Destiel Fanfic: Appearances Can Be Deceiving Ch 11
TITLE - Appearances Can Be Deceiving
Author - angelina1210 & riotousricochet
RATING - PG
GENRE/PAIRING - M/M Castiel/Dean Winchester
SPOILERS - None
WARNINGS - Some homophobia, Emotional Cruelty
WORD COUNT - 3000 WIP
SUMMARY - Cas gets some much needed TLC.
Cas loosened his tie as he merged back onto the expressway. His boiling rage was simmering into apathetic acceptance, but he knew it would eventually cool into bitter self-loathing. It always did.
The phone calls and text messages began about half way home and he was glad his cell was trapped on the passenger side floor. The insistent buzzing made the phone dance around and out of reach and he was in no mood to listen to eloquent apologies or lamentable pleas for second chances. He wanted to wallow in the self-destructive musing of his father’s rejection. Was he really such a loathsome creature that a father’s love would be forever unattainable? Could not all his years of self-imposed abstinence in the name of church and family be enough to make them see him for more than this one flaw, this one deviation?
When he finally pulled into his own driveway he considered taking the phone inside to be destroyed via hammer. His wallet voted against the idea, but he left it on the floor as punishment anyway and trudged to the front door.
He listened to Meg make her way down the hall towards him when he closed the door behind himself.
“That was quick. What, did you get there and then just turn right arou-” She stopped mid sentence, toothbrush in hand and sighed. He was pitiful standing in the foyer - trench coat as crooked as his tie, dark hair disheveled with eyes and nose red from crying. She opened her arms and beckoned him in for a hug.
“I’m so sorry, Clarence,” she mumbled against his shoulder. She rubbed his back to soothe him, but a knocking at the front door cut her short.
Dean's heart pounded with nervous apprehension as he laid his fist down on Cas' front door in a heavy and rapid succession. The last text Cas had sent him had immediately flooded him with worry, and the fact that Cas didn't answer any of his calls pushed that worry into a full-blown dread. He had driven over to Cas' house as quickly as he could, his damnably frantic brain conjuring up a multitude of scenarios that could have warranted a message like that, each one worse that the last, and by the time he was sprinting up the walkway he was sick with anxiety.
Cas finally opened the door after Dean had been pounding on it for a goddamn eternity, but did not step back to allow Dean entry. Dean could see that Cas' eyes were puffy and red, the blue ring of his irises a shocking shade of melancholy azure and Dean immediately felt his stomach drop.
“Cas, what happened?" he asked on a panted exhale, feeling a flare of anger suddenly ignite deep in his chest at Cas' family for so obviously hurting him.
Cas kept the door open only enough for Dean to see his face, hiding behind it like a wounded animal. “It's fine, Dean. You really didn't need to come all the way over here."
"The hell it's not fine," Dean shouted and instantly dropped his voice when he saw Cas flinch back from him. "You can't just leave someone a message like this," he held his phone up between them, "and then not answer when they try to fuckin’ call you! "
The anger Dean felt toward Cas' family and at himself for pushing Cas to have dinner with them mixed fluidly with his spiking adrenaline, transferring all that aggression directly onto Cas without Dean even realizing he was doing it. He pushed into Cas' house, ignoring his adamant protest: "Dean, please, I really don't want to burden you with this. I never should have sent you that text."
Dean turned to Cas who closed the door and sagged back against it, a study in closely guarded misery, and felt a surge of overprotectiveness tighten his chest painfully. His hands balled into fists and he brought a finger up, pointing it at Cas almost accusingly. "Cas, you tell me which of your pansy ass brothers did this to you and I swear to Christ I'll make sure they never hurt you again."
“Get your shit together, dumb ass, or I’ll stick my foot so far up your ass you’ll lick my toes for a week,” Meg’s throaty voice pulled Dean’s attention long enough for him to turn her way. Her hands were balled into fists too and her feet were planted, showing she was ready to pounce. He’d seen that stance on her once before, at the Hot Wheelz car show he had hosted last July. The man she gave it to walked home with a black eye, a broken nose and a healthy respect for petite brunettes.
Dean sobered then and ran a hand down his face, turning back to Castiel. His anger gave way to guilt, but his adrenaline fueled body still shook with a need to protect.
“Alright,” he said, tossing up shaking hands, “I get it. I’ll back off, but will someone please explain to me what the fuck happened? I mean, it was just dinner.”
Meg moved to stand between Dean and Cas and placed a protective hand on her roommate’s shoulder. “Not every family is as well-adjusted as the perfect Winchesters,” she practically choked on the name. “Some are ass backwards and mean and religious and …” she trailed off.
Cas and Meg waited for her implication to sink in for Dean. He scrunched his nose in confusion and shook his head before his eyebrows shot to his hairline in understanding. “Oh my god, Cas, I sent you into the lion’s den,” he said, regret plain in his voice. “I didn’t think…”
“Yeah,” Meg jumped on his words, “you didn't think.” She tugged Cas past Dean and into the house proper sitting him down at the kitchen table. She rooted through drawers and cabinets pulling out bowls and then ice cream.
“It’s not his fault, Meg,” Cas’ voice was quiet but resigned. “It’s mine. I knew what I was getting myself into and I went anyway. I got what I asked for.”
Dean started to protest on Cas’ behalf but Meg cut him off again. “Don’t you start that,” she said, her voice stern. “Those low-life assholes treat you like garbage, but you are a better son than either of those ass kissing dickheads. Do you hear me, Castiel? You are better than any of them.”
Dean was stunned at the level of loyalty on display by Meg. He knew that she was hard core, but he was suddenly grateful that Cas had someone that fierce fighting for him. If one dinner had taken such a toll on him, what had life been like when he was a regular fixture in that family? Dean was so stupid to think one evening could fix what was so obviously broken.
He knelt down next to Cas’ chair as he had done yesterday morning. Under Meg’s heated eye, he pulled Cas’ hand into his own and kissed it reverently. “This is my fault, Cas, and don’t you take any blame. I had good intentions, but I shouldn't have pushed you. It is completely my fault. I just - I just didn’t know.”
Meg snorted and placed a bowl of ice cream and a spoon in front of Castiel. “Ice cream makes everything better, Clarence,” she announced and dropped a second bowl on the table for Dean.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean asked finally.
“‘Hi, I’m Castiel and my dad is a homophobic asshat.’” Meg dropped her voice an octave to imitate Cas, “‘wanna get it on?’ Why do you think, stupid.” She grabbed the back of Dean’s jacket and indicated the chair next to Cas.
“Enough, Meg,” Cas spoke. The ache in his jaw from unshed tears was soothed by the cold ice cream and he hummed his appreciation. “This is really just a comedy of errors. I mean, I didn’t call ahead, and I know that Father is hard, but I should have known better than to waltz right in.”
Meg opened her mouth but Dean cut her off this time.
“No one deserves any shit for being what we are, buddy. That’s just dumb.” Dean took a spoonful of ice cream and kept talking with his mouth full. “I mean, it’s not like you have a choice like some people do when they decide to be a douche. I mean, being a douche takes effort and proper planning. I know. I’m both.”
Melted vanilla dribbled down his chin as he spoke and he pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead to stave off the brainfreeze. When he finally heard Cas chuckle, he shined a bright grin his way. At least he was smiling now.
They indulged in silence for a moment before Dean asked another question, “Hey, Meg, why do you call him Clarence?”
She shrugged her shoulders as she stood from the table, empty bowl in hand. “Castiel is a mouthful isn’t it?” she asked, taking the bait. “All formal and stuffy. I mean if we’re gonna have to talk to angels, they might as well be the sweet and funny ones right?” Both Meg and Dean smiled as Cas rolled his eyes, the tension finally slipping away.
After an exaggerated stretch and yawn, Meg padded towards the hall. “I expect some major make up sex between you guys.” she called after herself. “Like serious wake the neighbors, oh-my-god-call-the-police-someone-is-dying-over-there action or he is not invited back. Do you hear me, Clarence?” Without waiting for a reply, Meg shut her bedroom door. Loudly.
Cas ducked his head down, a blush racing across his cheeks, and he finished the last bite of his ice cream, swallowing down the overly sweet, now mostly melted vanilla goop. “I really didn’t think tonight would go so badly,” he said apologetically, keeping his eyes cast down at the table.
Dean felt his heart break all over again for the hurt that Cas had experienced at the hands of his family. A sudden swell of guilt beat at him for putting Cas in a situation where he didn’t feel comfortable when he himself had shied away from Cas’ touch last night for the same exact reason. The tables had turned on Dean unknowingly and all he felt was a cavernous sense of regret gape deep in his chest.
He reached his hand out, hooking a gentle finger under Cas’ chin to bring his gaze up. “This trust thing goes both ways here. You know that right? I never want to make you do something you're uncomfortable with, Cas. Just don’t lie to me and, ya know, be honest with me next time if you don't want to do something, okay?”
Cas locked his unfathomable sapphire eyes on Dean and nodded solemnly. “Okay,” he promised. Dean felt his heart pound in his chest for moment, letting himself sink into those fascinating pools of color. He really had handled this all so badly.
“I’m so sorry I was such a dick,” Dean murmured. “I was really worried and scared, actually, but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.” Cas nodded his understanding again and sighed.
Dean ran his fingers along Cas’ cheek and offered to tuck him in for the night. That elicited another smile and they rose to clear the table and shuffle down the hall, stopping just at Meg’s door for Dean to scream obscene sexual moans at her. Cas was only able to drag him away after she threw something at the door.
“You don’t have to stay,” Cas assured Dean as he began to untie his boots.
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to,” he said simply, watching Cas ease out of his suit. A sweet wickedness crept into Dean’s eyes as he continued, “Besides, I wanna know which brother’s ass I have to kick when I eventually meet these dicks.”
"To be fair," Cas began softly, "Balthazar and Gabe have always done their best to take care of me."
Dean nodded thoughtfully, stripping down to his boxers, and he pulled the covers back on the now familiar bed and sank into his spot, gesturing for Cas to snuggle up to him. "Okay, then you're gonna have to give me a little more background on the Novak family tree so I kick the right ass," he said, chuckling.
Propped up with pillows and holding hands, Cas let the story be coaxed from him. He shared his indifference to his orientation in high school and his sudden discovery in college. Though he wanted to, the days of his young adulthood that he spent sampling as many temptations as possible were not glossed over when he told Dean of them. Even though that self-exploration had a heavy hand in shaping who he was, it was not exactly a time in his life that he was proud of. But Dean had told him to be honest with him, and so he shared them all. His stories of debauchery at turns made Dean laugh in delight and huff with jealousy.
And then Cas came to that defining moment of his past; where his father had demanded he give himself over to the church, to make amends to his family and God for his sinful nature.
The undeniable hurt in Cas’ voice when he finally spoke of seminary made Dean hug him tighter and try to kiss the memories away, but nothing could completely erase the damage that his father had done. Like an unseen fissure fracturing an outwardly strong structure's foundation under the weight of familial duty and an ingrained desire to make his father proud, it still ran so deep.
It had not been until Cas' reformation process within the church that he had slowly come to understand that he wasn't sick, that his sexuality wasn't something he could be cured of, like his father had constantly and viciously tried convincing him that he could. Abandoning his vows had been the hardest, but simultaneously most freeing, moment of Cas' life.
Dean listened for what felt like hours as the contradictions that were his precious Castiel fell into place. And when he had fallen quiet after laying bare his life, Dean began to share his own odd childhood. He had spent years as a child caring for a child, as he and little Sammy watched their father make his way through sorrow and alcohol. John’s late nights gave way to early mornings where he staggered in too drunk to get the boys ready for school. Even after he sobered, Dean still spent most of his time protecting and raising Sammy as John worked more hours than was healthy to try to clean up the mess he’d made of their finances.
But, as bad as things got in those years, Dean was so lucky that his orientation was never a problem. Not for his father or his friends. It wasn’t a problem for anyone until he met Jacob.
“I thought he was the one, ya know?” Dean asked with a self-deprecating laugh, rubbing his cheek along the top of Cas’ thick dark hair. Dean was silent for a long stretch and Cas could feel him turning over that part of his life in his head.
Cas pulled back slightly to glance up at Dean, feeling the shielded pain Dean was harboring seep into his own skin, and he brought a hand up, grazing a tender touch across the anti - possession tattoo over Dean's heart. He could see Dean's throat work as he swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, purposefully keeping his gaze from Cas' questioning eyes.
Dean opened his mouth, as if to speak, then closed it again, a tic bunching in his jaw as he clenched his teeth together. Cas clearly felt how uncomfortable Dean was and decided it best not to push the subject, trusting that Dean would tell him when, his heart whispered against an “if,” he was ready.
"Dean," he broached softly, and felt a swell of sorrow tug at his heart when Dean stiffened tellingly against him, "it's getting pretty late and we both have to be up early tomorrow. Do you mind if we talk about this later?"
Dean blew out a relieved sigh between pursed lips and nodded gratefully. He reached over and turned out the lamp, scooching them further under the covers.
“I really like you, Cas,” Dean’s hushed confession drifted to Cas.
With a thrill from the sweet words, Cas' heart thumped hard once and then dropped to his belly. He bit his chapped lips and shyly spoke his own confession back, “I really like you too, Dean.” He felt Dean’s arms tighten around him once more and then a rumble of humor rolled through his chest as Dean chuckled lightly.
“Hey, Cas?” he whispered loudly.
“Yes, Dean,” Cas replied, amusement creeping into his voice.
“Did it hurt?” With Cas’ face pressed to his chest, Dean could feel the confused expression as it took hold.
“Did what hurt?” Cas asked cautiously. Surely Dean wasn’t asking one last question about his past. He pushed himself up on an elbow to study Dean’s face in the darkness, only to find that mischievous sparkle in his emerald eyes.
“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”
The sound of Dean’s laugh echoed for just a moment before it was stifled by a pillow straight to his face.
“I seem to remember a certain someone dressed in a pretty revealing angel costume, whose pictures I still have saved in my phone," Cas declared, lining up his pillow for another hit, "And I am not above blackmail, Dean Winchester."
Dean laughed heartily at the empty threat and tugged Cas in close for a kiss. "You know you loved that costume," Dean said happily, "Just admit it."
Cas sunk into the next kiss Dean pressed to his mouth, showing Dean just how much he agreed with a deep and breathy moan.
Dean pulled back for a moment, panting out a hoarse chuckle as he rolled Cas under him. "I'll take that as a yes," he rasped, before crashing down against Cas’ lips for another taste.