Fic: By Some Unseen Light, 5/5
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
“What the hell, Cas?”
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel leans his bike against the porch before looking up at the source of the grumpy voice.
Dean’s hair is mussed from sleep and his Led Zeppelin tee shirt is rumpled like he rolled out of bed seconds ago. He didn’t even bother pulling on a pair of jeans over his black boxer briefs despite the chill in the air and neither does he have on any sort of footwear, leaving his pale toes to wiggle sleepily on the worn wooden steps of his porch.
The man blinks blearily at Castiel, “It’s the ass crack of dawn, what’re you doing here?”
Castiel shakes his head, pointing his chin at the two mugs in Dean’s hands, “Why would you ask when you were clearly expecting me?”
Dean ducks his head, taking a sip from his mug of black coffee and grudgingly thrusting out his other hand towards Castiel, the mug of hot chocolate steaming, no more than a few minutes old.
Castiel accepts the proffered beverage gladly and lifts it to his lips before frowning. He lowers it, “Where is my marshmallow?”
Dean shrugs, hiding a teasing grin against the rim of his mug, “Are you going to throw a tantrum?”
“Perhaps,” Castiel marches up the porch steps, ignoring Dean’s snickers as the man practically skips along behind him, very much awake now and enjoying Castiel’s frustration.
“Why didn’t you just beam into the kitchen?” Dean asks curiously as Castiel rummages through the cabinets for the bag of large marshmallows, “Or better yet, why’d you ride a bike instead of just beaming over here from your house?”
“For the same reason you insist on hiding the marshmallows,” Castiel grunts as he reaches into the very back of a particularly deep cupboard, snaking his arm around towers of canned soup for the plastic bag he can just see, “Because I felt like it.”
Dean hums with amusement and Castiel pauses in his search, “It is one of the things I grew to like as a human.”
“You were only biking like this for a couple weeks.”
“Yes, but I learned to enjoy the anticipation of reaching my goal,” Castiel finally hooks the bag of marshmallows with his fingertips, “And isn’t it good to ‘take the scenic route’?”
Dean chuckles, taking another long drink from his mug, “’Cause the scenery around here is just that pretty.”
Castiel drops the bag of marshmallows on the counter and lets his eyes trail over the unmarked expanse of Dean’s skin, “Yes. The view is very nice.”
Dean chokes on his coffee, and he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, “Jesus, don’t say things like that!”
“Why not?” Castiel cocks his head, “It’s the truth.”
“Sure, but-” Dean’s cheeks heat up tomato red. He sets his mug on the kitchen counter and scrubs a hand over his face in embarrassment as he groans, “I feel like a goddamned cradle robber.”
“Good,” Castiel smiles as he takes out a single marshmallow and splits it nearly in half, “The feeling is mutual.”
“Ha ha, Cas,” Dean says sarcastically though his eyes crinkle brightly. “At least you don’t look like a dirty old man.”
“You don’t look like a dirty old man.”
“C’mon, physically I’m about thirty years older than you,” Dean’s eyes dim as he scratches at his stubbled cheek.
Castiel fixes his marshmallow on the rim of his cup but doesn’t yet take a drink. Instead he turns to step into Dean’s space, eyes locking with surprised green, “I don’t care about your age, Dean. Never have I looked at you and seen less than the good man you are. Even when I was... not myself, I could not believe the awful rumours about you.”
Dean chews at his lip, eyes darting away, “Cas, I...”
“I will always love you, Dean Winchester; no matter the tolls of old age. Your wrinkles will only endear you to me, your thinning hair will be like spun silver in my eyes. Your incontinence-”
“Okay, okay. Stop,” Dean presses a palm hastily over Castiel’s mouth, expression mildly horrified “Don’t ever do that again. No ‘I’ll number your liver spots’ or ‘I’ll swoon for your cataracts’, we clear?”
Castiel huffs a laugh and brings Dean’s hand away from his mouth, glad to see that Dean is forgetting his fear of touch. He cups a hand to the back of Dean’s neck, thumb stroking away the man’s tension and fingers spread alongside the grey streaks in his hair, “As long as you remember what I’ve told you.”
“And if I forget?”
“I don’t believe either of us could ever truly forget,” Castiel says, and he sees that Dean believes it too.
Castiel leans in, pushing Dean back against the counter. He tugs at Dean’s hair, angling the man’s head as his eyes drift shut and the space between them slowly clos-
The toaster pops.
Dean’s arm jerks into his mug of coffee in surprise, his elbow wedging neatly into the cup. The man curses as the - fortunately - lukewarm beverage splashes over his shirt.
Castiel doesn’t flinch, though his eyes open to the clock on the wall and he sees that if he wishes to be punctual, he will have to depart shortly.
Dean also notices the time, cursing again as he leans back to grab a cloth from the kitchen backsplash, “Freaking school. Are you sure you don’t want to just teleport there, or, y’know, skip it?”
Castiel takes a large gulp from his mug of cocoa, “A ceremony is being held today in remembrance of Jake Martin.”
“Oh,” Dean pauses in his wipe down of the countertop, “The other kids... how’re they?”
“The existence of demons and such wasn’t very difficult for them to absorb given what they saw, and the trauma will take some time to overcome, but I believe they will be alright.”
“That’s good,” Dean sighs, slapping the wet cloth onto the counter as Castiel finishes up his hot chocolate, “I guess the only mess left to deal with is your parents.”
“I think Chuck has been prepared for this outcome since I was born,” Castiel shakes his head, “And though I am an angel of the Lord, Chuck is no less my father and I no less his son.”
Dean rolls his eyes, “Okay, good for you, but it’s so damn awkward with him now for exactly the reason you said. You’re his son and I’m - and he’s - oh god,” Dean throws an arm through the air, “I don’t even want to imagine ever telling your mom about this, I mean, the age difference and the - she doesn’t even know about ghosts!”
“Yes, but we will have to discuss this further at a later time. I do not want to be tardy,” Castiel sets his empty mug on the table and pops the half melted marshmallow in his mouth as he turns to exit the kitchen
“Fine then, you little nerd,” Dean calls over his shoulder, “Bye, Cas.”
Castiel sighs as he heads for the front door and his bike. There are so many matters to deal with besides the revelation to his mother of both Castiel - the angel - and his relationship with Dean.
There are worldly concerns like the few demons that remain on Earth. The only method hunters have left to use against them is trapping - a temporary solution. With Castiel here, he could help finally clear the remains of the Final Battle, but that could mean leaving Dean or putting him in danger - neither of which Castiel wants.
There are dates he wants to go on with Dean - outside - in the world the man has been sealed off from for so long. With the curse washed from his skin, Castiel wants Dean to be unafraid when people step within a foot of his space and he wants Dean to reach out more often. And there is so much to talk about - seventeen long years worth of events to share - and so much left unsaid from Before and After that he and Dean both dread and long to hear.
There is the matter of his inability to age. With Dean and his connections, learning to create new identities should be no problem and Castiel has no qualms about moving frequently to avoid suspicion, but on that inevitable day when Dean...
“Cas!”
Castiel’s gaze snaps up from his bike to find Dean standing with bare toes curling in the dirt, just a few steps away from him.
Dean’s frowning at him, hand wavering tentatively in the space between them and eyes more open than he means to be, “God, you’d think that seventeen years would be enough to teach you human customs.”
Castiel smiles, the crease disappearing from between his brows.
For all the uncertainties that lie before him and all the miles he will have to travel, there is some part of him that knows one thing, and it tells him-
“It should be obvious by now, Dean,” Castiel closes the distance between them, letting their fingers twine. “It’s never really goodbye.”