god is gone, and the devil is me (1/1)
Title: God Is Gone, And The Devil Is Me
Rating: R
Genre: Romance/Downer
Pairings or Characters: Dean/Cas
Warnings: The End!verse, and all that that entails
Word Count: 3064
Summary: Cas falls and Dean breaks his promises. He was never good at keeping them, anyway.
Author Notes: Entry for a friend's word prompt contest on tumblr, my prompt was "Last Time." Uhhh this turned out a lot more miserable than I thought it was going to be when I started.
God Is Gone, And The Devil Is Me
Cas falls, and it's a slow and ugly process. Dean watches him collect scars and bruises and broken bones an angel should never have to suffer, promising him every time that he won't let it happen again. But he's known for breaking his promises, and Cas comes back to their makeshift camp with more and more bruises and less and less grace every day. Eventually, there's nothing left, just flesh and humanity where there once was so much more.
"I'm sorry," Dean says one night, because he knows it's his fault. It's always been his fault, even if Cas never blamed him.
Cas is laid up with a broken foot and high on too much morphine after a croat ambush that went south, so Dean's not really sure he's listening, but the words are out and it's the last time he'll say them. There are other things he knows he should say, words that mean more than empty apologies, but they're dead weight on his tongue. So Dean leaves him there, drugged and falling to pieces, and doesn't notice Cas watching him as he goes.
~
Cas falls again, this time into drug abuse and the arms of women they save, desperate to hold onto their small group of survivors, the last hope of the dying human race. Dean doesn't watch him fall this time, too busy searching for the Colt and hunting down the Devil wearing his brother like a prom dress. It's months, maybe longer, before he finds himself in Cas' cabin again.
"Dean," Cas greets breezily. His cabin reeks of sex and absinthe and Dean's lip curls unpleasantly at the smell of it, but he shuts the door behind him anyway.
"You were supposed to go out with Chuck's team today. What happened?" Dean demands, stepping closer.
"Oh, was I?" Cas asks absently, tilting his head, sounding unconcerned.
"Don't," Dean growls, shaking his head, "Don't do that." Cas smiles, easy and light, and walks forward into Dean's space, invading it like he always used to and never does anymore. He waits for Dean to crack, to turn around and give up and go back to pretending like Cas isn't there, like he has been since he walked away the last time. But Dean stands his ground, and if he's surprised, Cas doesn't show it, eventually giving a small shrug.
"I got the order, but no one came to get me when I was supposed to head out. You know how bad I am with time."
Dean knows that's a lie. He knows Cas was drugged out and useless when Chuck came by to tell him the team was heading out, so they left him behind in his drug-induced stupor. Dean bites down on the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the guilt clawing at his gut.
"I thought you were a soldier," Dean says, and Cas' eyes sharpen in a flare of anger, the clearest they've been in ages.
"Maybe I was once," Cas begins coolly, and between the sharp glare and stern voice, Dean can almost see the angel in him for a second before it's gone again, "but you don't treat me like a soldier, Dean, you treat me like garbage. Invisible, worthless, useless garbage. So why not act like it?"
Dean snaps, grabbing Cas by the shirt and pushing, shoving him backwards until he hits the wall. Cas is back to aloof and carefree as Dean presses him hard against the wood, the anger gone as fast as it came, and Dean misses it already.
"I'll fight for you, if that's what you want. But there isn't much left to fight for."
"You're wrong," Dean hisses, and Cas laughs. It's hollow and broken, and it stings like a slap to the face, but Dean doesn't back down. "You're wrong," he says again, because there is something left to fight for, even though most of the population is dead, the angels are gone and Earth is the Devil's new playground. He doesn't know how to explain, because words were never his thing, so he leans all the way forward instead, kissing Cas hard before he has a chance to laugh again.
They fuck against the wall with their pants down and their boots still on, too focused on each other to make it to the bed waiting one room away. It's the first time Dean's ever gone this far, but they move together like they've done this a thousand times before, Cas' hands pressed into the wall as Dean fucks him from behind. Cas doesn't stop him no matter how fast he goes or how hard he pushes, and he doesn't ask for anything, quiet except for the occasional moan when Dean thrusts into him too reckless or bites too hard against his throat. Dean comes with a short gasp, pressing his forehead into the back of Cas' neck and rocking into Cas' heat, slow and lazy, as he rides the last waves of his orgasm.
"Dean," Cas breathes, voice quiet and shaking when Dean pulls out, leaving him messy and hard and unsatisfied.
"Don't miss your next patrol," Dean grunts, and it isn't what he wants to say, but it's all that comes out. He steps back and slides his pants back up his legs, zipping them closed before turning away, leaving Cas used and raw and alone.
~
They fall together this time, into a routine of fighting and sex and fighting some more. Dean's visits to Cas' cabin go from once in a blue moon to once a week at least, but Cas still has his orgies and Dean still has his women, pretending he wants them more than the used-to-be angel drinking absinthe off of someone else's stomach. He doesn't send Cas out with the other teams anymore, either leaving him behind or taking him out with his team. If anyone notices the sudden closeness between their fearless leader and the drugged out ex-angel, they don't say anything, because Dean's in charge and no one's dumb enough to risk getting kicked out of camp over some stupid gossip.
But there are still looks, of course. Pointed glances and suggestive eyebrows, and Dean's not stupid. He can feel the eyes on him whenever he heads for Cas' cabin, and he tries to tell himself that none of it will matter, because they don't have much time left, anyway. They're closing in on the Devil and the colt and it'll all be over in a month, one way or another.
Today, pushing the beads aside and stepping into the den that still smells of sex and sweat and alcohol, Dean tells himself that this will be the last time.
"Hello, Dean," Cas greets, wearing the same lazy smile as always, "Care for some-"
"No," Dean interrupts. He made the mistake of taking something Cas offered him back when his weekly visits first started. He woke up alone, naked on the roof of a building in the middle of a hot zone two days later, with a new appreciation for Cas' level of tolerance, and a new rule never to accept any drugs Cas offered ever again.
"So, is there a new mission this afternoon or what?" Cas asks. He used to make a game of it, listing off more and more outrageous situations that would call for a visit from his so-called fearless leader until Dean shut him up with either a shove against the nearest wall or a kiss. Nowadays, he doesn't bother with it. They're both too tired for games.
"Or what," Dean says quietly, but he doesn't move forward.
Cas gives him a weird look and taps a finger against his chin, stepping closer.
"You're so hard to read sometimes," Cas says, absently, as if he isn't addressing Dean at all. "You're here, but you don't sound like you want to be here. How do I even know you're really here at all?"
"Don't pull that hippie psychobabble bullshit on me," Dean growls, making Cas laugh.
"I thought you were done trying to label me."
Dean snorts.
"Yeah, I gave up 'cause there isn't a word for how fucked up you are."
He doesn't mean to say it, but it slips out, and the look on Cas' face is suddenly so broken and hurt that Dean wants to turn and walk away, pretend like he was never here, and hope that maybe, in his hazy, drugged-out brain, Cas will believe he imagined the whole thing. But he doesn't leave, even though the hurt is gone and Cas is back to looking as calm as ever. Dean steps forward instead, sliding his hands against the sides of Cas' face, pulling him in for a kiss, soft and guilty.
"This is the last time, okay? No more. No more. This is the last time," Dean repeats between kisses, each one deeper and longer than the last. Cas' fingers are already undoing his belt, going for his zipper next, and Dean isn't sure what he's still mumbling about anymore. "This is the last time, I promise," he says again, teeth scraping against the skin of Cas' neck, and whether he means this is the last time he'll say something cruel or the last time they'll fuck, it doesn't matter.
He's known for breaking his promises, and this one is no different.
~
They fall together one last time, onto Dean's bed in a mess of naked skin and hungry mouths. It's the first time since they started this fucked up whatever it is that Cas has come back to Dean's cabin. Dean's offered, but Cas has never come by. He's always been welcoming when Dean waltzed into his space and pushed him against the nearest surface, nothing but need, need, need on his mind, but never willing to reach back, never able to risk coming to Dean only to be turned away. Dean never would, but somewhere along the line, Cas stopped believing that.
But tonight, covered in blood that isn't theirs and new battle scars, they move against each other on top of Dean's sheets, not caring where they've been, where they are, or how little time they have left. All that matters is them, here, now.
"Dean," Cas gasps as Dean pulls away from kissing slowly down his neck to slide his shirt up his chest and over his head. There's barely any light in the room, but Dean can still see the new bruises blooming along Cas' side now that his clothes aren't in the way. He leans back down, dragging his tongue over Cas' skin, smirking when Cas lets out a hiss and digs a hand into Dean's hair.
"This is the last time," Dean says, lifting his mouth away once he reaches the bruises, and Cas laughs, the sound of it raw and familiar in the dark.
"You've said that before."
"I mean it this time."
"You've said that before, too."
And Dean's not sure what he's talking about-the sex or the bruises, but he means it this time, whether he knows it or not. This time next week, Dean will have the colt and he'll find the Devil, and shortly after, he and Cas will be dead. They won't get a chance to be together like this again, and the demons won't have time to beat him black and blue. But right now, it doesn't matter.
They move slowly against each other, Dean focused on mapping out every inch of Cas' skin with his fingers and his tongue and his teeth while their hips rock in a slow rhythm, both of them hard in their jeans. Cas' hands slide between them, trying to get both of them out of their denim trappings, but Dean makes it as difficult as he can, rolling down hard and grabbing at Cas' wrists to pin them down by his sides, until Cas lets out a sigh.
"This really will be the last time if you're going to be difficult."
"Alright, alright," Dean smiles against him, letting go of Cas' wrists and sitting up, giving Cas easy access to both of their flies. "I was just teasing."
"You can tease all you want once you've fucked me good and hard," Cas says easily, Dean's fly already undone and his jeans and boxers slid down his thighs. Dean blinks down at him as he goes for his own pants, only remembering to reach for the bedside table and find the lotion when Cas' hands stop before pulling his own boxers down, giving Dean a patient stare in the dark.
"When did you get so bossy?" Dean grunts, slicking up his cock.
Cas levels him with a curious look as he shifts his legs, opening them wide and wrapping them behind Dean's thighs, inviting and demanding all at once.
"When did you start stopping to ask questions?" Cas counters and Dean forces two fingers inside him in answer, rough and without warning, making Cas cry out and roll his head back into the sheets. Cas doesn't take long to loosen up, and soon they're moving in a hard, uneven rhythm, making Dean's bed creak and groan under Dean's almost violent thrusts, Cas' legs still wrapped around Dean's waist and fingers dragging painful scratches along his back.
Dean bleeds guilt and apologies underneath those fingers, but between the dried blood and dirt and sweat already covering him from head to toe, Cas doesn't notice.
~
"This is your cabin, you know," Cas points out in a groggy tone and Dean freezes.
He has no idea what time it is-not that it matters. They both passed out hours ago after successfully breaking two of the legs on Dean's bed and pulling out his spare cot to fall asleep in.
"Go back to sleep," Dean mumbles, searching the floor for his boots. He's half dressed already, so well practiced in slipping out while Cas is sleeping that he hadn't even thought about whose cabin they were in tonight. Now that it's been brought to his attention, he tries to figure out if he can stay with Riza or Jane for the rest of the night, but Cas is wrapping a hand around his wrist and pulling him backwards, stopping him.
"No. Dean, this is the last time I watch you walk away from me in the middle of the night," Cas says, shaking his head against the pillow. Dean flinches at the admission, thinking back on the countless times he's left Cas alone, believing that he was asleep and would wake up still too drugged out to notice whether Dean was there or not. After a minute of silence, Cas adds, "If you want to be here alone, I can go back to my cabin. But Dean, you're staying."
Dean slumps forward, reaching a hand up to run it over his face. He glances down at Cas behind him before rolling his eyes and flopping back down on the cot, kicking his socks back off. While Dean strips back down to his underwear, he feels Cas practically holding his breath beside him. He has to concentrate on finding the right words, and he has to be extra careful to make sure they come out right. He has a pretty bad track record with words coming out of his mouth a lot different than he had planned in his brain.
"You... don't have to go," Dean says slowly, and Cas finally lets out his breath with a rough laugh.
"Wow," Cas laughs again, and Dean rolls his head to the side to stare at Cas. "How long have we been fucking? And this is the first time you aren't treating me like a one-night stand. Impressive."
Dean feels guilt roll up in his throat like bile as Cas drapes an arm across his waist.
"I have pretty poor taste in men," Cas says, joking.
"Yeah, you really fucking do," Dean mutters, chest too tight. He can think of a million things he wants to say, but none of them are the right thing, so he doesn't add anything else, laying there quietly while Cas breathes slowly beside him, waiting for sleep to take them.
~
Dean doesn't sleep very well anymore. He doesn't toss and turn, but his body just keeps him awake, letting him rest for maybe an hour or two at a time before forcing him awake, making sure he's always alert, always ready for whatever's threatening them now. He jerks awake for the fourth or fifth time that night, and it's still too dark in the cabin, too early for him to get out of bed. He shifts quietly, trying not to make the cot squeak underneath them, and turns his head to see Cas' back to him. Cas is still naked, and so warm that most of the blanket they're sharing has been kicked off, covering only their feet.
"You're forgiven, you know," Cas whispers suddenly, and Dean goes very still.
He isn't sure if Cas is saying it because he knows Dean's awake, or because he hopes Dean's still asleep, and it stings. Dean remembers the one and only time he told Cas he was sorry, too long ago, not sure if Cas was listening or if he cared, and he wants to grab Cas by the arms now and shake him and tell him to take it back. He doesn't deserve it, not after everything he's dragged Cas through, but instead, Dean rolls onto his side and loops his arms around Cas' waist, pulling him as close as he can.
They kiss for the last time that night, hoping it's the first of something new.
Rating: R
Genre: Romance/Downer
Pairings or Characters: Dean/Cas
Warnings: The End!verse, and all that that entails
Word Count: 3064
Summary: Cas falls and Dean breaks his promises. He was never good at keeping them, anyway.
Author Notes: Entry for a friend's word prompt contest on tumblr, my prompt was "Last Time." Uhhh this turned out a lot more miserable than I thought it was going to be when I started.
God Is Gone, And The Devil Is Me
Cas falls, and it's a slow and ugly process. Dean watches him collect scars and bruises and broken bones an angel should never have to suffer, promising him every time that he won't let it happen again. But he's known for breaking his promises, and Cas comes back to their makeshift camp with more and more bruises and less and less grace every day. Eventually, there's nothing left, just flesh and humanity where there once was so much more.
"I'm sorry," Dean says one night, because he knows it's his fault. It's always been his fault, even if Cas never blamed him.
Cas is laid up with a broken foot and high on too much morphine after a croat ambush that went south, so Dean's not really sure he's listening, but the words are out and it's the last time he'll say them. There are other things he knows he should say, words that mean more than empty apologies, but they're dead weight on his tongue. So Dean leaves him there, drugged and falling to pieces, and doesn't notice Cas watching him as he goes.
~
Cas falls again, this time into drug abuse and the arms of women they save, desperate to hold onto their small group of survivors, the last hope of the dying human race. Dean doesn't watch him fall this time, too busy searching for the Colt and hunting down the Devil wearing his brother like a prom dress. It's months, maybe longer, before he finds himself in Cas' cabin again.
"Dean," Cas greets breezily. His cabin reeks of sex and absinthe and Dean's lip curls unpleasantly at the smell of it, but he shuts the door behind him anyway.
"You were supposed to go out with Chuck's team today. What happened?" Dean demands, stepping closer.
"Oh, was I?" Cas asks absently, tilting his head, sounding unconcerned.
"Don't," Dean growls, shaking his head, "Don't do that." Cas smiles, easy and light, and walks forward into Dean's space, invading it like he always used to and never does anymore. He waits for Dean to crack, to turn around and give up and go back to pretending like Cas isn't there, like he has been since he walked away the last time. But Dean stands his ground, and if he's surprised, Cas doesn't show it, eventually giving a small shrug.
"I got the order, but no one came to get me when I was supposed to head out. You know how bad I am with time."
Dean knows that's a lie. He knows Cas was drugged out and useless when Chuck came by to tell him the team was heading out, so they left him behind in his drug-induced stupor. Dean bites down on the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the guilt clawing at his gut.
"I thought you were a soldier," Dean says, and Cas' eyes sharpen in a flare of anger, the clearest they've been in ages.
"Maybe I was once," Cas begins coolly, and between the sharp glare and stern voice, Dean can almost see the angel in him for a second before it's gone again, "but you don't treat me like a soldier, Dean, you treat me like garbage. Invisible, worthless, useless garbage. So why not act like it?"
Dean snaps, grabbing Cas by the shirt and pushing, shoving him backwards until he hits the wall. Cas is back to aloof and carefree as Dean presses him hard against the wood, the anger gone as fast as it came, and Dean misses it already.
"I'll fight for you, if that's what you want. But there isn't much left to fight for."
"You're wrong," Dean hisses, and Cas laughs. It's hollow and broken, and it stings like a slap to the face, but Dean doesn't back down. "You're wrong," he says again, because there is something left to fight for, even though most of the population is dead, the angels are gone and Earth is the Devil's new playground. He doesn't know how to explain, because words were never his thing, so he leans all the way forward instead, kissing Cas hard before he has a chance to laugh again.
They fuck against the wall with their pants down and their boots still on, too focused on each other to make it to the bed waiting one room away. It's the first time Dean's ever gone this far, but they move together like they've done this a thousand times before, Cas' hands pressed into the wall as Dean fucks him from behind. Cas doesn't stop him no matter how fast he goes or how hard he pushes, and he doesn't ask for anything, quiet except for the occasional moan when Dean thrusts into him too reckless or bites too hard against his throat. Dean comes with a short gasp, pressing his forehead into the back of Cas' neck and rocking into Cas' heat, slow and lazy, as he rides the last waves of his orgasm.
"Dean," Cas breathes, voice quiet and shaking when Dean pulls out, leaving him messy and hard and unsatisfied.
"Don't miss your next patrol," Dean grunts, and it isn't what he wants to say, but it's all that comes out. He steps back and slides his pants back up his legs, zipping them closed before turning away, leaving Cas used and raw and alone.
~
They fall together this time, into a routine of fighting and sex and fighting some more. Dean's visits to Cas' cabin go from once in a blue moon to once a week at least, but Cas still has his orgies and Dean still has his women, pretending he wants them more than the used-to-be angel drinking absinthe off of someone else's stomach. He doesn't send Cas out with the other teams anymore, either leaving him behind or taking him out with his team. If anyone notices the sudden closeness between their fearless leader and the drugged out ex-angel, they don't say anything, because Dean's in charge and no one's dumb enough to risk getting kicked out of camp over some stupid gossip.
But there are still looks, of course. Pointed glances and suggestive eyebrows, and Dean's not stupid. He can feel the eyes on him whenever he heads for Cas' cabin, and he tries to tell himself that none of it will matter, because they don't have much time left, anyway. They're closing in on the Devil and the colt and it'll all be over in a month, one way or another.
Today, pushing the beads aside and stepping into the den that still smells of sex and sweat and alcohol, Dean tells himself that this will be the last time.
"Hello, Dean," Cas greets, wearing the same lazy smile as always, "Care for some-"
"No," Dean interrupts. He made the mistake of taking something Cas offered him back when his weekly visits first started. He woke up alone, naked on the roof of a building in the middle of a hot zone two days later, with a new appreciation for Cas' level of tolerance, and a new rule never to accept any drugs Cas offered ever again.
"So, is there a new mission this afternoon or what?" Cas asks. He used to make a game of it, listing off more and more outrageous situations that would call for a visit from his so-called fearless leader until Dean shut him up with either a shove against the nearest wall or a kiss. Nowadays, he doesn't bother with it. They're both too tired for games.
"Or what," Dean says quietly, but he doesn't move forward.
Cas gives him a weird look and taps a finger against his chin, stepping closer.
"You're so hard to read sometimes," Cas says, absently, as if he isn't addressing Dean at all. "You're here, but you don't sound like you want to be here. How do I even know you're really here at all?"
"Don't pull that hippie psychobabble bullshit on me," Dean growls, making Cas laugh.
"I thought you were done trying to label me."
Dean snorts.
"Yeah, I gave up 'cause there isn't a word for how fucked up you are."
He doesn't mean to say it, but it slips out, and the look on Cas' face is suddenly so broken and hurt that Dean wants to turn and walk away, pretend like he was never here, and hope that maybe, in his hazy, drugged-out brain, Cas will believe he imagined the whole thing. But he doesn't leave, even though the hurt is gone and Cas is back to looking as calm as ever. Dean steps forward instead, sliding his hands against the sides of Cas' face, pulling him in for a kiss, soft and guilty.
"This is the last time, okay? No more. No more. This is the last time," Dean repeats between kisses, each one deeper and longer than the last. Cas' fingers are already undoing his belt, going for his zipper next, and Dean isn't sure what he's still mumbling about anymore. "This is the last time, I promise," he says again, teeth scraping against the skin of Cas' neck, and whether he means this is the last time he'll say something cruel or the last time they'll fuck, it doesn't matter.
He's known for breaking his promises, and this one is no different.
~
They fall together one last time, onto Dean's bed in a mess of naked skin and hungry mouths. It's the first time since they started this fucked up whatever it is that Cas has come back to Dean's cabin. Dean's offered, but Cas has never come by. He's always been welcoming when Dean waltzed into his space and pushed him against the nearest surface, nothing but need, need, need on his mind, but never willing to reach back, never able to risk coming to Dean only to be turned away. Dean never would, but somewhere along the line, Cas stopped believing that.
But tonight, covered in blood that isn't theirs and new battle scars, they move against each other on top of Dean's sheets, not caring where they've been, where they are, or how little time they have left. All that matters is them, here, now.
"Dean," Cas gasps as Dean pulls away from kissing slowly down his neck to slide his shirt up his chest and over his head. There's barely any light in the room, but Dean can still see the new bruises blooming along Cas' side now that his clothes aren't in the way. He leans back down, dragging his tongue over Cas' skin, smirking when Cas lets out a hiss and digs a hand into Dean's hair.
"This is the last time," Dean says, lifting his mouth away once he reaches the bruises, and Cas laughs, the sound of it raw and familiar in the dark.
"You've said that before."
"I mean it this time."
"You've said that before, too."
And Dean's not sure what he's talking about-the sex or the bruises, but he means it this time, whether he knows it or not. This time next week, Dean will have the colt and he'll find the Devil, and shortly after, he and Cas will be dead. They won't get a chance to be together like this again, and the demons won't have time to beat him black and blue. But right now, it doesn't matter.
They move slowly against each other, Dean focused on mapping out every inch of Cas' skin with his fingers and his tongue and his teeth while their hips rock in a slow rhythm, both of them hard in their jeans. Cas' hands slide between them, trying to get both of them out of their denim trappings, but Dean makes it as difficult as he can, rolling down hard and grabbing at Cas' wrists to pin them down by his sides, until Cas lets out a sigh.
"This really will be the last time if you're going to be difficult."
"Alright, alright," Dean smiles against him, letting go of Cas' wrists and sitting up, giving Cas easy access to both of their flies. "I was just teasing."
"You can tease all you want once you've fucked me good and hard," Cas says easily, Dean's fly already undone and his jeans and boxers slid down his thighs. Dean blinks down at him as he goes for his own pants, only remembering to reach for the bedside table and find the lotion when Cas' hands stop before pulling his own boxers down, giving Dean a patient stare in the dark.
"When did you get so bossy?" Dean grunts, slicking up his cock.
Cas levels him with a curious look as he shifts his legs, opening them wide and wrapping them behind Dean's thighs, inviting and demanding all at once.
"When did you start stopping to ask questions?" Cas counters and Dean forces two fingers inside him in answer, rough and without warning, making Cas cry out and roll his head back into the sheets. Cas doesn't take long to loosen up, and soon they're moving in a hard, uneven rhythm, making Dean's bed creak and groan under Dean's almost violent thrusts, Cas' legs still wrapped around Dean's waist and fingers dragging painful scratches along his back.
Dean bleeds guilt and apologies underneath those fingers, but between the dried blood and dirt and sweat already covering him from head to toe, Cas doesn't notice.
~
"This is your cabin, you know," Cas points out in a groggy tone and Dean freezes.
He has no idea what time it is-not that it matters. They both passed out hours ago after successfully breaking two of the legs on Dean's bed and pulling out his spare cot to fall asleep in.
"Go back to sleep," Dean mumbles, searching the floor for his boots. He's half dressed already, so well practiced in slipping out while Cas is sleeping that he hadn't even thought about whose cabin they were in tonight. Now that it's been brought to his attention, he tries to figure out if he can stay with Riza or Jane for the rest of the night, but Cas is wrapping a hand around his wrist and pulling him backwards, stopping him.
"No. Dean, this is the last time I watch you walk away from me in the middle of the night," Cas says, shaking his head against the pillow. Dean flinches at the admission, thinking back on the countless times he's left Cas alone, believing that he was asleep and would wake up still too drugged out to notice whether Dean was there or not. After a minute of silence, Cas adds, "If you want to be here alone, I can go back to my cabin. But Dean, you're staying."
Dean slumps forward, reaching a hand up to run it over his face. He glances down at Cas behind him before rolling his eyes and flopping back down on the cot, kicking his socks back off. While Dean strips back down to his underwear, he feels Cas practically holding his breath beside him. He has to concentrate on finding the right words, and he has to be extra careful to make sure they come out right. He has a pretty bad track record with words coming out of his mouth a lot different than he had planned in his brain.
"You... don't have to go," Dean says slowly, and Cas finally lets out his breath with a rough laugh.
"Wow," Cas laughs again, and Dean rolls his head to the side to stare at Cas. "How long have we been fucking? And this is the first time you aren't treating me like a one-night stand. Impressive."
Dean feels guilt roll up in his throat like bile as Cas drapes an arm across his waist.
"I have pretty poor taste in men," Cas says, joking.
"Yeah, you really fucking do," Dean mutters, chest too tight. He can think of a million things he wants to say, but none of them are the right thing, so he doesn't add anything else, laying there quietly while Cas breathes slowly beside him, waiting for sleep to take them.
~
Dean doesn't sleep very well anymore. He doesn't toss and turn, but his body just keeps him awake, letting him rest for maybe an hour or two at a time before forcing him awake, making sure he's always alert, always ready for whatever's threatening them now. He jerks awake for the fourth or fifth time that night, and it's still too dark in the cabin, too early for him to get out of bed. He shifts quietly, trying not to make the cot squeak underneath them, and turns his head to see Cas' back to him. Cas is still naked, and so warm that most of the blanket they're sharing has been kicked off, covering only their feet.
"You're forgiven, you know," Cas whispers suddenly, and Dean goes very still.
He isn't sure if Cas is saying it because he knows Dean's awake, or because he hopes Dean's still asleep, and it stings. Dean remembers the one and only time he told Cas he was sorry, too long ago, not sure if Cas was listening or if he cared, and he wants to grab Cas by the arms now and shake him and tell him to take it back. He doesn't deserve it, not after everything he's dragged Cas through, but instead, Dean rolls onto his side and loops his arms around Cas' waist, pulling him as close as he can.
They kiss for the last time that night, hoping it's the first of something new.