SPN Fic: If You Really Want to Know Devotion
Title: If You Really Want to Know Devotion
Genre: Slash (Dean/Castiel)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through S4
Warnings: None that I can think of
Summary: Castiel asks Dean what he wants.
Notes: I thought about it more and this is what I came up with. It's sort of my pre-S5 take on Dean/Castiel? I would thank kadiel_krieger for her awesome and speedy beta, but she laughed at me all day while I was writing this, so I'm not gonna!
***
The first time Castiel asks him, it catches Dean off guard.
"What do you want?"
He is dealing with the end of the world, a broken little brother and a possibly fallen angel who seems somewhat akin to a stray puppy at the moment. And he would like to know what Dean wants. Dean scrubs a hand over his face and says honestly, "I wouldn't mind a little sleep."
"I will watch over you," Castiel says.
Before Dean can snort and explain that it’s not quite that simple, he feels the cool, dry press of Castiel's fingers against his forehead and the world goes black.
***
Dean is sitting on the dock fishing when Sammy runs up, barreling into his side and nearly knocking the pole out of his hands.
"Dean! You hafta come play with us!"
He turns to find Dad standing on the grass, idly tossing a football into the air and smiling. Looks back down at the top of Sammy's head. His hair’s getting too long again. "Why’s that, buddy?"
Sam clings to Dean's arm, swings to the side and tilts his head, scrunching his nose. "I need someone on my side. Dad's too good. You'll be on my side, right, Dean?"
There's a weird lump in his throat when Dean answers, "Always." He looks back at the lake wistfully and sighs before packing up his gear. Clearly, he's not going to get any fishing done this trip.
Dad's team is no match for Sam and Dean's powers combined, though honestly, Dean's pretty sure he throws the game. He demonstrates his poor losing skills by fake-punching Dean's shoulder and then picking Sam up by the middle, swinging him around until Sam is laughing so hard that Dean's worried he'll throw up.
Later, they sit around the campfire, toasting marshmallows. Sam's is in the fire, forgotten as he sleeps, his head resting against Dean's leg. "He needs a haircut," Dean says, ruffling Sam's hair a little. Sam doesn't even twitch. He's out.
"I'll take him somewhere when we get home." Dad's concentration is on his s’more.
"I can do it."
Dad looks up at that, bemused. "If you really want to… It's not your job, you know."
"Yeah, I-" Dean stops, stares down at the top of Sam's head and suddenly feels like his whole heart is wrapped up in the scrawny, innocent kid at his feet. Like he would do anything to keep him safe. Like he goddamn birthed him or some shit like that. "I know," he finally says.
The expression on Dad's face hovers somewhere near concerned, and he finally says, "Might be time for bed?"
"Yeah. Might be." Dean nudges Sam and says, "Bedtime." He ends up half-carrying him to the tent anyway.
"Hey, Dean," Sam says, still mostly asleep. "Don't let the bears get us, kay?"
"They wouldn't dare mess with me." Dean's boast is ignored. Sam is already gone again. So he crawls into his own sleeping bag and settles in for the night.
***
It takes too long for the pleasant sleep-stupor to wear off, for Dean to remember everything. When he does, Castiel is standing there, his expression maddeningly inscrutable.
"What the hell did you do?" Dean's voice is low and tight with anger.
Castiel's eyes narrow and he tilts his head in confusion. "Dean-"
"No. Don't." Dean cuts him off. "You do not get to mess with my mind. If this is going to work, if you're going to be here. Just. Don't."
It is much later when Castiel approaches him again. Says quietly, "I only took away the nightmares. I did not intend offense."
Dean has to take a few deep breaths before he can trust himself to answer. Still has to look away when he does. "At least with the nightmares, waking up to this." He waves his hand. "It didn't seem so bad by comparison."
Castiel is quiet for so long that Dean thinks maybe he left. Then he says, "That did not occur to me. I apologize."
The bitch of it is, Dean knows he means it. "No, Cas. Don't-It's good to have the nightmares gone. Even for a night." His attempt at a smile falls a little short. "It was a good dream."
***
The second time he asks, it's because of Jimmy.
"He is gone."
Dread curls up Dean's spine at that word. He liked Jimmy. "What do you mean, gone?"
Castiel seems perplexed. "He was released from his mortal coil. He was granted his peace when I reclaimed this vessel."
Dean shakes his head. "I heard what you said. That he would have to stay."
"It is enough that he was willing to make that sacrifice." Castiel’s expression is, on someone else, Dean would say tender. "That kind of love, the love of a parent for a child. The love your father had for you, that you have for Sam. It is as close to divine love as humans can achieve."
"You don’t think it's just a tad bit selfish?" Dean asks through clenched teeth. The despair he felt at the thought of living without Sam flashing through him, reminding him of why he made his particular deal.
"Of course," Castiel says and then looks away. "This does not detract from the sacrifice."
"The hell it doesn't," Dean begs to differ. "Because Dad and I both ended up in hell."
Castiel actually looks startled for a moment. "The difference is that Jimmy had faith."
"Yeah?" Dean actually wants to punch Castiel, but knows how futile that particular action is. "Sammy had faith, believed in you. In your God. What does he have to show for it?"
"You."
That one word takes all the wind out of Dean's sails and he stands there gaping.
"What do you want, Dean?" Castiel asks like he really wants to know.
"It doesn't matter," Dean finally says and Castiel looks disappointed.
"Someday you will realize you're the only one who believes that."
***
The third time he asks, it occurs to Dean to return the question.
"Are you-I mean, have you?" Dean sighs. The cowardly part of him doesn’t want to know the answer. Doesn’t want to deal with the consequences.
"Fallen?" Castiel finishes the question for him. "It's... complicated."
"How so?" Something in Dean's chest eases at the fact that he didn’t just say yes.
"I retain my grace but I am out of favor. It is not unexpected."
"But they haven't tried to punish you." Dean insists on pressing. "Why?" What he’s really asking is, When is the other shoe going to drop?
Castiel isn't looking at him, his gaze is focused somewhere over Dean's shoulder. "Despite our efforts, things unfolded the way they hoped. I am still here because I am still useful."
"Meaning?"
"They know that I will do, of my own choosing, what they would order me to do." Castiel is looking at Dean now. "They know I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Perhaps more so because of my choosing than if they had ordered it." This time when the question comes, Dean is expecting it. "What do you want?"
"I want to know what you want," he says. He can't imagine that it's this.
Castiel seems to consider it for a moment. "I want you to be at peace." It's an honest answer and nowhere near the full truth.
It's unexpectedly painful. It pisses Dean off.
Pisses him off because it hasn’t occurred to Castiel to want something for himself. This hits too close and it's easier to be mad on Castiel's behalf than his own.
Painful, in that maybe it doesn’t hit close enough. What Dean wants is for Sam to be safe, which is both honest and not completely true. He hates those parts of himself that want the things he can't have. Those ugly, selfish things that he knows better than to wish for. That he doesn't allow himself to think about.
Those things that Castiel seems intent on prying from his mind.
"I want." He has to force the words out, even as he hates himself for saying them. "I want to know who I am independent of Sam. I want to know without having to give him up." He might as well ask for the moon and the stars while he's at it.
It's startling, beyond what it should be, when Castiel reaches out and places his hand on Dean's chest, over his heart. They don't do this. They don't touch. He is staring at his hand like he's as surprised as Dean is. Finally says, "I would that I had the power to show you what you are, Dean."
"Yeah? What’s that?" Dean can't quite hide the rough edge of his voice.
Castiel looks up to meet Dean’s gaze. He pins him down, seemingly without effort, and refuses to let Dean look away. "Extraordinary."
And that's just so typical. Castiel is like a bludgeon of unrelenting honesty and there isn’t one part of Dean that's not left raw and bleeding from it.
It's too much and Dean has to step back, from Castiel's touch, from the look in his eyes. He turns and walks away without another word.
Castiel doesn’t follow.
***
The fourth time, he doesn't have to ask.
Another day is over and they can count it as a win because everybody is in one piece. Physically, anyway. Emotionally, Dean is so shredded that he's not even sure he makes up a whole person anymore, if he ever did.
Castiel is there, offering everything and Dean wonders how much of it is conscious. Wonders how long he can refrain from taking what's laid open to him, regardless of the consequences. Regardless of what it might do to them both.
Dean has come to rely on Castiel in a way that he's never allowed himself to rely on anyone before. He trusts him on a level that he never trusted Dad or Sam. Certainly not himself. And it's scary. Sickeningly so, because Dean never chose for that to happen. He just sort of let it. Let Castiel seep inside him like a balm, winding around the tattered pieces of his soul until Dean finds himself believing that he might not be beyond repair. Castiel has him believing all sorts of things in his unguarded moments, which are happening more and more often.
What Dean tries to ask is if there is anything that would make him leave. He can’t because he’s afraid. Not that the answer will be yes, but of how much he wants it to be no.
Hope beats in his chest, furious and stupid like a wild, caged bird. Dean is as certain as he can be of Castiel’s feelings. Castiel has never tried to hide them from him. He is equally as certain that Castiel has absolutely no context for them, has no real idea of what they mean. And Dean wants…
Dean wants.
The question is clear in Castiel's expression, but remains unasked as Dean approaches him, grabs the back of his neck and pulls him closer. He stops short at the last possible moment, when they're so close that they're breathing the same air, and presses his forehead against Castiel's, his eyes sliding shut. Unable to just take.
So he answers like the question was spoken out loud. "For you to want this like I do."
"Dean." Castiel's hand slides warm against his cheek.
Dean leaves before he can say anything else. Before Castiel can decide to give him everything he’s asking for without a second thought.
***
The last time he asks is the first time Dean really stops to think about the question.
It is one of those sanctuary moments, little pockets of time that Castiel ekes out in the universe for them. For Dean. One of the million impossible things he does on a regular basis that Dean will never be able to repay.
"Dean. What do you want?" He sounds almost exasperated in a way that might be funny under different circumstances. Then again, maybe not.
Because Dean does think about it. As honest as he can be with himself as he sifts through all the things he never wants to say out loud. All of the things about him that Castiel already knows.
"I want something that is just. Mine." He can only manage a half-truth, even now. Because part of him is still trying to hide, as if that was ever a possibility.
"Yet, you refuse to accept it." Castiel steps into his personal space. It isn't necessary. He is already so much a part of Dean in ways that Dean would never have guessed possible. Not when-
"I can't," he whispers. Pleads. "I can't take advantage..."
"You can't take advantage of what is freely given, Dean."
Dean shakes his head and steps back, away from the body heat and offered comfort that every part of him craves. "Jesus, Cas. Don't you get it? I want you. I want you to belong to me." And there it is. The wave of possessiveness that he's never let himself to feel for anyone else.
Not for Mom, because she was gone too soon. Not for Dad, who would never allow it. Not for Sam because. Because Dean had belonged to Sam from day one. From the first time he ever held him in his arms. It was never a decision. It just was.
Now Dean seems to think he can go and claim himself a pet angel. A pet angel who seems strangely okay with the whole thing. "The question is, what do you want?" Dean finally asks.
"For you to realize that I have belonged to you for quite some time now." He says it like other people would say, "For it to stop raining."
It can't be that easy. "I don't have anything left to give you." Dean raises his hands to cup the sides of Castiel's face as Castiel once again closes the distance between them, helpless to resist.
"I do not have anything to ask for," Castiel murmurs. "I do not require your soul of you."
Dean can feel the hot press of tears against his eyelids. He bends to brush a kiss against Castiel's mouth to see if it can be that easy. If he can take something so freely and knowingly offered.
Castiel's lips part, hot beneath his and the kiss is suddenly deep and heady, endless comfort, love, joy and hope flowing through him and every defense he ever thought he had crumbles under the onslaught.
He keeps his eyes closed when he pulls back. Takes a deep breath and lets out a shuddering laugh. Can't help but ask, "What do you get out of this?" Dean's made too many deals, bargains, promises. There has to be a catch.
"My faith."
"In God?"
"In you."
Someday, Dean thinks, they're going to have a conversation about blandly stating such weighty truths. "And that's enough?" It is asking too much and nothing of him at the same time.
"Yes," Castiel says.
"On top of stopping the Apocalypse and saving the world, of course."
"Of course," Castiel says. He may even be smiling. "But that is for everyone."
Some hidden tightness in Dean eases and he laughs. Actually laughs for the first time in awhile and considers the possibility that he might actually pull this off. "Yeah," he says finally. "Yeah, okay."
Genre: Slash (Dean/Castiel)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through S4
Warnings: None that I can think of
Summary: Castiel asks Dean what he wants.
Notes: I thought about it more and this is what I came up with. It's sort of my pre-S5 take on Dean/Castiel? I would thank kadiel_krieger for her awesome and speedy beta, but she laughed at me all day while I was writing this, so I'm not gonna!
***
The first time Castiel asks him, it catches Dean off guard.
"What do you want?"
He is dealing with the end of the world, a broken little brother and a possibly fallen angel who seems somewhat akin to a stray puppy at the moment. And he would like to know what Dean wants. Dean scrubs a hand over his face and says honestly, "I wouldn't mind a little sleep."
"I will watch over you," Castiel says.
Before Dean can snort and explain that it’s not quite that simple, he feels the cool, dry press of Castiel's fingers against his forehead and the world goes black.
***
Dean is sitting on the dock fishing when Sammy runs up, barreling into his side and nearly knocking the pole out of his hands.
"Dean! You hafta come play with us!"
He turns to find Dad standing on the grass, idly tossing a football into the air and smiling. Looks back down at the top of Sammy's head. His hair’s getting too long again. "Why’s that, buddy?"
Sam clings to Dean's arm, swings to the side and tilts his head, scrunching his nose. "I need someone on my side. Dad's too good. You'll be on my side, right, Dean?"
There's a weird lump in his throat when Dean answers, "Always." He looks back at the lake wistfully and sighs before packing up his gear. Clearly, he's not going to get any fishing done this trip.
Dad's team is no match for Sam and Dean's powers combined, though honestly, Dean's pretty sure he throws the game. He demonstrates his poor losing skills by fake-punching Dean's shoulder and then picking Sam up by the middle, swinging him around until Sam is laughing so hard that Dean's worried he'll throw up.
Later, they sit around the campfire, toasting marshmallows. Sam's is in the fire, forgotten as he sleeps, his head resting against Dean's leg. "He needs a haircut," Dean says, ruffling Sam's hair a little. Sam doesn't even twitch. He's out.
"I'll take him somewhere when we get home." Dad's concentration is on his s’more.
"I can do it."
Dad looks up at that, bemused. "If you really want to… It's not your job, you know."
"Yeah, I-" Dean stops, stares down at the top of Sam's head and suddenly feels like his whole heart is wrapped up in the scrawny, innocent kid at his feet. Like he would do anything to keep him safe. Like he goddamn birthed him or some shit like that. "I know," he finally says.
The expression on Dad's face hovers somewhere near concerned, and he finally says, "Might be time for bed?"
"Yeah. Might be." Dean nudges Sam and says, "Bedtime." He ends up half-carrying him to the tent anyway.
"Hey, Dean," Sam says, still mostly asleep. "Don't let the bears get us, kay?"
"They wouldn't dare mess with me." Dean's boast is ignored. Sam is already gone again. So he crawls into his own sleeping bag and settles in for the night.
***
It takes too long for the pleasant sleep-stupor to wear off, for Dean to remember everything. When he does, Castiel is standing there, his expression maddeningly inscrutable.
"What the hell did you do?" Dean's voice is low and tight with anger.
Castiel's eyes narrow and he tilts his head in confusion. "Dean-"
"No. Don't." Dean cuts him off. "You do not get to mess with my mind. If this is going to work, if you're going to be here. Just. Don't."
It is much later when Castiel approaches him again. Says quietly, "I only took away the nightmares. I did not intend offense."
Dean has to take a few deep breaths before he can trust himself to answer. Still has to look away when he does. "At least with the nightmares, waking up to this." He waves his hand. "It didn't seem so bad by comparison."
Castiel is quiet for so long that Dean thinks maybe he left. Then he says, "That did not occur to me. I apologize."
The bitch of it is, Dean knows he means it. "No, Cas. Don't-It's good to have the nightmares gone. Even for a night." His attempt at a smile falls a little short. "It was a good dream."
***
The second time he asks, it's because of Jimmy.
"He is gone."
Dread curls up Dean's spine at that word. He liked Jimmy. "What do you mean, gone?"
Castiel seems perplexed. "He was released from his mortal coil. He was granted his peace when I reclaimed this vessel."
Dean shakes his head. "I heard what you said. That he would have to stay."
"It is enough that he was willing to make that sacrifice." Castiel’s expression is, on someone else, Dean would say tender. "That kind of love, the love of a parent for a child. The love your father had for you, that you have for Sam. It is as close to divine love as humans can achieve."
"You don’t think it's just a tad bit selfish?" Dean asks through clenched teeth. The despair he felt at the thought of living without Sam flashing through him, reminding him of why he made his particular deal.
"Of course," Castiel says and then looks away. "This does not detract from the sacrifice."
"The hell it doesn't," Dean begs to differ. "Because Dad and I both ended up in hell."
Castiel actually looks startled for a moment. "The difference is that Jimmy had faith."
"Yeah?" Dean actually wants to punch Castiel, but knows how futile that particular action is. "Sammy had faith, believed in you. In your God. What does he have to show for it?"
"You."
That one word takes all the wind out of Dean's sails and he stands there gaping.
"What do you want, Dean?" Castiel asks like he really wants to know.
"It doesn't matter," Dean finally says and Castiel looks disappointed.
"Someday you will realize you're the only one who believes that."
***
The third time he asks, it occurs to Dean to return the question.
"Are you-I mean, have you?" Dean sighs. The cowardly part of him doesn’t want to know the answer. Doesn’t want to deal with the consequences.
"Fallen?" Castiel finishes the question for him. "It's... complicated."
"How so?" Something in Dean's chest eases at the fact that he didn’t just say yes.
"I retain my grace but I am out of favor. It is not unexpected."
"But they haven't tried to punish you." Dean insists on pressing. "Why?" What he’s really asking is, When is the other shoe going to drop?
Castiel isn't looking at him, his gaze is focused somewhere over Dean's shoulder. "Despite our efforts, things unfolded the way they hoped. I am still here because I am still useful."
"Meaning?"
"They know that I will do, of my own choosing, what they would order me to do." Castiel is looking at Dean now. "They know I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Perhaps more so because of my choosing than if they had ordered it." This time when the question comes, Dean is expecting it. "What do you want?"
"I want to know what you want," he says. He can't imagine that it's this.
Castiel seems to consider it for a moment. "I want you to be at peace." It's an honest answer and nowhere near the full truth.
It's unexpectedly painful. It pisses Dean off.
Pisses him off because it hasn’t occurred to Castiel to want something for himself. This hits too close and it's easier to be mad on Castiel's behalf than his own.
Painful, in that maybe it doesn’t hit close enough. What Dean wants is for Sam to be safe, which is both honest and not completely true. He hates those parts of himself that want the things he can't have. Those ugly, selfish things that he knows better than to wish for. That he doesn't allow himself to think about.
Those things that Castiel seems intent on prying from his mind.
"I want." He has to force the words out, even as he hates himself for saying them. "I want to know who I am independent of Sam. I want to know without having to give him up." He might as well ask for the moon and the stars while he's at it.
It's startling, beyond what it should be, when Castiel reaches out and places his hand on Dean's chest, over his heart. They don't do this. They don't touch. He is staring at his hand like he's as surprised as Dean is. Finally says, "I would that I had the power to show you what you are, Dean."
"Yeah? What’s that?" Dean can't quite hide the rough edge of his voice.
Castiel looks up to meet Dean’s gaze. He pins him down, seemingly without effort, and refuses to let Dean look away. "Extraordinary."
And that's just so typical. Castiel is like a bludgeon of unrelenting honesty and there isn’t one part of Dean that's not left raw and bleeding from it.
It's too much and Dean has to step back, from Castiel's touch, from the look in his eyes. He turns and walks away without another word.
Castiel doesn’t follow.
***
The fourth time, he doesn't have to ask.
Another day is over and they can count it as a win because everybody is in one piece. Physically, anyway. Emotionally, Dean is so shredded that he's not even sure he makes up a whole person anymore, if he ever did.
Castiel is there, offering everything and Dean wonders how much of it is conscious. Wonders how long he can refrain from taking what's laid open to him, regardless of the consequences. Regardless of what it might do to them both.
Dean has come to rely on Castiel in a way that he's never allowed himself to rely on anyone before. He trusts him on a level that he never trusted Dad or Sam. Certainly not himself. And it's scary. Sickeningly so, because Dean never chose for that to happen. He just sort of let it. Let Castiel seep inside him like a balm, winding around the tattered pieces of his soul until Dean finds himself believing that he might not be beyond repair. Castiel has him believing all sorts of things in his unguarded moments, which are happening more and more often.
What Dean tries to ask is if there is anything that would make him leave. He can’t because he’s afraid. Not that the answer will be yes, but of how much he wants it to be no.
Hope beats in his chest, furious and stupid like a wild, caged bird. Dean is as certain as he can be of Castiel’s feelings. Castiel has never tried to hide them from him. He is equally as certain that Castiel has absolutely no context for them, has no real idea of what they mean. And Dean wants…
Dean wants.
The question is clear in Castiel's expression, but remains unasked as Dean approaches him, grabs the back of his neck and pulls him closer. He stops short at the last possible moment, when they're so close that they're breathing the same air, and presses his forehead against Castiel's, his eyes sliding shut. Unable to just take.
So he answers like the question was spoken out loud. "For you to want this like I do."
"Dean." Castiel's hand slides warm against his cheek.
Dean leaves before he can say anything else. Before Castiel can decide to give him everything he’s asking for without a second thought.
***
The last time he asks is the first time Dean really stops to think about the question.
It is one of those sanctuary moments, little pockets of time that Castiel ekes out in the universe for them. For Dean. One of the million impossible things he does on a regular basis that Dean will never be able to repay.
"Dean. What do you want?" He sounds almost exasperated in a way that might be funny under different circumstances. Then again, maybe not.
Because Dean does think about it. As honest as he can be with himself as he sifts through all the things he never wants to say out loud. All of the things about him that Castiel already knows.
"I want something that is just. Mine." He can only manage a half-truth, even now. Because part of him is still trying to hide, as if that was ever a possibility.
"Yet, you refuse to accept it." Castiel steps into his personal space. It isn't necessary. He is already so much a part of Dean in ways that Dean would never have guessed possible. Not when-
"I can't," he whispers. Pleads. "I can't take advantage..."
"You can't take advantage of what is freely given, Dean."
Dean shakes his head and steps back, away from the body heat and offered comfort that every part of him craves. "Jesus, Cas. Don't you get it? I want you. I want you to belong to me." And there it is. The wave of possessiveness that he's never let himself to feel for anyone else.
Not for Mom, because she was gone too soon. Not for Dad, who would never allow it. Not for Sam because. Because Dean had belonged to Sam from day one. From the first time he ever held him in his arms. It was never a decision. It just was.
Now Dean seems to think he can go and claim himself a pet angel. A pet angel who seems strangely okay with the whole thing. "The question is, what do you want?" Dean finally asks.
"For you to realize that I have belonged to you for quite some time now." He says it like other people would say, "For it to stop raining."
It can't be that easy. "I don't have anything left to give you." Dean raises his hands to cup the sides of Castiel's face as Castiel once again closes the distance between them, helpless to resist.
"I do not have anything to ask for," Castiel murmurs. "I do not require your soul of you."
Dean can feel the hot press of tears against his eyelids. He bends to brush a kiss against Castiel's mouth to see if it can be that easy. If he can take something so freely and knowingly offered.
Castiel's lips part, hot beneath his and the kiss is suddenly deep and heady, endless comfort, love, joy and hope flowing through him and every defense he ever thought he had crumbles under the onslaught.
He keeps his eyes closed when he pulls back. Takes a deep breath and lets out a shuddering laugh. Can't help but ask, "What do you get out of this?" Dean's made too many deals, bargains, promises. There has to be a catch.
"My faith."
"In God?"
"In you."
Someday, Dean thinks, they're going to have a conversation about blandly stating such weighty truths. "And that's enough?" It is asking too much and nothing of him at the same time.
"Yes," Castiel says.
"On top of stopping the Apocalypse and saving the world, of course."
"Of course," Castiel says. He may even be smiling. "But that is for everyone."
Some hidden tightness in Dean eases and he laughs. Actually laughs for the first time in awhile and considers the possibility that he might actually pull this off. "Yeah," he says finally. "Yeah, okay."