing him problems. The pain in his heart has been the thing his grace couldn't soothe. Not this carnal, burning lust.
He supposed he'd have to just do this, to just reach orgasm quickly and be done with it, but it felt wrong. It felt disrespectful to Dean to think of him in that way while doing something so base. When Dean was probably right down the hallway no less! But if he didn't take care of this growing problem, he expected Dean would be much more uncomfortable. And, he told himself, it's not as if Dean (and Sam) didn't do it too. When he had his grace he had been hyper aware of sounds and scents, whether he wanted to be or not.
He hesitated and tried willing the problem away, but eventually when the sensations rolling through him at every unbidden thought of skin and tongue and heat that flashed through his mind became too much, he relented. He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his slacks, then slid out of his coat and jacket. He tried to get comfortable on the bed, but some stupid part of his mind was feeling strange and guilty about this. It made comfort hard to attain. The vessel's hindbrain screamed he didn't need to do this because he could do something better with Dean. It was all very distracting, and he was becoming frustrated by the fine beads of sweat beginning to make him sticky. He realized he was shaking a bit, perhaps, he thought, because he was fighting it. He felt much too warm. He simply couldn't take it a moment longer. There was a boiling feeling under his skin and his groin felt horribly uncomfortable, but in a strange way where every brush of fabric against his vessel's cock made him shiver with an achy sort of pleasure too.
He reached down and took an experimental grip. His breath punched out of him. He had forgotten how intense sensation could feel in an uninhibited vessel, but he had definitely forgotten how intense arousal felt. He'd not been human for particularly long and perhaps his depressive and preoccupied state had numbed him then. There has been that one encounter with April, but it had been so long ago and was secondary to the memory of her stabbing him to death that he hadn't thought about sex with her much since.
He let himself relax a bit more, finding the thoughts of guilt and the screaming brain were suddenly muted. He slowly pumped his fist up and down the length. It felt strange and foreign but he was much less worried about all that now. The sensation had overridden all the noise and guilt for the moment. It felt good. Very good. And when he let his mind wander back to Dean, well, that was exquisite. He found an agreeable pace and grip firmness and closed his eyes.
Castiel felt like a slave to his vessel right now, but for once that was not a problem. His vessel seemed quite adept at this. It made sense of course; it was a crucial function of the vessel's intended use. He knew that was why it felt so good; the vessel was rewarding him for this. His fist pumped up and down with a firm grip, and even though it chafed slightly, he couldn't help but open his mouth and let out a soft involuntary sound of pleasure. His cock throbbed and ached but the ache had become wonderful and just right. He swiped a thumb over the head and had to clap his other hand over his mouth to keep from getting too loud.
He was feeling a single-minded focus on the task now, letting the pleasure and heat build within him without care or shame. He remembered the tender kisses, over and over. Then he was imagining nipping at Dean's jaw, sliding his hands under Dean's shirt. Pressing hard against the man, eliciting gasps and sounds from the hunter. He imagined sliding inside --
“Cas? You in there?” Dean's voice rumbled softly with an equally soft rapping at the door.
Cas was drawn quickly out of his fantasy. He released his cock from his hand and lamented the loss of friction, but the shock of hearing Dean right now and knowing he was right on the other side of the door while Cas was doing this was too startling.
“No!” he answered abruptly, with entirely too much force. He smacked his forehead with instant regret and gritted his teeth. What a stupid thing to say, yet another unbidden outburst supplied by the brain.
There was a pause. “Oookay,” Dean said slowly. “Can't say that's either of the answers I expected. I'll see you later, then,” Dean said through the door. He sounded extremely downtrodden. That tugged at Castiel's heartstrings painfully. The shame hit him violently again and, though absolutely not in the way he'd planned, the shock and guilt seemed to take care of the erection issue.
“Ah, Dean, wait a moment. I'm com - Well ...I'll be right there.”
Cas took a moment to right himself and his clothes. He wiped his sweat and his hand on the trench coat with a lurching feeling of frustration and disgust. He felt like he smelled like a wild animal, and while that didn't bother him exactly, except that he knew humans went to extraordinary lengths to mask their natural scents. He frantically waved his arms around, trying to dispel the musky scent all around him to no avail.
But now Dean was waiting outside the door, Cas could see his shadow. He couldn't tell him to go away now, especially not with how upset he'd sounded.
He gave his hand another vigorous wipe on the trench, which he abandoned on his bed, and opened the door.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas said. He felt an uncomfortable lump in his throat which he attempted to swallow down, but it went nowhere.
Dean looked at him with an odd expression. “You okay, buddy? You left in a hurry and you're acting a little…off,” he said with a slight smile that failed to mask his confusion and concern.
“Um, yes. I'm well. I'm just… new at this,” Cas said haltingly.
Dean studied him with a concerned and exacting look. “You look kinda flushed. Are you getting sick or something? Is your grace acting up?” he asked. He lifted the back of his hand to Castiel's forehead. Cas couldn't help but lean into the innocent touch and savor it.
“You're burning up. And sweaty. You don't sweat,” Dean said with a slight frown.
“Um, no. I'm not sick. I'm still disconnected from my grace. I'm fine,” Cas insisted, but couldn't seem to pull away from the simple touch. He lamented when Dean pulled his hand away.
The hunter nodded and his mouth twisted. “Maybe… that was too much,” he murmured as he looked down at his feet for a moment. He looked back up with a questioning look. Dean felt he’d done something wrong, that much Cas could tell.
“Hmm?” Cas asked, unsure what it was that troubled the hunter.
“The… y’know. Kiss,” Dean said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Oh. No! No, that's not it. That was wonderful,” Cas said, shaking his head vigorously. “I'm just feeling…feeling… well, I’m feeling very…. much.”
Cas seethed inwardly. The words coming to mind were slow, inelegant, and insufficient.
“Yeah, me too,” Dean huffed with a shy smile.
Cas smiled too. Dean looked so nice when he smiled. He inhaled sharply realizing his heart was fluttering, and it felt beautiful.
“So… You're sure I didn't spook you?” Dean asked with an earnest look and the hint of a shy smile gracing his lips.
“No, no,” Cas said, putting a reassuring hand - the left one, feeling odd about touching Dean with the hand he'd been using to pleasure himself - on Dean's shoulder and squeezing affectionately. His eyes lingered on the firm shoulder and then traced up the hunter's neck to his lips.
“Good. I was worried you didn't want to do that yet. Or maybe at all. Worried you were upset.” Dean moved his hand to rest over Castiel's, which had not left the hunter's shoulder. Cas noticed how warm Dean's hand felt on his.
“No! Not at all. I wanted to. I'm just learning. Feelings are physically intense in the vessel without my grace,” Cas said again absently, with a vague gesture between them.
“Yeah. That makes sense. I guess it would be overwhelming. A lot has happened today,” Dean admitted. “I didn't know that you didn't know. I mean, about how I feel, if that makes sense. I just figured if you were into all that, you'd’ve said so. I thought you knew about me.”
“It was all new to me,” Cas said softly. He felt warmth and affection spreading through him as he looked at Dean.
“I feel so stupid, I mean all that time, we could-,” Dean said as he shook his head and laughed.
The hand touching his, the proximity, the study of Dean's beautiful form, the sound of the man's laughter - Cas felt his body reacting to it all. Cas felt his face ablaze with shame. Here was Dean, innocently laughing and sharing an affectionate touch, and Castiel was thinking and reacting to him with the most debaucherous intent.
“Dean,” Cas said urgently, interrupting Dean with a wide-eyed look and a sudden vice grip on the hunter's forearm. He had to find a way out of this conversation, immediately. “Um, I need - I have to… urinate. Please excuse me,” Cas said abruptly. He released Dean and hurried towards the bathrooms briskly.
Dean stood there in the hallway, not for the first time today, feeling very confused.
Notes:
HA! YOU THOUGHT THEY WERE DONE PINING. NO!!!! WHY?! BECAUSE DESTIEL
Chapter 7
Summary:
Dean is feeling pent up, so he finds a case.
Notes:
Another chapter because I finished it early and feel terrible for the long wait between. I'm never committing to a schedule again, so sorry minxy fam :'(
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean felt like a ping-pong ball being batted back and forth. For the past two weeks, Castiel had been giving him the most polarized mixed signals he'd ever received. They were together - sort of; he thought - in some vague sense but Dean did not know how to define it any better than that. He'd expected that when he told Cas he needed him and to stay and he could have him all the rest would fall into place. That didn't seem to be the case.
Things were the same as before in many ways, but somehow more confusing than ever. It felt like they were in some kind of liminal space between being best friends and being a couple. Dean felt like he'd taken a wrong turn before he got to the part where they skipped off into the sunset together - or whatever the hell happily-ever-after looked like for a reject angel and an aging human hunter. There was a constant itch in his brain telling him something wasn't right and Dean did not know what to do about it. He wasn't experienced in long-term relationships, but he was pretty confident this wasn't the way things usually went.
Dean had noticed that Cas was a little more touchy than he had been before their heart-to-heart. He'd just grab Dean's hand now. Just grab it and look at him with those luminous eyes. They'd stare at each other like old times, but warmer, softer, closer. He would come up to Dean and hug him for no reason which he never did before, and they would linger in the warmth and closeness of the embrace. Cas’s hand would softly stroke his back and the angel would sigh and lean into him and everything felt right. There had been no more kisses, other than a singular soft kiss on the cheek Cas had given him one night before heading to bed - alone. He hadn't imagined they'd be sleeping separately, but he didn't want to smother Cas. He could accept it, even if it was a little lonelier than he'd hoped.
Other times Cas would hide himself away in the bunker, doing seemingly nothing, such as one time when Dean found him alphabetizing old Men of Letters records in the basement. Or Cas would practically bulldoze over him to run to his room or bathroom in the middle of a conversation. The number of times Cas would announce he “needed to urinate” and practically shove Dean out of the way was too many to count at this point. The hunter had wondered if Cas had some sort of bladder issue or something, but Cas had assured him it was just a jarring sensation. That wasn’t always the excuse, though. Multiple times he'd left to take a long walk without saying anything first. Everytime Dean started feeling comfortable, Cas would excuse himself and avoid Dean with a singular focus that felt personal.
The situation was giving him whiplash. He knew he probably wasn't helping matters because anytime Sammy came by and they were hugging or holding hands, Dean would quickly try to disentangle himself from his… lover? Buddy? Flirtationship? Whatever it was they were doing. Every time he looked back at Cas after slipping away when Sam came around, though, he felt a sinking sensation of guilt in the pit of his gut. He didn't know how to talk to Sammy about this because he didn't even know what to call this relationship, or what was going to happen. He was beginning to think he knew nothing at all. If he'd known that kissing and confessing his feelings to his best friend wouldn't change much of anything, he would have been less apprehensive about doing it for the past decade. Dean had wanted it to change some things, though…
And the tension - God, it was getting weird. Or, it was getting weird to him. Jack and Sam seemed to have no reaction or awareness whatsoever to it all, which suited Dean just fine. But on the other hand, he had wondered if he was just imagining things. He felt sure that Cas wanted him one second, then the asshole would run away and hide for hours. So Was it all just wishful thinking or projection or something? He had accepted that Cas wasn't interested that way. People could be in love and not want to bump uglies, he figured. Or, he thought, maybe Cas was asexual, but if so, he wished Cas would just say so. He had gone this long, he could make it work. No problem. There was always shaking hands with the milkman and good, old-fashioned porn. It had gotten him by fine for the past few years. If Cas didn't feel like knocking boots, well, Dean might be a little pent up and a little bummed that his fantasies from this past decade wouldn't come to fruition, but he would just be happy to spend time with Cas and take care of each other, whatever that looked like. Dean realized when he'd lost him that what he wanted with Cas was more intense and deeper than sex. To be honest, that made his stomach tie itself in knots when he thought about it for too long, but it was true. It was the weird, mixed signals, the uncertainty, that was killing him.
He had hoped this weirdness would have run its course after a couple days and then they'd settle into a rhythm, but it had not. Dean was not closer to understanding what this thing was with Cas than he was before they talked. Dean had stopped bringing it up because Cas looked freaked out as all hell when he'd tried outside his door that night. Dean's hope was that Cas would come to him when he was ready, but it didn't seem like that was going to happen. And the hunter didn't know how much more he could take.
Dean was stir crazy to say the least. When he got wind of a simple case just shy of a day's drive away, he was damn near ecstatic. Cases weren't coming their way that much these days. It didn't help that Sam had created a network of hunter's and if it was out of the “zone” he had designated their responsibility, unless it was something big, he just called a hunter within whatever the creepy-crawly’s zone to go take care of it. This was pretty cool and efficient, so Dean had been in favor at first, but it turned out that Kansas was not a known hotbed of supernatural activity.
Now that Cas was back and Jack was still barely flirting with the idea of really ruling the roost, there just wasn't much left for Dean to do. And a week or two to get re-acclimated would have been great under other circumstances, but with things as vague and happy yet weirdly tense as they were, he was stoked to get out and stretch his legs.
“Okay,” he told the room as he gleefully rubbed his hands together, “There's a milk run case in the Ozarks a couple hours south of Branson. You remember Zach and his sister Becky from the shapeshifter case ages ago?” He asked, looking at Sam.
“Oh yeah, of course I do, Bex was a friend at Stanford,” Sam said with a fond smile.
“Well, Zach got in touch, said he heard some talk about weird stuff. Animal attacks that didn't seem like animal attacks. That alone is weird, sure, but he says there have been people posting online about someone in the woods with big red eyes and creepy ass skin.”
“Ah, rugarou,” Cas said with a slow nod.
“Well, I could send Eileen's friend Sue. We were able to get back in touch after Jack fixed Chuck’s shit. I think she's in Missouri right now,” Sam said, pulling out his phone to get in touch.
“No, c’mon man! I'm itching to get out and do something,” Dean replied. He frowned and made a dismissive wave, as if to shoo the idea out of the war room altogether.
Jack said nothing, he just looked between the others, content to listen. Cas caught his eye at one point and couldn't shake the feeling that Jack was deeply amused by something. There was a certain quirk to his grin and a brightness to his eyes that seemed to say that. Cas couldn't understand why. Usually, he would assume he'd missed a cue or that a joke evaded him, but the brothers didn't seem amused either.
“Why shouldn't Sue do it? If she's a friend of Eileen's, surely she's capable,” Cas asked, frowning.
Dean rolled his eyes. “It's not about that Cas, it's about getting out of the bunker! If you guys don't want to go, I can handle it myself.”
Cas and Sam immediately began making protesting remarks.
“Oh, come on!” Dean griped, throwing his arms up in frustration.
“Dude, we deserve a break, we spent the past fifteen years fighting God and apocalypses and crap. Can't we just let someone else handle the small fry for a while?” Sam asked. His tone was soothing and understanding, but underneath there was an unmistakable edge of frustration.
“Maybe, if taking a break meant doing something besides sitting around here with our thumbs up our asses. I want to save people. Hunt things. That's what I do,” Dean said, crossing his arms and staring Sam down.
Jack glanced back at Cas, amusement more evident than ever, before turning back to the brothers.
“Can't you give the family business bullshit a rest?” Sam sighed. “We've earned this.”
“Okay, great!” Dean snarked. His upper lip curled upward as he rolled his eyes. “Enjoy your retirement, Sammy. I'm not telling you what to do. I said you didn't have to come,” Dean grumbled as he paced in front of the map table.
“Dean, I'll come with you,” Cas said simply. His heart fluttered on his chest.
Jack looked back at Cas, eyes absolutely gleaming at this point with unspoken amusement, and gave him a small nod. Cas tilted his head in response, but Jack turned back to watch the brothers.
Dean seemed to freeze. “You will?” He asked with a skeptical brow raised.
Dean's face fell. “Right. To babysit me,” he sighed. “Look, if that's all you want, I promise you, I can handle one rugarou on my own no problem. I have a flamethrower I've been itching to use,” he sighed.
Cas felt taken aback. The words stung him, his vessel's heart ceased its fluttering.
“Dean, no. You cannot use a flamethrower in the middle of a national forest. You'll start a wildfire!” Sam protested.
Dean made a dismissive gesture toward Sam. “I wouldn't do that, I'm not stupid. Smokey Bear taught me better. Besides, there's babes in the woods.”
Sam gave him a frustrated snort. Cas crossed his arms with a soft huff and looked away.
“Oh, fuck off. Babes as in Bambi,” Dean murmured at Cas. Sam didn't seem to react to the pointed exchange.
“How are you gonna burn a rugarou alive without setting any of the underbrush on fire? How are you gonna keep it from running through the woods” Sam demanded. All pretenses of soothing and understanding were absent from his voice now.
“Duh. I'll lure it out of the woods,” Dean said as he leaned over the table toward Sam.
“With what?” Sam sneered.
“Sammy,” Dean said with a mischievous grin and a tone that dripped faux patience, “I know as the less attractive sibling it's hard for you to understand, but I'm not just a snack. I'm an entire meal.”
Sam stood up in a flurry of indignant movement. “You cannot use yourself as bait!”
“Why not? We've been bait for way spookier shit since we were kids!” Dean shouted back.
The brothers continued bickering and shouting back and forth and insulting one another.
After listening to the exchanges until his patience ran out, Cas sighed heavily and stood up, firmly smacking his hands on the map table.
“Enough!” He shouted, ejecting a sound loud and sharp enough that the brothers actually stopped their bickering. They turned to gape at Cas with mild shock.
Cas licked his lips and took a deep breath before levelling the Winchesters with a serious look that begged no argument.
\“I will go with Dean. Dean will not be using a flamethrower in the forest or luring the rugarou with his own flesh. You have my word, Sam,” Cas said. His voice communicated finality. “Dean, pack a bag. I'll do the same,” he said simply, and turned to go towards his room.
Cas was petrified. Petrified of the long car trip alone with Dean, petrified that Dean would be injured, and of course, petrified that he would run into his recurrent problem. In fact, he felt it was likely if he was to spend time in such proximity to the object of his desires. He simply couldn't let Dean go off into danger alone, and he could see from a mile away that if he hadn't intervened, the brothers would have argued until Dean stormed out on his own. He couldn't heal the hunter anymore. He couldn't let him get injured, or worse. He sighed with trepidation as he reached the doorway and slipped out of view of the others.
Still frozen at the map table by shock at Castiel's interruption, Dean and Sam gave each other a long silent look.
“You made him mad,” Sam whispered to Dean finally.
“Shut up,” Dean whispered back with a sneer, but something lingered on his face that seemed genuinely troubled.
Sam snorted a short laugh at first, but noticed the look on his brother’s face. Sam shifted from brotherly ribbing to actual concern. “What's wrong?” He asked.
Dean sighed. “Nothing, really. You wouldn't understand. It's not important.”
Sam frowned. “Come on. Try me.”
Dean just shook his head and gave Sam a strange look before he went to pack a bag.
Sam looked at Jack with a questioning expression. “He got his way. I thought he'd be happy,” he said.
Jack shrugged. “Hmm. He's a complex guy. Who knows what's going on with him.”
Sam looked at Jack with a bemused eyebrow raise.
“If anybody does, it's you,” he chuckled.
Jack smiled and raised his hands in surrender, but said nothing.
Notes:
Whaddaya think? I'd love to hear from you! I adore hearing from readers about your thoughts and what stood out to you. Comments and kudos are my lifeblood! You can also stop to say hi on my tumblr, I really do love talking with readers. Y'all are the best!!! Hope you enjoyed. If you can bear with me, I plan to do some spiciness next chapter! Your patience will be rewarded. Would LOVE to hear what you think of that in the comments. Do you have any predictions?
There is a case fic in this series that takes place BEFORE the next chapter, so if you want to read the case fic and get some context for what happens next chapter, please read it here!
Chapter 8
Summary:
Dean’s body might be wrecked from the hunt, but it’s nothing compared to the mess in his head. Trapped in the uneasy quiet of a cabin with Castiel, Dean finds himself stuck somewhere between desire and doubt, silence and almost-something. One overheard moment sets off a spiral of jealousy, guilt, and questions he’s too afraid to ask.
Read the other fic in this series, "Communication Breakdown: Hunger Pains" first! Read it Here
Notes:
So sorry for the delay! ]'= I have written several chapters, but I needed to edit them and I just didn't have the mental focus to follow the writing bug and slow down to edit too. I'm never going to promise a schedule ever again. Unfortunately I can only say "I'll post when I post, but I'll post at some point" from now on. Bless you all for your sweetness and patience!
Read the other fic in this series, "Communication Breakdown: Hunger Pains" first! Read it Here
This chapter takes place after the events in that fic. It was too long for a chapter itself.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The fact that Dean woke up with a terrible crick in his neck, still reeking of sweat and ash, and with one side of his face wet and crusty from drool made him feel a little grateful that Cas had not been in the room to see him in such a weary state. After the hunt the previous night, Dean had flopped on the couch, exhausted. Cas had looked at him with a lingering fondness, then gone into the bedroom. As Dean had fallen asleep, he considered getting up and asking if he could join Cas in the bed - it sort of hurt him not to be closer, though he didn’t want to push - but he was too tired to get up by that point. Sleep pulled that worry out of his mind as he slipped into sleep.
It had been an extremely long day - it might have been better to listen to Cas and have a nap instead of pushing straight through, but it wasn’t his style. Dean hadn’t made headway with Cas either, but hey, they had this cabin for two more nights. Dean was optimistic. Well - optimistic-ish. He could push down that familiar wishy-washy feeling in his core for now though, because he knew nothing good was going to happen until he washed up. He gathered himself and his clean clothes and shower gear. As he stepped into the hot water, letting it soothe his sore muscles and warm his bones, his memories of the hunt flooded back into his sleep and dehydration hazed mind as he moved through the room and headed for the shower. That had been a heavy one. He worried about the people left behind after a hunt off and on, but in his line of work, he couldn’t afford to let it eat him alive. Once his part was done, that had to be that, or he’d never get to the next hunt. Still, it took some effort to shrug off the memories and lingering thoughts. And, he had to admit to himself with a slight amused grin; he had a habit of checking back in with people if they didn't reach out. Many of his friends and found family were from hunts he couldn't quite move past. Nothing like a nice long, hot shower to get this unpleasant hunt out of his head, though.
Dean emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed and much more himself. He peeked towards Cas’s room, a few steps away. He was still out like a light. The bedroom was on the opposite side of the wall from the bedroom. Cas had left the door cracked open. It looked like he got his socks and pants off before collapsing onto the mattress and passing out, much like Dean had. It had been a long day hunting, and Cas wasn’t used to needing sleep, so Dean wasn’t surprised he was still out. Mid-morning light peeked in between the wide wooden slats of the blinds and illuminated Castiel’s sleeping face. It shone brightly through his dark hair. It gave an illusion of glowing radiance, like a halo. Dean thought it was kinda cute, but it also put him in mind of Renaissance paintings. He smiled and shut the door before moving on to the bathroom to clean up.
Dean felt much more prepared to face the day after a long and thorough shower. He made some coffee and had a cup. He scrolled through his phone briefly to see if he'd missed anything. He had a couple of missed texts from Sammy checking in, to which he responded they were fine and the hunt was wrapped up with a little bow on top but they were gonna stay in the Ozarks for a bit. Sam sent back a question mark, and Dean just said Cas was tired and needed to recoup. Sam sent a thumbs up and that would have been that, but Dean sent a message to tell Sue to enjoy her time in Missouri, to which Sam sent an eye roll emoji. Dean smiled.
The cabin was charming inside. The walls were wooden and the smell of pine lightly perfumed the space. It had all the amenities a cozy cabin should. There was a simple little living room conversation space filled by live edge wood furniture. There was also a barrel chess table in the corner. There was a small TV near the stone fireplace on the far wall of the space and a decent sized kitchen. The bathroom was clean and had a large tub and shower with good water pressure, which was all Dean looked for in a bathroom. There was a stone patio outside with a grill that he hoped to put to use later. He could hear the birds singing outside. It was tranquil in the cabin, so much so that every little sound carried. Typically, Dean found such silence eerie at best, but a sleepy, quiet morning listening to birds and sipping coffee sounded nice, at least for a little bit.
It didn't take long for his attention to wander, however. There was a small bookshelf opposite to the chess table, so he perused the titles of the yellowing paper backs, whose spines were wrinkled and edges were well-worn with time and many hands cradling them as they were read and reread through the years and many guests. His eyes came to rest on a book by Carver Edlund. He grimaced and plucked it off the shelf.
Dean wasn't generally for book burning. He was of the opinion that even the most controversial book probably contained at least a cautionary tale, and people who burned books and censored things really had no right to remove a work from the world, even if it wasn't something Dean would ever personally cared to read. That said, he'd read a lot of burned books over the years and often, he found that they were the best ones.
Today, however, Dean joyfully warmed his hands over the grill as he watched the propane flames lick the cover of one of the supposed Winchester gospels. He revelled in the way the pages so quickly caught fire. He grinned as he watched the paper darken, curl and burst into glorious flame. These weren't books with any message, they were perverse manifestations of Chuck fucking with his and Sam's free will. Once the book was nothing but dark ash, Dean dutifully disposed of the smoldering remains and turned off the grill before quietly stepping back inside, glad to warm up. It was a crisp fall morning and it was pleasantly cold outside, but he was ready to become pleasantly warm once more. He was going over to the bookshelf to resume selecting a book when he heard something.
He glanced towards the bedroom with curiosity. After a few beats of silence, Dean was ready to write it off as Cas just getting dressed or something. Then the sound resumed. He realized the faint sounds that seemed so loud in contrast with the still silence of the cabin were familiar. Dean's face immediately flushed as he realized he heard the very faint but also very recognizable sound of a soft moan and the symphony of overused bed springs. Soft sounds of movement, shifting, barely muffled by the door. Panting. Another moan.
If Dean was watching TV or the coffee pot was still brewing, he probably wouldn't have noticed the small, muffled sounds, but here he was, frozen by the bookshelf, hand reached but not moving towards a cheesy-looking crime novel, face hot, listening.
Wait. That's creepy, he thought. He snatched his hand back and stood up abruptly. He should go back outside. Right? Right. He walked towards the door and closed it gently behind him. He hoped the chill would take the heat coiling low in his belly. He'd go for a walk. And when he got back, he'd be clear-headed and cool, and definitely not creepy.
There was this nagging thought picking at the back of his mind though. As he walked along the neatly mulched path through the forest, the thought migrated pretty smoothly to the front of his mind. If Cas was capable of those feelings, why didn't he share them with Dean? It's not like sex was all Dean was after, but he'd sure prefer to be involved if that was an option. He'd assumed Cas wasn't experiencing much in the way of libidinous thoughts, and Dean could handle that — but he'd just heard the guy jerking it and that meant he felt something.
Then, with a pang of guilt, he admonished himself. Cas didn't owe him an explanation. Cas didn't owe him anything. Shit was pretty weird for him right now without his grace, anyway. He didn't need Dean whining about not getting any to make it weirder. Besides, what kind of creep gets jealous over someone rubbing one out?
But, he protested to himself; it wasn't that he expected anything from Cas. And he didn't feel jealous. Just curious and doubting. It just left Dean wondering if he was doing something wrong. Maybe, he worried, Cas didn’t feel like he could talk to Dean about it. The hunter didn't know what to think. For that matter, he didn’t even know what was going on between them, or how Cas felt completely. This back and forth continued to swing his brain like a pendulum from one side to the other. Dean thought he was going to have to walk for a long time to get the pendulum back to center.
He made his way back to the cabin about an hour later, determined to be normal because jerking off is totally normal and unless Cas made it his business, it was none of his. The guy would probably never do it again anyway once his grace came back, Dean thought. Cas hadn’t really been too interested in sins of the flesh other than a couple weird instances in all the time they’d known each other. Dean needed to be cool. Normal.
That all flew out the window as soon as he walked back in to find Cas freshly showered, wrapped — more like barely contained, he thought as he noticed a fluttering feeling in his chest — in nothing but a towel, and sipping coffee.
“Hello, Dean,” the angel rumbled cheerfully in greeting, as if Dean walked in on him like this every day.
Dean didn't know what to say. In fact, he knew little about anything at the moment. The thoughts and feelings were all scattered and adrift, floating around in his head. His mouth was hanging open, he could feel it and he also felt the involuntary and entirely too obvious gulp he made as he surveyed the delectably bare skin in front of him.
“You're naked,” he blurted at last. That wasn't what he meant to say. Shit.
Cas shrugged.
“I covered the socially objectionable areas of my vessel. But I'm not as warm as I was right after the shower. I was just about to put something warmer on,” Cas said casually.
“Right,” Dean croaked. He could tell it was a perfect performance of normalcy. Yep.
Cas lifted an eyebrow at the hunter, studying him briefly, but simply set his coffee down and rose to change. When he came back out of the bedroom, Dean had his face in his coffee mug, more gulping than sipping it.
“Did you sleep well?” Castiel asked with a yawn as he joined Dean at the kitchen table to continue drinking his coffee as well.
“Mm. Yeah. You?” Dean said.
“I don't really know how to measure my sleep quality. It's disturbing to have a daily requirement of unconsciousness. And dreams are a strange experience,” Cas mused. He furrowed his brow in thought.
“How do you know if a dream is good or bad?” He asked, turning to Dean.
“Well… usually it's pretty straightforward for me. Do I feel good when I wake up and remember it or shitty, you know?” Dean said with a shrug.
“What if it's just very odd?” Cas asked, wrinkling his nose.
Dean gave him a pointed look. “Judging by your face, I'm gonna guess it wasn't a great dream, Cas.”
Cas sighed and nodded. “I suppose not.”
Dean looked at him, waiting, but Cas didn't seem to pick up the cue.
“Do you wanna… talk about your dream or anything?” Dean asked.
Cas pondered for a moment and sipped on his coffee again.
“Yes. I dreamt I was still on the hunt,” he explained, staring out the window in thought. His voice was strong and steady, matter-of-fact, but his eyes were far away as he recalled.
“The rougarou… Eli’s father, was on fire, but he wasn't screaming. He was calm. His eyes were human, though, not… monstrous. He was asking me to help. Eli was screaming for me to save his father. You were there, and… you made me angry. You kept calling me, but you called me like a dog. Every time you did, I got smaller. Physically shrunk. I told you I could still help them, and you just shook your head. And then Eli's father reached his hand out, and it spread the flame to me, but I didn't burn. And then it all went away, all just disappeared. The dream changed. I was holding a blue flame in a small jar. It kept flickering on and off. I was trying to keep the flame alive, it seemed important, but… it self-extinguished. The jar shattered. I was in the dark, and then I woke up.”
Dean nodded as Cas spoke. A look of sympathy and concern shaded his face.
“Yeah. It was a tough hunt, Cas. You had a bad dream,” he said.
Truthfully, Dean was feeling incredibly stupid. He thought Cas was in there jerking off, and he was just tossing and turning, having a bad dream. No wonder the sound was familiar, Dean was pretty well-versed on bad dreams.
“Why? None of those things happened to me. Why should I be so disturbed?” Cas pondered.
Dean shrugged. “You don't have your grace right now to cut to the chase on processing your feelings, right? I mean, considering the amount of time in your life you spent not even having much in the way of feelings at all, you were already behind the bell curve. Your brain is gonna do weird shit to get you through it and put it all to rest. That's just how it goes.”
Cas made a disgruntled face, but nodded. “I can understand some of the significance in parts of it, but I don't understand all of it.”
Dean shrugged. “Dreams can be really weird,” he said. “They don't always make sense.”
Still, he couldn't shake the thought he'd made Cas feel small, insignificant. Had he called him like a dog? That didn't seem right. Dean knew he hadn't listened to him, and maybe he’d underestimated Cas a bit, but was it that bad? The hunter swallowed down the lump in his throat and put a hand over Castiel's.
“It's okay, man. It's normal to feel weird after a hunt. It was a tough one. No one wants to charbroil a sick old man. No one wants to break up a family. I get it. But we did the right thing. We did what we had to do,” he said sympathetically, giving Cas’s hand a light squeeze.
Cas gave him a rueful half smile and squeezed back.
They went into town for a hot meal. Dean was eager to grill later that evening, but right now he just wanted something hot and greasy to follow the handful of aspirin he'd choked down. Cas was amenable to that. Dean had noticed that he was actually very food motivated. Cas crossed the line from peckish to downright hangry pretty fast.
It was a pleasant and routine lunch, finished of course, with a couple slices of pie. Dean had gotten cherry a la mode and Cas, after careful deliberation, settled on peanut butter cream pie.
“I want to try yours,” Dean said, halfway between a demand and a question, but not hesitating to reach across the table with his fork.
Cas pushed the plate over to Dean, but then stopped and pulled it back. Dean frowned, thinking Cas was being a pie tease, which was just cruel and unusual in his book. Cas scooped a bite of the pie on his fork and held it up.
Dean went to quip something along the lines of “What, you wanna feed me like a baby bird?” indignantly, but as soon as his mouth was open Cas was gently but swiftly putting the fork against his lips, and the words died in transit. The hunter's eyes went wide and locked on Cas’s. He accepted the bite and Case made a small sound of contentment, pleasure, or approval, and Dean thought his brain was going to explode.
“Now yours,” Cas said. Calmly, like there weren't sparks flying around in Dean's brain because of what he just did.
“What?” Dean said stupidly.
“I want a bite of yours,” Cas explained, raising an eyebrow at Dean. “Fair's fair, I believe the saying goes.”
“Huh - oh,” Dean murmured, scrambling to give Cas what he wanted.
Dean smiled sheepishly and chuckled out, “As you wish,” as he held out the fork for Cas.
Cas’s rumbling yet barely audible huff of laughter made the hunter smile a little more brightly.
“I enjoyed that movie,” he remarked before he leaned forward and took the bite. Watching Cas’s tongue dart out sent a thrill through Dean. He knew that he was staring, but he couldn't seem to stop.
“It's good. Much more tart than the peanut butter,” Cas said thoughtfully. “I can see why you have such an affinity for pie. They can all be very different in terms of flavor and complexity.”
Dean cleared his throat and shifted on his seat. He nodded and flashed a wide smile at Castiel. Dean hesitantly placed his fingertips over Cas’s on the table, softly and shyly seeking the warmth of the other man through the simple gesture. “Yeah. Lot to love,” he said, then cleared his throat and added, “About pie.”
Cas sharply looked away. He seemed serious and withdrew his hand from Dean’s. He was quiet and withdrawn for the rest of the meal. Dean felt a sinking, achy feeling in his stomach as he threw a few bills down on the table and they made their way silently back to the car.
Dean kept replaying the interaction in his mind - what had he done wrong?
Notes:
Don't come for meeeee I have more chapters in queue to post today! I hope you liked it! If you leave a kudos or comment, I'll love you forever. I have a fragile ego and it's often deflated, lol.
Chapter 9
Summary:
On the road back from the hunt, tension crackles in the Impala. Dean and Cas are trapped in close quarters with unspoken words, simmering frustration, and something heavier neither of them knows quite how to name. As the miles pass, silence gives way to communication at last.
Notes:
As promised, another chapter! Hopefully this one makes up for the delay. I think you'll really like it. ;P
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The strangeness and melancholy tension lingered on the drive back to the cabin. Dean was wrestling with the idea of just giving up and going back to the bunker. He'd thought they had agreed to talk more openly after the hunt. The hunter was sure the only reason Cas hadn't run off to hide was that there was nowhere at the diner to go and he needed a ride back. Dean had no interest in spending time with if it made Cas feel like he was being held captive. It gave him the heebie-jeebies to even think that might be the case, even as it stung that their moment at the diner had gone south.
The thoughts and emotional whiplash in Dean's mind were tossing him back and forth like a lone dinghy in a tempest on the open ocean. He was getting close to a breaking point; he knew he had to say something. He just couldn't decide what he was going to say. There were about a million things he could say or ask about this weird hot and cold game Cas was playing. He sighed. He didn't know what was best to say. He fiddled with the steering wheel idly as they shot back down the interstate towards the cabin.
Dean decided upon the Winchester Special - to bring up something else that was on his mind and had nothing to do with himself instead. Yeah, he told himself, that was the way to do it. It would distract them both from the awkwardness of whatever the fuck this was, right?
“Hey, uh,” Dean said, shifting awkwardly in the seat. “How much longer do you think you'll be without your mojo?”
Out of the corner of Dean's eye, he saw Cas look abruptly toward the window. He let out a weary sigh, but didn't answer the hunter. His eyes watched the forest roll past in a vague, detached way.
“Hey, I don't mean to be a downer, buddy, but have you thought that maybe, y’know… it's not gonna come back at all?” Dean said softly with a concerned glance.
The only response was a sharp glance, and a frustrated exhale.
Dean turned back towards the road. He took a breath and relaxed his posture. He put on his most gentle and empathetic tone and said, “Look, I know it's not something you wanna think about, but I've never seen you without your grace this long and —,”
“Shut up,” Cas grumbled. Dean gave him a disgruntled glance. “Dean, I already know it's not coming back. I'm not that naïve. It's gone. Just leave it be.”
Cas squeezed his eyes shut. There was a heavy, tight feeling in his chest. It hurt to hear it out loud, to admit that he was forever changed, even if it was for the best.
The hunter's jaw dropped, and his brow knitted in confusion. His mouth worked open and closed as he processed that for a moment. “What the hell? Why didn't you tell me?” he asked, unable to bite back the sharpness of the frustration in his voice.
Cas threw his head back and stared at the tan upholstery on the Impala’s ceiling.
“I said to leave it be,” Castiel growled.
Dean's nostrils flared and he bit the inside of his cheek.
“You know what, man — you’re being a dick. I'm trying to help you out here and do all this ‘feelings’ bullshit. Bullshit I’m doing because of you, by the fucking way. I’m trying, and you're not giving me anything to work with,” Dean said sharply.
“I don't want to talk about it, so that’s intentional,” Cas said, crossing his arms and looking out the window.
“Not talking about it isn’t gonna work out,” the hunter retorted.
“Oh, of course, because you're the very picture of healthy emotional expression!” Cas snarled.
Dean sighed and shook his head. He had three or four choice cutting remarks loaded, cocked, and ready to fire off the tip of his barbed tongue. With great effort, he held them back and swallowed them down. This would not get them anywhere, he knew that. Instead, he fell silent and kept his eyes on the road. He could feel his jaw and shoulders were tense and his grip on the wheel was like a couple of iron clamps. He lifted a brow slightly from its viciously furrowed position when he realized in his frustration that he'd developed a lead foot, too. He let off the gas pedal a bit. It took some concentration, but he made the conscious choice to breathe, relax his body, and hoped his mind would follow. It hurt more because he'd started doing this type of thing and trying to rein in his anger because of Cas, and yet Cas was the one being a pissy little bitch. But he would not let that ruin his progress. For good or ill, Dean was too damned stubborn for that.
The silence was no longer amiable. Music trickled faintly from the speakers. Dean turned it up to fill the muted, simmering anger that was suffocating them. He was resolute that he would not say a word until Cas apologized. He stared out the windshield with unblinking tenacity. Dean was white knuckling the wheel at 10-and-2. Cas, for his part, stayed still and quiet staring out the window.
It wasn't that he wasn't willing to tell Cas he could piss up a rope - he just wanted to be level-headed enough not to say anything more than that when he did. Just because Dean was trying to be the loving guy Cas said he was didn't mean he was going to let people walk all over him.
The soft crackling sound of blank space before the cassette stopped with a soft click as the A side ran out of ribbon. Cas hesitated but then hastily ejected the cassette and went to set up to play the B side. Dean kept his eyes on the road and said nothing. Cas was about to push the cassette in again when he suddenly sighed and tossed it on the seat.
“I'm sorry,” Castiel murmured. Dean noted with some satisfaction that he had the good grace to sound ashamed.
Dean gave him a quick glance with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing. “Sorry” alone wasn’t going to cut it. He was waiting for more and the anger and hurt darkening the hunter’s eyes made that clear.
“I don't know what's the matter with me,” Cas continued. His voice was tinged with melancholy exhaustion. “The things my emotions do to my vessel are disorienting. I have unbidden thoughts and desires. I don't know how to stop it. I keep hoping time and practice will help, but I feel like a child in a way. Everything is new and raw. These sensations overwhelm me. It's my responsibility to control it, I know that. I will, in time. I promise you that. I don't enjoy hurting you like this,” he said earnestly.
Dean wasn't sure what to say to that. He also had to intentionally tell his brain to stop clinging to the word “desires”. Dean tried to imagine Cas’s perspective on this, and the realization that Cas was struggling with his new form and the awkwardness that came with a human body for the first time -- well, it made the simmering anger and hurt in the hunter feel more complicated. Softer, but not erased. Dean knew Cas hadn’t been human for all that long before, and they hadn't really been around each other much during that time either. Was Cas dealing with these strange feelings of newness then too? Dean had always assumed that Cas had been pretty much the same as ever — steady, unshakable, pragmatic — even as Steve the gas station attendant. On top of all the difficulties of that time, knowing that he was feeling the raw flood of emotion and unfamiliar sensations made Dean feel a little bad for him, even if he was pissed off.
“Well, I get that it's new. That would be pretty hard,” Dean admitted. “But you gotta talk to me, man.”
Dean paused and screwed up his courage. This is exactly what he had hoped to avoid with the Winchester Special method of communication, but he felt like it was now or never.
“Cas…I feel like we had our big… feelings heart-to-heart or whatever you want to call it and then everything has been weird. Really damn weird. I don't know what I'm doing wrong if you just clam up, shutdown, or run off,” Dean huffed. He fidgeted in his seat and kept his eyes fixed with rigid intensity on the road.
He felt like he was going to throw up. Dean hadn't even said the part about how it hurt his feelings, but he said enough for Cas to figure it out. He felt for the guy, but he wasn't gonna take shit he didn't deserve, either. Cas nodded and rubbed his eyes aggressively.
Cas took in a huge, shuddering breath. “You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know how to fix it yet, but I will. And I will start by talking to you. You aren't doing anything wrong. I just...” he trailed off. His voice was thick and uncharacteristically emotive.
Dean nodded and reached a hand over to Cas. He fumbled awkwardly until he felt Cas’s wrist, then slid his hand into the angel’s and gave a gentle squeeze. Cas hesitated for a second, but after a moment he slid his fingers between Dean’s and locked their fingers. The corner of his mouth quirked upward in a hint of a bittersweet grin. He rested his head on the other hand and looked at the window.
“It's gonna be okay,” the hunter said. “You don't have to do the human thing alone this time. I wish I'd thought of a better way last time. This time we'll figure it out together, Cas.”
He saw Cas nod in the corner of his eye. Dean heard him sniff once, then felt him squeeze his hand in return. The silence that followed felt less lonely.
Cas ended up putting the cassette in. He refused to let go of Dean's hand while doing so, so he was awkwardly reaching across his body and only using his right hand to do it. It made Dean smile a little. There was a slight clack as the tape fed in and opening chords of Ripple began to play. Dean felt like a kid with a crush, because he didn't want to let go of Cas's hand either.
“I keep avoiding you,” Cas blurted out about midway through the second track of the cassette.
Dean chuckled and shot a wry glance toward him. “I know that part, huggy-bear. What I don't know is why.”
Cas opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again with a soft grumble of discontent. He fidgeted and shifted in the passenger seat as if he couldn't get comfortable.
“I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. Or if there are things I shouldn’t do. I don't know what should change and what should stay the same. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or feel… pressured,” Cas said slowly, picking his words carefully. His face was tight with concern and doubt.
“Huh? Why would I be uncomfortable or pressured? I don't follow.”
Dean was feeling rising irritation. Cas was always either blunt and direct to the point it felt like getting brained with a ball peen hammer, or he was tiptoeing around shit in circles and riddles. It was infuriating. He took a deep breath and focused on relaxing his shoulders. Cas was just like this, and most of the time Dean found it pretty … cute? charming? Whatever, something like that. Right now, though, Dean was running out of patience for it.
“I - my vessel -,”
“Cas, it's your body now,” Dean interrupted. “You gotta accept that it's part of you. When you feel something in your body, it's trying to tell you something about what's happening to you, around you. It's not an apartment for your grace you're renting long term from Jimmy Novak anymore. It's part of you.”
Cas balled up his fists, clenching and unclenching them a few times before continuing.
“Jimmy hasn't been in the equation for a long time now. But I take your point. My body is definitely communicating with me, far more than I need or want it to. It's been telling me a lot,” he grated out with what seemed like monumental effort.
Dean glanced at him briefly, surprised to see that Castiel was blushing absolutely beet red.
“I don't know which of those… communications you might experience in-kind. Or not experiencing at all. And I feel… very concerned that if I expressed the things my vessel - or, body I mean - thinks I should express to you, that you might feel… bad,” Cas said. Every word came out haltingly and with what appeared to Dean like immense effort until he blurted the last word forcefully. It came with an equally forceful gesture, where he splayed his fingers apart and stretched his arms forward in a sudden burst of motion.
Dean sat in the driver's seat, puzzled and contemplating. He couldn’t tell what Cas was trying to get at. Thoughts began spinning in whizzing circles. Was Cas trying to say he felt desire? Guilt? Both? He couldn’t parse it, but he knew he had to keep pushing Cas toward the meat of this, whatever it was.
“Bad? Why would I feel bad? What the hell are you trying to say? Spell it out, Cas.”
Cas groaned in frustration and looked at the ceiling of the car once more. His bright blush was spreading in splotches all the way down his neck towards his collar now.
“Dean…” Cas said, his tone urging him to drop it and the sideways glance he cut toward Dean brimming with fire.
The hunter let a few seconds pass, but then prompted him again, saying; “That ain't an answer. Spit it out.”
“Fine. Fine!” Cas let out a guttural, quite human sound of frustration. He could feel the heat in his cheeks burning. He felt like he'd rather throw himself out of the car than talk to anyone about this, but as he looked at the landscape whizzing past, he decided against it. Dean had gone to a lot of trouble to get him back, after all.
“I don't know what's acceptable to say or do…or not. Humans have such strange rules about what you can talk about and when to do… things,” Cas began. Each word grated out, requiring force to make it past the gates between his forebrain and tongue - the various segments of the former angel’s brain were sending out alarm bells and trying to silence him. For once, he thought his brain might be right, but he knew Dean was too stubborn to let it go.
“Since you insist,” he hissed, “I… find myself at a loss. I don't know how to respond. My mind, my true mind, says one thing, my vessel's — my — brain has opposing opinions, and my body has others still. The deluge of conflicting communications and sensations is inundating me to a point where I feel cognitive and sensory overload. It’s hard to know what is appropriate, what to do.”
“Do about what?” Dean asked, trying hard to be encouraging and not let the exasperation he was feeling spook Cas now.
“About you, Dean! About us, about this, whatever the nature of ‘this’ is!” Cas cried out with uncharacteristic anxiety ringing in his voice, gesturing back and forth between himself and Dean and then all around the cab of the Impala.
Dean gave Cas a brief look of confusion and gestured with one hand for him to keep talking with a rapid rolling motion.
Cas rubbed his face vigorously and took in a deep breath.
“Cas, what are you getting at, man?” Dean asked, more softly now. He was getting it, but the hunter needed to be sure he had put the pieces together right. There was no more room for error. He had this weightless feeling in the center of him that told him this was going to be the defining, make it or break it moment here.
“I don't know what to do - or not do - because the level of arousal I experience when I barely even touch you, or when you do certain things, or look at me with that adoring, ardent face you make, is very intense. I want to be close to you, but I can't stabilize my vessel. I lack equilibrium,” he said. Cas fidgeted. He ran his hand through his hair and breathed deeply. He wanted to stop talking, but now that he’d started it seemed like the words were out of his control now, like a steam shooting out of a vent.
“The emotions, I understand. I've loved you for some time. And the sexual urges aren't new, I've certainly felt them before, but the vessel - body - reactions to those thoughts are so intense. My inability to quell them or to focus on other things, important things, is more than frustrating. And I don't have any reason to believe you would welcome these urges. I don't know what to do,” Cas said forcefully through gritted teeth. “It's troubling me. I don't want to put any pressure or strain on you or on this new… relationship just because I'm incapable-,”
Without a word, Dean swerved violently onto the shoulder and rode the rumble strip for several yards as he hit the brakes. Cas had stopped mid-breath as his seatbelt forced the air from his lungs and they were slung forward. The tires squealed. Castiel smelled the burnt rubber and looked to Dean. The hunter had a wild look in his eye. Fury? Cas wasn't sure.
“Dean, what -,” Cas started to say, but before he could finish, Dean threw the car into park, cut the engine and had his seatbelt off so fast Cas didn't even register it.
Dean still had that intense expression - intensity tight in his brow, his jaw set, fire in his eyes - but Cas only saw it for a blink of an eye as Dean launched himself across the bench seat toward the other man. He grabbed Castiel's neck with one hand and hooked the other behind Cas’s arm and upper back, pulling them tightly together in an instant. Dean’s lips met his rough and hot. Their teeth knocked together briefly but Dean couldn't be bothered to slow down.
Castiel was still with shock for only a second before reciprocating with equal zeal. He heard the roaring of blood in his ears and his heart hammering at the inside of his chest. He gripped Dean's upper arm with one hand and tugged at his hair with the other. He feverishly plunged his tongue into the hunter's mouth, eliciting a soft rumble from Dean's throat. The sound was divine. It made sparks fly behind Castiel's eyes.
They separated for quick gasps of air but for a long while they remained entangled in a tempestuous kiss. After what seemed like ages. Dean broke away from him. Cas to let out a frustrated, mournful sound. Before he could complain, hard nipping kisses were being placed feverishly along his jaw and down his neck.
“It's welcome, Cas,” Dean said low and sweet between kisses, the soft breath of his words tickling Cas’s neck.
“Oh, um,” was all Cas could muster in response.
“I dunno what part of ‘you can have me’ made you think I didn't want you back, but I do, I always have,” Dean said, punctuating the sentence with a sharp nip to Cas’s neck and a bouquet of kisses around the reddened spot.
Cas impatiently attempted to haul Dean over onto his lap to straddle him. It was awkward. Dean's head bumped the ceiling, and even though the Impala was generous in terms of space, they were two fairly large men. It was a tight fit, the position was difficult to get into, and Cas was forgetful of the fact he couldn't just haul a whole man around at his whim anymore. He was limited by myosin and the sliding filament of skeletal muscle. Still, it didn't stop them.
As soon as Dean understood what Cas was trying to do, he was eager enough to go along with the idea. Dean didn't want to be too greedy, so once seated he did his best not to rock against Cas. He was working up to a decent chub himself, but he could feel that Castiel was as hard as a steel rod. That knowledge sent shivers through him, little aching bursts of want shooting through his body.
Cas pulled the hunter into another feverish, bruising kiss. His hands flew instantly to the hunter's belt. This caused Dean to break the kiss with a gasp, then chuckle softly. Cas felt pleased with this reaction, but then Dean's hands were on top of his, stopping him.
“We can't, we can't,” the hunter was whispering, gasping and chuckling between soothing but rapid, wet kisses.
“Why not?” Cas asked, irritable and impatient. “You want to, don't you?”
His hands settled on Dean's hips and it was taking a lot of focus not to rut against Dean as the man squirmed and chuckled in his lap. He could feel not only his own erection — big surprise there, it had been a fairly consistent companion lately — but he could feel Dean's and the observation had him on fire.
“Because,” Dean said, slipping back off Cas’s lap, much to the angel's chagrin, “it's broad daylight on a busy highway, on a weekday near the end of the month. Not here, Cas,” Dean said, breathing the words into his ear between soft bites trailing along his jaw.
Cas made a disgruntled sound. “They're going too fast to see us. What does the time of day or month matter?” He complained, chasing Dean's mouth with another possessive, deep kiss.
When they broke apart, Dean rested his forehead against Castiel's.
“Because the state cops have nothing better to do than throw us in the slammer for public indecency. Or maybe even lewd conduct,” he said with a suggestive eyebrow waggle.
Cas raised an amused eyebrow. “I take it you have personal experience with those charges.”
Dean chuckled again. “I plead the fifth,” he said, smiling as he went in for another kiss. Softer, sweeter, but no less hungry.
“Surely there are more serious crimes they should be focused on,” Cas grumbled, fidgeting and pulling ruefully at Dean's belt loops.
“Trust me, that doesn't stop them.”
Cas made a disapproving sound in his throat, but nodded in acquiescence.
“We gotta calm down,” Dean said regretfully. His mouth tugged down at one corner for a moment before softening into a grin. “But we’ll be back at the cabin soon enough.”
Cas made a gruff sound of acknowledgement.
They shifted back into their respective seats, not without some challenges and ungainly jostling. After a long moment, Cas chuffed with suppressed laughter.
“I'm in disbelief,” he said, shaking his head.
Dean chuckled too. “Yeah. If I'd known that was the problem you can bet your ass I woulda let you know sooner that it's no problem. I didn't mean to leave room for confusion.”
“Yes, that too,” the former angel acknowledged with a slight chuckle, “but I meant I can't believe you did that to your car.”
Dean looked in the rearview and saw the long strips of tire marks marring the shoulder. He snorted and smiled.
“There are things I care about even more than Baby,” he murmured, giving Cas a shy, lopsided smile.
“Certainly. Sam, for instance. Depending on how hungry you are, pie,” Cas listed with a wry look.
The hunter leaned over and shoved Cas’s shoulder.
“You know what I'm saying,” he said, half playfully. Cas picked up on an unguarded vulnerability in the statement, though. Dean's eyes were pleading for understanding.
“Yes,” he acknowledged softly. “I do. I feel the same.”
Dean ducked his head down bashfully and fiddled with the keys for a moment. He felt gratitude that Cas understood his meaning. He cleared his throat.
“Alright. Buckle up, buttercup. Faster we can get back, faster we can get back to business,” he quipped with a wink before starting the car and waiting for a spot to reenter traffic.
Cas tried to focus on the landscape and foliage as they passed and not the throbbing in his groin. At least he knew Dean had the same feelings now. He didn't have to worry that Dean would feel pressured, but in a way that just made him more focused on the physical effects of these emotions.
“You know, I was worried I was being a creep. I thought I was coming on too strong,” Dean said, breaking Cas’s focus.
“Really? Not at all. You were being so… conscientious and polite that I thought you didn't feel a sexual component to our…this. I didn't want to pressure you.”
They both chuckled about it for a moment.
“Cas,” Dean said more seriously, “I don't want this kinda thing to keep happening.”
Cas nodded. “I know. I don't want that either.”
“So we have to talk,” Dean said firmly. “I think we should start with what's going on with your grace. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Cas rolled his eyes. Well, at least this conversation would make the straining erection a non issue. He didn't respond for long enough that Dean shot him a stern look.
Cas sighed deeply. “I used the last of my grace to get us out of the Empty and to revive you.”
Dean made a choked sound, stifled but full of regret.
“Don't. I know you, I know you're already stewing in guilt and self loathing about it, but Dean, I wouldn't be able to stay if I still had my grace.”
Dean exhaled slowly. He swallowed back the feelings of regret, at least for now. He nodded for Cas to keep talking.
“I have trouble deciding whether you were immensely brave and caring for coming there, or if you were just unaware. The Shadow is strong. However strong you think it is, it's so much more than that. I saw it crush your neck and end your life like it was nothing,” Cas recounted. His voice was distant and his eyes were dark.
“I flew to you. I can't smite the Shadow. I'm not remotely powerful enough even at my peak. Not even God can smite it. But I was able to use my grace to disorient it enough to drop you. When I got to you, I grabbed you and cleared some of the ichor from your face. You were on Death's door. If I'd taken us through that portal, you would have been greeted by a Reaper. I had enough grace to revive you and make a somewhat passable repair of your windpipe and until Jack could properly stabilize you. I spent it.”
Cas shuddered at the memory of Dean’s limp and lifeless body and the final wisps of grace he spent to get him back home.
“It was a price I was more than willing to pay. I knew what I was doing. Besides that, if I still had my grace, the Empty and the Shadow would claw relentlessly at the membranes of time and space itself to pull me back there. If I was going to live at all, I had to let go of my grace. I had to fall - completely, permanently,” Cas said with a wistful yet resolute look.
“If I must be human to escape the Empty and be at your side, I would choose it over and over again in any universe or circumstance.”
He said it with unshakable conviction and deep, unrepentant intensity in the melting intensity of the gaze he had on Dean.
“Really? Even though you're powerless?” Dean said, dubious. He kept looking between Cas and the road, wanting to give both the needed attention.
“The most powerful individuals I know are human. While this is certainly an adjustment, human does not mean powerless,” Cas said gruffly, but his eyes were full of that same warmth and love of the night Dean thought he'd lost him forever.
“Not Jack,” Dean protested. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt compelled to test Cas on this.
Cas gave him an intense, almost angry look. “The part of Jack that is most powerful is his innate humanity. His heart.”
Dean scoffed. “To hear the angels tell it, too much heart was always your problem. Funny how they say that like it’s a flaw,” Dean scoffed with a tight, sad smile, “ But it seems true. All the shit that’s happened to you has happened because you care. I dunno why you’d want to make that worse by adding even more heart and the mess of being human like a cherry on top of a shit sundae. Hester said you were lost the second you touched me in Hell. She must have been right, your life's been completely derailed since. ”
“Dean, you can't really believe that. Believe in me stronger than your doubts. You know my life didn't truly begin until I met you. Not really. I was little more than Heaven’s obedient soldier. You showed me another way. We've been over this before. Why is it so hard to believe?” he asked earnestly.
Dean couldn't bring himself to look away from the road back to Cas. He didn't know why he couldn't believe it.
“It's just hard to imagine that you'd rather be human than a smite-y badass,” Dean murmured.
Cas sighed deeply. Dean could feel the man looking at him, but the hunter wouldn't look back. His eyes were glued to the rolling asphalt in front of him. His jaw was clenched tightly. He couldn’t believe it. Cas was nerfed for good - and it was all his fault.
Cas took Dean's hand with a gentle insistence that melted the hunter's heart. Sometimes, the best communication they had was the kind that didn't need words.
Notes:
Heyyyyy, I think these fuckers are finally on track for something. Also, I found a setting on my editing program (ProWritingAid) that turns double dashes into em dashes automatically, so that looks a lot cleaner and it makes me happpppy!!!
Are you happy they kissed and talked? Ugh, finally. These guys, I swear.
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving a kudos and/or comment! I joke about it, but I honestly get the biggest rush of joy and confidence when I get kudos or comments. I love getting feedback, keyboard smashes, emojis, questions, thoughts, really any kind of comment. It's just really lovely to see that someone is enjoying my work. I save all the emails I get for kudos and comments and read them when I'm sad. If you ever doubted an author wanted to hear what you thought, even if it's incoherent key smashes, doubt no longer! I want to hear it all, even if you're too excited to make real words. I love it!
Feel free to stop by my tumblr and message or leave asks =]
Chapter 10
Summary:
Dean and Cas take a step closer. It’s tender, awkward, and exactly what they’ve both been waiting for.
Notes:
You've all been so patient. I hope you enjoy, you've earned it!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean cut the engine and pocketed the keys . He flashed a wide, cocky smile before he got out of the car and began to walk toward the cabin. A flirtation, Cas recognized. His stomach was doing backflips, he thought. This was it, this was the thing he'd been craving so much it was driving him mad. So, why then, he wondered, was he hesitating? Cas watched him walk away, considering, as he hesitantly followed.
As an angel, Cas had witnessed people engaging in sexual pleasures many times. He'd always regarded it with a vague disinterest, thinking something along the lines of “This again?”. It wasn't until he began to realize the closeness he craved with Dean over the years that he could truly understand the appeal, and now, human himself with no grace to temper his wanton desires, he was, at this moment, extremely occupied with thoughts and ideas of pleasures of the flesh himself. It made more sense now. He found himself wishing he'd paid more attention to all those acts over the millennia. Then again, he reminded himself, even disinterested observation over such a long period probably meant that he had a better innate understanding than he was giving himself credit for. April hadn't complained, so there was something.
Castiel was aware of many different ways humans engaged in intimacy and sex, but he was feeling nervous. He'd seen people be aggressive or extremely submissive. He'd observed people wearing peculiar outfits or feigning shyness, a performance the parties involved knew was unnecessary. He'd seen lovers crash into one another with desperate force. He'd seen people rush in and he'd seen people restrain one another and spend hours pleasuring them before allowing final release. What would Dean like? Hell, what did Cas like? How was Cas supposed to start this encounter? Of the multitude of possibilities, which acts should they perform? Where did one start?
As they crossed the threshold, Cas had an impulse that seemed as good a way to start as any. He hesitated for a second, which Dean seemed to pick up on. He turned with a questioning look back to Cas. Cas grasped Dean's shoulder and guided him to turn the rest of the way toward him so they were face to face. Dean complied with the wordless demand easily. Cas was struck by the beauty of the man. The stunning mossy color of his eyes. The faint, barely there freckles like a field of translucent stars on his already flushed cheeks. His barely parted lips, which looked like they were begging for Cas.
Cas pressed the door closed behind him with a click and he released a breath that had been tight in his chest. That click seemed to relax him and make heart rate pick up pace at the same time - they were alone. They were alone, and Cas knew Dean wanted him too. Flames licked at his insides, desire burning through him like a lightning bolt firing off in his veins. The ache of anticipation was agonizing, and yet he loved it.
Cas put his hands on the hunter, with light hesitation. He swallowed and exhaled with a slight nod as if readying himself. Dean huffed softly with a suppressed chuckle. That slight laugh morphed into a soft hiss as Cas pushed Dean to pivot and backed him up against the door with firm insistence. Dean followed Castiel's lead with an almost drunken pliance. Cas noticed that his hands seemed to know what to do without much thought from the memory of his previous encounter. It was a good memory, and his heart panged slightly at it's recall, but he expected Meg would rather he be happy with Dean than mournful. He pushed the thought out of his mind and allowed his body to do what it had been aching for. One hand guided Dean's face to his and one in the small of the hunter's back. This hand was sandwiched hard between Dean and the wall almost immediately, and Cas didn't care. Dean wasn't as small as Meg, and not only was he heavier but Cas was lacking his angelic powers as well. It was different, and less smooth in many ways, but familiar and perfect in others. And it was Dean, at last. Cas felt like he was being driven by a fire inside him, and the way Dean breathed into it and gripped him only made it burn hotter.
Then Cas was laying a filthy, searing open mouthed kiss on Dean. The former angel was amazed at the ease with which his body accessed these instincts. Perhaps this wasn't going to be so difficult after all.
The hunter gasped into the kiss and his hands were gripping into Cas hard in response to the urgency and desperation. Cas used the moment of surprise to his full advantage, swiping his tongue into Dean's mouth. Cas spent several lingering moments thoroughly kissing the hunter, grasping him tightly, pressing against his body. Dean felt like Cas kissed like he was doing it for the first time, like he needed it the way he needed air or water.
When Cas pulled away, Dean looked awe struck. He swayed slightly on his feet when Cas moved away from the wall because he felt so dizzy and giddy from it. It was just a kiss, but it was a really good one. It left him light headed and wanting. Cas smelled clean and musky and tasted vaguely sweet like honey and dark like coffee. Top five, Dean thought, for sure. Okay. Top one if he was being real.
“You… you pizza manned me,” the hunter said, stunned, wearing a stupid grin.
“Yes."
“Wow." He gulped. “Cas, that was…wow.”
"Oh…Was it…Should I have waited?" Cas asked nervously, swallowing hard.
Dean chuckled as his hand went to his lips. “No, buddy, I think there's been enough waiting. That was great. Do that anytime."
As Dean was standing there in starry eyed wonderment and lusty euphoria, Cas leaned in close again and pulled him into a tight embrace. He let his hands linger and caress and Dean did the same, even as he remained breathless.
“Dean,” Cas whispered.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not sure what to do next,” he said softly. “I don't know what you like.”
Dean chuckled, a low, sweet sound. He opened his mouth with a roguish grin, but seemed to hesitate and bite back whatever had been on his tongue before his gaze softened a bit.
“Whatever you do, I'll like it. I don't know if you know this,” he said in a stage whisper, “But I kinda have a thing for you. Maybe we should start with what you like?” Dean suggested.
Cas breathed in the scent of the man like he was inhaling a drug. “Uhm. Yes. But I haven't done that much exploration,” Cas muttered.
“That’s okay,” Dean said. The humor had drained from his voice and it was replaced with something gentle but low and it made Cas’s heart beat faster.
“We've got all the time in the world now, Cas. You don't have to know. We can try things,” the hunter's breath teased softly across his neck. “Anything. Anything you want. Everything you want. There's no rush.”
Cas nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and low, lower than usual.
The tension in the air was thick. It felt like the moment before lightning strikes the ground. It was so intense it felt like every move, every breath was leading to something, something explosive.
“Are you nervous?” Dean asked him softly. He gently pushed Cas away enough to look him in the eye.
Cas made a noncommittal grumble sound of acknowledgement.
“Cas.”
Castiel knew Dean was prompting him for an answer, a clear one.
“Perhaps. Yes. A bit,” Castiel said, “But it's nothing to be nervous about. It doesn't make sense.”
“Hey,” Dean said with a slight grin, “It's okay. I have that effect on people. Don't worry. I won't bite. Unless you want me to.”
Cas rolled his eyes but smiled in spite of himself.
“You're ridiculous,” he murmured.
“Maybe. But between you and me, I'm a little nervous too.”
“You don't seem nervous.”
“Well, I am. Look, we don't have to dive straight into, y’know, sex sex. There's more than one way to skin a cat.”
Cas looked appalled. “Perhaps so, but I'd vastly prefer that you didn't...”
“No, not an actual cat,” Dean snorted, patting Cas’s shoulder in a pacifying gesture. “What I mean is, maybe you can just do what feels right, if and when it feels right, and you can just keep in mind if you think of something that you want to do, I'm going to be into it. Really into it,” Dean encouraged. “But we don't have to do anything right now.” He went to pull out of the embrace to give Cas a little space, but Cas gripped him tightly by the shoulders.
“I don't understand the connection between that flaying a feline, but I don't want to wait if you don’t,” he said in something hovering on the seductive knife's edge between a growl and a low purr, “Just tell me what you want.”
Dean had started to chuckle at Cas’s questioning of skinning cats, but his brain went loopy as Cas had continued. Possibly due to all the blood leaving his brain very quickly to travel elsewhere, possibly from the fireworks that voice was setting off inside him. It was difficult to pinpoint.
“Whoa, where'd your nerves go? You seem pretty determined all the sudden," Dean remarked.
Cas looked down at the evidence of his attraction to Dean, and then back up to meet the hunter's eye with an arched eyebrow. "I'm still nervous, but I'm feeling other things more strongly," he said.
"Huh… okay,” Dean managed to say, now finding himself caught in a lust-drunk staring contest with Cas, whose very firm grip on his shoulders was really doing something for Dean.
“Tell me what you want to do. Tell me how you want to start,” Cas said in that same voice that sent tingles through Dean.
Dean was trying very hard to remember words, but they all seemed to escape him just now. He looked at Cas with breathless rapture. It seemed Cas was uninterested in waiting for Dean to recover his language skills. The former angel took Dean's hand and firmly planted the palm of it over his hard cock through the jeans he was borrowing.
“Look what you're doing to me,” Cas whispered in his ear, every puff of hot breath making Dean squirm more. The hunter let out a half-stifled sound.
"Ohhh, okay cowboy. Shit," Dean yelped in suprise before he bit his lip and chuckled. "That - that's a hell of a way to start." He closed his eyes and gave an appreciative squeeze. "Wow. Yeah. That's... it's good," he rambled, impressed, and very turned on.
“You can see I need you,” Cas said, beginning to plant wet kisses from Dean's ear along his jaw.
“Uh-huh,” Dean acknowledged eagerly, sliding his palm up and down against the firm bulge even after Cas's hand released his own. “I do see that."
Cas grasped Dean's chin with one hand and looked him in the eyes as his other hand slid down Dean's belly, causing him to suck in a quick breath.
“I want to touch you like you're touching me,” Cas said.
The intensity in his eyes was incredible. Grace or no grace, they seemed to glow now. Dean felt the power in that gaze and melted. He let it wash over him and he welcomed it. He nodded and Cas let out a shuddering breath as he firmly palmed Dean's dick in kind.
“You need me too,” Cas growled with a satisfied smirk.
“Of course I do. How do you feel, Cas?” Dean asked.
“Not nervous,” Cas said with a smile that Dean couldn't see, but felt on his neck. Cas let out a soft sound of appreciation.
They were touching, grinding, pressing. The heat between them seemed like a black hole that drew everything into this space between their bodies. It was only drawing focus and desire, but it pulled at them like an unfathomable gravity.
“But, neither am I sated,” Cas said. “What next?”
Dean let out a soft hum of pleasure. “Well,” he said, sliding his fingers back up to tug at the waistband of Castiel's jeans. “Whatever you feel comfortable with. We could try less clothes. We could move to the couch or the, uh-,”
“Bed,” Castiel interjected, predicting Dean's next suggestion. He grasped Dean's hand and turned with intention towards the bedroom, urgently tugging Dean along.
“Okay, seems like the bed's a winning idea. What's my prize?” Dean giggled, feeling stupidly delighted.
Cas shot a grin back over his shoulder. “I’m sure you could guess,” he murmured as they came to stand next to the bed, facing one another.
“Undress,” Cas said breathlessly.
“"Just like that? Just, 'undress'?" Dean asked incredulously, blushing.
"Yes, Dean. Just like that. I've waited long enough."
"Alright. Um, how - how far?” Dean asked as he began to remove his jacket, then over shirt.
“Completely. I want to look at you with nothing between us.”
Dean blushed even more fiercely at that, but complied. “Geez, Cas, get right to it,” he murmured.
Dean was feeling nervous and even a bit shy himself, but it paled next to his excitement. Cas gave an appreciative sound as he noticed the evidence of said excitement.
“Lie on the bed. Let me look at you," Cas urged as he got his final piece of clothing off.
Dean looked at Cas, raising a brow. “What's the deal? You're not naked.”
“Soon. For now, lie down,” Cas said. His voice was eager, anticipatory. His pupils were so dark and dilated they seemed close to eclipsing the thin rings of his irises.
Dean obeyed, lying on the bed, crossing his arms behind his head and wiggling his eyebrows.
“Alright, man. You got me where you want me. What have you got in mind?" He tried to sounds cool, suave, but Dean could hear the nervousness in his voice. This was the moment he'd dreamt of for better than a decade at this point, but in his dreams Cas had definitely been naked too. It was feeling a tad one-sided.
“I'd like you to lie still and be quiet while I attend to you,” Cas said softly but with a serious expression. “Stop smirking. I'm extremely serious.”
Cas looked the hunter up and down, very slowly, as if studying him. Dean wasn't usually shy about being naked, but at this moment he felt like he was missing more than just his clothes. It seemed to Dean like Cas could still peer into his very soul, perhaps. It was humbling.
Dean made an immediate effort to look less goofy and swallowed the butterflies that tried to escape his stomach. Cas got onto the bed and straddled his hunter. The body heat and weight of Cas on his cock gave him a delicious head-to-toe shudder. Dean’s hands gravitated naturally to Cas’s hips. He frowned at the feeling of denim beneath his fingers rather than skin, but didn't dare complain. Cas began kissing him, but not on the mouth. He started by placing one on each eyelid.
Dean stifled a snort of laughter. “Okay, I didn't expect that,” he said.
“Shh. Relax. Be silent. Let me take care of you,” Cas whispered. He began pressing soft, slow kisses all over Dean's face. He was unhurried and entirely genuine. The look on Cas's face chased away any lingering impulse Dean had to laugh
Cas looked like a man at an altar, sealing silent prayers into the holy parchment of Dean's skin with each one, worshipping something most exalted and precious. His head was tilted down and his eyes were closed in an expression of tender reverence. Dean felt extremely vulnerable, and it stole any sarcastic comments from his breath. For once, the man was silent.
Castiel placed soft kisses on Dean's forehead, his ears, on his cheeks, the tip of his nose, along his jaw, on his chin, and finally, on Dean's lips. Dean kissed him back, just as softly and with the same sweet tenderness, lamenting it when Cas pulled away to continue his dedications elsewhere. Velvet-tender kisses graced Dean's neck, followed by gentle nips and the occasional light touch of tongue.
“Hey, that tickl-,” Dean started to say, but Cas just gave him a look that said “not now,” and placed a finger over Dean's lips.
“Hush, Dean.”
Cas inched lower, kissing Dean's shoulders, outlining the curve of his collar bone. Dean thought this was over when Cas paused and leaned himself upward a bit, but he was only adjusting to move to Dean's arms. He paused over Dean's left shoulder, placing his hand there in that familiar spot and closing his eyes for a moment before continuing to kiss all the way down Dean's arm. He kissed the tip of each finger, the palm of each hand, with tender care.
“I can't talk at all?” Dean asked.
“Only if you want me to stop. If you don't want that, let it wait,” Cas said in between tender kisses along the curve of Dean's pectorals as he worked over to the other arm.
Dean made a sound of acknowledgement and settled back down. Well, as much as he could. His dick was anything but settled. It was poking Castiel's belly at the moment as it stood at attention. Cas ignored it, busily setting sweet, holy kisses on every inch of Dean Winchester’s skin. He moved slowly, even his breath was slow and hot as it wisped across Dean's skin. His hands were tender and caring. Every motion was deliberate and intentional as he continued, kissing and laving nipples and stomach, ribs, Dean's belly, lower and lower, inch by inch. He was in no hurry.
It made Dean ache inside, low and hot. He craved friction and touch, but it was more important to make Cas happy. This little ritual was really shocking the hell out of his nervous system, if he was being quite honest, but every glimpse of Castiel's reverent face as he laid kiss after kiss… well, it made it well worth it. Dean lived to please in bed, and if Cas needed it, it's not like Dean was going to complain about having every inch of his body kissed. It made him feel vulnerable, too visible, but seeing the way it affected Cas, how into this he was, melted any resistance Dean had left.
Dean felt a little thrill as Cas reached the point just above Dean's cock, but Castiel maneuvered around and began kissing down Dean's thighs, slipping himself between the hunter's legs and kissing the sensitive inner areas, the tops, and the outer thighs. Cas took time to carefully squeeze and trace each muscle as he went, admiring Dean's leg as he had done every other part.
“Fearfully and wonderfully made,” Cas breathed softly as he marveled at the man, pliant, silent, and obedient at his touch.
Cas got to Dean's feet, which Dean made every effort to remain still for even though it was a bit weird and extremely ticklish for him. It was peculiar to find this battle within himself at noticing and commenting on the peculiar nature of this and being in awe at the act. Cas didn't seem to notice Dean's internal struggle as he kissed the tops, the toes, and the soles. He continued his attention down the other leg and foot as well, just as soft and sweet as all the other spots.
At long last, Cas seemed to feel he was done with his arduous task. He returned his gaze to Dean's eyes. His face flashed with concern and he moved up to lay next to the hunter.
“Are you crying?” he asked. “Did I do something wrong?”
Dean didn't exactly mind shedding a tear or two in normal circumstances, he was a man that dealt with heavy shit, and while he wasn’t apt to break down and sob, he could allow a couple tears to slip. That was fine, that was normal. But not in the bedroom! That was not his brand. He was Winchester smooth. He had bravado and skill and no worries, or at least that was what he tried to tell himself. Crying over sex was not something Dean had done before and the question hit him like a freight train.
“No!” Dean said in frustration, wiping his face vigorously. “Something - somethin’ just got in my eyes.”
Cas looked around the room, squinting at the space critically. “What could've gotten in your eyes?”
“Water,” Dean mumbled, covering his face and pressing his fingers into his eyes slightly as if the pressure would push the tears back in. “It's fine. Almost got it all out.”
“Dean,” Cas pleaded. “Please, tell me what's the matter.”
Dean sighed and moved his hands away. He looked at Cas. He gave him a smile that twisted a bit, caught between sheepish, wistful, and grateful.
“Nothing's wrong. Really. Sometimes people get leaky when they're happy, too.”
“I'm aware of that,” Cas said, “That just isn't the fluid or placement I expected ‘happy leakage’ from.”
Dean snorted at that. “Happy tears, Cas. Never say ‘happy leakage' again.”
Cas smiled. “I just wanted to make you laugh.”
Dean shoved Cas playfully. “Now he's got the jokes, huh?”
“Why, though?” Cas insisted. “Why this reaction?”
Dean sniffed and shrugged. “I don't know. I just never felt like that before. Now, I been naked for a long time. I think it's only fair that you join me,” he said, eagerly tugging at Castiel's shirt, a maroon Henley he’d borrowed. He could keep it as far as Dean was concerned - Cas pulled it off well. Dean was pretty interested in seeing how well he pulled off not having a maroon Henley on though, for a control experiment.
Cas batted Dean's hands away and straddled him once more. He shifted forward to meet Dean's eyes with an intense and scrutinizing look. The hunter moaned slightly, gratified to have friction and pressure on his dick again, but Cas continued looking at him with no change in his reaction. He was searching for something.
“Get naked!” Dean insisted, trying not to pout.
“I will,” Cas promised with a kiss, “As soon as you tell me why you were crying.”
Dean groaned in distaste this time. “I wasn't,” he insisted.
Cas merely raised an eyebrow at him.
Dean sighed forcefully, bordering on petulance. Partly because he didn't want to talk about it and partly because that look on Cas's face was both very hot and very compelling.
“Shit, okay. Fine! It was the nicest - no, more than nicest…It was the most… ugh, intimate? thing I think anyone has ever done to me. It was just a lot of feelings, okay! Can't a man have feelings?” He snapped, hating the focus Cas had on it.
Cas gave him a soft smile and took off his shirt. Dean calmed at that, suddenly entranced by the new expanse of skin at his fingertips, which began to roam, enjoying the trails of goosebumps he left in his wake.
“I like your feelings,” Cas said with a contented hum, slightly rocking against Dean. The hunter did not acknowledge that, instead focused on pulling Cas down closer to him for a kiss, soft and slow but deep. He couldn't help but roll his hips up against Cas.
After some time, Dean impatiently pawed at the button and fly of Cas’s pants, which Cas helped to awkwardly shed. Dean gave Castiel a devilish look as he teased fingers along the waistband of his boxers.
“What should we do once you get those off?” Cas asked him.
Dean continued moving his fingers along the inside of the waistband as he chewed on the question. Cas shuddered at the light touch lighting him on fire as Dean's fingers grazed the V of his hips.
“How far do you want this to go?” Dean asked, trying not to stare too much or too hungrily at the outline of Cas’s cock.
“I intend for both of us to orgasm, if that's what you're asking,” Cas rumbled, lifting a brow as he looked down, remaining perched astride the hunter.
Dean let out a breathy chuckle. “Okay, good to know. But I didn't bring a lot of…stuff.”
Cas squinted. “What stuff?”
Dean looked askance and then made himself meet Cas’s eye. “Uhm, y’know. Protection. Lube.”
Cas tilted his head. “Lubrication I understand. What do you need protection from?”
“Well, I mean, you're human now. Look I don't like to think about it more than you do, but we don't know what Jimmy got up to. You don't know where I've been either,” he admitted sheepishly, ”Condoms keep whatever bugs or whatever we may’ve picked up separate.”
Cas sighed and looked at Dean with an expression between amusement and exasperation.
“How many times did I heal you over the years?” he said with the patent exasperation of someone explaining something very simple to a child for the hundredth time.
Dean shrugged. “I dunno. A lot.”
“Grace heals everything. Scars, alcohol poisoning, cuts and bruises, returns your cholesterol to prime levels, and so on. We were most recently healed by God, so imagine if grace is that powerful what Jack is capable of healing. You don't have any ‘bugs’ and neither do I. Unless you plan on fucking someone else, I assure you, no barrier needs to exist between us.”
Dean's breath caught in his throat for a moment. Cas didn't curse very often but it did something to the hunter. “Oh, uhm, well no. I don't plan on… y’know. Just you.”
“Good,” Cas said, placing a kiss on Dean's forehead. “Even if you did have hopes to do so, I plan to absolutely ruin you for anyone else.” He said it with a casual confidence, the way anyone would spout off a simple truth like “the sky is blue,” “there are fish in the ocean,” and so on.
“Wow, uhm, yeah,” Dean whispered stupidly, nodding enthusiastically.
“I suppose the real question, in that case, is if we want to engage in penetrative sex today or not.”
“Right,” Dean agreed. Cas could have said anything and Dean probably would have agreed to it at that point.
Cas thought for a moment. “That… I don't think so. Not yet. I understand there are requisite preparations we haven't performed,” he mused absently, simply thinking out loud it seemed
Dean nodded, more focused on the fact that Cas was still sitting against his dick and even the slight way he shifted his weight sent electric tingles of desire through his blood.
“What can we do to orgasm together as we work up to full penetration? Fellatio, I suppose. Though, that's still penetrative in a sense. There's always our hands. Mutual masturbation. Simple friction,” Cas listed off casually, as if he was considering which groceries to add to a list.
“Like frotting? That's friction,” Dean said. His brain was really ready to abandon words, it took him far more effort than he was proud of to find those few words.
“Explain,” Cas demanded.
“Just - grinding, or jerking them together, dick-to-dick.”
Cas contemplated briefly. Then he nodded. “Yes, we'll do that.”
Cas sitting on top of him and listing off sex acts and getting all analytical about it wasn't exactly where he thought they'd end up when Cas dragged him into the bedroom. Dean was getting a little impatient, but he kept reminding himself not to rush the guy. It might be rude or awkward if someone else was doing this, but Dean knew Cas was just trying to think it through and do it right.
Cas moved to whip his underwear off and Dean had to stifle a groan when he saw Cas’s dick. Better than he'd imagined. Perfect size. Painted with a lovely, flushed shade of reddish purple at the tip. It stood tall and proud, and had a slight upward curve. Dean tried not to drool as he thought about how handy that curve would be for reaching sensitive spots.
Cas shifted slightly and looked down at Dean with thoughtful purpose. Cas's gaze had always had a way of melting him, and it turned out it was even more intense while perched over his cock.
"Fuck,” Dean whispered before biting his lip.
“Yes, let’s,” Cas said, pressing his body to Dean's and placing hungry, desperate, eager kisses and nips along the hunter's neck.
“Uhh, wait,” Dean said. “We gotta do something, lube. Lotion, spit. I don't care,” he huffed. Words were increasingly difficult. There had been a phenomenal amount of talking.
Cas barely missed a beat, spitting into his palm and slicking up Dean's cock in a couple of smooth motions before continuing his kisses, hungrier than before.
Dean let out a low sound of pleasure and rolled his hips to seek friction against Cas’s naked body, which Cas responded to with a gratified rumble before biting his neck and dragging his teeth down to where the hunter's neck and shoulder met. The saliva wasn't really enough lube, it was still a bit chafing, but it would do for now. They couldn't wait any longer.
“Fuck, Cas,” Dean gasped, sinking his fingertips into the former angel’s back deep enough to bruise, but he didn't think he could hold back any longer. He'd been very patient and now they were finally here, a tangled mess of body heat and long awaited passion.
They began a rolling rhythm against one another, seeking perfect pressure and heat. More than that, seeking closeness, connection, the things they had spent so long denying themselves and each other. The acquiescence to that desire of want and intimacy was at least as sweet as the physical pleasure.
Dean was returning the desperate kisses and nips along Cas’s jaw, soaking in the feeling of his stubble and the hardness of his muscles but the softness of the skin. Dean couldn't stop the stream of soft sounds that, over time, grew less soft and more desperate as the tension in his body became more and more intense. Cas seemed to be struggling similarly, gasping and moaning beautifully in his ear. Dean realized they were grasping each other as they rocked together. Their breath came faster, harder.
“Cas, slow - huh… slow down,” Dean panted.
Cas stopped with sudden concern, which was not what Dean wanted. The hunter made a sound that could be accurately described as “absolutely pathetic” in response.
“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, pulling back from Dean's neck to look at him. The sight of Cas straddled on him looking down at him, with sweat dripping from his face and breathless was a delight. Fantasy come true. Fucking divine.
“God, you're really hot,” Dean murmured with a sound be would refuse to acknowledge was a whimper.
“And that makes you want to stop?” Cas asked, squinting quizzically.
Dean chuckled, “No. I didn't ask you to stop,” he said, slipping a hand between them and wrapping it around their cocks and bucking his hips impatiently against Cas as he spoke, “Just to slow down.”
“Oh,” Cas hummed softly, resuming a slower rhythm. “Hm, but why?”
“Uhm, I dunno,” Dean grated, much more focused on the feeling of heat and the fact the pleasure was coiled like a tightly wound spring low inside him. “Just don't want it to be over.”
Cas continued his movement, looking down at Dean. Cas had his hands on either side of Dean, pushing himself up so he could watch the hunter’s face as he fucked against the man.
“I don't want it to end yet, either. You look perfect like this,” he whispered.
Dean blushed fiercely enough that even amid the sex flush on his face, Cas could tell.
“Shut up,” the hunter grunted with a shy smile, eagerly rolling his hips to match Cas’s new rhythm. “Hey - we could use more spit. Do that again.”
Cas obliged, slicking them up anew and then continuing to move with Dean. The perfect ache low in Cas's belly and the thrilling trails of tingling pleasure every touch left on his skin was ecstasy. It felt better than touching himself did by far. He could definitely understand why people were so fixated on it and why his vessel - no, his body, he reminded himself - cried out for Dean's body like this.
After a while it became difficult for Cas to maintain the slower pace. He had to concentrate in order to not ferociously chase the impending orgasm. Their ragged gasps and moans were rising to a fever pitch too, which did nothing to help Cas hold off since every time Dean called out for him or made any sound, his brain went fuzzy with pleasure and he ached for it so badly it was hard to focus on anything else.
“Dean - I can't -,” he panted.
“Give me - give it to me,” Dean urged, beginning to slide the hand he had gripped around their cocks up and down with more intensity. Dean wanted to see Cas at his breaking point, he wanted to see him let go. Seeing Cas so close to the edge was sending waves of shocking pleasure through Dean as well.
Cas gasped and moaned. “But -,”
“Shh. I want you to. I want you to come,” Dean soothed, squeezing his hand over the heads of their cocks and rolling into Cas more urgently. He stifled a groan, focused of Cas. If he couldn't get Cas to come soon, he was going to have trouble holding back.
Cas let out a desperate, yet stifled sound, raw and sweet and deep, trying to maintain his rhythm, but Dean was not going to let him put this off any longer. This was mainly because Dean was having trouble himself and he was not interested in splooging first today. He knew Cas wasn't exactly losing his virginity, but it was near enough that Dean felt inclined to make sure Cas finished first, it was only polite.
“C’mon, Cas. I got you. Please,” Dean said, his voice rumbling, smoky and velveteen.
Cas’s hips fell out of rhythm and he pressed himself hard against Dean with a deep groan. Dean felt it - the hot, wet cum spilling between them.
"Fuck Cas," he gasped raggedly as Cas panted above him
Dean shuddered and rutted into Cas's load, eager to feel it on his own cock. He was unable to move his hand now, it was pinned between them, but he got enough friction for his needs. He clasped his free hand against the back of Cas’s neck and bit down on the angel, his angel, hard as he came with a throaty groan.
They were both panting, sweating, messy. Perfect.
Cas didn't roll off of the hunter immediately, but he adjusted his weight to be more comfortable for them both. He grabbed Dean's face with both hands and rested his forehead against the hunter's until their breathing became steady and aftershocks of orgasm faded. They lay there looking at one another in silence for several minutes, stroking each other with tender, roaming hands.
“How do you feel? Are you happy? Was it, uh, okay?” Dean asked, suddenly shy, nervous. Was it good enough? Did it live up to the hype for Cas?
Cas made a small amused chuckle. “No,” he said.
Dean's heart fell, and his face must have shown it because Cas began to spout, nearly babbling effusively, “‘Happy’ is a wholly insufficient word. Perhaps jubilant. Enraptured, exultant. I have witnessed now that in your presence there is fullness of joy. At your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”
Dean smiled and looked away and covered his face with his hand. “Okay, okay, way to show off. You're being all starry-eyed and romantic or whatever. Plus, my left hand is no slouch either.” He tried to laugh it off, but he knew there was no fooling Cas. They both knew he loved it.
“Tell me how you feel,” Cas said, planting a tender kiss on Dean's head.
“Like I got a big sweaty dude laying on me,” Dean said. “Not that I'm complaining.”
“Dean,” Cas scolded. He only really needed the one word to get his meaning across. The corner of his mouth quirked downward and Dean fought the urge to kiss it and call him adorable.
“Yeah, yeah. I feel amazing, Cas. I feel - what’d you say, ‘ebullient, enraptured, exultant’? That.”
“That's very close to what I said. I take your meaning,” Cas chuckled in reluctant approval.
“I've been thinking of that for a long time,” Dean admitted softly. He couldn't help the lingering, sappy look he knew was on his face, but he didn't try to hide it either.
“I know. I know that now. I wanted you too. And now we have each other. I don't intend to ever let you go again,”Cas breathed softly before kissing the hunter softly
Dean was pretty sure he'd have been sick if anyone else on the planet had said something like that to him. It would normally make his skin crawl and he'd feel claustrophobic at the very notion of “forever”, which by his count Cas had mentioned at least twice and insinuated a third time today alone… not that Dean was keeping track. And yet, when Cas said it, he just felt a warm flutter in his chest. If he was being honest with himself, he would have acknowledged that it had been that way well before Cas had ever told him how he felt, but Dean was trying to enjoy his afterglow. He tucked that thought away to handle later. Or, ideally, never. It was hard to ignore the somersaulting warmth behind his breastbone, though.
Notes:
Well, what do you think? Was it worth the wait for the first actual spicy scene? =O
I hope so! I feel like Dean and Cas have had a communication breakthrough at long last.Kudos and comments are my lifeblood. I cannot express how much it means to me that people read my work and some enjoy it. When I can see that people are interacting with my writing via kudos or telling me what stood out to them and how they felt in a comment, it's genuinely such an honor and it makes me feel like a gajillion and one dollars!
Chapter 11
Summary:
Back at the Bunker, Dean’s still not ready to come clean. Cas is running out of patience.
One hard truth too many sends Dean spiraling.
Notes:
I knowwww I'm late. I'm sorry. I mean I think I said last time I was abandoning the promise of every two weeks but this is just criminally delinquent. I'm so sorry, faithful readers. =S
I hope you enjoy. This ends on a... thoughtful? note, but there is another chapter I also uploaded today right after.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
That night, Cas and Dean had slept in the same bed. It was the first night Dean could remember in ages where he didn't wake up in a cold sweat after a nightmare. Cas remarked upon how soundly he slept in Dean's company as well.
The fact was, they had barely left the bed at all until it was time to pack up and head back to the bunker. It wasn’t quite like the days of Dean's youth when he stayed in bed all day with someone - there was a lot more talking and kissing and less endless, wild sex. That suited him fine, though. It wasn't as if there had been no wild rutting. It was mushier than he was used to, but he wasn't complaining. Even packing up had been full of lingering glances and stolen kisses. Dean wondered how they were going to keep their hands to themselves when they got home.
Part of Dean's soul lamented having to leave, because he wasn't sure what to do about Sammy and Jack. He figured it would just come to him in the moment, though. Sam was sure to ask why they had stayed more than one night, and Dean figured that would prompt him to open his mouth and when that happened, he was sure the right words would just fall out. He wasn't one for planning speeches. He would just go with his gut.
The drive home was long, but pleasant. Cas spent a great deal of the drive sharing the surprisingly complex interpretations he had of the various emojis. They also had a speakerphone call with Claire, who admonished them for failing to update her that Cas was even back at all any sooner. They agreed to visit soon and apologized in spades.
They talked during the drive and pointed things out as they went, of course. That wasn't really too different from before, except that besides all the things they used to talk about, they talked about how long they'd pined after one another and how beyond belief it was that they were here, together, at last.
Even though it was road trip conversations full of optimism and joy, there was a little nibbling anxiety that seemed to grow with every mile closer to the Bunker. But he kept shoving the thought away. He was sure he'd think of something, he'd just think of it later. You know, when the time was right.
“Why'd you stay so long? You're always eager to hit the road and head home after a hunt,” Sam asked, as suspected.
Dean ignored the unpleasant icy feeling in his gut. He opened his mouth and expected an explanation to fall out. He was an expert ad libber, after all. Instead, he sort of sighed. And then he shrugged. And then he heard himself say, “Told ya. Cas was tired. He's new to no mojo.”
Oops.
Oh well, it would come up again. He was sure.
Cas sat next to Dean at dinner, and the hunter was trying not to sweat. He couldn't tell if Sammy noticed Cas’s hand on his knee. If he noticed, what would he think? It didn't have to mean anything. Maybe he wouldn't notice. Jack had seemed quietly amused since the pair had returned home, but Dean didn't really know what to make of that and decided not to say anything if Jack didn't. That smug grin he flashing made Dean more paranoid every time he saw Jack sporting it. Or, was it smug? Dean couldn’t quite tell. The kid was always a bit of a mystery to him.
“What did you guys do at the cabin? Was it nice?” Sam asked Cas, in an effort to make friendly conversation over the meal.
Dean's stomach dropped. There was no telling what sordid details Cas was going to just spout off.
“It was nice!” Dean said quickly. “Yeah, it was like a painting. The forest… man, it was a great forest,” he continued. “We just laid low, chilled out. It was nice to be… y’know, in nature. I went for a walk. You can't convince me to run if I ain't being chased, but it was a nice walk,” he babbled. The three others looked at him.
“It was… yeah. Nice,” he repeated finally, clearing his throat.
Cas regarded him with a peculiar look before turning to Sam and nodding. “It was nice. I think you should consider renting cabins more often, when prudent. The accommodations were significantly more private and enjoyable,” he said mildly.
“It's a little pricier too,” Sam commented, “But you have a point.”
“Dean and I did some talking during the trip. I think I should tell you, Sam,” Cas began, and Dean thought he was going to throw up. He became tense, tense enough that Cas felt it and gave him a momentarily bewildered look.
“I'm not getting my grace back,” he continued. Dean relaxed.
“Oh? What happened?” Sam asked with a concerned expression.
“I used it up to get out of the Empty and revive Dean,” he said with mild disinterest, as if he was discussing the weather.
“So you knew?” Sam asked, still processing.
“Yes. I was… embarrassed, I think. But as I expressed to your brother, humans are powerful in their own way. For me, it's just a matter of adjustment, I think.”
Sam nodded thoughtfully. “I can get that. We'll need to get you some of your own. Clothes and stuff, if it's going to be permanent, instead of just borrowing Dean's. I can take you into town tomorrow -,”
“I can take him,” Dean interjected. Cas and Sam alone? No. Not until he figured out what to say. Cas would spill his guts out casually and then what would happen? No way.
Dean cleared his throat. “I mean, you don't want to dress like that hippie, do you, Cas?” he said, trying to play it off.
Cas looked between the two. “You dress essentially the same,” he commented.
“I'll take you,” Dean said, hoping to appear casual and not eager.
“No need to get jealous. I'm not gonna steal him,” Sam laughed. “You can take him if it's that important to you.”
“My - what?” Dean asked.
“I'm just kidding, relax. What's with you?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes.
Dean forced a laugh. “Right, yeah,” he said absently, trying to will his heart to stop beating so fast. He felt like he was gonna turn into a puddle and melt onto the cracks in the floor.
Another tense moment happened in the kitchen. Dean and Cas were locked absently in an embrace when Sam walked in. Dean quickly disentangled himself from Cas. He had to turn away and pretend to be busy with the dishes so he didn't have to acknowledge the confused, hurt look in Castiel’s expression.
Sam cleared his throat and went to rummage in the fridge with an odd look, but said nothing further.
Dean wanted to open his mouth. He wanted to say; Sammy, wait. There's something I gotta say. But he didn't. He just watched the water flowing over his hands and the suds bubble along the surface of the glass he was washing with a single-minded focus that drowned the roaring sound on his brain out for a time.
This continued for days. Anytime Dean was giving Cas stolen glances, they were cut short. His doubt and fear aborted intimate gestures with gutless swiftness. His focus on what Sammy would say. It led to tender words that died on Dean's tongue before he could ever speak them.
Cas felt how avoidant Dean had become and how paranoid of Sam's attention he was. Even as Dean invited Cas to move his few belongings into his room and sleep with him, Cas noticed the way his eyes darted occasionally to the door as if Sam would appear there. Every night, it was the same. In fact, the hunter was growing more concerned.
The former angel oscillated between feeling angry at Dean, feeling sad for himself, and feeling a deep sadness for Dean, and feeling oddly shameful. Cas understood these things were complicated for some people. He understood that the environments Dean grew up in weren't welcoming to men that didn't fit nearly into their ideas of masculinity and sexuality. Still, it felt like a fresh wound every time Dean pulled away from him. Cas knew there was nothing wrong with them, but when Dean discarded him like something dangerous and caustic every time Sam came around, he felt an uncleanliness inside. It was misplaced, and he knew that, but it hurt him nonetheless. It made him sad, realizing that Dean had felt that uncleanliness and shame many times for many years in a much harsher way. But it also pissed him off Dean would, even unintentionally, continue to subject them both to it. These were things he probably wouldn't have cared about if he still had his grace, he knew. It was a very mortal concern. But then, Cas was mortal now, and he didn't particularly want to waste the limited time he had here tiptoeing around and feeling sheepish about something perfectly natural.
One evening when he went to shower, Cas followed him. They had showered together once at the cabin, so Cas had no reservations about doing it again in a more spacious and accommodating area. Dean had tried to avoid that so far, but he didn't feel like telling Cas outright.
“Uhhh, hey,” Dean said as he turned around and saw Cas stripping alongside him.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied with a mildly confused, but cheerful look.
Dean leaned back to look towards the door, hoping no one else had seen them enter together. Cas raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.
Dean went to start the water, and relaxed a bit because once it was on, Sammy would hear it and not want to come in any way. Cas followed. They took turns wetting their hair and skin, and then Cas pulled Dean into a gentle embrace with a sigh.
“You seem troubled, Dean,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on the shell of the hunter's ear.
Dean felt a pang of guilt. He didn't want to hurt Cas just because he was struggling to find the balls to talk to Sam. Still, he relaxed a bit into Cas and tried to focus on the feeling of the water — and his angel.
“Uhm, yeah,” he admitted.
“Why? Speak to me,” Cas said simply. Dean felt almost amused at it. He asked hard things so easily.
“I dunno how to explain it,” Dean murmured, leaning into Cas slightly, who was behind him, peppering him with soft kisses along his ear and neck.
Cas linked his arms around Dean and pulled him closer still. “Try,” he demanded, not unkindly.
“I guess I just don't know what Sammy or Jack will think.”
Cas pulled back to get some shampoo and began washing Dean's hair for him as he hummed in acknowledgment. He liked to take care of the hunter, even in small ways.
“This is such a repetitive process. Human vessel's require so much manual maintenance. Still, the water feels nice and I like the way my fingers feel in your hair in the soap,” Cas said with a satisfied hum, making little circles as he worked it through Dean's hair. Dean made a small sound of appreciation at the touch.
“I like that you like it, too.”
“Shuddup,” Dean said, but Cas could hear the satisfied grin and blooming warmth in his voice.
“As far as Sam and Jack, I don't know what they will think but I suspect it will be rather uneventful. Rinse,” he instructed.
Dean obliged, stepping away from Cas a bit to lean forward to do so.
“I know it's not a big deal to you. I know angels don't care. But people are different. I've just never talked to Sammy about…that.”
“‘That’?” Cas repeated.
Dean turned around to face him with a sigh of resignation. The sight of Cas all shampooed up would have made him smile normally, but Dean was not in a state of mind to react to the fact that this big man that contained inside an even bigger, formerly smitey badass, creature had a cap of dripping bubbles and looked adorable. Inside, he grimaced and squirmed on his feet, as if to navigate around the discomfort of the situation.
“Dudes,” Dean said at last, before grabbing the soap and lathering up aggressively.
Cas gave him a blank look before shaking his head and going to rinse.
“I am certain Sam will not care,” Cas said simply.
The confidence he stated it with grated. Dean let out a sharp breath and shot Cas a cutting look. “You don't know that. You don't know our dad—the way we were raised -,”
“I know enough, Dean. I've sifted through both of your minds and seen memories and the marks upon your very souls,” Cas interrupted, his frustration becoming more clear. “And just like John couldn't beat the queer out of you, he couldn't beat the compassion out of Sam.”
Dean froze. That felt at once like a gut punch so deep it made him nauseous and achy from his core out, but also he felt seen and validated. It was a bizarre bouquet of emotions clawing for dominance in his body. He closed his eyes and tried to stifle the dizzying rush of combating sensations within him.
Cas looked at him after rinsing and instantly regretted what he'd said as the warring emotions playing across the hunter's face caught him cold.
“Dean, I'm sorry,” Cas murmured softly after a few moments, reaching a hand toward him. “I didn't mean to upset you.”
Dean shirked away from Cas’s touch with a sharp jerk. “It’s fine,” he barked out.
“I only meant -,”
“Not now, Cas.”
Castiel felt a sharp pain under his breastbone as he registered the coldness in Dean's voice.
The hunter finished lathering up and was scrubbing so fast and hard now that Cas could see red streaks in the wake of his furious hands.
“Dean, I-,”
“I said not now!” Dean shouted. He turned away from Cas as he rinsed off and began to rapidly and aggressively dry himself off before dressing and leaving the room in a rush.
The hunter was reeling. He couldn’t shake the sting. Cas could so casually say things that cut right to the quick. He did not know the impact it had on Dean until it was already out there. The only place for Dean to find respite presently was on the road. He went for a long drive on old dusty gravel roads, just so he'd have an excuse to clean Baby later. He listened to music that seemed to echo his pain. Classic Winchester coping method. He ended up driving to the Jewell County State Lake. He didn't have a fishing pole with him, but that didn't stop him from walking out on the jetty and imagining he was going to catch a big bass. He took his boots off, rolled up his pants legs, and sat at the edge of the jetty. The cool water on his feet shocked his senses for a moment until he adjusted to the chill. He grimaced as mud squished between his toes, but didn't move.
Unfortunately this bizarre exercise only occupied his mind for so long. He was trying to be this peaceful, loving man Cas had been so sure of the night the Empty stole him. But Dean wasn't sure how to go about that on days like this. He knew days like this were the real test though. Who you are when you're at the end of the rope counts more than who you are when things are good.
What Cas had said about John had wedged itself painfully in his chest. Dean hated the truth in it. Yet it also validated something in him he hadn't realized he needed to hear. Sometimes being truly seen was what the hunter needed most, but it wasn't always easy for him to be under the microscope.
Somehow the best thing Dean could think of to cope was to get some space and try the nature thing. He wasn't sure why sticking his feet in cold water helped, but it sort of did. The sun warming his skin at the same time little laps of cold water washed over his feet and up his calves sorta felt nice. He noticed the dead grass poking into his hands as he leaned back.
He still wasn't too sure he was this great loving guy, but he didn't yell much or throw stuff as much as he used to. He was trying, surely that mattered. He hoped it did. It had to.
Dean felt his phone vibrate for the umpteenth time and considered throwing it in the lake, but instead he placed it face down on the grass and ignored it. He was sure it was Cas again, and it was probably shitty to leave the guy hanging, but he couldn't pick up the phone yet and be who he wanted to be. Dean looked away from the phone. Instead, the hunter looked out over the waters, lightly disturbed by the light autumn wind. It was maybe half an hour before sunset. He realized that at forty something years old, he had never sat down to watch a sunset before. Not on purpose, anyway. He'd seen it while he was doing other things. But he'd never just watched the sun slip behind the horizon for no other reason than to see it.
“Now's as good a time as any,” he said to himself. There were other people at the park, walking dogs and playing catch with their kids - that stung, he realized. He'd played catch with Bobby, but he'd never done that with John. There was no one nearby him at the moment and he was pleased at that. He put the happy families out of his mind for now.
Dean settled in and got comfortable. He was still upset, but it didn't feel like it was clawing at his insides or like he was going to crawl out of his skin anymore. He supposed it helped, being somewhere quiet, being outside. He watched as the sun drifted lower and lower. It seemed to go faster the further it went. He noticed the highlighter colors spilling across the sky on slow lazy strokes, the gold, orange, pink, and violet. He watched as it became a gradient of rich jewel tones, inky indigo, a line of emerald light splitting the night from the last rays of day, a dazzling citrine gold, and a scarlet beam at the far west horizon as only a sliver of sunlight filled the sky. Dean sighed with something close to contentment as he observed the twilight that had come to close the day.
He laid in the grass and took his feet out of the now freezing water. He grimaced again at the mud between his feet and began to wipe them in the dead grass. Once he sufficiently cleaned his feet, he flopped over and watched the stars reveal themselves. With a big sigh, he let the thoughts come back in. The feelings that were bubbling up like an ill-sealed pressure cooker spilled over, but to his surprise, he just… felt them. He didn't have an irresistible compulsion to go break stuff or scream his primal rage out until his throat was raw. He just sat there and felt uncomfortable, in pain even.
Cas said some hard truths today that hit Dean like a cannonball. But, Dean couldn't deny they were no less true regardless of how it felt. John was not the best dad. Even though part of Dean would always idolize the man, for good or ill, another part would never forgive him. It was hard to let those two opposing truths linger in the front of his mind.
Dean had never named his sexuality aloud, but there were choices words thrown around in the life he led and queer was certainly one of them. It felt heavy to think of himself that way, queer. It was a word he'd heard spit out by men scared of… well, love he guessed. Or self expression. Something like that. So Dean had learned quickly what to say and what not to say. But he was, and naming it or not didn't change the fact that he'd more than just admired men before Cas. And then Cas - well he was something altogether different to tackle. Sure, he was wearing a dude. But he was this ancient holy being. Even without his grace that didn't change the core of who he was, not to Dean. He was in love with someone as complex and unknowable as waves of light and unseeable universal mechanics. They didn't even have a word for how queer that was.
And Cas was right about Sammy, too. Sammy wasn't hard and cold like John. Sammy was his brother. He'd understand.
Notes:
If you liked that and can forgive me even slightly for my terrible sense of the passage of time, kudos and comments are my lifeblood! =]
I love hearing from readers and it turns out the formula for minxy writing is reader attention * caffeine is equal to the amount of prose my brain can make. I adore you guys, thanks for reading! Feel free to stop by my tumblr to drop an ask or message.
Chapter 12
Summary:
Dean tries to come out to Sam—and it goes sideways.
When Sam brushes him off with a well-meaning “no homo” pep talk, Dean storms out to find comfort (and maybe a little heat) with the one person who always listens.
Notes:
a little treato for being so patient with meeeeeee, have another chapter my good little bunny
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean texted Cas to let him know he was on his way home and was calmer—but he had to talk to Sammy first.
The hunter tried to relax his white knuckle grip on the steering wheel as he approached the bunker. He tried to focus on his breathing. As soon as he pulled in, he got out of the car, took another deep breath, and went to find Sam.
It didn't take him long, Sammy was in the library playing a game of Sorry with Jack. He hesitated at first, not wanting to interrupt the moment. But, Dean thought, he was absolutely gonna lose his nerve if he didn't have this conversation now. Before he could speak up, Sam looked up at him.
“Dean! Hey, I was looking for you earlier. Jack, hang here a sec. I need to talk with Dean real quick,” he said.
Dean gave him a quizzical look. “Ooo-kay. Well, I need to talk to you too, actually.”
Jack waved at Dean with a wide smile. Dean waved back.
“Good job,” Jack said brightly. He grinned and there was something very knowing in it.
Did Jack know? Maybe he did—the kid was Almighty or whatever now. Dean wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but he had to tackle one thing at a time here.
“Uh, thanks, kid,” Dean replied as Sam walked Dean away into the War Room. Once there, Sam held him at arm's length with an odd expression. Dean gave him a quizzical look and gestured for him to go on.
“Dude, I know it hit you hard when Cas was gone. You don't have to worry what I'll think. I get it,” Sam said. His voice conveyed a warm understanding.
Dean sighed with relief. “Oh, good, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“But you don't have to say anything. Like I said, I get it. You know it's okay for men to want to be physically affectionate. I watched a TED Talk about it recently. It’s healthy.”
Dean raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat.
“Sure, Sam. Guess you've noticed that. Well, that will make this easier.”
Sam nodded and patted Dean on the shoulder. He pulled his brother into a hug. Dean returned it, even though it kind of confused him. They didn't just hug for the sake of hugging much. He gave Sam an awkward pat on the shoulder and shifted awkwardly in place as Sammy released him.
He gave Dean a very warm, sincere look and steepled his fingers together. He sighed and shook his head as he thought about how to say this.
“Dean, you’re my brother, and I need you to understand. it doesn't make you less manly to hug your best friend. Or your brother, for that matter. You don't have to act like that,” he said with a chuckle, gesturing to Dean's awkward stance and obvious confusion.
Dean gave Sam a searching look. He blinked owlishly a few times as his brain caught up.
“What? Best friend. Is that what you think is going on here?” He asked after a moment, narrowing his eyes in confusion.
“Yeah, you missed him. But look, I'm not gonna think you're gay just because you hug him or hold hands or whatever. It's okay to need human touch, Dean. You don't have to worry. I'm not going to judge you.”
Dean was so bewildered he took a step back and held his hands up as if to pause the conversation. That had felt like a big record scratch moment.
“Wait, what?” he asked. His face flickered through stages of bafflement. “Hold up, Sammy, you're way off base here.”
This wasn’t like Sam. Dean had expected some shock or some questions. Sam was completely blowing him off. Sam usually listened, noticed the little things. What the hell was going on?
Sam sighed and gave him a classic exasperated bitchface.
“I do get it. You need to realize it's the 21st century, okay, guys can be affectionate now, and it's fine. It's not stuck in the 70s like your cassette collection. It won't hurt your manly man image to hug Cas. I know it's not a gay thing. Not that I'd care if it was, but you get what I mean.”
Dean rubbed his face. “No, no. Sammy. It is a gay thing. It is exactly a gay thing,” he spit out with surprising ease. He wasn't sure if it was easier than expected because Sam had so thoroughly shocked his senses or because he'd done a good job preparing himself.
“Haha, Dean,” Sam snarked with an eye roll, crossing his arms. “I wish you could be serious about this. You know there's a loneliness epidemic, right? It's hitting men like you especially hard. There have been loads of studies. That can actually affect your health.”
Dean sighed deeply. “I am being serious. As in, I'm seriously into Cas. Not as a friend. Point is, we're a thing now,” he said, urgently punctuating his words with rapid gesticulation
“Whatever, man. Just know that I'm not judging you, even if you can't be real about this,” Sam said as he walked back towards the library.
“I'm being real, Sam! C’mon, I'm opening up to you, man,” Dean pleaded.
“Sure, Dean,” Sam said over his shoulder. “You know it's not really funny to make being gay a punchline anymore.”
“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean mumbled, then sucked his teeth and held his arms out and let them fall to his sides. Sam had returned to the library, unwilling to engage with more of Dean's perceived joking.
Dean let out an angry growl toward the library. What the hell was Sam’s problem? That wasn’t like him, not even close. He then turned on his heel, frustrated and bewildered, to go find Cas. He needed to talk to someone who would listen.
“I told Sammy. He didn't believe me, but that's on him,” Dean blurted in frustration as soon as he opened the door to Cas, who was watching something on his phone at the desk in Dean's room - or rather, their room, now.
Cas looked up from his phone, puzzled. “I've been trying to reach you to apologize for over an hour.”
“I know. You don't need to apologize. I needed to cool off. Look you were right, it just hit me hard. I had to think on it.”
“You aren't upset?”
Dean shrugged. “It was tough to hear but no, I'm not upset with you. Did you hear what I said about Sam?”
Cas nodded. “I did, I was just a little confused about you leaving. But I think I understand now. So, let's talk about Sam. You told him about us?”
“Yeah, I spilled my damn guts and he just said ‘go touch your friends, no homo, it's good for you, loneliness kills, you aren't gay’,” Dean said in a mocking voice and dramatic gestures.
Cas tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “What? That doesn't sound like Sam. Is he drunk, or maybe a curse or hex of some kind?”
Dean groaned in frustration. He considered it. “I guess maybe. But I think he's just being a dick.”
Cas shook his head and looked at Dean quizzically. “You seem agitated. Please take a few deep breaths and calm yourself and then we can walk through this again.”
Castiel got up and guided Dean over to the bed. He sat down behind him and held Dean close, Dean's back to Castiel's chest and Castiel back against the headboard, pulling Dean with him.
“This is bullshit,” Dean grumbled, “I finally tell him what's up and he thinks I'm joking.”
Cas didn't respond, but tightened his embrace and led by example the deep breathing he'd prescribed. Dean didn't immediately join, but after a few seconds he sighed and then joined Cas. Once it was over, Cas gave him a gentle squeeze.
“If you feel calmer now, explain again,” Cas instructed calmly.
“I wasn't that upset,” Dean huffed. “Maybe a little energetic, but I'm fine.”
Cas raised an eyebrow as he peered down at the back of Dean's head. Even without seeing his face he could tell the hunter was sulking.
“Of course,” Cas said in a placating voice, “But that energy was interfering with my ability to understand the problem. Tell me again.”
Dean sighed and shifted, but then relaxed against Cas again.
“I was trying to tell Sammy about you ‘n’ me. But he's got it in his head that we're still friends and I just missed you and wanted to hold your hand and hug you as pals or some shit. He started telling me guys can hold hands, and it's not gay. But I said it is gay, and I wanna be with you. Then Sammy told me to be serious and loneliness bad for you and fruity shit like that. Well, I'm the fruity one I guess, but you get it.”
Cas sighed and contemplated. He absently stroked Dean's arm as he thought about the problem.
“I'm unsure what role fruit has in this. An idiom, I suspect. Regardless, I think your brother has good intentions, if misguided.”
“Yeah, but I'm still pissed.”
“I see that. I don't think that's invalid. You tried to share something difficult with him and you felt unheard, I suppose.”
Dean grunted in affirmation, he nodded slightly.
“What are you going to do about it?” Cas asked. “I could talk to him.”
Dean seemed to perk up. “Yeah, maybe that would be good. You're not that much of a joker, Sam might realize it's serious.”
“Alright, I will talk to him, then. And Dean - I'm very proud of you for telling him, even if it went differently than you'd expected.”
Dean blushed. He was glad he wasn’t facing Cas.
“Thanks,” he murmured, feeling pleased. He snuggled back into the angel a bit. Cas was proud of him. Dean was a grown ass man, he shouldn't need anyone to feel proud of him now. But it felt good, really good.
“I'm very sorry I hurt you earlier, when we were showering. I shouldn't have said that,” Cas said. Dean realized Cas was nervous. He could hear the confidence had drained from Cas's voice, and felt his heart beating fast. Dean reached for Cas’s hand and clasped it.
“You don't need to apologize. It's not like I haven't been hurting you the last few days. Neither of us did it on purpose. Let's just forget it. We're square.”
Cas exhaled, and Dean felt the relief he was feeling in the way the muscles in his body relaxed behind the hunter.
“Thank you,” Cas said as he placed a kiss on the crown of Dean's head.
“Don't thank me,” Dean mumbled sheepishly. “You were right, anyway. And it made me tell Sam, for whatever that means.”
Cas squeezed Dean a little tighter. “I wish I hadn't said it, true or not, before you were ready to hear it.”
Dean chuckled ruefully. “Cas, there's some things people ain't ever gonna be ready to hear. That was one of ‘em. Sometimes it's gotta be said, ready or not. Don't sweat it. But just - when I need some space, try not to rush me. I'm doing my best but I'm not great at this,” he confessed.
Cas hesitated for a moment. He squeezed Dean's hand and rested his cheek on the top of the hunter's head. “I think you're wonderful,” he murmured, breathing in the musky scent of Dean's hair and skin.
“Shut up,” Dean muttered, grinning.
Cas chuckled softly in return. He enjoyed sitting like this with Dean, comforting him. Dean seemed to relax into him with ease. Now that Cas was human, he could appreciate the warmth of Dean's body, the scent of him even more. Cas couldn't help but place soft kisses behind the hunter's ear.
“Keep that up and you're gonna be in for a treat,” Dean chuckled.
“Mmm? Will I like this treat?” Cas asked as he nipped at Dean's neck gently.
“I dunno. Depends on what you like,” Dean said. His voice was low and soft and it sent shivers through Castiel's spine.
“I like you,” Cas retorted.
“Oh, I'm a treat now?”
“Mmhm,” Cas hummed in affirmation. “My favorite.”
Dean moved around, turning to face Cas. He settled on top of him.
“What a coincidence,” Dean said as he flashed a smile at Cas. “You're my favorite, too.”
Dean slid his hands up under Castiel's shirt and pushed it out of his way. Dean wasted no time in returning the kisses and love bites Cas had been giving, all over his chest. Dean bit a little sharply at Cas's nipple, causing him to hiss.
“Good sound or bad sound?”
“Uhm,” Cas groaned, “Good?”
Dean quirked an eyebrow. “You don't sound sure.”
“Do it again, we can test it.”
Dean obliged, holding the sensitive flesh captive between his teeth for a second longer before flicking his tongue over it and releasing this time.
“Oh. Mmm. It’s a good sound,” Cas confirmed.
Dean nodded happily. “I'll remember that.”
“It hurts a bit, but… I like it very much,” Cas said. There was clearly a little confusion in his voice.
Dean chuckled darkly. “‘S normal,” he murmured before continuing to nibble and tease. Dean crept lower and lower, using his hands and mouth to show Cas how much he enjoyed his body.
Dean worked his way lower, pausing once he reached Cas’s jeans. He took the zipper in his teeth, squeezing Cas’s ass in both hands, and looked up with a grin. He lifted an eyebrow in silent question.
Cas was on his elbows, looking down at Dean through half-lidded eyes.
“Um, in your mouth?” Cas asked.
“Mmhm.”
Cas moaned and Dean felt his cock twitch in the jeans.
“Um,” Cas gasped, “No?”
Dean released the zipper, confused but listening.
“What’s the matter?” Dean asked, removing his hands from Cas’s ass and adjusting into a respectable position.
“Nothing, I just feel… unsure,” Cas said.
“That's okay, man. Did I do something wrong?” Dean asked, concerned.
“No,” Cas said with a chuckle, “Definitely not.”
The hunter looked at him, puzzled but not wanting to push.
“The idea excited me,” Cas explained, “But I feel…hesitant for some reason.”
Cas grappled with that. He was confused by the thought he could want something and yet not be prepared to do it. His body had certainly been eager too, but he was hesitating anyway.
“Nervous?” Dean asked.
It seemed as likely as anything else to Cas. The way emotions seemed to swim through his body and surge and ebb unpredictably made it difficult to pinpoint which feeling was which to him. When he had his grace, the emotions he felt were much more pure and defined. As he reflected on Dean’s question, it seemed to fit.
Cas nodded. “I think so.”
Dean shrugged. “I guess that makes sense. You're pretty new to this. Maybe it was a little fast,” he said with a regretful look.
“No, I want to do that. I want to feel your mouth. I don't know why I don't want to do it right this moment. But I want to, another day.”
Dean looked at him, half amused, half sympathetic.
“It's okay, you know. You don't need a reason. Sometimes it just isn't the right time.”
Cas felt gratitude and relief wash over him. “Has that ever happened to you?”
Dean raised his brows. “Have I ever wanted to stop?”
“Mm, yes. More specifically, have you wanted something, but not felt ready to partake?”
Dean laughed. He laughed hard. For a moment Cas felt a little self conscious, like Dean was laughing at him. Dean moved up to sit next to Cas and cupped his face.
“Yeah, I've felt that way. For… oh, give or take twelve years I'd say,” he said, grinning broadly.
Maybe, Dean thought, being willing to wait was easier for him with Cas because those twelve years had let them build up to something worth staying around for.
“Oh,” Cas said, chuckling too. “I suppose you did.”
“It's okay, Cas. I'm not in a rush. Look, uh,” Dean paused, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Dean grimaced slightly. He was trying to keep this light hearted, but he wasn’t sure how to talk about this stuff. He defaulted to the Classic Winchester Communication Method: playing it for laughs.
“Let’s just say, this isn't my first rodeo deflowering someone,” he shrugged with a sheepish grin.
“Deflowering? That’s an odd term,” Cas asked.
“You know, um,” Dean shifted on the bed, trying to find the right words. “Like, you're not a virgin, but you're pretty close and I'm… not. It can be intimidating to do stuff for the first time. We don't have to rush. I'm not looking to check a bunch of stuff off a list and bounce, I'm in this, whatever that looks like, however long it takes.”
Cas flashed an array of expressions. Jealousy, try me bitch, frustration, and gratitude fought for dominance on his face. Gratitude seemed to win by a slim margin.
“Thank you for understanding,” he said softly.
“‘Course,” Dean said, laying next to him haphazardly, bouncing slightly as he hit the mattress.
“Surely there will be some things you'll experience for the first time, though,” Cas mused, stroking a hand idly down Dean’s arm as they lay together.
Dean made a noncommittal hum. He supposed it was possible, but he didn't expect it to happen anytime soon. Then again, he'd never had his body kissed from head to toe before. He considered the possibility that Cas was going to be different in many ways.
“A male partner will be new for you, for instance.”
Dean remained quiet, but nodded hesitantly.
“Won't it?” Cas asked, suddenly unsure. “You expressed the ability to feel attraction to men, but I wasn’t aware of any experience.”
“Um,” Dean sucked his teeth, “No, not exactly.”
Cas looked at him, surprised. “‘Not exactly’? It's a binary question. Who?”
Dean sighed and gave Cas a dubious look. “Are you gonna get weird about it?”
“No, of course not,” Cas said, looking slightly offended at the implication.
“You know, if you still had your wings, I bet your feathers would be ruffled. Besides, you mostly don't know them.”
Not that it mattered. That was then and this was now, and now he had Cas. That was it for Dean.
“Mostly? Them singular, or them plural?”
“See?! I knew you were gonna get weird about it,” Dean accused with a frown.
“I admit I feel some… slight envy that others have enjoyed your body before me, regardless of their gender. But I loved you knowing all the while that was a primary aspect of your personality.”
Dean arched an eyebrow and gave a playful but sharp grin. “You calling me a whore, Cas?”
“Of course not. I doubt you received compensation for your efforts. I'm just saying that you've historically been promiscuous,” he said, blinking.
Dean scoffed. “I'd take offense to that if you weren't a billion years old before you dropped your v-card,” he snorted, but he didn't argue further.
“I didn't mean to offend,” Cas said apologetically. Although, he didn't understand why that would offend Dean. He had always seemed quite proud of his sexual prowess and frequent use thereof.
Dean didn't answer, but snuggled in closer to Cas and slung an arm over him with a lazy flop. Cas was pleased that he didn't seem too upset about the comment.
After a few moments, Cas turned toward Dean and kissed him, tender yet hungry.
“Easy, tiger. You're gonna reawaken the beast,” Dean chuckled.
“My erection?”
“Winner-winner, got it in one.”
Cas hummed in acknowledgment. “Perhaps you're right. Then again, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to reawaken it a little,” he said, planting another kiss on Dean, which the hunter sighed into and reciprocated with eager heat.
Cas loved that brief moment, the one where Dean let all the masks he wore slip away and he was just Dean. Dean, without the bravado and posturing. He would kiss this man endlessly if only to chase that moment. It was the closest Cas had gotten to seeing Dean's soul without his grace. He didn’t need to see it anymore, though. The warmth of his body, the softness of his breath, the tenderness of his presence — that was enough for Castiel.
Notes:
I don't know why I called you a good little bunny, but I did. The mood struck me. Anyway! If you liked that even a little, feel free to toss a kudos or comment my way. My ego only runs on reader attention. Fortunately or unfortunately, my ego makes me write. =]
I love hearing from folks! Your feedback makes my day every time. Thanks so much for reading! You can always drop by my tumblr to say hi or scream about your feelings.
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