Graphics for In Secret Places by Brinchestiel (pt. 3)
“So, that’s Gabriel?” Dean said, pointing at Gabe’s smiling face. Castiel nodded, watching Dean frown as his eyes fell on Michael. “That’s not you… who’s that?” Castiel smiled ruefully. His mother had always told him how much he looked like Michael. Said it was part of the reason his dad left them.
It was nearing three by the time everyone arrived, laden with scarves and hats, stomping the snow off their boots in the narrow hall. Missouri called the boys from the front door where she hugged each guest of them as they came in, quickly filling the cramped space. And Sam and Castiel were introduced to Ellen, Jo following along in a hung winter coat. The older of the two women wore a weathered leather jacket and jeans, and behind her, Jo followed wearing a button up shirt beneath a huge winter coat.
Over and over, Bobby repeated this, like a mantra and it stilled Dean’s raging body enough for Bobby to turn him around and crush Dean to his chest.
The ride with Charlie’s father was tense; not for any noticeable reason unless you were Castiel, squirming in his skin because he and Dean were pressed too close in the back of the Gremlin.
“Heard you were looking for me,” Castiel snarled, throwing his whole weight behind the punch that had Alastair’s nose cracking beneath his knuckles. Dean was yelling, Castiel could just hear him over the white noise in his ears. He pinned Alastair to the ground, straddled him, throwing punch after punch against his face until he drew blood. There was a strange gurgling sound that erupted from Alastair’s throat, but Castiel didn’t care. Useless fingers scrabbled against the hand that wrapped, claw-like, around Alastair’s neck. Castiel loved the desperation in his eyes.
Once the tires were filled, Sam bent to open up the sack of old potatoes, having grown their roots, long and white in the darkness of Bobby’s forgotten cupboard. Castiel went to the house to grab a knife from the kitchen, and cut them up into quarters as per Sam’s strict instructions, back on his knees on the frozen ground. He dried them as best he could with his - Dean’s - hoodie. It still smelled of him, just a little.
“This’ll help,” Dean shouted over the din of the rain and thunder. Castiel grinned, easy and gave Dean a playful shove to his shoulder, “Just help, I’m frozen.” He displayed red-raw hands as proof. Cas’s expression softened as their eyes locked, the raindrops clinging to his eyelashes falling to look like tears. Dean moved to catch one, before he could stop himself, and Cas watched, still as stone as Dean touched his cheek, just barely. The thunder roared overhead and Dean laughed, the sound tinged a hue of panic, covering the hitch in his breath, “We should get back.”
Castiel watched his brother, his face full of remorse. It didn’t seem forced like it always had been at home. He looked genuinely sorry. Those seven months in jail had changed him, moulded him. He was still his brother, still a goofball and a rebel, but it was clear to see he had grown. Castiel hoped that’d be enough for the jury to show him their mercy.
Chapter Management
And suddenly Dean was on him. Just like that. Not forceful or violent, but reverent. Desperate, like he couldn’t stop himself any more. The milkshake slipped off the hood where shaky hands had placed it, before they clung to Castiel’s face and he kissed the grin away, eyes screwed closed. Castiel melted. It was over before it had really begun, but Dean’s hands were still on his face, rough-padded thumbs tracing Castiel’s cheekbones. Castiel closed his eyes and just felt. His breath hitched as one of Dean’s hands travelled to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair. He felt vulnerable in a way Castiel never let himself be. And in that moment he knew Dean had finally stopped fighting. Stopped… stopping. And Castiel felt pure. Light. All of that anger, burning, churning, hot anger and hatred was gone, evaporated. It belonged in that dark little house he finally had the courage to leave behind.
Valerie stood in a beautiful light dress that fluttered around her calves, her hair was washed, her skin clear and bright. He couldn’t remember a time he’d ever seen her that way.
Part One || Part Two || Part Three