Fic: You've Got The Love To See Me Through
Title: You’ve Got The Love To See Me Through
Author: immortal_lights
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: You’re good if you’ve watched up to 6x10.
Word Count: ~1400
A/N: This is the second fic written for beef_wonder3 for the spnland gift exchange. This could serve as a schmoopy sequel to The Art of Storm Riding.
Summary: Dean’s glaring at him from the bed - in a neon green turtleneck.
In a diner in Worcester, Massachusetts, Castiel threads his fingers through Dean’s as Dean rants about stupid civilians who like to play hero. Dean doesn’t acknowledge the public display of affection, but doesn’t pull his hand away either. Sam furrows his eyebrows at the act and blinks a couple of times to make sure he didn’t just imagine it. Nope, they’re still holding hands. When Sam glances at Castiel, he’s staring intently at Dean as per usual.
“-am. Sam!”
Sam snaps his attention back to Dean. “What?”
“Did you pay attention to anything I just said?”
“Uh, yeah, civilians are idiots, if only they knew what hid in the shadows, they only get in the way, yadda yadda yadda.” Sam thinks about bringing up the handholding, but lets it go. If Dean’s suddenly gotten over his fear of public intimacy, who is Sam to rain on his parade?
“Damn right they only get in the way. Also, why is Worcester pronounced like that? No one looks at that word and assumes it’s pronounced like Woo-ster. What dumbass thought it was a good idea to…"
~~~
Sam wakes up in the backseat of the Impala to the sound of someone singing about bad romances, his cheek plastered against the window and the scenery flying by. Sam peels his face away from the glass and blinks owlishly at the car deck as it belts out Lady Gaga. Sam’s not sure if he’s still dreaming. Castiel is sitting in the passenger’s seat, fingers tapping along with the beat. Dean is driving with a pop song on the radio and not complaining about it.
“Uh, is the cassette player broken?”
“No.” Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel.
“Okay.” Sam doesn’t say anything for a minute, letting the dance-pop music fill the car.
“So you’re a fan now?”
“No.” Dean’s knuckles are practically white.
“Oh.” A minute passes. “Uh, why are you playing Lady Gaga then?”
“Cas likes her,” Dean says tersely. Sam quirks an eyebrow and turns to Castiel, who
shrugs.
“I find her music enjoyable.”
“I thought the rule was ‘Driver picks the music’.”
“Yeah? Well, new rule. Little bitch in the backseat shuts his cakehole,” Dean says, glaring into the rearview mirror.
“Right.” Sam sits back and closes his eyes. “Wake me up when we get to Dunmore.”
~~~
“I’ll have a Chicken Caesar Salad,” Sam says, handing the menu to the waitress.
“What about you, sweetheart?” the waitress asks Dean.
“Uh, I’ll have the same,” Dean replies. Sam narrows his eyes in suspicion.
As the waitress walks away, Sam says, “What? No double bacon cheeseburger with extra onions?”
“Oh, you know, gotta start treating my body right. Only got one life and all that,” Dean says without looking Sam in the eye.
Sam surreptitiously reaches into his jacket pocket.
“Put down the holy water, you asshole,” Dean snaps. Sam lets his hand stay in his pocket.
“Seriously. What’s going on?”
“Castiel doesn’t think I eat right,” Dean grumbles.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, he’s all,” Dean schools his features into a serious, solemn face. “‘Dean, I am
concerned for your health.’”
Sam smirks. “Aw, that’s so sweet of him.”
“Fuck off. This salad better rock my world.”
~~~
When Sam shoulders open the motel room door and sees someone in a neon green sweater inside, he says, “Shit, sorry, wrong room.”
Sam jerks the door closed and checks the room number on the door. He frowns before
cracking the door open again and peering inside. Dean’s glaring at him from the bed - in a neon green turtleneck. Sam stares back at him for a moment before shutting the door. When Dean jerks the door open, Sam is leaning against the wall, doubled over in laughter. Dean grabs the lapel of Sam’s jacket and yanks him back inside, probably before anyone can see him in that neon travesty.
“So, are glow-in-the-dark sweaters in now?” Sam asks, laughter still rich in his voice.
“Bite me,” Dean mutters. “Castiel didn’t think I had an appropriate attire for cold weather. So he got me this.”
“Who said chivalry was dead?” Sam grins.
“Fuck it,” Dean says crossly, jerking the sweater over his head and off his arms. He
bundles it up into a ball and tosses it in the garbage can.
“Hey, I-” Sam calls, pulling a crestfallen face as Dean slams the door to the bathroom. “-was just kidding around.”
~~~
In Athens, Ohio, Dean and Sam find themselves hiding in the closet of a stranger’s house without holy water or Ruby’s knife as three demons tear the rooms apart looking for them and croon about the taste of their blood.
“Now might be a good time to call Castiel,” Sam whispers as he leans against the door to listen for any approaching footsteps.
“We don’t need him,” Dean says venomously. Sam shoots him a bewildered look.
“What do you mean? We need him,” Sam snaps back urgently.
“I just- I don’t need him to make sure I eat right or dress in the right clothes. I don’t need his warm hands or his stupid sincere face. I don’t need him and he doesn’t need me.”
“Oh my god, we’re going to die because of your lovers’ spat,” Sam moans.
“Shut the fuck up! We’re not gonna die. And it’s not a lovers’ spat.”
Sam grabs Dean’s shoulder and shakes him hard. “Are you kidding me? Of course you need him! Do I have to knock some sense into you? You don’t hold hands because you’re cold. You don’t listen to pop music because it’s good for your health. You don’t say you don’t need him because you don’t actually need him, but because you do.”
Dean stares at Sam, stunned. Suddenly the door wrenches open and two hands shoot out to yank the brothers out of the closet and onto the floor. Two demons are instantly holding Dean’s arms and legs to the floor while one straddles Sam’s waist. He can’t move his arms or legs even though they’re free, so he’s guessing this is the head honcho.
“Gotcha. I’m going to have so much fun tearing you apart,” the demon says, grinning
down at him before he starts pummeling his fists into Sam’s face.
Through the onslaught of flesh pounding flesh, Sam hears Dean scream, “Cas! I need you!”
~~~
Sam wakes up to the sound of murmuring voices and a soft bed beneath his body. His face also doesn’t feel like boulders fell on it. It doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together and realize that Castiel saved and healed him and transported him back to the motel room. Along with Dean, obviously, since they’re whispering to the right of him.
“-wanted something, fuck, normal. I mean, I deserve nice things, too, right?” Dean’s saying, voice surprisingly vulnerable.
“Yes, Dean. Of all people, you do,” Castiel replies softly. Sam decides to keep his eyes closed and his body still. He has a feeling it’d be awkward to announce that he was awake at the moment.
“And, I thought, I don’t know what I fucking thought. You left for weeks after the first time we fucked and I didn’t know what to think, okay?”
“You know-“
Dean interrupts, voice slightly irritated, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Civil war in heaven. I just wanted to make it good for you. This…thing. Maybe I thought you wouldn’t leave for fucking weeks if I made you happier. I don’t fucking know.”
Castiel is silent for a moment. Dean sighs and says, “Yeah, I know. I’m fucked in the head.”
“Dean, you have no weakness and no flaws. You only have characteristics which make you who you are and who I love.”
“I- I-” Sam has no doubt that Dean is stunned into silence. He knows what Dean wants to say, but despite all Dean’s actions in the past few days, Sam knows it’s too much to ask for this.
“It’s all right. You must be tired. You should sleep.” Then there is silence, which probably means that Castiel knocked Dean out with his mojo. Sam figures it’s for the best.
Sam decides this is as good a time as any to sit up. When he looks over to Dean’s bed, he sees both Dean and Castiel curled up on it. Dean is sound asleep, lying with his back against Castiel’s chest. Castiel has his chin tucked into Dean’s neck and his arms wrapped around Dean’s waist. Castiel looks up at the sound of Sam’s bed creaking and mouths, hey.
“Are you guys okay?” Sam whispers.
Castiel smiles. “Yes, we’re okay.”
Author: immortal_lights
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: You’re good if you’ve watched up to 6x10.
Word Count: ~1400
A/N: This is the second fic written for beef_wonder3 for the spnland gift exchange. This could serve as a schmoopy sequel to The Art of Storm Riding.
Summary: Dean’s glaring at him from the bed - in a neon green turtleneck.
In a diner in Worcester, Massachusetts, Castiel threads his fingers through Dean’s as Dean rants about stupid civilians who like to play hero. Dean doesn’t acknowledge the public display of affection, but doesn’t pull his hand away either. Sam furrows his eyebrows at the act and blinks a couple of times to make sure he didn’t just imagine it. Nope, they’re still holding hands. When Sam glances at Castiel, he’s staring intently at Dean as per usual.
“-am. Sam!”
Sam snaps his attention back to Dean. “What?”
“Did you pay attention to anything I just said?”
“Uh, yeah, civilians are idiots, if only they knew what hid in the shadows, they only get in the way, yadda yadda yadda.” Sam thinks about bringing up the handholding, but lets it go. If Dean’s suddenly gotten over his fear of public intimacy, who is Sam to rain on his parade?
“Damn right they only get in the way. Also, why is Worcester pronounced like that? No one looks at that word and assumes it’s pronounced like Woo-ster. What dumbass thought it was a good idea to…"
~~~
Sam wakes up in the backseat of the Impala to the sound of someone singing about bad romances, his cheek plastered against the window and the scenery flying by. Sam peels his face away from the glass and blinks owlishly at the car deck as it belts out Lady Gaga. Sam’s not sure if he’s still dreaming. Castiel is sitting in the passenger’s seat, fingers tapping along with the beat. Dean is driving with a pop song on the radio and not complaining about it.
“Uh, is the cassette player broken?”
“No.” Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel.
“Okay.” Sam doesn’t say anything for a minute, letting the dance-pop music fill the car.
“So you’re a fan now?”
“No.” Dean’s knuckles are practically white.
“Oh.” A minute passes. “Uh, why are you playing Lady Gaga then?”
“Cas likes her,” Dean says tersely. Sam quirks an eyebrow and turns to Castiel, who
shrugs.
“I find her music enjoyable.”
“I thought the rule was ‘Driver picks the music’.”
“Yeah? Well, new rule. Little bitch in the backseat shuts his cakehole,” Dean says, glaring into the rearview mirror.
“Right.” Sam sits back and closes his eyes. “Wake me up when we get to Dunmore.”
~~~
“I’ll have a Chicken Caesar Salad,” Sam says, handing the menu to the waitress.
“What about you, sweetheart?” the waitress asks Dean.
“Uh, I’ll have the same,” Dean replies. Sam narrows his eyes in suspicion.
As the waitress walks away, Sam says, “What? No double bacon cheeseburger with extra onions?”
“Oh, you know, gotta start treating my body right. Only got one life and all that,” Dean says without looking Sam in the eye.
Sam surreptitiously reaches into his jacket pocket.
“Put down the holy water, you asshole,” Dean snaps. Sam lets his hand stay in his pocket.
“Seriously. What’s going on?”
“Castiel doesn’t think I eat right,” Dean grumbles.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, he’s all,” Dean schools his features into a serious, solemn face. “‘Dean, I am
concerned for your health.’”
Sam smirks. “Aw, that’s so sweet of him.”
“Fuck off. This salad better rock my world.”
~~~
When Sam shoulders open the motel room door and sees someone in a neon green sweater inside, he says, “Shit, sorry, wrong room.”
Sam jerks the door closed and checks the room number on the door. He frowns before
cracking the door open again and peering inside. Dean’s glaring at him from the bed - in a neon green turtleneck. Sam stares back at him for a moment before shutting the door. When Dean jerks the door open, Sam is leaning against the wall, doubled over in laughter. Dean grabs the lapel of Sam’s jacket and yanks him back inside, probably before anyone can see him in that neon travesty.
“So, are glow-in-the-dark sweaters in now?” Sam asks, laughter still rich in his voice.
“Bite me,” Dean mutters. “Castiel didn’t think I had an appropriate attire for cold weather. So he got me this.”
“Who said chivalry was dead?” Sam grins.
“Fuck it,” Dean says crossly, jerking the sweater over his head and off his arms. He
bundles it up into a ball and tosses it in the garbage can.
“Hey, I-” Sam calls, pulling a crestfallen face as Dean slams the door to the bathroom. “-was just kidding around.”
~~~
In Athens, Ohio, Dean and Sam find themselves hiding in the closet of a stranger’s house without holy water or Ruby’s knife as three demons tear the rooms apart looking for them and croon about the taste of their blood.
“Now might be a good time to call Castiel,” Sam whispers as he leans against the door to listen for any approaching footsteps.
“We don’t need him,” Dean says venomously. Sam shoots him a bewildered look.
“What do you mean? We need him,” Sam snaps back urgently.
“I just- I don’t need him to make sure I eat right or dress in the right clothes. I don’t need his warm hands or his stupid sincere face. I don’t need him and he doesn’t need me.”
“Oh my god, we’re going to die because of your lovers’ spat,” Sam moans.
“Shut the fuck up! We’re not gonna die. And it’s not a lovers’ spat.”
Sam grabs Dean’s shoulder and shakes him hard. “Are you kidding me? Of course you need him! Do I have to knock some sense into you? You don’t hold hands because you’re cold. You don’t listen to pop music because it’s good for your health. You don’t say you don’t need him because you don’t actually need him, but because you do.”
Dean stares at Sam, stunned. Suddenly the door wrenches open and two hands shoot out to yank the brothers out of the closet and onto the floor. Two demons are instantly holding Dean’s arms and legs to the floor while one straddles Sam’s waist. He can’t move his arms or legs even though they’re free, so he’s guessing this is the head honcho.
“Gotcha. I’m going to have so much fun tearing you apart,” the demon says, grinning
down at him before he starts pummeling his fists into Sam’s face.
Through the onslaught of flesh pounding flesh, Sam hears Dean scream, “Cas! I need you!”
~~~
Sam wakes up to the sound of murmuring voices and a soft bed beneath his body. His face also doesn’t feel like boulders fell on it. It doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together and realize that Castiel saved and healed him and transported him back to the motel room. Along with Dean, obviously, since they’re whispering to the right of him.
“-wanted something, fuck, normal. I mean, I deserve nice things, too, right?” Dean’s saying, voice surprisingly vulnerable.
“Yes, Dean. Of all people, you do,” Castiel replies softly. Sam decides to keep his eyes closed and his body still. He has a feeling it’d be awkward to announce that he was awake at the moment.
“And, I thought, I don’t know what I fucking thought. You left for weeks after the first time we fucked and I didn’t know what to think, okay?”
“You know-“
Dean interrupts, voice slightly irritated, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Civil war in heaven. I just wanted to make it good for you. This…thing. Maybe I thought you wouldn’t leave for fucking weeks if I made you happier. I don’t fucking know.”
Castiel is silent for a moment. Dean sighs and says, “Yeah, I know. I’m fucked in the head.”
“Dean, you have no weakness and no flaws. You only have characteristics which make you who you are and who I love.”
“I- I-” Sam has no doubt that Dean is stunned into silence. He knows what Dean wants to say, but despite all Dean’s actions in the past few days, Sam knows it’s too much to ask for this.
“It’s all right. You must be tired. You should sleep.” Then there is silence, which probably means that Castiel knocked Dean out with his mojo. Sam figures it’s for the best.
Sam decides this is as good a time as any to sit up. When he looks over to Dean’s bed, he sees both Dean and Castiel curled up on it. Dean is sound asleep, lying with his back against Castiel’s chest. Castiel has his chin tucked into Dean’s neck and his arms wrapped around Dean’s waist. Castiel looks up at the sound of Sam’s bed creaking and mouths, hey.
“Are you guys okay?” Sam whispers.
Castiel smiles. “Yes, we’re okay.”