Close Call
Title: Close Call
Author: xephwrites
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: 613
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: set in episode 5.13
Summary: Dean holds vigil by Castiel after they come back from 1978
Warnings: angst, near-death situation, boykissing
Notes: for my kissbingo square "other : near death". Again with the angst! Cause I couldn't resist, and it was the only situation that I could think of that would fit this!
~*~*~*~*~*~
Castiel was an idiot. A stupid, reckless renegade angelic idiot. For two days, Dean has sat beside the motel bed, waiting for him to be something other than comatose.
He did the right thing, teleporting them through time, helping to prevent Anna from killing their mother. But still. Castiel was a fucking idiot.
His Grace is waning, as Castiel is constantly reminding them. One day, he will burn out completely, and Dean doesn’t know what will happen then. Will he end up like the Cas in the future he saw? A drug addled sex crazed shell? Or worse?
Dean rested his head on his balled up hands.
He can’t loose him. He won’t.
“Don’t you die on me, you asshole,” Dean said into his hands. His eyes burned lightly from fighting his tears.
He straightened up and wiped his face when he heard Sam come back into the room.
“Anything yet?” Sam asked, setting take out containers on the table.
“Self sacrificing asshole hasn’t moved,” Dean grumbled. Sam gave a short laugh. “And it’s not fucking funny!”
“I know, Dean,” Sam said. “But it’s not often I see you reaming out someone for doing the exact same thing you’ve done your whole life.”
Dean ignored Sam and continued to watch the steady rise and fall of Castiel’s chest. Sam stayed out of Dean’s way and ate his dinner.
Castiel made a strange wheezing noise and his chest stopped moving.
“Dammit,” Dean cursed, jumping up off his chair. “He’s not breathing!”
Sam knocked over his chair and ran to the other side of the bed. Dean checked his pulse. It was still there but faint.
Dean tilted Castiel’s head back and cradled it. He pinched the angel’s nose and sealed his mouth over Castiel’s. He breathed into the mouth. He turned his head to the side, watching for the fall of the chest.
“Come on,” Dean whispered, sealing his mouth over Castiel’s and breathing in again. “Don’t you fucking do this to me!” Dean repeated the action.
Castiel coughed a mouthful of blood, and Dean rolled Castiel onto his side. The angel coughed another bit of blood, and his ragged breathing resumed.
Dean slumped back into the chair, breathing deep, trying to bring his heart rate down. Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed. Sam returned to his dinner, not saying anything.
Dean leaned forward and wiped the blood and saliva off Castiel’s chin with some tissue. Castiel’s forehead was a little clammy.
Sam left quietly a little later. As soon as the door shut, Dean took one of Castiel’s hands in both of his.
“Cas, I…” Dean started. “I need you.” Dean kissed the angel’s limp hand. “Cas…I love you,” Dean whispered and pressed his forehead to the angel’s hand.
He said it. It’s taken him this damned long, but he finally said it.
Five hours later, Castiel’s eyes fluttered open. Dean was still holding his hand. Dean squeezed it and gave the knuckles a kiss.
“Thank God,” Dean whispered. Castiel’s bleary eyes found Dean. He gave a weak smile.
“How long have I been out,” Castiel croaked.
“About three days,” Dean said, smoothing the dark hair off the angel’s sweaty forehead. Castiel sighed and tried to move. “Take it easy there,” Dean said, helping Castiel sit up.
“I hope I didn’t alarm you,” Castiel said, taking a sip of the water Dean handed him.
“Nah,” Dean said. “I knew you’d pull through.” Castiel stared at Dean. The intense blue stare made him feel guilty for lying.
“You were terrified,” Castiel said. Dean nodded.
“Don’t you ever, ever put yourself at risk like that again,” Dean said. “Ever.”
Castiel only nodded.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Comments and feedback welcomed!
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Author: xephwrites
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: 613
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: set in episode 5.13
Summary: Dean holds vigil by Castiel after they come back from 1978
Warnings: angst, near-death situation, boykissing
Notes: for my kissbingo square "other : near death". Again with the angst! Cause I couldn't resist, and it was the only situation that I could think of that would fit this!
~*~*~*~*~*~
Castiel was an idiot. A stupid, reckless renegade angelic idiot. For two days, Dean has sat beside the motel bed, waiting for him to be something other than comatose.
He did the right thing, teleporting them through time, helping to prevent Anna from killing their mother. But still. Castiel was a fucking idiot.
His Grace is waning, as Castiel is constantly reminding them. One day, he will burn out completely, and Dean doesn’t know what will happen then. Will he end up like the Cas in the future he saw? A drug addled sex crazed shell? Or worse?
Dean rested his head on his balled up hands.
He can’t loose him. He won’t.
“Don’t you die on me, you asshole,” Dean said into his hands. His eyes burned lightly from fighting his tears.
He straightened up and wiped his face when he heard Sam come back into the room.
“Anything yet?” Sam asked, setting take out containers on the table.
“Self sacrificing asshole hasn’t moved,” Dean grumbled. Sam gave a short laugh. “And it’s not fucking funny!”
“I know, Dean,” Sam said. “But it’s not often I see you reaming out someone for doing the exact same thing you’ve done your whole life.”
Dean ignored Sam and continued to watch the steady rise and fall of Castiel’s chest. Sam stayed out of Dean’s way and ate his dinner.
Castiel made a strange wheezing noise and his chest stopped moving.
“Dammit,” Dean cursed, jumping up off his chair. “He’s not breathing!”
Sam knocked over his chair and ran to the other side of the bed. Dean checked his pulse. It was still there but faint.
Dean tilted Castiel’s head back and cradled it. He pinched the angel’s nose and sealed his mouth over Castiel’s. He breathed into the mouth. He turned his head to the side, watching for the fall of the chest.
“Come on,” Dean whispered, sealing his mouth over Castiel’s and breathing in again. “Don’t you fucking do this to me!” Dean repeated the action.
Castiel coughed a mouthful of blood, and Dean rolled Castiel onto his side. The angel coughed another bit of blood, and his ragged breathing resumed.
Dean slumped back into the chair, breathing deep, trying to bring his heart rate down. Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed. Sam returned to his dinner, not saying anything.
Dean leaned forward and wiped the blood and saliva off Castiel’s chin with some tissue. Castiel’s forehead was a little clammy.
Sam left quietly a little later. As soon as the door shut, Dean took one of Castiel’s hands in both of his.
“Cas, I…” Dean started. “I need you.” Dean kissed the angel’s limp hand. “Cas…I love you,” Dean whispered and pressed his forehead to the angel’s hand.
He said it. It’s taken him this damned long, but he finally said it.
Five hours later, Castiel’s eyes fluttered open. Dean was still holding his hand. Dean squeezed it and gave the knuckles a kiss.
“Thank God,” Dean whispered. Castiel’s bleary eyes found Dean. He gave a weak smile.
“How long have I been out,” Castiel croaked.
“About three days,” Dean said, smoothing the dark hair off the angel’s sweaty forehead. Castiel sighed and tried to move. “Take it easy there,” Dean said, helping Castiel sit up.
“I hope I didn’t alarm you,” Castiel said, taking a sip of the water Dean handed him.
“Nah,” Dean said. “I knew you’d pull through.” Castiel stared at Dean. The intense blue stare made him feel guilty for lying.
“You were terrified,” Castiel said. Dean nodded.
“Don’t you ever, ever put yourself at risk like that again,” Dean said. “Ever.”
Castiel only nodded.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Comments and feedback welcomed!
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