faraway, so close - part III (THE END)
Castiel blinks just slightly as he sits up on Dean’s bed, his hand still on Dean’s shoulder, his charge’s face looking way more peaceful than it had a short while ago. He can’t resist running a finger along Dean’s cheek before standing up and leaving, because he needs to think about this. He doesn’t miss the way Dean slightly curls up on himself in his sleep as soon as Castiel moves away, but he won’t be gone for long. He just needs to be away to ponder his options.
Also because he’s pretty sure that what Dean meant was keep on watching over me, but then again Castiel himself hadn’t told everything. And what would Dean assume? He hadn’t backed away when Castiel kissed him, though, but it was a kiss made of spirit and it was something he knows is friendly between humans, and Castiel longs how it’d feel if they did kiss for real; and he’s so close. He’s this close.
But he still needs to think about it. Being about to renounce your entire existence isn’t the same thing as doing it, and so he closes his eyes, flies away , and lets chance direct him.
He opens his eyes and he realizes he’s in the bar of some hotel, which has to be quite expensive from the look of it. The actor who was on the plane and whom he briefly ran into again on the set last day is in front of him, leaning over the counter, holding a cup of coffee in his hand.
It’s pretty quiet, he’s thinking, but then again it’s late, right? They’re closing in half an hour anyway and well, it’s nice to have some alone time, for…
Suddenly his train of thought stops and he smirks around his cup before turning in Castiel’s direction and… staring directly at where Castiel would be if he could see him.
And then the actor leans close and starts whispering, probably in order not to be heard by the bartender.
“I can’t see you, but I know you’re there,” he says, and Castiel thinks that the feeling jolting up inside him has to be surprise. How could he?
“I feel it,” the actor keeps on, “I’ve been feeling it since the plane. You’re on and off, actually, but yeah, you’re around often enough. You know, I wish I could see your face. Just to tell you, how good it is being here.”
It can’t be, Castiel thinks. How could he know?
“It’s good to feel things. Like, this is cold, this is hot. Coffee is great. And smoking kind of is too, even if you don’t really want to take it up. Doing it together though, fuck, that’s something. Drawing is nice too. Clear lines, dark lines, you just can’t see how beautiful it can be until you try it. Or rub your hands when it’s cold. Thing is, I’m here and you’re not, but if you want to know, it’s good. And I’d be happy to meet you, if you decide you should come here, too.”
The actor drinks a bit of his coffee again and smiles just slightly in Castiel’s direction before moving away from the counter, and Castiel is left over to ponder over what the actor said. The fact that he knew Castiel was there is secondary to the content of the message. He doesn’t know how or why he could know, but… but it seems like he is losing something here, indeed. Not necessarily related to Dean, but related to existence in general.
I’m here and you’re not, but if you want to know, it’s good.
There’s half a smoked cigarette in an ashtray on the counter; before the bartender comes to retrieve it, Castiel reaches for it and it slips through his fingers, inconsistent. Or maybe it’s Castiel that is inconsistent and it’s his fingers slipping through the light gray cylinder, from which a column of white-ish smoke raises up.
He closes his eyes and spreads his wings and decides that he really wants to go flying for one last time.
--
He flies for hours, he thinks. Time was never important for him even if it’s probably about to become just that, and when he feels satisfied and sure to have burned the sensation into his memory (it’s not like he ever cared much about how it was to fly, having done it since he existed), he slowly eases himself down to where he knows that Anna is. He lands at her side, seeing her in black, white and greys and wondering how she would look like with human eyes, and knowing that he’ll never see it.
“I’m going to buy a newspaper and read it all from beginning to end,” he starts, and it wasn’t what he had meant to say, but it just had sprung forward.
“A newspaper?”
“Yes, and I will let the ink stain my fingers. And I think I might have coffee along with it. And I will let everyone bump into my leg again and again. I think I would like to taste real food. And nonetheless I would understand each language spoken around me. I will know how standing next to someone else feels. I would like for that to happen in my first day,” he ends, his voice lowering steadily until it’s nothing more than a whisper in the end, and she looks at him with her huge, not exactly cold but still not understanding eyes, as she reaches out for his hand. She feels like spirit against it, as she always felt.
“You know it probably won’t be true, don’t you?” she asks, but she’s smiling a quite, small smile, like she’s happy for him even if she still doesn’t get it.
Castiel nods, knowing that plans almost never turn out like they should, not in a human world, but he has taken his decision and he just smiles and retrieves his hand, turning his face towards a sun that still doesn’t warm his skin.
“It… it really doesn’t matter. Farewell,” he says, and then thinks, now.
Falling is not all that it’s cracked up to be in human movies.
You don’t go on a skyscraper and jump down. And you don’t lose your wings as they burn, and it doesn’t really imply literally falling.
He just has to close his eyes and let go, and as he does his body does crumple to the ground.
--
He opens his eyes, just a crack, but before he can process anything he feels something heavy crash on top of his head, and it hurts.
It takes another whole minute of blinking before Castiel finally gets on his knees and realizes a number of things.
First, his armor just fell on his head.
Second, there’s something warm and sticky flowing from the place where said armor hit him, and as he reaches there he realizes it’s blood.
Third, that the blood is red or so he thinks it’s the name for it, and that it tastes… in a way he can’t describe, but it tastes.
Fourth, that the world isn’t black and white anymore.
Fifth, that the armor feels cold under his fingers.
Sixth, he’s breathing and fast and ragged, and he’s feeling what he thinks is cold because he’s shivering and everything feels so good and so strange and so overwhelming at the same time that he thinks his head won’t manage to process everything anytime soon. He’s trying to list all the sensations he thinks he’s experiencing (the ground under his hands is rough, his blood is sticky, his skin is shivering because the air is cold and he only has his suit and not the coat, his lips are cracking maybe because of that, and his clothes are smooth against his skin) and at the same time he’s trying to stand up on shaking legs, and nevermind the armor lying at his feet.
It takes him a while to pull himself together; when he realizes that there’s a handerkerchief in his pocket he brings it out and puts it against the gash in his head because he has seen humans do it endless times. When he’s positive that he isn’t bleeding any more, he grabs the armor and starts walking in order to step out of the alley he’s in.
And oh, oh, the world is so different from here. The sky is a clean, striking blue (he thinks it’s the name for it), the sun warms him up a little, and people send weird glances his way because he’s going around with armor, probably, but he doesn’t mind because it means they see him. Everything is a mix of colors and not a variation on the same gray theme, and it’s so… so pretty, so different, so new. He feels bumps in the ground when he walks and it feels strange, not necessarily bad but strange, and he can’t wait to get adjusted to it.
Point is, for now he needs a coat because he’s cold, and money, and to find Dean; and then he notices a small pawnshop in the corner.
He looks at the armor he’s carrying, then smiles softly for a second and heads into the door.
--
He’s offered four hundred dollars for it, but he doesn’t know whether it’s a good price or not and so he accepts it; he uses fifty to buy a new coat and chooses one beige (according to the pawnshop owner, who had been quite baffled when Castiel asked which color it was) trench, similar to the one he had on when he was still an angel, which is slightly large for him but does fit and keeps him warm. He gets out with bills in his pocket and the coat on him, and as soon as he sees a bar he gets in and asks for an espresso. It burns down his throat when he takes a sip, and it’s not exactly pleasurable, but it feels strange, amazing even. Then he adds sugar as he has seen humans doing and suddenly the taste is perfect, a blend he can’t even start to describe but which is over far too soon for his liking. He rubs his hands together as he gets out of the bar and they’re warm after a couple of times; the friction feels nice, yes, just as the actor said, and then Castiel decides to go to the movie set because after all he does have sort of an appointment.
Having been an angel has its advantages, like knowing the way around the city so well that he could move with his eyes closed, and so he doesn’t have difficulties in arriving where the set is. One thing that isn’t an advantage is that passing for an extra is way more difficult than he’d have thought, and no one lets him in. And he isn’t invisible anymore, so he can’t exactly try to sneak in. He starts walking along the fence around the set, wondering if there’s another way to get in, when he hears people screaming.
Wait! That’s Denny!
No, oh my, the Comedian!
And then he turns and sees the actor, who is signing autographs for some girls who managed to elude security, and so he waits for him to be done and then shouts, the sound of his own voice shocking because he never used that tone.
“Coffee is great!” he blurts, not having an idea of why would he say that of everything, without even a greeting as he’s sure would be polite. The actor turns towards him at once and comes towards the fence with one outstretched hand, the other waving at him.
“Aha, so that’s you!” he says as he shakes Castiel’s hand and looks him over. “Tell you what, I’d have imagined someone taller, but you don’t look too bad. Nice to meet you by the way. I see that you did join us, uh?”
“Yes,” Castiel answers, a bit overwhelmed, and then he feels a cigarette being pressed against his palm.
“Well, then I’m sure you’re having fun right now, aren’t you? Though well, you could do with a clean-up. Do you need some money?”
“Oh, no. I sold… I sold something.”
“The armor, huh?”
Castiel can’t help gasping and the actor just smirks again.
“How much did they give you for it?”
“Four hundred dollars. But how…”
“Man, you were robbed. And how I know it? Well, let’s say that a pawnshop in Seattle paid me five hundred for that, back in the day.”
And suddenly everything clicks into piece.
“Oh. You are… you were… you could feel me because…” Castiel trails, unable to form a sentence, and the actor lets out a hearty laugh and nods once.
“I was. There’s quite a lot of us, around. And believe me; it’s worth all of it. Do you have anywhere to go? Anyone to…”
“Oh. Yes, I suppose. There’s this person…”
“A person, uh? Well, then it seems like you’re set.”
Suddenly someone calls for the actor, and he nods at them before turning to Castiel again.
“Eh, I gotta go. Too bad, but I hope you have a stay as good as mine has been until now!” He winks and then starts to leave, and Castiel has to call him back.
“Wait! I have so many things to ask. I want, I need to know!”
And then the actor smiles and shakes his head.
“Oh, but the fun is that you get to find out on your own. It’s the best part,” he ends, waving at Castiel, and then disappears in the crowd inside the set.
Castiel feels quite overwhelmed. He looks at the watch the pawnshop owner gave him for free because he bought the coat and it was cheap anyway, and he sees that it’s almost six PM. He’s pretty sure that Dean would be attending a concert at the same place he works at, and if you ask him, Castiel doesn’t really want to go to Dean’s home and show up on his doorstep. It just doesn’t feel right, and so he sets on going to the small venue and hope that he hadn’t read anything wrong.
Even if with all the signs, he’s quite sure that he hasn’t, and he can’t wait to see if it is true.
--
Castiel buys a ticket (after reading the name outside the club: Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, which confirms him that he’s in the right place and at the right time; now if only the actual name meant something to him, but he figures there’ll be time for that to happen) and goes straight into the crowd, but he doesn’t find Dean.
He hadn’t expected it, but at least he feels the music now, and it’s not something detached but a beat that goes straight to his blood and gets under his skin. He would really like to savor the sensation, but it’s not what he came here for.
(-This desire to possess her is a wound
and its naggin at me like a shrew
but, I know, that to possess her
Is, therefore, not to desire her
From her to eternity! -)
He tries to follow the lyrics, and then he decides that he does like them, but he really can’t afford to stay here longer if Dean isn’t there.
Then he remembers that apparently this place isn’t an example for work ethics, if he recalls correctly. Dean did complain a lot about staying overtime without being paid.
What if he actually didn’t get the evening free?
So he heads for the room with the bar.
When Castiel takes a peek, Dean is behind the counter, and no one is asking to be served. Dean is cleaning a glass, looking obviously distressed, and he’s softly cursing under his breath. Castiel can’t hear him, but he finds out he can read him, and Dean is most definitely angry and not pleased with the situation. Castiel has an idea it has to do with him standing behind the counter and not where the concert is strictly happening, even if they can hear the music well enough.
It’s the perfect occasion, because they’re alone and he doubts someone will come to the counter now that the concert is in full swing.
He walks towards the counter, softly, quietly, and Dean doesn’t seem to notice. Castiel doesn’t make much noise as he sits, either, and so he can guess why Dean startles as soon as Castiel speaks.
“Hello, Dean,” he whispers, and even with the music blasting from the other room it’s perfectly audible. Dean’s head jerks up, a brief motion, and then his eyes widen and his hands grip the counter so hard that his skin turns white.
He opens and closes his mouth for at least four times before he finally speaks.
“… Castiel?”
And it hits Castiel like a punch to the gut, because the way Dean says his name, surprise and disbelief leaking from his tone but also something that Castiel thinks might be extreme nervousness, speaks of nothing ill, and he feels kind of warm at that.
“Yes,” Castiel answers, and Dean’s lip trembles for a second.
“But… I can see you, how is that even… and it wasn’t a dream?” Dean asks, obviously trying to process the information, and Castiel feels the corner of his lips slightly turning up.
“I am not… what I was anymore. And no, it was real.”
“You mean… you’re human now?”
“That would be a correct assumption, yes.”
Dean is staring at him now, his lips slightly parted, his eyes still disbelieving, his breath coming in short and ragged measures, and then leans a bit forward.
“I hadn’t meant… when I asked, I hadn’t…”
Castiel suddenly feels bold and reaches out, his hand covering Dean’s, and oh, his own skin is warm and soft and the back of Dean’s hand feels as warm, and solid and slightly rough over Castiel’s fingers. It’s by far the best sensation he has experienced until now.
“You didn’t. I was already thinking about doing this. That just pushed me in the right direction.”
Dean doesn’t move his hand and Castiel feels encouraged.
“You renounced… that for… I can’t believe you would…”
“Oh, that is not all it’s cracked up to be. Let me tell you, the world looks much nicer in color than in the way we see it.”
Dean nods at that, the nod of someone who just can’t process an enormity, and then stares at Castiel for a second again before shaking his head.
“So you don’t even know you have blue eyes?” he asks, and no, Castiel hadn’t known.
“I didn’t.”
“They’re so fucking blue. And… you stupid son of a bitch, I’m not worth losing that. You can’t have...”
“I could. I did. Is it so hard to accept it?” Castiel asks, his voice as patient as he can, his fingers still holding Dean’s hand so gingerly, like it’s made of something rough and raw but precious at the same time, and Dean swallows before looking at the counter for a second and then meeting Castiel’s stare again.
“You’re here.”
“I am.”
“And you would stay.”
“If you want me to.”
“This is crazy. I’ve just... I’ve just seen you once and it was a dream and this doesn’t just fucking happen and it shouldn’t... feel so...”
“So right?”
Dean gives another tiny nod and swallows again.
“How do you know?”
“Because I felt it the moment I saw you. Putting it in human terms, I might say your soul was calling me to you. I could actually touch it. It almost never happens. It’s a chance in millions, maybe. But you don’t need it explained, because you feel it just as I do, don’t you?”
Castiel can see in Dean’s eyes that he does, and suddenly the hand beneath his turns, threading their fingers together in an iron grip, and his eyes are much more beautiful now that they’re green and he can see all of their shades.
“Fuck if I even get it but... yeah. I do, I... it was you when lately whenever I felt like crap it stopped of a sudden, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Christ, last night when you showed up I just... I just felt like it was just my luck you couldn’t exist in real life or something like that. And my mother always used to tell me crap about angels watching over me but I never thought... seriously, are you for real?”
Castiel just holds Dean’s stare and gives another soft nod.
“It took me long enough to decide to become ‘for real’, now it would really be a pity if I wasn’t. Right?”
Dean chuckles at that, and it seems to light his entire face up for a second; but then he stares back at Castiel and suddenly leans over the counter and brings a hand behind Castiel’s neck.
Castiel instantly knows and just leans over the counter himself, and they meet halfway.
It takes a second to realize that kissing is what he likes best of everything new he has experienced.
Dean’s lips are soft and almost shaking against his, and there’s a jolt down Castiel’s spine in the instant they meet. He presses back and when Dean slightly opens up he follows the lead and... and. Dean’s tongue meets his own, almost shy until Castiel just mirrors his actions and kisses back and brings his other hand behind Dean’s shoulder. Then it’s an undefined amount of time in which their lips move against each other, almost synchronized, Dean’s tongue gently reaching inside Castiel’s mouth and it’s warm and wet and delicious. Dean tastes like something he can’t name because he doesn’t know how it’s called but it’s good, and this is a bit like when he could touch Dean’s soul, maybe, but better because it’s flesh and blood and warmth and skin and not just that spirit which made everything feel the same.
He feels so much now, and he’s glad they’re leaning on the counter or his knees might buckle.
They part at some point, both of them breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed against each other, and Dean keeps his eyes closed as he smiles still.
“Christ. I thought that today was going to be the suckiest day ever. First I argue with Sam, then they tell me that even if I had the evening free they needed me for covering some idiot’s shift and I was going to just hear the concert from here, and then at the auto shop I spent hours arguing with a customer and then... then you just come along and you’re real and... oh, fuck it,” he ends, and lets go of Castiel’s hand before walking around the counter and finally bringing himself on the right side.
They stand staring at each other for maybe a minute, Dean slightly taller, and then Castiel puts centuries of observation into practice and reaches out. One hand goes on Dean’s hip and the other on his shoulder, and before he even knows Dean is crushing him against his own frame and he’s slightly shaking against Castiel, his hands buried in the coat. Castiel lets his fingers reach up for Dean’s hair as Dean buries his head against Castiel’s shoulder and it just feels as right as the kiss felt, like they’re jigsaw pieces slotting into place nicely and smoothly and fitting just perfectly against each other.
“I... I suppose you know all the crap going on in my life already, don’t you?” Dean asks then, muffled against the trench.
“That would be a correct assumption. And it doesn’t matter, if you were about to ask me about it.”
Dean moves away just a bit and shakes his head like he still doesn’t believe it.
“Now I want to see myself explaining this to Sam. Fuck, he’ll hyperventilate if I tell him the truth.”
Castiel can feel his lips curving up. “Why would you? I was told that lying was among the perks of humanity, or so I gathered. We can come up with a good enough story.”
Dean laughs at that, and it does light up his face again.
“Don’t tell me you fell just because you wanted to know how it felt like to lie.”
“Maybe, but I would never lie to you,” Castiel answers earnestly, and if Dean kissing him again is an answer, well, he can get used to it.
And in this moment, he thinks that he knows how raw, real happiness feels like.
--
That night, they go back to Dean’s house after Dean decides to ditch the damn shift and moves the both of them to the concert room, figuring that he wasn’t required for him to be there since no one had asked for a drink since an hour at last. There Castiel learns how it is to lie on a bed, how it feels to slip buttons from their holes and reveal naked skin underneath, he learns how it feels to kiss while in a cramped space. Dean’s hands are impossibly rough and gentle against his soft, new skin, and he still tastes indescribably sweet.
He learns how it feels when your lips become numb from kissing; he learns how it feels when teeth grasp your skin and leave a small red mark; he learns how it is to feel someone around you enfolding you completely and at the same time how it is to feel like you are inside them in the same way. He learns that touching isn’t always the same and that in some places it will feel better than in others; he learns what it means to be breathless. Dean makes a human out of him with every touch and with every scrape of his nails against Castiel’s shoulder, or by calling him Cas multiple times in a row (it starts at some point while they were kissing and then it doesn’t stop); he makes a human out of him with voice and hands and lips and when their bodies are shaking in pleasure together Castiel rectifies his previous statement and thinks that this, right here, this is happiness.
He isn’t even too displeased of having finally known it after eons of existence. He couldn’t have known it with anyone else.
--
He gets what the actor meant the first day he feels Anna without seeing her, about two months later.
He’s in that public library he always used to visit where he found a part-time job stocking books, and all of a sudden he just knows she’s there. Actually, she’s about half a foot on his left, and he doesn’t even know why but he just does.
It’s in his blood, he figures.
“I know you’re here, Anna. Even if I can’t see you.”
He’s sort of glad he’s in the warehouse and he can talk freely.
“I guess you want to know if it was worth it in the end. It’s... strange, at times. And it can be difficult but... I wish I could find the words. I am... I am together, I think. And it’s amazing in a way we can’t understand until we’re here.”
He thinks about how things did work out, about how just posing as someone Dean hooked up with and who then stuck around worked without needing to tell Sam that he actually fell right from the sky, as Dean always says. About how it really wasn’t that hard to adapt even if he still has information to ask for and every day he finds out something new. He thinks about how nothing has really changed since his first day, about how he and Dean are still sharing the same room and about how happy they are, and about how Dean is making plans to quit at least one job without losing money. He thinks about how he and Dean’s brother get along just fine despite the initial awkwardness, about how he’s going out for a drink with the other library employees at the end of the day. About how he finally knows other people and something different than himself and the everything and nothing that is an angel’s knowledge, and about how good it feels to choose things. Even something simple like reading one book rather than another; but how can he explain it if he understood it just when he renounced his wings?
“We really can’t. And I miss you, but... yes. It was worth it. I wish I could offer you some coffee. It’s... it’s quite a perk. But... it’s nice to know you’re there.”
He smiles when he feels her linger for a while before going.
His day is over in two hours, and when he gets out of the library Dean is outside, the keys of his car that he has just finished repairing in his hand.
“Hey,” he says, and Castiel answers, leaning forward and brushing their lips together. He will never get over how it never stops feeling as amazing as the first time.
“Wanna go for a ride?” Dean asks, and Castiel answers, “Yes, of course I want to,” and so they do, and even if there’s traffic and Dean curses a lot because of that, he can’t help being sure that it really, really was worth it.
It’s just, it’s something no angel knows. But he’s glad he does now. And if at times he looks up at the sky and feels small, and wonders if Anna or some other angels sees him just as a point among a million of points, it doesn’t feel constricting. It just feels like his own place where he’ll make his own story (which will be entwined with Dean’s, but he rather likes the thought), and he’s quite sure he wouldn’t have it any other way.
End.
Also because he’s pretty sure that what Dean meant was keep on watching over me, but then again Castiel himself hadn’t told everything. And what would Dean assume? He hadn’t backed away when Castiel kissed him, though, but it was a kiss made of spirit and it was something he knows is friendly between humans, and Castiel longs how it’d feel if they did kiss for real; and he’s so close. He’s this close.
But he still needs to think about it. Being about to renounce your entire existence isn’t the same thing as doing it, and so he closes his eyes, flies away , and lets chance direct him.
He opens his eyes and he realizes he’s in the bar of some hotel, which has to be quite expensive from the look of it. The actor who was on the plane and whom he briefly ran into again on the set last day is in front of him, leaning over the counter, holding a cup of coffee in his hand.
It’s pretty quiet, he’s thinking, but then again it’s late, right? They’re closing in half an hour anyway and well, it’s nice to have some alone time, for…
Suddenly his train of thought stops and he smirks around his cup before turning in Castiel’s direction and… staring directly at where Castiel would be if he could see him.
And then the actor leans close and starts whispering, probably in order not to be heard by the bartender.
“I can’t see you, but I know you’re there,” he says, and Castiel thinks that the feeling jolting up inside him has to be surprise. How could he?
“I feel it,” the actor keeps on, “I’ve been feeling it since the plane. You’re on and off, actually, but yeah, you’re around often enough. You know, I wish I could see your face. Just to tell you, how good it is being here.”
It can’t be, Castiel thinks. How could he know?
“It’s good to feel things. Like, this is cold, this is hot. Coffee is great. And smoking kind of is too, even if you don’t really want to take it up. Doing it together though, fuck, that’s something. Drawing is nice too. Clear lines, dark lines, you just can’t see how beautiful it can be until you try it. Or rub your hands when it’s cold. Thing is, I’m here and you’re not, but if you want to know, it’s good. And I’d be happy to meet you, if you decide you should come here, too.”
The actor drinks a bit of his coffee again and smiles just slightly in Castiel’s direction before moving away from the counter, and Castiel is left over to ponder over what the actor said. The fact that he knew Castiel was there is secondary to the content of the message. He doesn’t know how or why he could know, but… but it seems like he is losing something here, indeed. Not necessarily related to Dean, but related to existence in general.
I’m here and you’re not, but if you want to know, it’s good.
There’s half a smoked cigarette in an ashtray on the counter; before the bartender comes to retrieve it, Castiel reaches for it and it slips through his fingers, inconsistent. Or maybe it’s Castiel that is inconsistent and it’s his fingers slipping through the light gray cylinder, from which a column of white-ish smoke raises up.
He closes his eyes and spreads his wings and decides that he really wants to go flying for one last time.
--
He flies for hours, he thinks. Time was never important for him even if it’s probably about to become just that, and when he feels satisfied and sure to have burned the sensation into his memory (it’s not like he ever cared much about how it was to fly, having done it since he existed), he slowly eases himself down to where he knows that Anna is. He lands at her side, seeing her in black, white and greys and wondering how she would look like with human eyes, and knowing that he’ll never see it.
“I’m going to buy a newspaper and read it all from beginning to end,” he starts, and it wasn’t what he had meant to say, but it just had sprung forward.
“A newspaper?”
“Yes, and I will let the ink stain my fingers. And I think I might have coffee along with it. And I will let everyone bump into my leg again and again. I think I would like to taste real food. And nonetheless I would understand each language spoken around me. I will know how standing next to someone else feels. I would like for that to happen in my first day,” he ends, his voice lowering steadily until it’s nothing more than a whisper in the end, and she looks at him with her huge, not exactly cold but still not understanding eyes, as she reaches out for his hand. She feels like spirit against it, as she always felt.
“You know it probably won’t be true, don’t you?” she asks, but she’s smiling a quite, small smile, like she’s happy for him even if she still doesn’t get it.
Castiel nods, knowing that plans almost never turn out like they should, not in a human world, but he has taken his decision and he just smiles and retrieves his hand, turning his face towards a sun that still doesn’t warm his skin.
“It… it really doesn’t matter. Farewell,” he says, and then thinks, now.
Falling is not all that it’s cracked up to be in human movies.
You don’t go on a skyscraper and jump down. And you don’t lose your wings as they burn, and it doesn’t really imply literally falling.
He just has to close his eyes and let go, and as he does his body does crumple to the ground.
--
He opens his eyes, just a crack, but before he can process anything he feels something heavy crash on top of his head, and it hurts.
It takes another whole minute of blinking before Castiel finally gets on his knees and realizes a number of things.
First, his armor just fell on his head.
Second, there’s something warm and sticky flowing from the place where said armor hit him, and as he reaches there he realizes it’s blood.
Third, that the blood is red or so he thinks it’s the name for it, and that it tastes… in a way he can’t describe, but it tastes.
Fourth, that the world isn’t black and white anymore.
Fifth, that the armor feels cold under his fingers.
Sixth, he’s breathing and fast and ragged, and he’s feeling what he thinks is cold because he’s shivering and everything feels so good and so strange and so overwhelming at the same time that he thinks his head won’t manage to process everything anytime soon. He’s trying to list all the sensations he thinks he’s experiencing (the ground under his hands is rough, his blood is sticky, his skin is shivering because the air is cold and he only has his suit and not the coat, his lips are cracking maybe because of that, and his clothes are smooth against his skin) and at the same time he’s trying to stand up on shaking legs, and nevermind the armor lying at his feet.
It takes him a while to pull himself together; when he realizes that there’s a handerkerchief in his pocket he brings it out and puts it against the gash in his head because he has seen humans do it endless times. When he’s positive that he isn’t bleeding any more, he grabs the armor and starts walking in order to step out of the alley he’s in.
And oh, oh, the world is so different from here. The sky is a clean, striking blue (he thinks it’s the name for it), the sun warms him up a little, and people send weird glances his way because he’s going around with armor, probably, but he doesn’t mind because it means they see him. Everything is a mix of colors and not a variation on the same gray theme, and it’s so… so pretty, so different, so new. He feels bumps in the ground when he walks and it feels strange, not necessarily bad but strange, and he can’t wait to get adjusted to it.
Point is, for now he needs a coat because he’s cold, and money, and to find Dean; and then he notices a small pawnshop in the corner.
He looks at the armor he’s carrying, then smiles softly for a second and heads into the door.
--
He’s offered four hundred dollars for it, but he doesn’t know whether it’s a good price or not and so he accepts it; he uses fifty to buy a new coat and chooses one beige (according to the pawnshop owner, who had been quite baffled when Castiel asked which color it was) trench, similar to the one he had on when he was still an angel, which is slightly large for him but does fit and keeps him warm. He gets out with bills in his pocket and the coat on him, and as soon as he sees a bar he gets in and asks for an espresso. It burns down his throat when he takes a sip, and it’s not exactly pleasurable, but it feels strange, amazing even. Then he adds sugar as he has seen humans doing and suddenly the taste is perfect, a blend he can’t even start to describe but which is over far too soon for his liking. He rubs his hands together as he gets out of the bar and they’re warm after a couple of times; the friction feels nice, yes, just as the actor said, and then Castiel decides to go to the movie set because after all he does have sort of an appointment.
Having been an angel has its advantages, like knowing the way around the city so well that he could move with his eyes closed, and so he doesn’t have difficulties in arriving where the set is. One thing that isn’t an advantage is that passing for an extra is way more difficult than he’d have thought, and no one lets him in. And he isn’t invisible anymore, so he can’t exactly try to sneak in. He starts walking along the fence around the set, wondering if there’s another way to get in, when he hears people screaming.
Wait! That’s Denny!
No, oh my, the Comedian!
And then he turns and sees the actor, who is signing autographs for some girls who managed to elude security, and so he waits for him to be done and then shouts, the sound of his own voice shocking because he never used that tone.
“Coffee is great!” he blurts, not having an idea of why would he say that of everything, without even a greeting as he’s sure would be polite. The actor turns towards him at once and comes towards the fence with one outstretched hand, the other waving at him.
“Aha, so that’s you!” he says as he shakes Castiel’s hand and looks him over. “Tell you what, I’d have imagined someone taller, but you don’t look too bad. Nice to meet you by the way. I see that you did join us, uh?”
“Yes,” Castiel answers, a bit overwhelmed, and then he feels a cigarette being pressed against his palm.
“Well, then I’m sure you’re having fun right now, aren’t you? Though well, you could do with a clean-up. Do you need some money?”
“Oh, no. I sold… I sold something.”
“The armor, huh?”
Castiel can’t help gasping and the actor just smirks again.
“How much did they give you for it?”
“Four hundred dollars. But how…”
“Man, you were robbed. And how I know it? Well, let’s say that a pawnshop in Seattle paid me five hundred for that, back in the day.”
And suddenly everything clicks into piece.
“Oh. You are… you were… you could feel me because…” Castiel trails, unable to form a sentence, and the actor lets out a hearty laugh and nods once.
“I was. There’s quite a lot of us, around. And believe me; it’s worth all of it. Do you have anywhere to go? Anyone to…”
“Oh. Yes, I suppose. There’s this person…”
“A person, uh? Well, then it seems like you’re set.”
Suddenly someone calls for the actor, and he nods at them before turning to Castiel again.
“Eh, I gotta go. Too bad, but I hope you have a stay as good as mine has been until now!” He winks and then starts to leave, and Castiel has to call him back.
“Wait! I have so many things to ask. I want, I need to know!”
And then the actor smiles and shakes his head.
“Oh, but the fun is that you get to find out on your own. It’s the best part,” he ends, waving at Castiel, and then disappears in the crowd inside the set.
Castiel feels quite overwhelmed. He looks at the watch the pawnshop owner gave him for free because he bought the coat and it was cheap anyway, and he sees that it’s almost six PM. He’s pretty sure that Dean would be attending a concert at the same place he works at, and if you ask him, Castiel doesn’t really want to go to Dean’s home and show up on his doorstep. It just doesn’t feel right, and so he sets on going to the small venue and hope that he hadn’t read anything wrong.
Even if with all the signs, he’s quite sure that he hasn’t, and he can’t wait to see if it is true.
--
Castiel buys a ticket (after reading the name outside the club: Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, which confirms him that he’s in the right place and at the right time; now if only the actual name meant something to him, but he figures there’ll be time for that to happen) and goes straight into the crowd, but he doesn’t find Dean.
He hadn’t expected it, but at least he feels the music now, and it’s not something detached but a beat that goes straight to his blood and gets under his skin. He would really like to savor the sensation, but it’s not what he came here for.
(-This desire to possess her is a wound
and its naggin at me like a shrew
but, I know, that to possess her
Is, therefore, not to desire her
From her to eternity! -)
He tries to follow the lyrics, and then he decides that he does like them, but he really can’t afford to stay here longer if Dean isn’t there.
Then he remembers that apparently this place isn’t an example for work ethics, if he recalls correctly. Dean did complain a lot about staying overtime without being paid.
What if he actually didn’t get the evening free?
So he heads for the room with the bar.
When Castiel takes a peek, Dean is behind the counter, and no one is asking to be served. Dean is cleaning a glass, looking obviously distressed, and he’s softly cursing under his breath. Castiel can’t hear him, but he finds out he can read him, and Dean is most definitely angry and not pleased with the situation. Castiel has an idea it has to do with him standing behind the counter and not where the concert is strictly happening, even if they can hear the music well enough.
It’s the perfect occasion, because they’re alone and he doubts someone will come to the counter now that the concert is in full swing.
He walks towards the counter, softly, quietly, and Dean doesn’t seem to notice. Castiel doesn’t make much noise as he sits, either, and so he can guess why Dean startles as soon as Castiel speaks.
“Hello, Dean,” he whispers, and even with the music blasting from the other room it’s perfectly audible. Dean’s head jerks up, a brief motion, and then his eyes widen and his hands grip the counter so hard that his skin turns white.
He opens and closes his mouth for at least four times before he finally speaks.
“… Castiel?”
And it hits Castiel like a punch to the gut, because the way Dean says his name, surprise and disbelief leaking from his tone but also something that Castiel thinks might be extreme nervousness, speaks of nothing ill, and he feels kind of warm at that.
“Yes,” Castiel answers, and Dean’s lip trembles for a second.
“But… I can see you, how is that even… and it wasn’t a dream?” Dean asks, obviously trying to process the information, and Castiel feels the corner of his lips slightly turning up.
“I am not… what I was anymore. And no, it was real.”
“You mean… you’re human now?”
“That would be a correct assumption, yes.”
Dean is staring at him now, his lips slightly parted, his eyes still disbelieving, his breath coming in short and ragged measures, and then leans a bit forward.
“I hadn’t meant… when I asked, I hadn’t…”
Castiel suddenly feels bold and reaches out, his hand covering Dean’s, and oh, his own skin is warm and soft and the back of Dean’s hand feels as warm, and solid and slightly rough over Castiel’s fingers. It’s by far the best sensation he has experienced until now.
“You didn’t. I was already thinking about doing this. That just pushed me in the right direction.”
Dean doesn’t move his hand and Castiel feels encouraged.
“You renounced… that for… I can’t believe you would…”
“Oh, that is not all it’s cracked up to be. Let me tell you, the world looks much nicer in color than in the way we see it.”
Dean nods at that, the nod of someone who just can’t process an enormity, and then stares at Castiel for a second again before shaking his head.
“So you don’t even know you have blue eyes?” he asks, and no, Castiel hadn’t known.
“I didn’t.”
“They’re so fucking blue. And… you stupid son of a bitch, I’m not worth losing that. You can’t have...”
“I could. I did. Is it so hard to accept it?” Castiel asks, his voice as patient as he can, his fingers still holding Dean’s hand so gingerly, like it’s made of something rough and raw but precious at the same time, and Dean swallows before looking at the counter for a second and then meeting Castiel’s stare again.
“You’re here.”
“I am.”
“And you would stay.”
“If you want me to.”
“This is crazy. I’ve just... I’ve just seen you once and it was a dream and this doesn’t just fucking happen and it shouldn’t... feel so...”
“So right?”
Dean gives another tiny nod and swallows again.
“How do you know?”
“Because I felt it the moment I saw you. Putting it in human terms, I might say your soul was calling me to you. I could actually touch it. It almost never happens. It’s a chance in millions, maybe. But you don’t need it explained, because you feel it just as I do, don’t you?”
Castiel can see in Dean’s eyes that he does, and suddenly the hand beneath his turns, threading their fingers together in an iron grip, and his eyes are much more beautiful now that they’re green and he can see all of their shades.
“Fuck if I even get it but... yeah. I do, I... it was you when lately whenever I felt like crap it stopped of a sudden, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Christ, last night when you showed up I just... I just felt like it was just my luck you couldn’t exist in real life or something like that. And my mother always used to tell me crap about angels watching over me but I never thought... seriously, are you for real?”
Castiel just holds Dean’s stare and gives another soft nod.
“It took me long enough to decide to become ‘for real’, now it would really be a pity if I wasn’t. Right?”
Dean chuckles at that, and it seems to light his entire face up for a second; but then he stares back at Castiel and suddenly leans over the counter and brings a hand behind Castiel’s neck.
Castiel instantly knows and just leans over the counter himself, and they meet halfway.
It takes a second to realize that kissing is what he likes best of everything new he has experienced.
Dean’s lips are soft and almost shaking against his, and there’s a jolt down Castiel’s spine in the instant they meet. He presses back and when Dean slightly opens up he follows the lead and... and. Dean’s tongue meets his own, almost shy until Castiel just mirrors his actions and kisses back and brings his other hand behind Dean’s shoulder. Then it’s an undefined amount of time in which their lips move against each other, almost synchronized, Dean’s tongue gently reaching inside Castiel’s mouth and it’s warm and wet and delicious. Dean tastes like something he can’t name because he doesn’t know how it’s called but it’s good, and this is a bit like when he could touch Dean’s soul, maybe, but better because it’s flesh and blood and warmth and skin and not just that spirit which made everything feel the same.
He feels so much now, and he’s glad they’re leaning on the counter or his knees might buckle.
They part at some point, both of them breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed against each other, and Dean keeps his eyes closed as he smiles still.
“Christ. I thought that today was going to be the suckiest day ever. First I argue with Sam, then they tell me that even if I had the evening free they needed me for covering some idiot’s shift and I was going to just hear the concert from here, and then at the auto shop I spent hours arguing with a customer and then... then you just come along and you’re real and... oh, fuck it,” he ends, and lets go of Castiel’s hand before walking around the counter and finally bringing himself on the right side.
They stand staring at each other for maybe a minute, Dean slightly taller, and then Castiel puts centuries of observation into practice and reaches out. One hand goes on Dean’s hip and the other on his shoulder, and before he even knows Dean is crushing him against his own frame and he’s slightly shaking against Castiel, his hands buried in the coat. Castiel lets his fingers reach up for Dean’s hair as Dean buries his head against Castiel’s shoulder and it just feels as right as the kiss felt, like they’re jigsaw pieces slotting into place nicely and smoothly and fitting just perfectly against each other.
“I... I suppose you know all the crap going on in my life already, don’t you?” Dean asks then, muffled against the trench.
“That would be a correct assumption. And it doesn’t matter, if you were about to ask me about it.”
Dean moves away just a bit and shakes his head like he still doesn’t believe it.
“Now I want to see myself explaining this to Sam. Fuck, he’ll hyperventilate if I tell him the truth.”
Castiel can feel his lips curving up. “Why would you? I was told that lying was among the perks of humanity, or so I gathered. We can come up with a good enough story.”
Dean laughs at that, and it does light up his face again.
“Don’t tell me you fell just because you wanted to know how it felt like to lie.”
“Maybe, but I would never lie to you,” Castiel answers earnestly, and if Dean kissing him again is an answer, well, he can get used to it.
And in this moment, he thinks that he knows how raw, real happiness feels like.
--
That night, they go back to Dean’s house after Dean decides to ditch the damn shift and moves the both of them to the concert room, figuring that he wasn’t required for him to be there since no one had asked for a drink since an hour at last. There Castiel learns how it is to lie on a bed, how it feels to slip buttons from their holes and reveal naked skin underneath, he learns how it feels to kiss while in a cramped space. Dean’s hands are impossibly rough and gentle against his soft, new skin, and he still tastes indescribably sweet.
He learns how it feels when your lips become numb from kissing; he learns how it feels when teeth grasp your skin and leave a small red mark; he learns how it is to feel someone around you enfolding you completely and at the same time how it is to feel like you are inside them in the same way. He learns that touching isn’t always the same and that in some places it will feel better than in others; he learns what it means to be breathless. Dean makes a human out of him with every touch and with every scrape of his nails against Castiel’s shoulder, or by calling him Cas multiple times in a row (it starts at some point while they were kissing and then it doesn’t stop); he makes a human out of him with voice and hands and lips and when their bodies are shaking in pleasure together Castiel rectifies his previous statement and thinks that this, right here, this is happiness.
He isn’t even too displeased of having finally known it after eons of existence. He couldn’t have known it with anyone else.
--
He gets what the actor meant the first day he feels Anna without seeing her, about two months later.
He’s in that public library he always used to visit where he found a part-time job stocking books, and all of a sudden he just knows she’s there. Actually, she’s about half a foot on his left, and he doesn’t even know why but he just does.
It’s in his blood, he figures.
“I know you’re here, Anna. Even if I can’t see you.”
He’s sort of glad he’s in the warehouse and he can talk freely.
“I guess you want to know if it was worth it in the end. It’s... strange, at times. And it can be difficult but... I wish I could find the words. I am... I am together, I think. And it’s amazing in a way we can’t understand until we’re here.”
He thinks about how things did work out, about how just posing as someone Dean hooked up with and who then stuck around worked without needing to tell Sam that he actually fell right from the sky, as Dean always says. About how it really wasn’t that hard to adapt even if he still has information to ask for and every day he finds out something new. He thinks about how nothing has really changed since his first day, about how he and Dean are still sharing the same room and about how happy they are, and about how Dean is making plans to quit at least one job without losing money. He thinks about how he and Dean’s brother get along just fine despite the initial awkwardness, about how he’s going out for a drink with the other library employees at the end of the day. About how he finally knows other people and something different than himself and the everything and nothing that is an angel’s knowledge, and about how good it feels to choose things. Even something simple like reading one book rather than another; but how can he explain it if he understood it just when he renounced his wings?
“We really can’t. And I miss you, but... yes. It was worth it. I wish I could offer you some coffee. It’s... it’s quite a perk. But... it’s nice to know you’re there.”
He smiles when he feels her linger for a while before going.
His day is over in two hours, and when he gets out of the library Dean is outside, the keys of his car that he has just finished repairing in his hand.
“Hey,” he says, and Castiel answers, leaning forward and brushing their lips together. He will never get over how it never stops feeling as amazing as the first time.
“Wanna go for a ride?” Dean asks, and Castiel answers, “Yes, of course I want to,” and so they do, and even if there’s traffic and Dean curses a lot because of that, he can’t help being sure that it really, really was worth it.
It’s just, it’s something no angel knows. But he’s glad he does now. And if at times he looks up at the sky and feels small, and wonders if Anna or some other angels sees him just as a point among a million of points, it doesn’t feel constricting. It just feels like his own place where he’ll make his own story (which will be entwined with Dean’s, but he rather likes the thought), and he’s quite sure he wouldn’t have it any other way.
End.