Ficlet: Peace Offering (Dean/Castiel, PG)
Title: Peace Offering
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1000
Summary: The best way to apologize to Dean Winchester is to bring him a really badass present. Coda to 6x15.
Dean was sitting on Bobby’s lumpy guest bed and trying not to compare it to Jared Padalecki’s leather couch when Castiel came back.
“Dean,” he said from the corner of the room. Dean didn’t look up from the rifle he was cleaning. Honestly, after the past two days, he doubted much could surprise him anymore.
“You need another decoy?” he asked, voice equal parts exhaustion and bitterness.
“No,” Castiel answered. “I came to give you something.
That got Dean’s attention. He looked up, and set the rifle aside. “Oh yeah?”
Castiel nodded. He reached into his trench coat and pulled out a silver tube, about six inches long and two inches in diameter. He held it carefully, as if it might shatter in his outstretched hand.
Dean took it. It was slightly warm in his palm. “Gee, Cas,” Dean said. “Thanks for the pipe.” He raised it to eye level and peered through the hole like it was a telescope. Cas looked the same size through the other end. He also looked terrified.
Cas snatched the thing out of Dean’s hand, clutching it to his chest. “Be careful,” he snapped. “You could kill yourself.”
“With a pipe?”
“Cover your ears,” Cas ordered, in that low voice Dean always felt compelled to obey. He did, and Cas pointed the silver tube at the dusty stained glass lamp across the room. He flicked his wrist, and suddenly the lamp shattered, glass flying in all directions with an unexpectedly pretty tinkling sound.
As Cas lowered his arm, Dean gaped. “What is that thing?” he finally squeaked.
“I suppose you could call it a gun,” Cas answered. “Or something like one. It has a name, but you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”
Dean reached out and took the pipe from Castiel, this time much more carefully. He held it gingerly between two fingers. “How does it work?”
“It’s a heavenly weapon, Dean. Do you truly expect me to be able to explain it?”
“You’re giving this to me?” Dean stared at the weapon in his hand; it was reminiscent of the way he often stared at the Impala. “Why?”
Cas shifted from one foot to the other, shoving his hands into his trench coat pockets. “I thought that you would like it,” he said. “It will never need to be cleaned, and it requires no ammunition and therefore no reloading.”
“Yeah, it’s the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen, but don’t you need it? Are you allowed to just give this stuff away?”
Castiel look down at the ground. “Strictly speaking, no. But it is only a small thing. No one will miss it.”
Dean grinned, and flicked his wrist. The bedroom window shattered noisily and he barked a joyful laugh.
Castiel didn’t flinch. He sighed heavily, then waved a hand. The glass repaired itself. In the blink of an eye it was not only unbroken but also sparkling clean.
“Thanks Cas,” Dean said. “It’s really cool.”
Castiel nodded, and moved closer to Dean. For a moment he stood, looming over him, before he sat down on the bed. He smoothed the wrinkles out of the quilt around him. For once, he didn’t look Dean in the eye.
“I want to apologize,” he said finally, “for using you - and Sam - as a diversion. That is not how I like to treat my friends.” His voice trailed off uncharacteristically at the final word, like he wasn’t sure he really wanted to say it aloud.
“We could have died, Cas. Worse, we could have been stuck in Canada forever.” Dean stroked his new weapon affectionately.
“I know. But you must know that I had faith you would be able to evade Raphael’s assassin. You might consider my trust in you a compliment.”
Dean snorted.
“I would be very grateful,” Castiel tried again, “if you would consider my trust in you a compliment.”
Dean looked up from the weapon in his lap, and stared at the side of Castiel’s head, until he finally turned and met Dean’s gaze. Then Dean smiled, and reached out to touch the side of Castiel’s face, running his thumb down the stubble at his jaw. “You look tired,” he said.
“It is very difficult in Heaven,” Castiel answered, perfectly still under Dean’s touch. “But I will not put you or your brother in harm’s way again.”
Dean let his hand drop. “It’s okay, I get it. You’ve got tough choices to make. I know what it’s like.”
“Yes,” Castiel agreed, gaze fixed on Dean’s hand, now resting on the quilt.
“I know I’ve been really caught up in my own stuff,” Dean said, then cleared his throat. “And in Sam. I’m sorry too, Cas, because I haven’t been a good friend. In my defence, I don’t have a lot of experience having real friends.”
“Nor do I,” Castiel murmured, voice gone strangely soft.
“Right. So maybe we both need some practice. You know you can ask Sam and me for help if you need it, right? After all you’ve done for us, it’s the least we could do.”
Cas smiled then, and the expression was somehow both alien and familiar. “I will keep you informed.”
“You do that,” Dean said, voice gruff. He started fiddling with his new weapon again.
“There is something you could do for me now as well,” Castiel said.
“Anything,” Dean answered, too quickly.
“Hold still,” Castiel said. Then he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Dean’s. Dean closed his eyes instinctively. Cas’ lips were warm and surprisingly soft, for an angel’s. His stubble brushed roughly against Dean’s cheek.
“Cas,” Dean said, but by the time he opened his eyes Castiel had disappeared, without even the usual fluttering sound.
Dean exhaled loudly, and flopped back onto the bed. He twirled heaven’s gun between his fingers. “Best peace offering ever,” he said to himself, though he wasn’t even sure if he meant the weapon in his hand or the kiss he could still taste on his lips.
***
AN: I'm sorry, that was the most self-indulgent thousand words I've ever produced. I've been all about Wincest lately, so I thought D/C needed and deserved some love.
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1000
Summary: The best way to apologize to Dean Winchester is to bring him a really badass present. Coda to 6x15.
Dean was sitting on Bobby’s lumpy guest bed and trying not to compare it to Jared Padalecki’s leather couch when Castiel came back.
“Dean,” he said from the corner of the room. Dean didn’t look up from the rifle he was cleaning. Honestly, after the past two days, he doubted much could surprise him anymore.
“You need another decoy?” he asked, voice equal parts exhaustion and bitterness.
“No,” Castiel answered. “I came to give you something.
That got Dean’s attention. He looked up, and set the rifle aside. “Oh yeah?”
Castiel nodded. He reached into his trench coat and pulled out a silver tube, about six inches long and two inches in diameter. He held it carefully, as if it might shatter in his outstretched hand.
Dean took it. It was slightly warm in his palm. “Gee, Cas,” Dean said. “Thanks for the pipe.” He raised it to eye level and peered through the hole like it was a telescope. Cas looked the same size through the other end. He also looked terrified.
Cas snatched the thing out of Dean’s hand, clutching it to his chest. “Be careful,” he snapped. “You could kill yourself.”
“With a pipe?”
“Cover your ears,” Cas ordered, in that low voice Dean always felt compelled to obey. He did, and Cas pointed the silver tube at the dusty stained glass lamp across the room. He flicked his wrist, and suddenly the lamp shattered, glass flying in all directions with an unexpectedly pretty tinkling sound.
As Cas lowered his arm, Dean gaped. “What is that thing?” he finally squeaked.
“I suppose you could call it a gun,” Cas answered. “Or something like one. It has a name, but you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”
Dean reached out and took the pipe from Castiel, this time much more carefully. He held it gingerly between two fingers. “How does it work?”
“It’s a heavenly weapon, Dean. Do you truly expect me to be able to explain it?”
“You’re giving this to me?” Dean stared at the weapon in his hand; it was reminiscent of the way he often stared at the Impala. “Why?”
Cas shifted from one foot to the other, shoving his hands into his trench coat pockets. “I thought that you would like it,” he said. “It will never need to be cleaned, and it requires no ammunition and therefore no reloading.”
“Yeah, it’s the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen, but don’t you need it? Are you allowed to just give this stuff away?”
Castiel look down at the ground. “Strictly speaking, no. But it is only a small thing. No one will miss it.”
Dean grinned, and flicked his wrist. The bedroom window shattered noisily and he barked a joyful laugh.
Castiel didn’t flinch. He sighed heavily, then waved a hand. The glass repaired itself. In the blink of an eye it was not only unbroken but also sparkling clean.
“Thanks Cas,” Dean said. “It’s really cool.”
Castiel nodded, and moved closer to Dean. For a moment he stood, looming over him, before he sat down on the bed. He smoothed the wrinkles out of the quilt around him. For once, he didn’t look Dean in the eye.
“I want to apologize,” he said finally, “for using you - and Sam - as a diversion. That is not how I like to treat my friends.” His voice trailed off uncharacteristically at the final word, like he wasn’t sure he really wanted to say it aloud.
“We could have died, Cas. Worse, we could have been stuck in Canada forever.” Dean stroked his new weapon affectionately.
“I know. But you must know that I had faith you would be able to evade Raphael’s assassin. You might consider my trust in you a compliment.”
Dean snorted.
“I would be very grateful,” Castiel tried again, “if you would consider my trust in you a compliment.”
Dean looked up from the weapon in his lap, and stared at the side of Castiel’s head, until he finally turned and met Dean’s gaze. Then Dean smiled, and reached out to touch the side of Castiel’s face, running his thumb down the stubble at his jaw. “You look tired,” he said.
“It is very difficult in Heaven,” Castiel answered, perfectly still under Dean’s touch. “But I will not put you or your brother in harm’s way again.”
Dean let his hand drop. “It’s okay, I get it. You’ve got tough choices to make. I know what it’s like.”
“Yes,” Castiel agreed, gaze fixed on Dean’s hand, now resting on the quilt.
“I know I’ve been really caught up in my own stuff,” Dean said, then cleared his throat. “And in Sam. I’m sorry too, Cas, because I haven’t been a good friend. In my defence, I don’t have a lot of experience having real friends.”
“Nor do I,” Castiel murmured, voice gone strangely soft.
“Right. So maybe we both need some practice. You know you can ask Sam and me for help if you need it, right? After all you’ve done for us, it’s the least we could do.”
Cas smiled then, and the expression was somehow both alien and familiar. “I will keep you informed.”
“You do that,” Dean said, voice gruff. He started fiddling with his new weapon again.
“There is something you could do for me now as well,” Castiel said.
“Anything,” Dean answered, too quickly.
“Hold still,” Castiel said. Then he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Dean’s. Dean closed his eyes instinctively. Cas’ lips were warm and surprisingly soft, for an angel’s. His stubble brushed roughly against Dean’s cheek.
“Cas,” Dean said, but by the time he opened his eyes Castiel had disappeared, without even the usual fluttering sound.
Dean exhaled loudly, and flopped back onto the bed. He twirled heaven’s gun between his fingers. “Best peace offering ever,” he said to himself, though he wasn’t even sure if he meant the weapon in his hand or the kiss he could still taste on his lips.
***
AN: I'm sorry, that was the most self-indulgent thousand words I've ever produced. I've been all about Wincest lately, so I thought D/C needed and deserved some love.