fic: when air was less solid than the soul (3/6) [dean/castiel, supernatural]
Title: when air was less solid than the soul, two | the imperfection of men, (first half)
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, this is a work of fiction.
Warnings: spoilers for Supernatural season 4, 5 and 6 (this part: 5x02 until 5x14)
Beta: Thanks and credit goes to flwrpwr_vampyre for beta'ing!
A/N: Sorry that it took so long to finish this chapter, life's been busy.
Summary: Alongside the well-known story of two brothers, there’s another tale to be told in the midst of Heaven and Hell, the apocalypse and the Mother walking the earth. Chuck - ever the little bitch - just decided to leave it out. (Or in other words: how a man and an angel fell in something a lot like love… and hit rock-bottom.)
( previous part: one | the first steps (through deserts unwritten) )
when air was less solid than the soul
two | the imperfection of men, (first half)
1
Dean absentmindedly nibbled on some french fries. He knew Cas was watching him, felt the heavy gaze like it was a solid force, similar to the burning absence of his necklace - like an itch under his skin.
Eventually he snapped. ‘Stop staring and just drink your smoothie.’ He looked up at the angel, seated on the other side of the booth. They were having lunch in a diner just outside Waterville, Maine.
‘This color is very unappetizing,’ Cas said while frowning, turning the greenish smoothie in his hands. ‘I do not wish to drink it.’
‘Huh, I thought you’d like it.’ Dean flung another fry into his mouth. ‘Sam digs that shit.’
‘Why compare me to your brother?’ Cas asked blandly.
Dean stopped chewing. ‘Dunno, you’re an angel, I thought you’d be into the healthy stuff.’
The conversation died after that and Dean felt an awkward silence creep onto them - as it had done already too many times in the last couple hours. He still didn’t know why he’d agreed to go after an archangel with Castiel. Probably just because he really did owe the guy. He should have seen it coming though, the unease between them. Had felt a faint shadow of it in Bobby’s hospital room, when Cas had asked for his necklace. But somewhere in the back of his head, he’d hoped that maybe things would’ve been okay between them. As it turned out, they weren’t.
When the silence lingered on painfully long, Dean decided to speak up. ‘Cas, listen, about the other day -’
‘Dean, I know what you are going to say, but you don’t have to… I perfectly understand.’ Cas was looking stubbornly out the window as he said that.
‘How could you possibly know?’ Dean protested. ‘Look, I don’t really know what the hell it was that you acted on, probably just some issues with being interested in human… emotion. Yeah, let leave it at that. And I get it, I -’
‘Dean.’
‘No, really, I know it doesn’t mean anything and that’s good.’ When he saw Cas open his mouth to interrupt him again, he repeated with emphasis: ‘That’s good.’ He was fixing things the only way he knew: using questionable logic with a rock-solid foundation of denial. ‘On my part, again, I’m sorry for - you know - kissing you. Not cool. I mean, you’re my friend - sort of. And I don’t have that many friends. So let’s just forget about it, okay?’
Cas kept staring out of the window for a while longer, until Dean was dying to know what he was thinking about.
‘I am?’ he asked eventually, in a softer voice than usually.
‘Come again?’
‘Your… friend. I am your friend?’ He spoke the world like he was trying it for the first time. When he faced him again, Dean spotted something beneath all the heavenly righteousness and childlike curiosity that normally filled his eyes and drew the lines of his borrowed face - something close to happiness.
‘Yeah,’ Dean said, in a slightly puzzled tone. ‘You are.’
Cas reached for the the smoothie and cautiously took a sip through the straw.
‘I do like it. Despite the color.’
---
Friends. A straight, clear line that’s not to be crossed. And why should he? It’s nice and simple on their side of the line. Behind it, he can actually think. On the other side, the entire world’s insane.
So don’t mess that line up, or everything goes to shit.
---
They were in the car together, driving back to the abandoned house. Dean still had a smile plastered on his face, and when he saw Cas trying to get his clothes smoothed down again, it only grew bigger.
‘You really missed out on something there,’ he said, ‘that chick was hot.’
‘I’ll keep in mind for next time that I best don’t bring up the subject of absent fathers,’ Cas said solemnly. ‘As I can relate, I do have to admit that it might not have been a very… stimulating topic of conversation.’
Dean laughed again. ‘Glad to know that you at least realize what went wrong.’ When he threw a glance to his right, he saw that Cas was slightly smiling back. It did strange things to his stomach. Maybe he’d had a bad burger. ‘I do hope for you that there will be a next time.’ He hesitated for a second. ‘That you won’t die tonight.’
They drove the rest of the way in silence, at ease with each other - unlike earlier that day. When Dean pulled over in front of the house, he noticed that Cas was facing his way. ‘What?’
‘There isn’t much hope for that. Surviving.’ The angel was looking at him weirdly, making him fidget in his seat. ‘Raphael is a lot stronger than me.’
‘What d’you wanna say with that?’
‘I was just wondering, do you think I’d have more chance of dying without my virginity if I was in a female vessel?’ Cas said in a musing voice, looking at him from the corner of his eyes.
He had the nerve to make it sound casual.
Dean’s insides went hot and cold at the same time. No. No-no-no-no. He had to think about the line - and he couldn’t - but he wanted to. There was no stopping his thoughts from going to Emma Novak. It was just her body though, just a vessel. Everything else was all Cas.
Cas.
His mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. ‘Maybe,’ he muttered. The words had left his mouth before he could stop them. He got out of the car, hoping that the night would cool him down. Stupid feathery-ass bastard. They just had things straightened out. He looked up at the black sky, trying to fathom what it was that he wanted.
There was a very simple answer to that.
Suddenly, Cas was in front of him, eyes burning into his. ‘Dean, you said you wouldn’t let me die a virgin. And something about a Bert and Ernie too.’ His brows pulled together in confusion for a second. ‘But that peculiar reference aside - you promised. So help me. I’ll probably be death by morning, so you won’t have to worry about “an awkward talk” afterwards.’ His lips pulled up in a barely visible, wry smile.
Dean had to stop himself from letting out a frantic laugh. The angel had him figured out far too well. But he had a point too: no chick flick moment. He took a deep breath and said: ‘You’d want that? For me to… I mean - we can, if you want to. I’d just be… helping you out.’
Castiel nodded slowly, assenting. His face lit up with anticipation and desire (and a tad of the terror he’d shown in the brothel, but it was progress). He leaned in towards Dean.
‘Then go get your other vessel,’ Dean blurted out before Cas came to be too close. The angel lingered in his personal space for another moment, then disappeared from his sight. The beat of wings resonated in Dean’s head as he made his way into the house.
He went in a bee line for the bag in which he kept his booze, because he wasn’t by far drunk enough for this. And that was going to be a problem: no blaming the alcohol.
A glass in hand, he sat down on the tattered sofa in what most likely used to be the living room, if the fireplace was any hint. He downed the drink and that was it - that was all the time he got. A fire suddenly lit the room from inside the hearth and Cas was in front of him, all curves and long hair and badly concealed anxiety. And honestly? This wasn’t going to be hard at all.
Dean hooked his fingertips through the belt loops of Emma Novak’s jeans and pulled the angel in. Or he tried to, at least, ‘cause Cas didn’t move in the pliant way most women would; he resisted a little, with restrain in his movements. Dean used more force, until Cas gave in and straddled him on the sofa, awkwardly. With the flames behind him, it seemed as if he was graced with a fiery halo.
‘I don’t know -’
‘You don’t have to know anything,’ Dean interrupted him. ‘I have enough ideas for the both of us.’ He pulled Cas down and kissed him. And this time it was a real kiss, not the press of lips-to-lips from the last time. At first, it was mostly Dean’s doing - pulling Cas’s bottom lip between his own, then slowly plying his mouth open, licking inside. But after a while, the angel seemed to get the hang of it and he joined in, tangling their tongues and picking up the languid pace. It didn’t take long for Cas’s hands to find his face, for the kiss to heat up. It became open-mouthed and sloppy, but Dean loved it and he moved his own hands up Castiel’s body, sliding under the t-shirt the vessel was wearing. When he pulled it off, Cas let out a small sound of annoyance for having to break the kiss. Dean chuckled.
‘How was that for starters?’
‘Highly unsatisfying,’ Cas growled and it almost sounded like his other voice (the one that sounded so much more like him). It gave Dean chills that went right down to his groin.
‘Lets get on with it then.’ He flipped Cas off of him and onto his back, then settled above him. After getting rid of his own shirt, he moved down for another kiss. It was crazy what it did to him, just the feel of skin on skin and Cas’s breath mingling with his own. Every doubt left his thoughts and he felt his senses blending together as he got more and more drunk on the unearthly, pungent taste of the angel.
The night passed in a blur.
Friends. Mess that line up and everything goes to shit. The two of them had been pushing and pulling at it for a long time now, trying to replace its boundaries. But they never broke it before.
---
Castiel lived to see another day. Still, they didn’t talk about what happened, not a word.
---
Dean put his cell phone back into his pocket and felt his fingertips graze a small piece of paper. Only then he remembered the note. He pulled it out and handed it to Cas.
‘A memo from your future hippie self. Shouldn’t take him too seriously, though, the guy’s a stoner.’ Dean clapped him on the shoulder one more time. ‘Now take me to my car, I’ve gotta meet up with Sam.’
When he was alone in the Impala, he thought of the pending future - or rather, a future that could have been but wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to let it happen again. But he couldn’t help but wonder what if. What exactly had happened - would have happened - to get him and Cas to change so much? How hard had their lives been with the world crumbling down, the angels leaving and Dean losing his brother for good?
2
It’s slowly slipping away.
Cas looks at his fingertips, wondering if they got afflicted first, like with frostbite. If his grace had started leaking away right from under his fingernails. He can still zap himself to the other side of the room - yes, to where Dean is standing, too far away. (Sometimes he thinks he gets colder the further away he is.)
He can’t zap himself to Heaven anymore.
Bobby’s house didn’t change a bit - only it did, it smells like croatoan. They are making plans, the three of them, for Camp Chitaqua; there are other people, they need a camp. Bobby hates the idea, though. Castiel says he agrees with Dean.
The old man grumbles something about how that’s a big surprise and wheels out of the room.
Cas doesn’t know what to do, just moves closer to Dean -
who says: ‘It’s too dangerous for Bobby to stay here.’
- moves closer carefully. Tries to say it will be alright. That just gets him angry.
‘It won’t be okay, it ain’t,’ Dean spits out. He’s right. Sam.
‘Is there something I can do?’ he asks. He’d do anything.
‘But that’s the problem,’ is what Dean says, with a bitter voice that gives him the chills. ‘You can’t do anything. You’re just becoming more useless.’
Cas tries to dispute that. ‘I’ve still got some powers.’
Dean looks him in the eyes. ‘Yeah? Change vessels then,’ he whispers him in the ear. ‘I could use a quick fuck. That’s something you can do for me.’
But he can’t. He’s stuck in Jimmy Novak’s body. His eyes fix on the floor. Dean gives him a contemptuous smile and follows after Bobby.
He’s slowly slipping away.
3
Dean held onto the beer bottle like it was a lifeline. And maybe that was really the truth, maybe the only thing holding him together at that point was the alcohol. He took a long swig and sat down onto the motor cap of an old Dodge Charger. The rust would probably leave stains on his jeans, one of his favorites, but he couldn’t care less.
Ellen and Jo were dead. The stars could write his freakin’ name in the night sky and he couldn’t care less.
He didn’t hear Castiel coming until he was right in front of him. For once he didn’t look at Dean - for once he looked everywhere except for Dean.
‘You’re blocking my vaguely distant stare, man. Come sit with me.’
The angel obliged and sat down at Dean’s right side. He said, out of the blue: ‘I feel sadness. For their loss.’
‘You better.’
‘Not so long ago, I didn’t feel anything at all.’
‘Guess you met me then, huh.’ Dean smiled down at the gravel that covered the salvage yard.
‘You can’t take credit for all of it,’ Cas said, but he could hear his smile echoed in the angel’s response. ‘It’s also because of Sam and Bobby… and Ellen and Joanna.’ The last two names drifted in the air between them for a while.
‘Cas, do you… do you think any of the possible futures will be a happy one - or, well, just a not too crappy one?’ He looked to his right. ‘I mean, there was that zombie-apocalypse-shit, and now this. What if it doesn’t matter? What if no matter what we do, life will still see us ending up miserable, one way or the other? In that case, what’s the fucking point?’
Castiel kept silent for some minutes, before he answered: ‘It will always be hard, and it will always hurt, but I believe that there is indeed a reason for the things we do and that there is a possibility of happiness. And most of all, I believe that you more than anyone deserve it.’ The blue eyes met his.
‘Yeah, maybe.’
After a pause, Dean chuckled softly.
Cas shot him a inquiring look. ‘What?’
‘Nothing. I was just thinking about a future in which you don’t try to kill little children and in which Gabriel isn’t such a dick. Can you imagine it?’
Cas scowled. ‘How about a future where you aren’t so infuriatingly full of yourself and use normal phrases instead of embezzling from the accumulated collective of motion picture references?’
‘It’s called quoting, you retard.’ Dean knocked him gently with his shoulder.
‘It’s frustrating.’
‘Yeah, what about your flying off all the time? You think that’s not annoying as hell?’
Cas glowered at him but didn’t respond.
During their bickering, the angel had leaned into him, until their sides where touching. And when Dean finished his beer, for one time he didn’t feel like drowning or going into the house for another one. He just let the warmth from the body next to him seep through his clothes and closed his eyes, resting some of his weight against Cas in return.
4
Yet another failed mission to find the Colt. Disappointment has settled into the very core of his bones and he’s sure Dean feels the same. If Dean still feels at all, that is.
They’re staying the night in a rundown apartment block, because they’re all tired and it’s too dangerous to travel by night. They took two apartments - he, Dean and a young women they picked up on the way settled in the first, the others in the second. The girl is the only thing that made the trip worthwhile, as they don’t come across survivors often anymore. She told the story of how exactly she came out alive after the last few months and it’s a nightmare.
They give her the bedroom and stay in the living room. Dean says he’ll take first watch, so Cas goes to sleep on the couch.
It’s only an hour or two later when he wakes up again, roused by the sound of hushed voices. He hears the girl call for Dean, who’s nowhere to be seen. Cas get’s of the couch, alarmed. Did Dean go out? And why is she calling for someone? He opens the door to the bedroom and freezes.
Of course. How could he be so dense. They’re both in there, naked on the bed. She’s on hands and knees, facing the door, and Dean’s fucking into her from behind. They see him at the same time and their movements halt.
It’s Dean who is the first to say something. ‘Cas?’
And the way he says his name, it makes him think of that night in Maine, wearing Emma Novak’s body, of that one night they slept together. He’s hard in an instant.
‘I - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I thought you -’
He’s already turned around and half way out of the room when the girl interrupts him. ‘Why don’t you join in? I’m quite a fan of threesomes.’
Cas turns back again, slowly, and there’s this wicked glint in her eyes - in it he sees all the madness that she has seen. But the important thing is that she’s serious. He looks at Dean.
‘You’d mind?’ she asks over her shoulder. Cas realizes he’s holding his breath.
After what seems like an eternity, Dean shrugs. ‘It’s your party, sweetheart.’
She grins and looks at Cas again. ‘Get over here, then.’
He doesn’t question it, just goes along and closes the door. As he walks towards the bed, he removes his t-shirt and carefully eyes Dean, who’s looking straight back while rolling his hips just a little, making the girl let out a small gasp. Cas gets onto the bed, settling in front of her on his knees.
She smiles up at him and pulls the zipper of his jeans down with one hand.
‘Darling, this is going to the best blowjob you’ll ever get.’
It’s his first, so he doesn’t have much to compare with, but when he feels her mouth around him and Dean starts thrusting into her again - all the while looking right at him - he believes she might just be right about that statement.
5
It was a stupid thing to do; calling for help from a God that clearly didn’t give a shit. But everyone had their breaking points, even he - even Dean fucking Winchester. And he thought that maybe if he yelled loud enough, if he prayed loud enough, he wouldn’t have to hear Sammy’s screams anymore.
He remembered his talk with Cas and wondered what the fuck was taking his happy future so long to arrive. Where was that moment from which things would go for the better, not the worse?
He skipped dinner - which wasn’t prepared anyway, for Bobby didn’t feel all too chipper either - and went straight to the guest room. Usually, Sam stayed there, because with his gigantic body he didn’t fit on the couch. But his brother would be spending some nights in the panic room, so why not go for a decent bed?
After losing most of his clothes and pulling on some sweatpants, he dropped down onto the sheets and stared up at the ceiling, trying to numb his brain. It seemed like hours had passed until he heard a familiar, soft rustling noise.
‘You heard the latest scoop? I’m dead inside, apparently.’
‘I find that very hard to believe,’ came the soothing reply. Dean shot upright. It wasn’t Jimmy but Emma Novak standing in the dark shadow of the closet. A chill shot down his spine.
‘Cross-dressing again, are we?’
‘It was hard to convince her to lend me her body again.’ Cas paused for a moment. ‘I think she suspects something.’
‘How come? Did she by any chance feel incredibly relaxed and satisfied when she got her body back to herself last time?’ The hint of a smile touched his face. This was most likely the closest they’d ever get to discussing what had happened between them.
‘That’s very possible,’ Cas said, serious as ever.
‘How about it then?’ Dean felt his heart rate pick up as he spoke those words.
Castiel looked at him with his head characteristically tilted to the side. ‘You know, Dean, I’ve decided not to harm children anymore. We just might get to that future of yours.’
Dean swallowed and any possible reply went down with it. So he just outstretched his arm towards Cas and beckoned him with his eyes. The soft body was against him in mere instants and he sighed contently into the welcoming mouth, letting go of everything but Cas.
That night he fucked his angel in a way that some people love: wholeheartedly and caring. He did it because actions and motions where all he had to give and because in some twisted way he realized that precisely that wasn’t fair.
The entire encounter happened as quiet as possible, for some stuff Bobby just didn’t have to know. When he woke up the next morning, the wretched, anxious feeling in his heart was not so heavy anymore and he knew that was exactly what Cas had wanted to accomplish. He also knew what that said about the angel, but he wasn’t ready to really think about it yet.
Thanks for being here for me.
( next part: two | the imperfection of men, (second half) )
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, this is a work of fiction.
Warnings: spoilers for Supernatural season 4, 5 and 6 (this part: 5x02 until 5x14)
Beta: Thanks and credit goes to flwrpwr_vampyre for beta'ing!
A/N: Sorry that it took so long to finish this chapter, life's been busy.
Summary: Alongside the well-known story of two brothers, there’s another tale to be told in the midst of Heaven and Hell, the apocalypse and the Mother walking the earth. Chuck - ever the little bitch - just decided to leave it out. (Or in other words: how a man and an angel fell in something a lot like love… and hit rock-bottom.)
( previous part: one | the first steps (through deserts unwritten) )
when air was less solid than the soul
two | the imperfection of men, (first half)
1
Dean absentmindedly nibbled on some french fries. He knew Cas was watching him, felt the heavy gaze like it was a solid force, similar to the burning absence of his necklace - like an itch under his skin.
Eventually he snapped. ‘Stop staring and just drink your smoothie.’ He looked up at the angel, seated on the other side of the booth. They were having lunch in a diner just outside Waterville, Maine.
‘This color is very unappetizing,’ Cas said while frowning, turning the greenish smoothie in his hands. ‘I do not wish to drink it.’
‘Huh, I thought you’d like it.’ Dean flung another fry into his mouth. ‘Sam digs that shit.’
‘Why compare me to your brother?’ Cas asked blandly.
Dean stopped chewing. ‘Dunno, you’re an angel, I thought you’d be into the healthy stuff.’
The conversation died after that and Dean felt an awkward silence creep onto them - as it had done already too many times in the last couple hours. He still didn’t know why he’d agreed to go after an archangel with Castiel. Probably just because he really did owe the guy. He should have seen it coming though, the unease between them. Had felt a faint shadow of it in Bobby’s hospital room, when Cas had asked for his necklace. But somewhere in the back of his head, he’d hoped that maybe things would’ve been okay between them. As it turned out, they weren’t.
When the silence lingered on painfully long, Dean decided to speak up. ‘Cas, listen, about the other day -’
‘Dean, I know what you are going to say, but you don’t have to… I perfectly understand.’ Cas was looking stubbornly out the window as he said that.
‘How could you possibly know?’ Dean protested. ‘Look, I don’t really know what the hell it was that you acted on, probably just some issues with being interested in human… emotion. Yeah, let leave it at that. And I get it, I -’
‘Dean.’
‘No, really, I know it doesn’t mean anything and that’s good.’ When he saw Cas open his mouth to interrupt him again, he repeated with emphasis: ‘That’s good.’ He was fixing things the only way he knew: using questionable logic with a rock-solid foundation of denial. ‘On my part, again, I’m sorry for - you know - kissing you. Not cool. I mean, you’re my friend - sort of. And I don’t have that many friends. So let’s just forget about it, okay?’
Cas kept staring out of the window for a while longer, until Dean was dying to know what he was thinking about.
‘I am?’ he asked eventually, in a softer voice than usually.
‘Come again?’
‘Your… friend. I am your friend?’ He spoke the world like he was trying it for the first time. When he faced him again, Dean spotted something beneath all the heavenly righteousness and childlike curiosity that normally filled his eyes and drew the lines of his borrowed face - something close to happiness.
‘Yeah,’ Dean said, in a slightly puzzled tone. ‘You are.’
Cas reached for the the smoothie and cautiously took a sip through the straw.
‘I do like it. Despite the color.’
---
Friends. A straight, clear line that’s not to be crossed. And why should he? It’s nice and simple on their side of the line. Behind it, he can actually think. On the other side, the entire world’s insane.
So don’t mess that line up, or everything goes to shit.
---
They were in the car together, driving back to the abandoned house. Dean still had a smile plastered on his face, and when he saw Cas trying to get his clothes smoothed down again, it only grew bigger.
‘You really missed out on something there,’ he said, ‘that chick was hot.’
‘I’ll keep in mind for next time that I best don’t bring up the subject of absent fathers,’ Cas said solemnly. ‘As I can relate, I do have to admit that it might not have been a very… stimulating topic of conversation.’
Dean laughed again. ‘Glad to know that you at least realize what went wrong.’ When he threw a glance to his right, he saw that Cas was slightly smiling back. It did strange things to his stomach. Maybe he’d had a bad burger. ‘I do hope for you that there will be a next time.’ He hesitated for a second. ‘That you won’t die tonight.’
They drove the rest of the way in silence, at ease with each other - unlike earlier that day. When Dean pulled over in front of the house, he noticed that Cas was facing his way. ‘What?’
‘There isn’t much hope for that. Surviving.’ The angel was looking at him weirdly, making him fidget in his seat. ‘Raphael is a lot stronger than me.’
‘What d’you wanna say with that?’
‘I was just wondering, do you think I’d have more chance of dying without my virginity if I was in a female vessel?’ Cas said in a musing voice, looking at him from the corner of his eyes.
He had the nerve to make it sound casual.
Dean’s insides went hot and cold at the same time. No. No-no-no-no. He had to think about the line - and he couldn’t - but he wanted to. There was no stopping his thoughts from going to Emma Novak. It was just her body though, just a vessel. Everything else was all Cas.
Cas.
His mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. ‘Maybe,’ he muttered. The words had left his mouth before he could stop them. He got out of the car, hoping that the night would cool him down. Stupid feathery-ass bastard. They just had things straightened out. He looked up at the black sky, trying to fathom what it was that he wanted.
There was a very simple answer to that.
Suddenly, Cas was in front of him, eyes burning into his. ‘Dean, you said you wouldn’t let me die a virgin. And something about a Bert and Ernie too.’ His brows pulled together in confusion for a second. ‘But that peculiar reference aside - you promised. So help me. I’ll probably be death by morning, so you won’t have to worry about “an awkward talk” afterwards.’ His lips pulled up in a barely visible, wry smile.
Dean had to stop himself from letting out a frantic laugh. The angel had him figured out far too well. But he had a point too: no chick flick moment. He took a deep breath and said: ‘You’d want that? For me to… I mean - we can, if you want to. I’d just be… helping you out.’
Castiel nodded slowly, assenting. His face lit up with anticipation and desire (and a tad of the terror he’d shown in the brothel, but it was progress). He leaned in towards Dean.
‘Then go get your other vessel,’ Dean blurted out before Cas came to be too close. The angel lingered in his personal space for another moment, then disappeared from his sight. The beat of wings resonated in Dean’s head as he made his way into the house.
He went in a bee line for the bag in which he kept his booze, because he wasn’t by far drunk enough for this. And that was going to be a problem: no blaming the alcohol.
A glass in hand, he sat down on the tattered sofa in what most likely used to be the living room, if the fireplace was any hint. He downed the drink and that was it - that was all the time he got. A fire suddenly lit the room from inside the hearth and Cas was in front of him, all curves and long hair and badly concealed anxiety. And honestly? This wasn’t going to be hard at all.
Dean hooked his fingertips through the belt loops of Emma Novak’s jeans and pulled the angel in. Or he tried to, at least, ‘cause Cas didn’t move in the pliant way most women would; he resisted a little, with restrain in his movements. Dean used more force, until Cas gave in and straddled him on the sofa, awkwardly. With the flames behind him, it seemed as if he was graced with a fiery halo.
‘I don’t know -’
‘You don’t have to know anything,’ Dean interrupted him. ‘I have enough ideas for the both of us.’ He pulled Cas down and kissed him. And this time it was a real kiss, not the press of lips-to-lips from the last time. At first, it was mostly Dean’s doing - pulling Cas’s bottom lip between his own, then slowly plying his mouth open, licking inside. But after a while, the angel seemed to get the hang of it and he joined in, tangling their tongues and picking up the languid pace. It didn’t take long for Cas’s hands to find his face, for the kiss to heat up. It became open-mouthed and sloppy, but Dean loved it and he moved his own hands up Castiel’s body, sliding under the t-shirt the vessel was wearing. When he pulled it off, Cas let out a small sound of annoyance for having to break the kiss. Dean chuckled.
‘How was that for starters?’
‘Highly unsatisfying,’ Cas growled and it almost sounded like his other voice (the one that sounded so much more like him). It gave Dean chills that went right down to his groin.
‘Lets get on with it then.’ He flipped Cas off of him and onto his back, then settled above him. After getting rid of his own shirt, he moved down for another kiss. It was crazy what it did to him, just the feel of skin on skin and Cas’s breath mingling with his own. Every doubt left his thoughts and he felt his senses blending together as he got more and more drunk on the unearthly, pungent taste of the angel.
The night passed in a blur.
Friends. Mess that line up and everything goes to shit. The two of them had been pushing and pulling at it for a long time now, trying to replace its boundaries. But they never broke it before.
---
Castiel lived to see another day. Still, they didn’t talk about what happened, not a word.
---
Dean put his cell phone back into his pocket and felt his fingertips graze a small piece of paper. Only then he remembered the note. He pulled it out and handed it to Cas.
‘A memo from your future hippie self. Shouldn’t take him too seriously, though, the guy’s a stoner.’ Dean clapped him on the shoulder one more time. ‘Now take me to my car, I’ve gotta meet up with Sam.’
When he was alone in the Impala, he thought of the pending future - or rather, a future that could have been but wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to let it happen again. But he couldn’t help but wonder what if. What exactly had happened - would have happened - to get him and Cas to change so much? How hard had their lives been with the world crumbling down, the angels leaving and Dean losing his brother for good?
2
It’s slowly slipping away.
Cas looks at his fingertips, wondering if they got afflicted first, like with frostbite. If his grace had started leaking away right from under his fingernails. He can still zap himself to the other side of the room - yes, to where Dean is standing, too far away. (Sometimes he thinks he gets colder the further away he is.)
He can’t zap himself to Heaven anymore.
Bobby’s house didn’t change a bit - only it did, it smells like croatoan. They are making plans, the three of them, for Camp Chitaqua; there are other people, they need a camp. Bobby hates the idea, though. Castiel says he agrees with Dean.
The old man grumbles something about how that’s a big surprise and wheels out of the room.
Cas doesn’t know what to do, just moves closer to Dean -
who says: ‘It’s too dangerous for Bobby to stay here.’
- moves closer carefully. Tries to say it will be alright. That just gets him angry.
‘It won’t be okay, it ain’t,’ Dean spits out. He’s right. Sam.
‘Is there something I can do?’ he asks. He’d do anything.
‘But that’s the problem,’ is what Dean says, with a bitter voice that gives him the chills. ‘You can’t do anything. You’re just becoming more useless.’
Cas tries to dispute that. ‘I’ve still got some powers.’
Dean looks him in the eyes. ‘Yeah? Change vessels then,’ he whispers him in the ear. ‘I could use a quick fuck. That’s something you can do for me.’
But he can’t. He’s stuck in Jimmy Novak’s body. His eyes fix on the floor. Dean gives him a contemptuous smile and follows after Bobby.
He’s slowly slipping away.
3
Dean held onto the beer bottle like it was a lifeline. And maybe that was really the truth, maybe the only thing holding him together at that point was the alcohol. He took a long swig and sat down onto the motor cap of an old Dodge Charger. The rust would probably leave stains on his jeans, one of his favorites, but he couldn’t care less.
Ellen and Jo were dead. The stars could write his freakin’ name in the night sky and he couldn’t care less.
He didn’t hear Castiel coming until he was right in front of him. For once he didn’t look at Dean - for once he looked everywhere except for Dean.
‘You’re blocking my vaguely distant stare, man. Come sit with me.’
The angel obliged and sat down at Dean’s right side. He said, out of the blue: ‘I feel sadness. For their loss.’
‘You better.’
‘Not so long ago, I didn’t feel anything at all.’
‘Guess you met me then, huh.’ Dean smiled down at the gravel that covered the salvage yard.
‘You can’t take credit for all of it,’ Cas said, but he could hear his smile echoed in the angel’s response. ‘It’s also because of Sam and Bobby… and Ellen and Joanna.’ The last two names drifted in the air between them for a while.
‘Cas, do you… do you think any of the possible futures will be a happy one - or, well, just a not too crappy one?’ He looked to his right. ‘I mean, there was that zombie-apocalypse-shit, and now this. What if it doesn’t matter? What if no matter what we do, life will still see us ending up miserable, one way or the other? In that case, what’s the fucking point?’
Castiel kept silent for some minutes, before he answered: ‘It will always be hard, and it will always hurt, but I believe that there is indeed a reason for the things we do and that there is a possibility of happiness. And most of all, I believe that you more than anyone deserve it.’ The blue eyes met his.
‘Yeah, maybe.’
After a pause, Dean chuckled softly.
Cas shot him a inquiring look. ‘What?’
‘Nothing. I was just thinking about a future in which you don’t try to kill little children and in which Gabriel isn’t such a dick. Can you imagine it?’
Cas scowled. ‘How about a future where you aren’t so infuriatingly full of yourself and use normal phrases instead of embezzling from the accumulated collective of motion picture references?’
‘It’s called quoting, you retard.’ Dean knocked him gently with his shoulder.
‘It’s frustrating.’
‘Yeah, what about your flying off all the time? You think that’s not annoying as hell?’
Cas glowered at him but didn’t respond.
During their bickering, the angel had leaned into him, until their sides where touching. And when Dean finished his beer, for one time he didn’t feel like drowning or going into the house for another one. He just let the warmth from the body next to him seep through his clothes and closed his eyes, resting some of his weight against Cas in return.
4
Yet another failed mission to find the Colt. Disappointment has settled into the very core of his bones and he’s sure Dean feels the same. If Dean still feels at all, that is.
They’re staying the night in a rundown apartment block, because they’re all tired and it’s too dangerous to travel by night. They took two apartments - he, Dean and a young women they picked up on the way settled in the first, the others in the second. The girl is the only thing that made the trip worthwhile, as they don’t come across survivors often anymore. She told the story of how exactly she came out alive after the last few months and it’s a nightmare.
They give her the bedroom and stay in the living room. Dean says he’ll take first watch, so Cas goes to sleep on the couch.
It’s only an hour or two later when he wakes up again, roused by the sound of hushed voices. He hears the girl call for Dean, who’s nowhere to be seen. Cas get’s of the couch, alarmed. Did Dean go out? And why is she calling for someone? He opens the door to the bedroom and freezes.
Of course. How could he be so dense. They’re both in there, naked on the bed. She’s on hands and knees, facing the door, and Dean’s fucking into her from behind. They see him at the same time and their movements halt.
It’s Dean who is the first to say something. ‘Cas?’
And the way he says his name, it makes him think of that night in Maine, wearing Emma Novak’s body, of that one night they slept together. He’s hard in an instant.
‘I - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I thought you -’
He’s already turned around and half way out of the room when the girl interrupts him. ‘Why don’t you join in? I’m quite a fan of threesomes.’
Cas turns back again, slowly, and there’s this wicked glint in her eyes - in it he sees all the madness that she has seen. But the important thing is that she’s serious. He looks at Dean.
‘You’d mind?’ she asks over her shoulder. Cas realizes he’s holding his breath.
After what seems like an eternity, Dean shrugs. ‘It’s your party, sweetheart.’
She grins and looks at Cas again. ‘Get over here, then.’
He doesn’t question it, just goes along and closes the door. As he walks towards the bed, he removes his t-shirt and carefully eyes Dean, who’s looking straight back while rolling his hips just a little, making the girl let out a small gasp. Cas gets onto the bed, settling in front of her on his knees.
She smiles up at him and pulls the zipper of his jeans down with one hand.
‘Darling, this is going to the best blowjob you’ll ever get.’
It’s his first, so he doesn’t have much to compare with, but when he feels her mouth around him and Dean starts thrusting into her again - all the while looking right at him - he believes she might just be right about that statement.
5
It was a stupid thing to do; calling for help from a God that clearly didn’t give a shit. But everyone had their breaking points, even he - even Dean fucking Winchester. And he thought that maybe if he yelled loud enough, if he prayed loud enough, he wouldn’t have to hear Sammy’s screams anymore.
He remembered his talk with Cas and wondered what the fuck was taking his happy future so long to arrive. Where was that moment from which things would go for the better, not the worse?
He skipped dinner - which wasn’t prepared anyway, for Bobby didn’t feel all too chipper either - and went straight to the guest room. Usually, Sam stayed there, because with his gigantic body he didn’t fit on the couch. But his brother would be spending some nights in the panic room, so why not go for a decent bed?
After losing most of his clothes and pulling on some sweatpants, he dropped down onto the sheets and stared up at the ceiling, trying to numb his brain. It seemed like hours had passed until he heard a familiar, soft rustling noise.
‘You heard the latest scoop? I’m dead inside, apparently.’
‘I find that very hard to believe,’ came the soothing reply. Dean shot upright. It wasn’t Jimmy but Emma Novak standing in the dark shadow of the closet. A chill shot down his spine.
‘Cross-dressing again, are we?’
‘It was hard to convince her to lend me her body again.’ Cas paused for a moment. ‘I think she suspects something.’
‘How come? Did she by any chance feel incredibly relaxed and satisfied when she got her body back to herself last time?’ The hint of a smile touched his face. This was most likely the closest they’d ever get to discussing what had happened between them.
‘That’s very possible,’ Cas said, serious as ever.
‘How about it then?’ Dean felt his heart rate pick up as he spoke those words.
Castiel looked at him with his head characteristically tilted to the side. ‘You know, Dean, I’ve decided not to harm children anymore. We just might get to that future of yours.’
Dean swallowed and any possible reply went down with it. So he just outstretched his arm towards Cas and beckoned him with his eyes. The soft body was against him in mere instants and he sighed contently into the welcoming mouth, letting go of everything but Cas.
That night he fucked his angel in a way that some people love: wholeheartedly and caring. He did it because actions and motions where all he had to give and because in some twisted way he realized that precisely that wasn’t fair.
The entire encounter happened as quiet as possible, for some stuff Bobby just didn’t have to know. When he woke up the next morning, the wretched, anxious feeling in his heart was not so heavy anymore and he knew that was exactly what Cas had wanted to accomplish. He also knew what that said about the angel, but he wasn’t ready to really think about it yet.
Thanks for being here for me.
( next part: two | the imperfection of men, (second half) )