Fic: The Subtle Art of Getting There (Supernatural, Dean/Castiel)
Title: The Subtle Art of Getting There
Author: thinlizzy2
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/characters: Dean/Castiel, Past Dean/Lisa
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Neither the show nor the characters belong to me.
Prompt: Dean/Castiel, Dean's identity is so wrapped up in being a ladies man, the only way he can handle that all he wants to do when he gets back to the motel is take off Cas' tie and do filthy things to him with it is if no one ever finds out.
Summary: It's all pretty much in the prompt!
Warnings: Internalized homophobia, character death
Author's Notes: Thanks so much to misachan for the the prompt and the beta reading.
It would be fine, Dean told himself. So long as absolutely no one knew, it would be fine.
The one thing he had always genuinely liked about himself was that he was damn well irresistible to the ladies. He was Dean Winchester, scourge of busty blondes and leggy brunettes and even the occasional spunky redhead. Sure, he didn’t have a whole lot else going for him. His current address was the front seat of his car, his retirement plan involved croaking before the need for Medicare kicked in and his friends all had a nasty habit of dying in unpleasant ways that could possibly attributed to just knowing him. But women liked him and he liked them back and that had always been a glimmer of silver around the edges of the constant storm clouds. He had no desire to change that.
So it doesn’t matter that lately all he could think about was slipping Castiel’s tie from around his neck and using it to secure him to the nearest convenient bedpost. Or that his pulse sped up so much every time the angel appeared that just talking to him probably counted as a cardio workout. It was totally unimportant that he got distracted by exactly what Castiel’s cock might taste like at times when he really should have been focusing on demons or werewolves or just not crashing his car.
Sure, it was strange. And, if he was going to be totally honest with himself, kind of scary. But strange and scary stuff was his stock in trade, and compared to the whole fighting, dying and resurrecting cycle he and Sam both seemed to be stuck in, a weird crush on a weird angel inhabiting a weirdly hot male body really shouldn’t have fazed him too much.
It did. But no one knew about it. So it would be fine.
*
Okay, so Cas knew. But that was fine.
More than fine, really.
Castiel was only one person, and not really a person at that. More importantly, he was an expert when it came to keeping things secret. And the payoffs, after all, were fucking fantastic.
He’d been fairly freaked out when Cas had turned up during a particularly imaginative seven-way with Rosie Palm and her five sisters - more so when the angel glared at him and remarked that Dean’s masturbatory fantasies were making it extremely hard for him to concentrate on getting any work done. He hadn’t been sure what to say to that; was it a situation where he should apologize or something? It hadn’t seemed to matter, though. Not when Cas closed the distance between them, sank to his knees and showed Dean the limits of human imagination.
“Sorry to say it, dude,” Dean had remarked once the sun had dipped below the horizon, when the sheets were a sweaty tangle all around them and he’d finally got enough of his breath back to form words with. “But if your goal here was to stop me from thinking about banging you, you’ve gone about it all the wrong way.”
This way, your fantasies will be more realistic.” Castiel’s stubble had scratched Dean’s chin when he leaned in for a kiss and the hunter knew that might leave a mark, but he had been too sated to care at the time. “I loathe inaccuracies.”
So it would seem. And the reality kicked the fantasy’s ass so thoroughly that Dean managed to spend a lot of their time together thinking about all his happy-penis-feelings and not worrying overly much about the fact that the person creating those feelings had a penis of his own.
Until the day when Sam had come back unexpectedly early, tossed the takeout pizza on the table and casually asked the two of them if he was interrupting something. They hadn’t been doing anything; they’d both been fully clothed and entirely vertical. So just what his brother’s deal was Dean didn’t know. And then Bobby had snarked about honeymooners when Dean agreed to accompany Cas to Bethlehem, PA in search of a sacred amulet that, in retrospect, Dean was pretty sure the angel had known wasn’t there. Finally, there was the way that motel clerk, the one with the comb-over that consisted of a total of four straggly hairs and a lot of self-delusion, had smirked when Dean asked for one king-sized bed before he realized Castiel wasn’t waiting in the parking lot but standing right behind him.
Dean stalked to their room with his eyes on the ground and his face burning with embarrassment. Castiel followed, wearing the dumbfounded expression he often got when humans were behaving bizarrely and he had no idea why.
“Is something upsetting you?” Cas asked, as soon as the door shut behind them.
How was he supposed to explain that every joke, every off-color comment, even every sideways glance just meant more now. Stupid stuff he never would have even noticed in the past was suddenly important now, because if anyone took it seriously and looked a bit closer they would see that Dean was-
That Dean was having sex with a guy and he liked it and he wanted to keep doing it. He didn’t know what would happen after this hypothetical person made that particular discovery, but he didn’t want to find out.
“Look, Cas,” he explained. “What happens between us is private, okay? It’s no one’s business but ours.” He swallowed hard. “You’ve haven’t told anyone, right?”
Castiel shook his head reassuringly. “Of course not. I’m fighting a war, Dean. If this became common knowledge it would increase the danger to you. Also…”
“Also?”
Castiel’s smile didn’t look remotely happy, but he was able to meet Dean’s eyes. “I have told no one about our relationship.”
Our relationship. Dean had never used those words to describe himself and Castiel, not even in his head. It was weird to hear them spoken out loud. He could have objected, but the sentiment was kind of sweet and he’d found out what he wanted to know.
“That’s all fine then.” He checked the lock on the door and closed the blinds. “So, you want to see if we can salvage some of this night?”
**
Lisa knew. Dean didn’t tell her, but somehow she knew.
Even though he knew it was stupid, he still drove for hours when he got her frantic call. By the time he got there Ben was coming out of surgery, appendix-free and doing fine. The crisis was over but the awkward conversation had just begun.
“He’ll be fine, Lise.” Dean rubbed a hand across his scratchy eyes. “You heard what the surgeons said. It’s pretty much a routine procedure these days.”
“I know.” She looked absolutely shattered. “He was just in so much pain. I shouldn’t have called you; I just panicked. I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” Dean wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Lisa still felt good there; she was warm and soft and a good fit, despite her exhausted state. “If something’s going on with Ben, I want to know about it. I care about that kid; I always will. You did the right thing.” He couldn’t resist asking though. “But wouldn’t Dr. Third Date have been better help?”
“Who? Oh, him.” Lisa waved her hand dismissively. “It didn’t work out; you know how it goes.”
Dean wasn’t sure what he should have felt in that moment, but it was pity that swept over him. “Sorry to hear it.”
“Yeah, well,” Lisa stifled a yawn. “It was never serious.”
“You’re wiped,” Dean pointed out. “Ben’s going to be under for a few more hours. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep. You can visit him tomorrow.”
She nodded. “How about you? Can you stick around until the morning? Ben would love to see you.”
“Sure.” Dean wanted to see Ben too. “I’ll get a room somewhere and meet you back here at nine. How does that sound?”
“You could stay at my place.” Lisa looked him right in the eye. He'd always liked that about her, the way she didn’t blush about sex. “I wouldn’t mind some company tonight.”
It was tempting. He and Lisa always had killer chemistry and it would be nice to have a happier ending to their saga than the mess that was their last parting. But as he looked at her, it was like the ghost of someone else was shimmering between them. Dean didn’t need or want to look too closely to know whose it was.
He wasn’t going to sleep with Lisa. He just wasn’t.
“Thanks, Lisa. I mean it - really - thanks. But I’m about to fall over; I think I’d do better on my own tonight.”
She studied his face carefully. “There’s someone else.” He could never fool her.
“Sort of.”
“Someone special.” It wasn’t a question.
“We’ve… we’ve been through a lot together. We’re kind of involved in each other’s worlds.” He stretched his arms up over his head. “It’s really complicated; I don’t even know what it is, but… I think it would be better for everyone if I got a room.”
She nodded. “Let me treat you to breakfast after we see Ben, all right?”
Dean nodded and headed for the car. He’d passed a Motel 6 near the highway; they would probably have a couple of vacancies. He silently ran through the things he wanted to do: check in with Sam, take a shower, grab a couple of beers and pick up some kind of get well gift for Ben. His head was all filled up with his list and pressing need for sleep so, thankfully, he missed Lisa’s wistful whisper as the door swung shut behind him.
“He’s a lucky angel.”
***
Dean honestly didn’t give a shit that the angels knew. It was fine. Angels, as a general rule, were assholes and he didn’t care what they thought of him. The only exception to that who he’d ever encountered was the one very agitated angel who was currently pacing around in front of him.
“You don’t understand, Dean,” Castiel said, for what had to be the tenth time that night.
“What’s to understand?” Dean was actually pretty damn proud of how he was managing to not freak out. Would it murder Cas to learn from his example? “They wanted to kill you over the whole apocalypse-that-wasn’t deal anyhow. So they know we’re messing around, and they want to kill you a little bit more. They’re still not going to get to do it.” Not if Dean had anything to say about it.
“It’s different,” Castiel hissed. “When I rebelled, my brothers understood I was acting from the strength of my convictions. They didn’t like it but they did respect it. Now? With a human, Dean? Most of my garrison will see it as one step removed from copulating with an ape. They’ll call me a degenerate; they’ll turn my name into a filthy joke. I no longer mind being hunted but I do not want to be laughed at!”
The implied insult hit Dean like a slap to the face. “It didn’t seem to bother Gabriel. And Balthazar doesn’t worry about it.”
Castiel scoffed. “Would you prefer to share your bed with Balthazar? I assure you I can arrange that if you wish.”
Dean definitely would not prefer that. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“I would suggest you take your own advice.”
“Excuse me? How am I being an asshole? You’re the one having a shit-fit because you’re ashamed that we fuck.”
“As are you.”
Dean wondered if there was some other conversation happening alongside this one that he was unaware of. “Where the hell are you getting this shit from? Did I or did I not just tell you I don’t care if the angels know about us?”
“Yes, fine,” Castiel snarled. “You don’t care about the angels. How do you feel about absolutely everyone else?”
And just like that, Dean realized he’d backed himself into a corner. “Cas, don’t.”
“What was the first thing you did when I arrived here, Dean? Do you remember? I do. You locked the door and closed the curtains. Without fail, every single time I visit you, you do the same thing. First and foremost, you guard your secrets and I have accepted that. But my secrets are no longer my own.” Cas didn’t sound angry anymore; he just sounded tired. His eyes met Dean in an appeal for understanding. “Can you not comprehend why that upsets me?”
Dean felt his own anger evaporate. “Yeah. Yeah, I can. Shit, Cas.” He led the angel over to the bed. “Is there anything I can do?”
Castiel allowed Dean to sit him down and pull him close. “Have you recently acquired the ability to erase angelic memories?”
Dean snorted. “Not as far as I know. I could give it a shot though, if you want.”
He felt Castiel’s head shake against his shoulder. “Dean… I’m not embarrassed because of you.” He pulled back and looked Dean in the eye. “What we do, what we share… I’m not certain what it is but I’m not ashamed of it. Quite the opposite. There are times when it feels like the most honest, the most sincere thing I have ever done. The thought of Raphael and his ilk mocking and deriding it - that’s what upsets me. I’m sorry if, in my frustration, I allowed you to believe otherwise.”
Dean swallowed hard. “I’m not ashamed of you either.”
“It’s fine if you are,” Castiel assured him. “I understand the human social conventions regarding same-sex relationships. I decided, when I chose to begin this, that it would be a mistake to expect too much of you.”
Something hot and painful spread in Dean’s chest. “It really isn't you, Cas. You’re… you’re amazing. And all that stuff you said about this, about it being honest and real and all that? Well, it’s the same for me. But I’m freaked out about what people would say and what it all means. I don’t want to be, but I am.” He drew a deep breath. “I’m ashamed of how I can’t deal with this and of what a coward I’m being. I’m ashamed of me.”
“You should not speak of yourself that way.”
“Hey, call a spade a spade, right?”
“No.” Castiel’s hand closed over Dean’s in a hold that was almost painful. “It hurts me to hear you say these things, because I happen to be very much in love with you. So please desist.”
It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. “Cas…”
“You don’t need to say it back. In fact, I would prefer if you didn’t; it would feel as if you were speaking out of obligation. But I wanted to say it; I feel better now that I have.”
Dean pressed a kiss to the angel’s temple, wondering when this had got so damned complicated. “Stay here tonight, okay?”
Castiel shook his head. “I don’t feel it would be… I’m not angry at you, Dean, but I don’t want to have sex tonight. Too much has happened.
“So we won’t have sex.” Dean kicked off his shoes and lay back on the mattress, silently willing Cas to copy his example. “Stay anyway.”
It felt like it took an eternity before Castiel finally nodded, turned off the lamp and settled across the blanket. Dean groped for his hand in the darkness; the clasp that returned his own was fierce.
****
Sam knew. He'd probably suspected for a very long time, but now he knew everything. Dean made sure of that.
In the sickening, whiskey-scented haze that filled up one of the worst nights of Dean’s life, he told Sam everything he could remember, even the most minute details, sometimes going back to correct himself or add something he’d forgotten. Sam was Dean’s brother and his best friend; he cared about Dean and he loved him. He deserved to be able to understand just what Dean had lost.
And Dean deserved to be able to tell him.
So he sat in the driver’s seat of his parked car, the headlights illuminating the scorched darkness in the shape of angel wings that would confuse the morning commuters once the sun rose, and clutched the dirty trench-coat he’d retrieved from the embers while his story tumbled out of him.
“The first time, I nearly punched him. I was so fucking scared. And then I saw how he was shaking; he was scared too. I don’t know why that made it easier, but it did.”
“He was the least romantic person I’ve ever met. This one time, after the angels found out and he was worrying about that, I got some wine and lit a bunch of candles before I called him. Figured I’d make him feel better, right? And he just materialized in the middle of the room, looked at me like I’d gone crazy and said, ‘Dean, are you aware I can see perfectly well in the dark?’”
“It drove me nuts that he didn’t sleep. This is going to sound corny, but you know how it is when you watch someone sleep. How they look all relaxed and sweet and how it’s cool that they trust you enough to let you see them like that. So once, I asked him to fake it - pretend to sleep so I could watch him. He sucked at it - just lay there with his eyes all scrunched up tight like I was the babysitter checking up on him.”
“I’m going to find the son of bitch that did this and I’m going to rip him apart. And if you want to help me that’s great, but I get the actual kill. And don’t ask me how I’m going to do it because I don’t know, but I’ll find a way. If it’s the last fucking thing I do I’ll find a way.”
“I never even told him I loved him, you know that? He said it to me something like a dozen times but I never even said it once. And I don’t even know why. Because I did. I loved him like crazy, Sam, and now he’s gone. Raphael or one of those other bastards got a hold of him and I’m never going to get to tell him, and-“
He couldn’t speak anymore. He buried his face in the coat and shook with impotent rage. Sam’s arms, strong and safe and helpless, came up around him.
*****
The whole damn world knew. Or at least everyone within gawking vicinity.
And Dean didn’t give a shit.
All that mattered was that Cas was there, standing right in front of him, trench-coat missing but otherwise seemingly unharmed.
It was like the universe had decided to make up for all the crap it had dropped on Dean Winchester’s head in one giant gesture, and if that was the case, Dean was just completely fine with that.
He ran through the crowd of Sunday shoppers without even noticing them and didn’t stop until he reached the angel. Wonderingly, he put both hands on Castiel’s face. There was the familiar feel of stubble underneath his palms and the marvelous scent of rain and frost and something he could only identify as Cas which he’d missed so damn much. And there were those blue eyes that he thought he’d never see again, regarding him with relief and joy that matched his own.
“I don’t care how,” he whispered, his lips brushing against Castiel’s forehead, nose and cheeks and cheeks as he mapped out the angel’s face with his mouth, learning it all over again. “I couldn't care less how it happened - all that matters is that you’re back.”
“That’s probably for the best.” The words were the faintest whisper of breath on Dean’s skin, a delicious contrast to the strength of Castiel’s arms wrapped around him. “Because I don’t have any idea how it's possible. But nonetheless, I’m here. With you.”
Dean heard Sam approaching from behind, his voice rich with laughter as he apologized to the people whose purchases Dean had trampled in his dash towards Castiel. It reminded him that there were other people there; strangers were watching their reunion. Good for them, he figured. Life, as a general rule, was short on genuine happiness. It would be healthy for people to get to see some of it.
“Damn right you’re with me. And you’re going to stay here, do you understand that? You can fight any heavenly wars you need to fight with me right by your side. Because I’m not losing you again, Cas. I mean it.”
He was prepared to fight for that if need be, but Castiel just nodded and hummed his agreement into Dean’s neck. “We’ll find a way.”
“Better believe we will. Fuck, Cas…” Dean pressed their lips together; the taste of the angel’s mouth finally convinced him that this was real.
Castiel laughed out an objection, even as he clutched at Dean’s back. “Dean… there are people here. Everyone is watching us.”
“I know.” Dean kissed him again. “I know. It’s fine.”
Author: thinlizzy2
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/characters: Dean/Castiel, Past Dean/Lisa
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Neither the show nor the characters belong to me.
Prompt: Dean/Castiel, Dean's identity is so wrapped up in being a ladies man, the only way he can handle that all he wants to do when he gets back to the motel is take off Cas' tie and do filthy things to him with it is if no one ever finds out.
Summary: It's all pretty much in the prompt!
Warnings: Internalized homophobia, character death
Author's Notes: Thanks so much to misachan for the the prompt and the beta reading.
It would be fine, Dean told himself. So long as absolutely no one knew, it would be fine.
The one thing he had always genuinely liked about himself was that he was damn well irresistible to the ladies. He was Dean Winchester, scourge of busty blondes and leggy brunettes and even the occasional spunky redhead. Sure, he didn’t have a whole lot else going for him. His current address was the front seat of his car, his retirement plan involved croaking before the need for Medicare kicked in and his friends all had a nasty habit of dying in unpleasant ways that could possibly attributed to just knowing him. But women liked him and he liked them back and that had always been a glimmer of silver around the edges of the constant storm clouds. He had no desire to change that.
So it doesn’t matter that lately all he could think about was slipping Castiel’s tie from around his neck and using it to secure him to the nearest convenient bedpost. Or that his pulse sped up so much every time the angel appeared that just talking to him probably counted as a cardio workout. It was totally unimportant that he got distracted by exactly what Castiel’s cock might taste like at times when he really should have been focusing on demons or werewolves or just not crashing his car.
Sure, it was strange. And, if he was going to be totally honest with himself, kind of scary. But strange and scary stuff was his stock in trade, and compared to the whole fighting, dying and resurrecting cycle he and Sam both seemed to be stuck in, a weird crush on a weird angel inhabiting a weirdly hot male body really shouldn’t have fazed him too much.
It did. But no one knew about it. So it would be fine.
*
Okay, so Cas knew. But that was fine.
More than fine, really.
Castiel was only one person, and not really a person at that. More importantly, he was an expert when it came to keeping things secret. And the payoffs, after all, were fucking fantastic.
He’d been fairly freaked out when Cas had turned up during a particularly imaginative seven-way with Rosie Palm and her five sisters - more so when the angel glared at him and remarked that Dean’s masturbatory fantasies were making it extremely hard for him to concentrate on getting any work done. He hadn’t been sure what to say to that; was it a situation where he should apologize or something? It hadn’t seemed to matter, though. Not when Cas closed the distance between them, sank to his knees and showed Dean the limits of human imagination.
“Sorry to say it, dude,” Dean had remarked once the sun had dipped below the horizon, when the sheets were a sweaty tangle all around them and he’d finally got enough of his breath back to form words with. “But if your goal here was to stop me from thinking about banging you, you’ve gone about it all the wrong way.”
This way, your fantasies will be more realistic.” Castiel’s stubble had scratched Dean’s chin when he leaned in for a kiss and the hunter knew that might leave a mark, but he had been too sated to care at the time. “I loathe inaccuracies.”
So it would seem. And the reality kicked the fantasy’s ass so thoroughly that Dean managed to spend a lot of their time together thinking about all his happy-penis-feelings and not worrying overly much about the fact that the person creating those feelings had a penis of his own.
Until the day when Sam had come back unexpectedly early, tossed the takeout pizza on the table and casually asked the two of them if he was interrupting something. They hadn’t been doing anything; they’d both been fully clothed and entirely vertical. So just what his brother’s deal was Dean didn’t know. And then Bobby had snarked about honeymooners when Dean agreed to accompany Cas to Bethlehem, PA in search of a sacred amulet that, in retrospect, Dean was pretty sure the angel had known wasn’t there. Finally, there was the way that motel clerk, the one with the comb-over that consisted of a total of four straggly hairs and a lot of self-delusion, had smirked when Dean asked for one king-sized bed before he realized Castiel wasn’t waiting in the parking lot but standing right behind him.
Dean stalked to their room with his eyes on the ground and his face burning with embarrassment. Castiel followed, wearing the dumbfounded expression he often got when humans were behaving bizarrely and he had no idea why.
“Is something upsetting you?” Cas asked, as soon as the door shut behind them.
How was he supposed to explain that every joke, every off-color comment, even every sideways glance just meant more now. Stupid stuff he never would have even noticed in the past was suddenly important now, because if anyone took it seriously and looked a bit closer they would see that Dean was-
That Dean was having sex with a guy and he liked it and he wanted to keep doing it. He didn’t know what would happen after this hypothetical person made that particular discovery, but he didn’t want to find out.
“Look, Cas,” he explained. “What happens between us is private, okay? It’s no one’s business but ours.” He swallowed hard. “You’ve haven’t told anyone, right?”
Castiel shook his head reassuringly. “Of course not. I’m fighting a war, Dean. If this became common knowledge it would increase the danger to you. Also…”
“Also?”
Castiel’s smile didn’t look remotely happy, but he was able to meet Dean’s eyes. “I have told no one about our relationship.”
Our relationship. Dean had never used those words to describe himself and Castiel, not even in his head. It was weird to hear them spoken out loud. He could have objected, but the sentiment was kind of sweet and he’d found out what he wanted to know.
“That’s all fine then.” He checked the lock on the door and closed the blinds. “So, you want to see if we can salvage some of this night?”
**
Lisa knew. Dean didn’t tell her, but somehow she knew.
Even though he knew it was stupid, he still drove for hours when he got her frantic call. By the time he got there Ben was coming out of surgery, appendix-free and doing fine. The crisis was over but the awkward conversation had just begun.
“He’ll be fine, Lise.” Dean rubbed a hand across his scratchy eyes. “You heard what the surgeons said. It’s pretty much a routine procedure these days.”
“I know.” She looked absolutely shattered. “He was just in so much pain. I shouldn’t have called you; I just panicked. I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” Dean wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Lisa still felt good there; she was warm and soft and a good fit, despite her exhausted state. “If something’s going on with Ben, I want to know about it. I care about that kid; I always will. You did the right thing.” He couldn’t resist asking though. “But wouldn’t Dr. Third Date have been better help?”
“Who? Oh, him.” Lisa waved her hand dismissively. “It didn’t work out; you know how it goes.”
Dean wasn’t sure what he should have felt in that moment, but it was pity that swept over him. “Sorry to hear it.”
“Yeah, well,” Lisa stifled a yawn. “It was never serious.”
“You’re wiped,” Dean pointed out. “Ben’s going to be under for a few more hours. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep. You can visit him tomorrow.”
She nodded. “How about you? Can you stick around until the morning? Ben would love to see you.”
“Sure.” Dean wanted to see Ben too. “I’ll get a room somewhere and meet you back here at nine. How does that sound?”
“You could stay at my place.” Lisa looked him right in the eye. He'd always liked that about her, the way she didn’t blush about sex. “I wouldn’t mind some company tonight.”
It was tempting. He and Lisa always had killer chemistry and it would be nice to have a happier ending to their saga than the mess that was their last parting. But as he looked at her, it was like the ghost of someone else was shimmering between them. Dean didn’t need or want to look too closely to know whose it was.
He wasn’t going to sleep with Lisa. He just wasn’t.
“Thanks, Lisa. I mean it - really - thanks. But I’m about to fall over; I think I’d do better on my own tonight.”
She studied his face carefully. “There’s someone else.” He could never fool her.
“Sort of.”
“Someone special.” It wasn’t a question.
“We’ve… we’ve been through a lot together. We’re kind of involved in each other’s worlds.” He stretched his arms up over his head. “It’s really complicated; I don’t even know what it is, but… I think it would be better for everyone if I got a room.”
She nodded. “Let me treat you to breakfast after we see Ben, all right?”
Dean nodded and headed for the car. He’d passed a Motel 6 near the highway; they would probably have a couple of vacancies. He silently ran through the things he wanted to do: check in with Sam, take a shower, grab a couple of beers and pick up some kind of get well gift for Ben. His head was all filled up with his list and pressing need for sleep so, thankfully, he missed Lisa’s wistful whisper as the door swung shut behind him.
“He’s a lucky angel.”
***
Dean honestly didn’t give a shit that the angels knew. It was fine. Angels, as a general rule, were assholes and he didn’t care what they thought of him. The only exception to that who he’d ever encountered was the one very agitated angel who was currently pacing around in front of him.
“You don’t understand, Dean,” Castiel said, for what had to be the tenth time that night.
“What’s to understand?” Dean was actually pretty damn proud of how he was managing to not freak out. Would it murder Cas to learn from his example? “They wanted to kill you over the whole apocalypse-that-wasn’t deal anyhow. So they know we’re messing around, and they want to kill you a little bit more. They’re still not going to get to do it.” Not if Dean had anything to say about it.
“It’s different,” Castiel hissed. “When I rebelled, my brothers understood I was acting from the strength of my convictions. They didn’t like it but they did respect it. Now? With a human, Dean? Most of my garrison will see it as one step removed from copulating with an ape. They’ll call me a degenerate; they’ll turn my name into a filthy joke. I no longer mind being hunted but I do not want to be laughed at!”
The implied insult hit Dean like a slap to the face. “It didn’t seem to bother Gabriel. And Balthazar doesn’t worry about it.”
Castiel scoffed. “Would you prefer to share your bed with Balthazar? I assure you I can arrange that if you wish.”
Dean definitely would not prefer that. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“I would suggest you take your own advice.”
“Excuse me? How am I being an asshole? You’re the one having a shit-fit because you’re ashamed that we fuck.”
“As are you.”
Dean wondered if there was some other conversation happening alongside this one that he was unaware of. “Where the hell are you getting this shit from? Did I or did I not just tell you I don’t care if the angels know about us?”
“Yes, fine,” Castiel snarled. “You don’t care about the angels. How do you feel about absolutely everyone else?”
And just like that, Dean realized he’d backed himself into a corner. “Cas, don’t.”
“What was the first thing you did when I arrived here, Dean? Do you remember? I do. You locked the door and closed the curtains. Without fail, every single time I visit you, you do the same thing. First and foremost, you guard your secrets and I have accepted that. But my secrets are no longer my own.” Cas didn’t sound angry anymore; he just sounded tired. His eyes met Dean in an appeal for understanding. “Can you not comprehend why that upsets me?”
Dean felt his own anger evaporate. “Yeah. Yeah, I can. Shit, Cas.” He led the angel over to the bed. “Is there anything I can do?”
Castiel allowed Dean to sit him down and pull him close. “Have you recently acquired the ability to erase angelic memories?”
Dean snorted. “Not as far as I know. I could give it a shot though, if you want.”
He felt Castiel’s head shake against his shoulder. “Dean… I’m not embarrassed because of you.” He pulled back and looked Dean in the eye. “What we do, what we share… I’m not certain what it is but I’m not ashamed of it. Quite the opposite. There are times when it feels like the most honest, the most sincere thing I have ever done. The thought of Raphael and his ilk mocking and deriding it - that’s what upsets me. I’m sorry if, in my frustration, I allowed you to believe otherwise.”
Dean swallowed hard. “I’m not ashamed of you either.”
“It’s fine if you are,” Castiel assured him. “I understand the human social conventions regarding same-sex relationships. I decided, when I chose to begin this, that it would be a mistake to expect too much of you.”
Something hot and painful spread in Dean’s chest. “It really isn't you, Cas. You’re… you’re amazing. And all that stuff you said about this, about it being honest and real and all that? Well, it’s the same for me. But I’m freaked out about what people would say and what it all means. I don’t want to be, but I am.” He drew a deep breath. “I’m ashamed of how I can’t deal with this and of what a coward I’m being. I’m ashamed of me.”
“You should not speak of yourself that way.”
“Hey, call a spade a spade, right?”
“No.” Castiel’s hand closed over Dean’s in a hold that was almost painful. “It hurts me to hear you say these things, because I happen to be very much in love with you. So please desist.”
It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. “Cas…”
“You don’t need to say it back. In fact, I would prefer if you didn’t; it would feel as if you were speaking out of obligation. But I wanted to say it; I feel better now that I have.”
Dean pressed a kiss to the angel’s temple, wondering when this had got so damned complicated. “Stay here tonight, okay?”
Castiel shook his head. “I don’t feel it would be… I’m not angry at you, Dean, but I don’t want to have sex tonight. Too much has happened.
“So we won’t have sex.” Dean kicked off his shoes and lay back on the mattress, silently willing Cas to copy his example. “Stay anyway.”
It felt like it took an eternity before Castiel finally nodded, turned off the lamp and settled across the blanket. Dean groped for his hand in the darkness; the clasp that returned his own was fierce.
****
Sam knew. He'd probably suspected for a very long time, but now he knew everything. Dean made sure of that.
In the sickening, whiskey-scented haze that filled up one of the worst nights of Dean’s life, he told Sam everything he could remember, even the most minute details, sometimes going back to correct himself or add something he’d forgotten. Sam was Dean’s brother and his best friend; he cared about Dean and he loved him. He deserved to be able to understand just what Dean had lost.
And Dean deserved to be able to tell him.
So he sat in the driver’s seat of his parked car, the headlights illuminating the scorched darkness in the shape of angel wings that would confuse the morning commuters once the sun rose, and clutched the dirty trench-coat he’d retrieved from the embers while his story tumbled out of him.
“The first time, I nearly punched him. I was so fucking scared. And then I saw how he was shaking; he was scared too. I don’t know why that made it easier, but it did.”
“He was the least romantic person I’ve ever met. This one time, after the angels found out and he was worrying about that, I got some wine and lit a bunch of candles before I called him. Figured I’d make him feel better, right? And he just materialized in the middle of the room, looked at me like I’d gone crazy and said, ‘Dean, are you aware I can see perfectly well in the dark?’”
“It drove me nuts that he didn’t sleep. This is going to sound corny, but you know how it is when you watch someone sleep. How they look all relaxed and sweet and how it’s cool that they trust you enough to let you see them like that. So once, I asked him to fake it - pretend to sleep so I could watch him. He sucked at it - just lay there with his eyes all scrunched up tight like I was the babysitter checking up on him.”
“I’m going to find the son of bitch that did this and I’m going to rip him apart. And if you want to help me that’s great, but I get the actual kill. And don’t ask me how I’m going to do it because I don’t know, but I’ll find a way. If it’s the last fucking thing I do I’ll find a way.”
“I never even told him I loved him, you know that? He said it to me something like a dozen times but I never even said it once. And I don’t even know why. Because I did. I loved him like crazy, Sam, and now he’s gone. Raphael or one of those other bastards got a hold of him and I’m never going to get to tell him, and-“
He couldn’t speak anymore. He buried his face in the coat and shook with impotent rage. Sam’s arms, strong and safe and helpless, came up around him.
*****
The whole damn world knew. Or at least everyone within gawking vicinity.
And Dean didn’t give a shit.
All that mattered was that Cas was there, standing right in front of him, trench-coat missing but otherwise seemingly unharmed.
It was like the universe had decided to make up for all the crap it had dropped on Dean Winchester’s head in one giant gesture, and if that was the case, Dean was just completely fine with that.
He ran through the crowd of Sunday shoppers without even noticing them and didn’t stop until he reached the angel. Wonderingly, he put both hands on Castiel’s face. There was the familiar feel of stubble underneath his palms and the marvelous scent of rain and frost and something he could only identify as Cas which he’d missed so damn much. And there were those blue eyes that he thought he’d never see again, regarding him with relief and joy that matched his own.
“I don’t care how,” he whispered, his lips brushing against Castiel’s forehead, nose and cheeks and cheeks as he mapped out the angel’s face with his mouth, learning it all over again. “I couldn't care less how it happened - all that matters is that you’re back.”
“That’s probably for the best.” The words were the faintest whisper of breath on Dean’s skin, a delicious contrast to the strength of Castiel’s arms wrapped around him. “Because I don’t have any idea how it's possible. But nonetheless, I’m here. With you.”
Dean heard Sam approaching from behind, his voice rich with laughter as he apologized to the people whose purchases Dean had trampled in his dash towards Castiel. It reminded him that there were other people there; strangers were watching their reunion. Good for them, he figured. Life, as a general rule, was short on genuine happiness. It would be healthy for people to get to see some of it.
“Damn right you’re with me. And you’re going to stay here, do you understand that? You can fight any heavenly wars you need to fight with me right by your side. Because I’m not losing you again, Cas. I mean it.”
He was prepared to fight for that if need be, but Castiel just nodded and hummed his agreement into Dean’s neck. “We’ll find a way.”
“Better believe we will. Fuck, Cas…” Dean pressed their lips together; the taste of the angel’s mouth finally convinced him that this was real.
Castiel laughed out an objection, even as he clutched at Dean’s back. “Dean… there are people here. Everyone is watching us.”
“I know.” Dean kissed him again. “I know. It’s fine.”