(no subject)
Ficlet based off of this gorgeous picture by the amazing plentyofowls1.
Dean is fucking terrified as he pulls Jimmy Novak’s empty body from the water.
It had taken him nearly four minutes to find the shell of Castiel. Four minutes for him to watch the Leviathan walk his angel into the middle of the lake and disappear below the surface. Four minutes to see the eruption of black and choke on the accompanying reek of burning flesh that settled heavy in his lungs. Four minutes for him to numbly kick off his shoes and pull his shirt over his head and wade in until the water reached his collar bones and the cold of it shocked the air from his lungs.
Four minutes of diving down, hands searching blindly, before he found Cas. Before his hand bumped into the solid of his chest, got tangled in his tie where Cas was resting peacefully on the lake bed.
Four minutes to drag his waterlogged body into the shore of dead grass and gravel and to gasp, “Cas,” between his ragged breaths.
He’s not breathing, Dean confirms with a quick press of his ear to Cas’ parted, chapped lips, and Dean realizes that he doesn’t know if that’s bad or not. Do angels breathe? Did Cas ever breathe? Dean’s mind trips over itself frantically as he checks for a pulse and finds none. Dean tries to remember, thinks of the times Cas stood inches from him, making the hair on Dean’s arms prick up, but he can’t recall if he ever saw Castiel’s chest rise and fall and Dean hates himself for it. He should have remembered, he should have asked.
Cas’ eyes are cracked open and empty, their color a thin, reedy blue that makes bile rise up in Dean’s throat. His eyelashes are clumped together, and for some reason, it’s noticing this that makes Dean’s heart lurch. Makes Dean cup his hand under Cas’ neck and press his lips to Cas’ desperately.
He breathes out, all hot and messy and his breath just disappears into Cas, cold and gone. He clasps his hands over Castiel’s chest and compresses with short, harsh bursts. One of Cas’ ribs cracks like turkey leg and he leans over again and breathes.
Sam would probably be pulling him back at this point, saying, “I’m sorry Dean, he’s…you have to let him go-,” if he weren’t still up in the warehouse making sure Bobby didn’t break his damn neck. So he doesn’t pull back, doesn’t stop breathing echoing, wheezing breaths into his Castiel’s body. He’s light headed from it, his fingers shaking and vision going spotty around the edges. He doesn’t have enough breath for Cas and himself, he realizes. His inability to carry Cas is what led them to this, and the epiphany makes him nauseous.
He chokes and breaks on what he realizes belatedly is a heaving sob, seizing up his lungs and making his shoulders quake. There are no tears when he leans back down and presses their mouths together, just hard, painful clenches of his lungs as he tries to force life back into the angel that said no to heaven, to his brothers, for him.
Dean hunches forward over Castiel’s body, one hand tangling in the slick black of his hair, the other bracing on his cold, damp shoulder. He bows till his lips brush Castiel’s neck and his eyes squeeze tight shut, and he can see Castiel’s face, lit up by a ring of holy fire. I did it, all of it, for you. He sees Castiel throwing a flaming bottle of liquor at an arch angel, and looking to Dean for reassurance before his body is exploded into thousands of pieces. He sees Castiel grinning, blatantly adoring, at him when he admonishes the actions of his future self.
Dean feels sickly faint as he sucks in a ragged breath and blindly finds Castiel’s lips again, huffing out brokenly, more of a last goodbye than a saving breath. He feels a faint brush of breath hit his lips and he does fight back tears then, because it feels like Cas is breathing back.
His eyes fill and he has to blink, has to let the tears slip down his cheeks and nose to let them escape, and he can hear them softly patter onto Castiel’s face, just inches from his own. His hand grips in Cas’ hair and he presses his lips to Castiel’s, nudging with his chin, kissing him softly. He’s full-on shaking, lost to himself when he feels the faintest fan against his cheekbones. He presses in again, capturing Castiel’s top lip in his own, and when his eyes crack open, it takes a second to realize what he’s seeing.
Castiel is watching him. Dean watches as his eyelids slide slowly shut and he feels the fan of Cas’ eyelashes on his cheeks before they slowly slide open again.
“Cas,” Dean breathes. Cas blinks again, slowly, and then his lips pucker slightly, pulling Dean in, and Dean just breaks. He exhale sounds like a window shutter in a windstorm, harsh and desperate, and he grips the back of Castiel’s neck and opens his mouth to him, feeling Castiel slowly stir to life below him. He kisses and kisses, sloppy with desperation, feeling Cas mouth him back. Their lips slip together and apart with wet, open mouthed kisses and Dean feels Cas pull in his first real breath then, can feel Castiel’s chest rise below him, and he’s really crying then, fat drops rolling down and wetting their lips.
“Cas,” he cries softly, voice almost gone, and he can feel Cas whisper something like, “Yes,” against him.
Dean pulls back harshly and lets his forehead rest against Castiel’s cheek, closing his eyes and forcing himself to breathe. He feels Castiel’s hand feel at his elbow where it rests on Cas’ chest, and he looks his angel in the face. He can see the intense blue he’s so used to slowly saturate Jimmy Novak’s irises again.
Castiel locks eyes with him, and the look he gives Dean is one so full of wonder it makes Dean’s chest ache. “Dean,” he says, like he’s utterly amazed. Though, Dean realizes, Castiel always kind of looks at him like that, like he’s this precious thing, and Dean doesn’t understand any of it.
“Cas, you piece of shit,” he breathes out, exhausted, and the hurt he sees darkening Castiel’s eyes makes a new wave of self-loathing swell in his gut.
Dean’s fingers lace easily through Cas’ hair and he shakes his head at Cas, and Cas’ eyes soften when he sees Dean’s pained expression. “Don’t you ever fucking leave me, do you understand?” Dean mumbles, unable to look Cas in the eye.
Cas nods wordlessly and when Dean looks at him again, he sees apprehension and fear, but also that deep, alarming trust Cas had always had for him that makes him feel naked and bare. And there’s things they need to talk about, apologies that need time to take and amends that need to be made. But for now all Dean can do is hold Castiel close and fight back his tears and tell him, not in so many words, “You deserved to be saved”.
Dean is fucking terrified as he pulls Jimmy Novak’s empty body from the water.
It had taken him nearly four minutes to find the shell of Castiel. Four minutes for him to watch the Leviathan walk his angel into the middle of the lake and disappear below the surface. Four minutes to see the eruption of black and choke on the accompanying reek of burning flesh that settled heavy in his lungs. Four minutes for him to numbly kick off his shoes and pull his shirt over his head and wade in until the water reached his collar bones and the cold of it shocked the air from his lungs.
Four minutes of diving down, hands searching blindly, before he found Cas. Before his hand bumped into the solid of his chest, got tangled in his tie where Cas was resting peacefully on the lake bed.
Four minutes to drag his waterlogged body into the shore of dead grass and gravel and to gasp, “Cas,” between his ragged breaths.
He’s not breathing, Dean confirms with a quick press of his ear to Cas’ parted, chapped lips, and Dean realizes that he doesn’t know if that’s bad or not. Do angels breathe? Did Cas ever breathe? Dean’s mind trips over itself frantically as he checks for a pulse and finds none. Dean tries to remember, thinks of the times Cas stood inches from him, making the hair on Dean’s arms prick up, but he can’t recall if he ever saw Castiel’s chest rise and fall and Dean hates himself for it. He should have remembered, he should have asked.
Cas’ eyes are cracked open and empty, their color a thin, reedy blue that makes bile rise up in Dean’s throat. His eyelashes are clumped together, and for some reason, it’s noticing this that makes Dean’s heart lurch. Makes Dean cup his hand under Cas’ neck and press his lips to Cas’ desperately.
He breathes out, all hot and messy and his breath just disappears into Cas, cold and gone. He clasps his hands over Castiel’s chest and compresses with short, harsh bursts. One of Cas’ ribs cracks like turkey leg and he leans over again and breathes.
Sam would probably be pulling him back at this point, saying, “I’m sorry Dean, he’s…you have to let him go-,” if he weren’t still up in the warehouse making sure Bobby didn’t break his damn neck. So he doesn’t pull back, doesn’t stop breathing echoing, wheezing breaths into his Castiel’s body. He’s light headed from it, his fingers shaking and vision going spotty around the edges. He doesn’t have enough breath for Cas and himself, he realizes. His inability to carry Cas is what led them to this, and the epiphany makes him nauseous.
He chokes and breaks on what he realizes belatedly is a heaving sob, seizing up his lungs and making his shoulders quake. There are no tears when he leans back down and presses their mouths together, just hard, painful clenches of his lungs as he tries to force life back into the angel that said no to heaven, to his brothers, for him.
Dean hunches forward over Castiel’s body, one hand tangling in the slick black of his hair, the other bracing on his cold, damp shoulder. He bows till his lips brush Castiel’s neck and his eyes squeeze tight shut, and he can see Castiel’s face, lit up by a ring of holy fire. I did it, all of it, for you. He sees Castiel throwing a flaming bottle of liquor at an arch angel, and looking to Dean for reassurance before his body is exploded into thousands of pieces. He sees Castiel grinning, blatantly adoring, at him when he admonishes the actions of his future self.
Dean feels sickly faint as he sucks in a ragged breath and blindly finds Castiel’s lips again, huffing out brokenly, more of a last goodbye than a saving breath. He feels a faint brush of breath hit his lips and he does fight back tears then, because it feels like Cas is breathing back.
His eyes fill and he has to blink, has to let the tears slip down his cheeks and nose to let them escape, and he can hear them softly patter onto Castiel’s face, just inches from his own. His hand grips in Cas’ hair and he presses his lips to Castiel’s, nudging with his chin, kissing him softly. He’s full-on shaking, lost to himself when he feels the faintest fan against his cheekbones. He presses in again, capturing Castiel’s top lip in his own, and when his eyes crack open, it takes a second to realize what he’s seeing.
Castiel is watching him. Dean watches as his eyelids slide slowly shut and he feels the fan of Cas’ eyelashes on his cheeks before they slowly slide open again.
“Cas,” Dean breathes. Cas blinks again, slowly, and then his lips pucker slightly, pulling Dean in, and Dean just breaks. He exhale sounds like a window shutter in a windstorm, harsh and desperate, and he grips the back of Castiel’s neck and opens his mouth to him, feeling Castiel slowly stir to life below him. He kisses and kisses, sloppy with desperation, feeling Cas mouth him back. Their lips slip together and apart with wet, open mouthed kisses and Dean feels Cas pull in his first real breath then, can feel Castiel’s chest rise below him, and he’s really crying then, fat drops rolling down and wetting their lips.
“Cas,” he cries softly, voice almost gone, and he can feel Cas whisper something like, “Yes,” against him.
Dean pulls back harshly and lets his forehead rest against Castiel’s cheek, closing his eyes and forcing himself to breathe. He feels Castiel’s hand feel at his elbow where it rests on Cas’ chest, and he looks his angel in the face. He can see the intense blue he’s so used to slowly saturate Jimmy Novak’s irises again.
Castiel locks eyes with him, and the look he gives Dean is one so full of wonder it makes Dean’s chest ache. “Dean,” he says, like he’s utterly amazed. Though, Dean realizes, Castiel always kind of looks at him like that, like he’s this precious thing, and Dean doesn’t understand any of it.
“Cas, you piece of shit,” he breathes out, exhausted, and the hurt he sees darkening Castiel’s eyes makes a new wave of self-loathing swell in his gut.
Dean’s fingers lace easily through Cas’ hair and he shakes his head at Cas, and Cas’ eyes soften when he sees Dean’s pained expression. “Don’t you ever fucking leave me, do you understand?” Dean mumbles, unable to look Cas in the eye.
Cas nods wordlessly and when Dean looks at him again, he sees apprehension and fear, but also that deep, alarming trust Cas had always had for him that makes him feel naked and bare. And there’s things they need to talk about, apologies that need time to take and amends that need to be made. But for now all Dean can do is hold Castiel close and fight back his tears and tell him, not in so many words, “You deserved to be saved”.