[fic] Foolish Games
I really don't know why I wrote this *shrug* I blame 2am.
Title: Foolish Games
Author: stfu_pwentzz
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: 5x22
Summary: You took your coat off and stood in the rain
You were always crazy like that
Disclaimer: This is an act of fiction. I don’t own any of the characters just the plot. Title, cut text and italics before each section belong to "Foolish Games"
Author Notes: This was inspired by the song "Foolish Games" and is a little less angsty than I thought it would be, but still kind of angsty. This could technically be AU after 5x22 because Dean's not with Lisa for some reason but the events in 5x22 still stand.I like the part where [highlight to read the spoiler] I also ran with the "Castiel's human emotions get reset after he's resurrected" spoilers..
You stood in my doorway
With nothing to say
Besides some comment on the weather
It was too early for this.
Dean was in his garage working on his pickup truck, trying to avoid the gaze of his impala and ignore the sound of the rain hitting his roof. Hard to imagine he had a roof over his head. He had a roof, which was always something. It was a few hours after dawn and he was covered in grease. He resisted the urge to wipe his forehead because he knew he would smear it and he tried not to spend too much time looking in the mirror if he could help it.
He never claimed to be rational.
He deduced that the truck needed a new waterpump and of course it did because Dean' life sucked. His baby never gave him trouble like this. He distinctly didn't look over to the blue tarp that was covering the only home that Dean had known all of his life. He was being too nostalgic for his liking.
He kicked the tire just for good measure and walked into his house. Kicking his shoes off by the doorway that conneected a hallway and his exit to the garage he debated whether he should suck it up and fix the water pump himself or get someone else to do it. Ryan, the local mechanic, and him could probably punch it out in a day but it all depended on Dean's need for interaction or not.
It was a small town and Dean thought it was nice. It wasn't small enough where everybody knew everyone else's business but small enough that everything was close. He didn't need to be in his truck longer than he had to. If he was in a vehicle for too long he always got that itch in his feet to keep driving far away from his house.
Also close enough that a diner was within walking distance, if one counted two miles as walking distance. It was quaint and tiny but good enough for Dean. They had good breakfast options, if he did say so himself. He had yet to try their, ah, desert section but he figured he'd get to it one day. He did have the rest of his life.
How humbling, he thought to himself albeit a bit bitterly .
He walked to the kitchen sink, dishes piling higher than he would have liked but it was easier just to leave them. He actually didn't do them until someone, Ryan, came in and berated him for being such a bachelor and either Dean gave in from the constant nagging or Ryan did them himself. It was weird having a friend who would do that for him. But Dean didn't complain.
He poured a little soap on his hands and looked in his backyard. There was a pond in the back that was good for a little fishing, an afternoon to relax with nothing but a cooler with beer, lawn chair and fishing pole. He liked it because his neighrboor liked to keep it filled with fish so Dean had something to catch, even if it wasn't necessary. He liked fishing because it was relaxing.
It was still downpouring and in the middle of the downpour there was a man standing in the middle of his yard without his coat on. He recognized the dark eyes staring right at him, the suit that was getting soaked, the hair that was becoming matted to the man's forehead, and most of all the tan coat that was hanging over the man's arm. Dean dropped the soap into the sink mumbling "Cas," as he watched Castiel stare at him in the middle of his yard acting like it was nothing out of the ordinary.
It was quite out of the ordinary. But everything Castiel did was. It was years ago and it still was today. Dean found himself walking into the den to stare at him through the big window. He didn't want to go outside, didn't know if he should meet the angel halfway. He didn't look like he was moving.
He was holding himself more different. Dean couldn't put his finger on it, but maybe that was the archangel in him. He had this, he wouldn't call it arrogance, but he couldn't think of anything else. There was this unworldly way about him and it was only intensified now. Once Dean had connected with him but now. Now he looked almost alien as he took steps walking up the yard to his deck, attempting to seek entryway into Dean's house. Dean took a few breaths and made his way over to the sliding door. He opened it and Castiel didn't say anything at first.
He looked past Dean's shoulder into the den. "Interesting weather you're having," he said when his eyes finally landed back on Dean's. His voice still had that same old roughness it had, but it had a little more power behind it. Maybe if he spoke loud enough he could move Dean away from the door.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, crazy. Did you want to come in?"
Castiel studied Dean's face for a moment before nodding. Dean took a step out of the way and watched Castiel take several careful steps into his house. Dean's eyes immediately went down to Castiel's soaked shoes that were on his carpet but they were already off, leaning against the wood paneling. Maybe he wasn't as alien as he thought.
When Dean realized that Castiel wasn't going to say anything else the motherly instinct still present in Dean bubbled to the surface. "Would you like some dry clothes and coffee?"
Castiel's eyes were darker. "If you don't mind."
Dean shrugged. "I'll be right back."
---
You’re always brilliant in morning, talking over coffee
Dean tried not to freak out too much. It had been years and here Castiel was like nothing had changed. Nothing except his entire...essense. He wasn't the same. Maybe heaven had changed him, he wasn't sure. He rushed trying to find something appropiate for him to wear when it dawned on him that he didn't have anything appropiate. He hadn't changed his attire from flannels, tee's and jeans in the past three years.
They would have to do. He tried not to grab a shirt that was too blasphemous even though he knew it shouldn't matter, he should grab something blasphemous to test Castiel. But if he was telling himself the truth, he was afraid Castiel might vanish again. Vanish for another three years. And Ryan was great and all, but Castiel was really the closest he's had to a best friend, not counting Sammy.
And to say that he missed Castiel would be an understatement. Understatement of the century, at the very least. He ended up just grabbing a blue shirt with some jeans that had grown too small for Dean and headed downstairs to find Castiel in the same exact spot as he was before.
He coughed. "Here you go," he handed the clothes to the angel. Castiel grabbed them and nodded. Castiel jumped in and out of the present for a millisecond and he was dressed in the clothes.
Dean clicked his tongue. Right. Archangel, he thought dumbly to himself. "Forgot about that. Could've saved me a few minutes at least."
Castiel shrugged and sat down at Dean's little kitchen table. "Gave me a chance to look around," Castiel confessed and Dean nodded as he made his way over to the coffeemaker. Of course Castiel would snoop. Even if the situation didn't present itself Dean had no qualms about Cas playing with time to check it out without Dean's knowledge.
Hell he probably did exactly that.
Dean fiddled around with the coffeemaker, hands fidgeting nervously which didn't make any sense. He could make a pot of coffee while fighting off three demons at the same time. He looked over to see Castiel studying a few of the items on the table.
"See anything you like?" He asked.
Castiel looked at him, his eyes seemed softer more focused somehow. "You are alone in this house."
Dean shrugged and finished pouring grounds into the machine and went towards the table while they waited. "Yep. Lone wolf Winchester right here," he quipped with a slight smile on his face. Castiel wasn't amused.
He just nodded absently, still scanning the room. His eyes locked on an accoustic guitar that he had picked up from a thrift store a few years back. "You play guitar now?"
Dean felt like he was being interrogated. But why would an angel want to interrogate him over such non-trivial things such as single-dom and his ability to play an instrument? He decided to bite. "Yeah, have for a few years. I still suck but I can play a few tunes. Not fighting ev...not hunting left me with a lot of time on my hands. Had to fill it somehow."
Castiel was smiling now, no matter how vague it was. Dean could see it, just the slight curve of his lips.
"Heaven not giving you the giggles?"
Castiel's eyes hardened once again. "Heaven is in a crisis, Dean. Why would there be laughter?"
Dean snorted. "Not that much of a crisis because you're here," he threw back at him.
Castiel's eyes bore into him and he wanted to take it back but he didn't. He wasn't scared of Castiel back then and he wasn't afraid of him now.
"I could leave," Castiel threatened and something in Dean seized up. His eyes were blazing and he was holding his body away from the back of the chair like he could leave at any moment.
Dean was never someone who admitted their wants and needs so he didn't say anything at all, even though the lack of omission was probably worse than him saying anything at all.
Castiel relaxed against the chair which meant he probably knew Dean wanted him to stay. Or he read his mind. Dean didn't want him to stay, not really, he just didn't want him to leave, if that made any sense. It didn't, and he vaguely knew it wasn't true but he let it slide as the tiny coffeemaker beeped.
He got up and got them both a cup of coffee which loosened Castiel right up. Caffeine apparently was an archangel's weakness. He couldn't get Castiel to shut up, and frankly he didn't really feel the need to want to.
---
Excuse me I think I have mistaken you for somebody else
Somebody who gave a damn
Somebody more like myself
He spoke of heaven, his brothers, his responsibilities but he seemed so cut off from reality. He spoke like someone reading something off of a teleprompter. He was worse than the evening news. Worse because he sounded more realistic.
Dean sipped his coffee as he watched Castiel recite rules and regulations as if Dean were giving him a test. There were a few emotions as he spoke. Dean first noticed the flick of anger in his eyes when he mention Raphael and the slight smile of recognition of Gabriel. Dean had a feeling they might have fixed some things up in heaven.
"Gabriel's alive?" Dean asked.
Castiel nodded. "Yes. He was on side so he was also resurrected."
"Is he...different?"
Castiel tilted his head sideways for the first time since he had gotten there. Maybe he wasn't so different after all. "Different, how?"
"Up to his old tricks you know? Being Gabriel or being top angel in his class like the rest of the resurrected angels?"
Castiel's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying, Dean?" his voice had went back to the threatening tone it had been at earlier in the morning.
Dean sighed. "Nothing. I'm not saying anything, Castiel."
Castiel jumped back in his chair slightly. "Castiel," he whispered to himself. He was testing the word on his tongue, not in wonder but in false recognition.
Dean set his coffee cup down on the table harder than he probably should. "Yeah, that's still your name isn't it?"
"It is. It's just you...you've never called me Castiel. Perhaps once."
Dean shrugged. This angel sitting at his table might have been the same angel that gripped him tight and raised him out of Hell but this was not the same angel who went to a brothel with him. This was not the angel who gave everything up for Dean. He was not the same angel who Dean had got used to as a permenant impala passenger.
It was like his settings were back in default. Like nothing they had been through actually happened. They happened, but Castiel couldn't relate. He had lost emotions.
And that pissed Dean off because he missed Cas and now Casatiel was sitting in his kitchen. Quickly he toyed with the thought of the angel he loved dying the day that Lucifer blew him up. This was not his angel, that was for certain.
"Better start getting used to it I guess. I mean, Castiel is your given name. Why change it up with the new sheriff. Or old sheriff I should say."
Castiel turned his chair and he was closer to Dean. "Old...when is the last time we spoke, Dean?" He asked, the curiosity bleeding into his tone.
Dean shrugged. "Almost four years now."
Castiel reared back, his eyes open with wonder. "It didn't feel like four years, hardly knew how much time was passing."
As much as Dean didn't want to admit it, that freaking hurt him a little bit. Dean was left on earth alone without Sam, without Cas and Castiel didn't even know how long had actually passed. The words didn't have a single thought put to them and the fact that Castiel didn't get that something was harsh about them hurt even more.
Dean turned away from Castiel. "Well, it did."
They were both silent for a moment. Castiel took a deep breath. "You're angry with me," he bluntly stated.
Dean rolled his eyes because No shit, Sherlock. He got up, grabbed the cups and decided now was the perfect time to do the dishes because dishes were better than talking to this...thing at the moment. He got through a few cups before he felt Castiel behind him.
"Dean."
Dean ignored him, which was a mistake, because all of a sudden he was spun around, his favorite mug broken on the floor because he had been taken off guard. The water stopped and he knew Castiel must've done it. Dean opened his mouth to talk, but Castiel grabbed his collar, and threw him against the refrigerator. Dean seriously hoped he missed the pile of glass beecause it was on the other side of the kitchen.
"Cas--tiel," he muttered. At the name Castiel pushed him harder and this was a shit lot scarier than the alley back then because now Cas was strong. Cas could break his neck in two without a seconds thought.
"You did it again. You called me Castiel," he said, holding Dean harder and pressing himself against Dean. "Why?" he asked in a deeper tone.
Dean gulped. "Because you're not Cas."
Castiel scoffed. "Of course I am."
Dean clenched his teeth and he was sick of this. "No you're not. The Cas I knew died in Michigan in 2010. Cas, the angel who gave up everything for me was killed by Lucifer. You're a shadow of what Cas was. So I can't call you his name."
Castiel blinked up at him. And Dean couldn't believe it. Was that pain in that son of a bitches eyes? Not so stoic and heavenly anymore was he.
"Dean. How can you--"
"Easily," he spewed out. "There must've been a mix up because this is not the same Cas as the one who rebelled Heaven for me. My Cas actually gave a damn about life, about me. Cas wouldn't stay in jury duty for four years without saying a word. Cas was a guy who could sit with a guy, and while it was stilted, have an actual conversation with him. Did they reteach you to talk by showing you "How to speak with alien species'?"
Castiel's eyes narrowed and Dean could tell he was getting all smitey again but at least that was something. There was some emotion of some kind behind those eyes. Dean could feel it.
Castiel leaned closer. "How can I...how can I show you that it's me, Dean."
Dean was at a loss of words because he didn't know how. He couldn't because this wasn't Cas. It wasn't--
His train of thought was broken by Castiel's lips crashing to his. He was about to be the mature one here and break it off, but Castiel was insistent against his lips that it was kind of hard. Against his will, Dean brought his hand up to Castie's neck to lead the kiss, but Castiel wasn't having any of that. He opened Dean's mouth and pressed his knee to Dean's crotch. He was trapped like a rat. He was trapped by Castiel's lips who wouldn't stop, the constant feel of his arms against Dean's body, and now his thigh.
Dean gave up. This felt the same. This felt like hotels and frustration and attraction, if he wasn't lying to himself. This felt like just the two of them, with Sam making some food run of some sort. It felt like Sam would be back at any moment and he couldn't get away from Cas. "Cas," he moaned. Castiel moved his lips from Dean's to his neck and fuck it had been too long. He gripped Castiel's hair and moved his head to the side to make more room for Castiel.
It felt good. It felt like coming home after four lonely years in a house. Four years of driving a pick up truck because he couldn't handle driving the impala which only caused him to think of his dad and Sam and hunting and Cas. It reminded him of sing-alongs and roadtips and occassionally laughs.
Dean let go of Castiel's hair and fell limp against the refrigerator. It was too good to be true. How could the same man, angel, whatever, that sat in his kitchen and talked on auto-pilot for an hour be the same angel he, he bit his tongue on the thought, loved. It couldn't.
Castiel stopped kissing him, he probably felt Dean lose the energy he just had. "Dean?"
Dean closed his eyes and he hated himself but it couldn't be the same. As much as he wanted Castiel to be Cas he knew he wouldn't. It was like falling in love with Jimmy. He may look like Cas but he wasn't him. Dean could rut against him, groan against his mouth but it wasn't the same as when he moaned against Cas' neck, trying to be quiet because Sam was only in the other room.
"I'm fine, Castiel."
Castiel noticed the change. His eyes were mirroring sadness that Dean knew were in his own. Castiel leaned in to kiss him softly. Dean would take this. He would take anything Castiel would give him because he was greedy but they both knew the truth.
Dean kissed back forcefully and when he opened his eyes they were on Dean's bed and Dean let him be ravaged by Castiel. Dean looked in Castiel's eyes and they both knew there was another pair that he wished he was looking in. He thrusted against Castiel's hips and felt Castiel growl against his mouth.
---
You took your coat off and stood in the rain
When Dean woke up again it was still raining. He knew Castiel was gone, probably back in heaven. He sighed and looked at the empty spot in his bed. There was a still damp trenchcoat and suit folded neatly on the pillow. Dean smiled a sad smile. Castiel wouldn't need it. It never really belonged to him anyway.
End.
Title: Foolish Games
Author: stfu_pwentzz
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: 5x22
Summary: You took your coat off and stood in the rain
You were always crazy like that
Disclaimer: This is an act of fiction. I don’t own any of the characters just the plot. Title, cut text and italics before each section belong to "Foolish Games"
Author Notes: This was inspired by the song "Foolish Games" and is a little less angsty than I thought it would be, but still kind of angsty. This could technically be AU after 5x22 because Dean's not with Lisa for some reason but the events in 5x22 still stand.I like the part where [highlight to read the spoiler] I also ran with the "Castiel's human emotions get reset after he's resurrected" spoilers..
You stood in my doorway
With nothing to say
Besides some comment on the weather
It was too early for this.
Dean was in his garage working on his pickup truck, trying to avoid the gaze of his impala and ignore the sound of the rain hitting his roof. Hard to imagine he had a roof over his head. He had a roof, which was always something. It was a few hours after dawn and he was covered in grease. He resisted the urge to wipe his forehead because he knew he would smear it and he tried not to spend too much time looking in the mirror if he could help it.
He never claimed to be rational.
He deduced that the truck needed a new waterpump and of course it did because Dean' life sucked. His baby never gave him trouble like this. He distinctly didn't look over to the blue tarp that was covering the only home that Dean had known all of his life. He was being too nostalgic for his liking.
He kicked the tire just for good measure and walked into his house. Kicking his shoes off by the doorway that conneected a hallway and his exit to the garage he debated whether he should suck it up and fix the water pump himself or get someone else to do it. Ryan, the local mechanic, and him could probably punch it out in a day but it all depended on Dean's need for interaction or not.
It was a small town and Dean thought it was nice. It wasn't small enough where everybody knew everyone else's business but small enough that everything was close. He didn't need to be in his truck longer than he had to. If he was in a vehicle for too long he always got that itch in his feet to keep driving far away from his house.
Also close enough that a diner was within walking distance, if one counted two miles as walking distance. It was quaint and tiny but good enough for Dean. They had good breakfast options, if he did say so himself. He had yet to try their, ah, desert section but he figured he'd get to it one day. He did have the rest of his life.
How humbling, he thought to himself albeit a bit bitterly .
He walked to the kitchen sink, dishes piling higher than he would have liked but it was easier just to leave them. He actually didn't do them until someone, Ryan, came in and berated him for being such a bachelor and either Dean gave in from the constant nagging or Ryan did them himself. It was weird having a friend who would do that for him. But Dean didn't complain.
He poured a little soap on his hands and looked in his backyard. There was a pond in the back that was good for a little fishing, an afternoon to relax with nothing but a cooler with beer, lawn chair and fishing pole. He liked it because his neighrboor liked to keep it filled with fish so Dean had something to catch, even if it wasn't necessary. He liked fishing because it was relaxing.
It was still downpouring and in the middle of the downpour there was a man standing in the middle of his yard without his coat on. He recognized the dark eyes staring right at him, the suit that was getting soaked, the hair that was becoming matted to the man's forehead, and most of all the tan coat that was hanging over the man's arm. Dean dropped the soap into the sink mumbling "Cas," as he watched Castiel stare at him in the middle of his yard acting like it was nothing out of the ordinary.
It was quite out of the ordinary. But everything Castiel did was. It was years ago and it still was today. Dean found himself walking into the den to stare at him through the big window. He didn't want to go outside, didn't know if he should meet the angel halfway. He didn't look like he was moving.
He was holding himself more different. Dean couldn't put his finger on it, but maybe that was the archangel in him. He had this, he wouldn't call it arrogance, but he couldn't think of anything else. There was this unworldly way about him and it was only intensified now. Once Dean had connected with him but now. Now he looked almost alien as he took steps walking up the yard to his deck, attempting to seek entryway into Dean's house. Dean took a few breaths and made his way over to the sliding door. He opened it and Castiel didn't say anything at first.
He looked past Dean's shoulder into the den. "Interesting weather you're having," he said when his eyes finally landed back on Dean's. His voice still had that same old roughness it had, but it had a little more power behind it. Maybe if he spoke loud enough he could move Dean away from the door.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, crazy. Did you want to come in?"
Castiel studied Dean's face for a moment before nodding. Dean took a step out of the way and watched Castiel take several careful steps into his house. Dean's eyes immediately went down to Castiel's soaked shoes that were on his carpet but they were already off, leaning against the wood paneling. Maybe he wasn't as alien as he thought.
When Dean realized that Castiel wasn't going to say anything else the motherly instinct still present in Dean bubbled to the surface. "Would you like some dry clothes and coffee?"
Castiel's eyes were darker. "If you don't mind."
Dean shrugged. "I'll be right back."
---
You’re always brilliant in morning, talking over coffee
Dean tried not to freak out too much. It had been years and here Castiel was like nothing had changed. Nothing except his entire...essense. He wasn't the same. Maybe heaven had changed him, he wasn't sure. He rushed trying to find something appropiate for him to wear when it dawned on him that he didn't have anything appropiate. He hadn't changed his attire from flannels, tee's and jeans in the past three years.
They would have to do. He tried not to grab a shirt that was too blasphemous even though he knew it shouldn't matter, he should grab something blasphemous to test Castiel. But if he was telling himself the truth, he was afraid Castiel might vanish again. Vanish for another three years. And Ryan was great and all, but Castiel was really the closest he's had to a best friend, not counting Sammy.
And to say that he missed Castiel would be an understatement. Understatement of the century, at the very least. He ended up just grabbing a blue shirt with some jeans that had grown too small for Dean and headed downstairs to find Castiel in the same exact spot as he was before.
He coughed. "Here you go," he handed the clothes to the angel. Castiel grabbed them and nodded. Castiel jumped in and out of the present for a millisecond and he was dressed in the clothes.
Dean clicked his tongue. Right. Archangel, he thought dumbly to himself. "Forgot about that. Could've saved me a few minutes at least."
Castiel shrugged and sat down at Dean's little kitchen table. "Gave me a chance to look around," Castiel confessed and Dean nodded as he made his way over to the coffeemaker. Of course Castiel would snoop. Even if the situation didn't present itself Dean had no qualms about Cas playing with time to check it out without Dean's knowledge.
Hell he probably did exactly that.
Dean fiddled around with the coffeemaker, hands fidgeting nervously which didn't make any sense. He could make a pot of coffee while fighting off three demons at the same time. He looked over to see Castiel studying a few of the items on the table.
"See anything you like?" He asked.
Castiel looked at him, his eyes seemed softer more focused somehow. "You are alone in this house."
Dean shrugged and finished pouring grounds into the machine and went towards the table while they waited. "Yep. Lone wolf Winchester right here," he quipped with a slight smile on his face. Castiel wasn't amused.
He just nodded absently, still scanning the room. His eyes locked on an accoustic guitar that he had picked up from a thrift store a few years back. "You play guitar now?"
Dean felt like he was being interrogated. But why would an angel want to interrogate him over such non-trivial things such as single-dom and his ability to play an instrument? He decided to bite. "Yeah, have for a few years. I still suck but I can play a few tunes. Not fighting ev...not hunting left me with a lot of time on my hands. Had to fill it somehow."
Castiel was smiling now, no matter how vague it was. Dean could see it, just the slight curve of his lips.
"Heaven not giving you the giggles?"
Castiel's eyes hardened once again. "Heaven is in a crisis, Dean. Why would there be laughter?"
Dean snorted. "Not that much of a crisis because you're here," he threw back at him.
Castiel's eyes bore into him and he wanted to take it back but he didn't. He wasn't scared of Castiel back then and he wasn't afraid of him now.
"I could leave," Castiel threatened and something in Dean seized up. His eyes were blazing and he was holding his body away from the back of the chair like he could leave at any moment.
Dean was never someone who admitted their wants and needs so he didn't say anything at all, even though the lack of omission was probably worse than him saying anything at all.
Castiel relaxed against the chair which meant he probably knew Dean wanted him to stay. Or he read his mind. Dean didn't want him to stay, not really, he just didn't want him to leave, if that made any sense. It didn't, and he vaguely knew it wasn't true but he let it slide as the tiny coffeemaker beeped.
He got up and got them both a cup of coffee which loosened Castiel right up. Caffeine apparently was an archangel's weakness. He couldn't get Castiel to shut up, and frankly he didn't really feel the need to want to.
---
Excuse me I think I have mistaken you for somebody else
Somebody who gave a damn
Somebody more like myself
He spoke of heaven, his brothers, his responsibilities but he seemed so cut off from reality. He spoke like someone reading something off of a teleprompter. He was worse than the evening news. Worse because he sounded more realistic.
Dean sipped his coffee as he watched Castiel recite rules and regulations as if Dean were giving him a test. There were a few emotions as he spoke. Dean first noticed the flick of anger in his eyes when he mention Raphael and the slight smile of recognition of Gabriel. Dean had a feeling they might have fixed some things up in heaven.
"Gabriel's alive?" Dean asked.
Castiel nodded. "Yes. He was on side so he was also resurrected."
"Is he...different?"
Castiel tilted his head sideways for the first time since he had gotten there. Maybe he wasn't so different after all. "Different, how?"
"Up to his old tricks you know? Being Gabriel or being top angel in his class like the rest of the resurrected angels?"
Castiel's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying, Dean?" his voice had went back to the threatening tone it had been at earlier in the morning.
Dean sighed. "Nothing. I'm not saying anything, Castiel."
Castiel jumped back in his chair slightly. "Castiel," he whispered to himself. He was testing the word on his tongue, not in wonder but in false recognition.
Dean set his coffee cup down on the table harder than he probably should. "Yeah, that's still your name isn't it?"
"It is. It's just you...you've never called me Castiel. Perhaps once."
Dean shrugged. This angel sitting at his table might have been the same angel that gripped him tight and raised him out of Hell but this was not the same angel who went to a brothel with him. This was not the angel who gave everything up for Dean. He was not the same angel who Dean had got used to as a permenant impala passenger.
It was like his settings were back in default. Like nothing they had been through actually happened. They happened, but Castiel couldn't relate. He had lost emotions.
And that pissed Dean off because he missed Cas and now Casatiel was sitting in his kitchen. Quickly he toyed with the thought of the angel he loved dying the day that Lucifer blew him up. This was not his angel, that was for certain.
"Better start getting used to it I guess. I mean, Castiel is your given name. Why change it up with the new sheriff. Or old sheriff I should say."
Castiel turned his chair and he was closer to Dean. "Old...when is the last time we spoke, Dean?" He asked, the curiosity bleeding into his tone.
Dean shrugged. "Almost four years now."
Castiel reared back, his eyes open with wonder. "It didn't feel like four years, hardly knew how much time was passing."
As much as Dean didn't want to admit it, that freaking hurt him a little bit. Dean was left on earth alone without Sam, without Cas and Castiel didn't even know how long had actually passed. The words didn't have a single thought put to them and the fact that Castiel didn't get that something was harsh about them hurt even more.
Dean turned away from Castiel. "Well, it did."
They were both silent for a moment. Castiel took a deep breath. "You're angry with me," he bluntly stated.
Dean rolled his eyes because No shit, Sherlock. He got up, grabbed the cups and decided now was the perfect time to do the dishes because dishes were better than talking to this...thing at the moment. He got through a few cups before he felt Castiel behind him.
"Dean."
Dean ignored him, which was a mistake, because all of a sudden he was spun around, his favorite mug broken on the floor because he had been taken off guard. The water stopped and he knew Castiel must've done it. Dean opened his mouth to talk, but Castiel grabbed his collar, and threw him against the refrigerator. Dean seriously hoped he missed the pile of glass beecause it was on the other side of the kitchen.
"Cas--tiel," he muttered. At the name Castiel pushed him harder and this was a shit lot scarier than the alley back then because now Cas was strong. Cas could break his neck in two without a seconds thought.
"You did it again. You called me Castiel," he said, holding Dean harder and pressing himself against Dean. "Why?" he asked in a deeper tone.
Dean gulped. "Because you're not Cas."
Castiel scoffed. "Of course I am."
Dean clenched his teeth and he was sick of this. "No you're not. The Cas I knew died in Michigan in 2010. Cas, the angel who gave up everything for me was killed by Lucifer. You're a shadow of what Cas was. So I can't call you his name."
Castiel blinked up at him. And Dean couldn't believe it. Was that pain in that son of a bitches eyes? Not so stoic and heavenly anymore was he.
"Dean. How can you--"
"Easily," he spewed out. "There must've been a mix up because this is not the same Cas as the one who rebelled Heaven for me. My Cas actually gave a damn about life, about me. Cas wouldn't stay in jury duty for four years without saying a word. Cas was a guy who could sit with a guy, and while it was stilted, have an actual conversation with him. Did they reteach you to talk by showing you "How to speak with alien species'?"
Castiel's eyes narrowed and Dean could tell he was getting all smitey again but at least that was something. There was some emotion of some kind behind those eyes. Dean could feel it.
Castiel leaned closer. "How can I...how can I show you that it's me, Dean."
Dean was at a loss of words because he didn't know how. He couldn't because this wasn't Cas. It wasn't--
His train of thought was broken by Castiel's lips crashing to his. He was about to be the mature one here and break it off, but Castiel was insistent against his lips that it was kind of hard. Against his will, Dean brought his hand up to Castie's neck to lead the kiss, but Castiel wasn't having any of that. He opened Dean's mouth and pressed his knee to Dean's crotch. He was trapped like a rat. He was trapped by Castiel's lips who wouldn't stop, the constant feel of his arms against Dean's body, and now his thigh.
Dean gave up. This felt the same. This felt like hotels and frustration and attraction, if he wasn't lying to himself. This felt like just the two of them, with Sam making some food run of some sort. It felt like Sam would be back at any moment and he couldn't get away from Cas. "Cas," he moaned. Castiel moved his lips from Dean's to his neck and fuck it had been too long. He gripped Castiel's hair and moved his head to the side to make more room for Castiel.
It felt good. It felt like coming home after four lonely years in a house. Four years of driving a pick up truck because he couldn't handle driving the impala which only caused him to think of his dad and Sam and hunting and Cas. It reminded him of sing-alongs and roadtips and occassionally laughs.
Dean let go of Castiel's hair and fell limp against the refrigerator. It was too good to be true. How could the same man, angel, whatever, that sat in his kitchen and talked on auto-pilot for an hour be the same angel he, he bit his tongue on the thought, loved. It couldn't.
Castiel stopped kissing him, he probably felt Dean lose the energy he just had. "Dean?"
Dean closed his eyes and he hated himself but it couldn't be the same. As much as he wanted Castiel to be Cas he knew he wouldn't. It was like falling in love with Jimmy. He may look like Cas but he wasn't him. Dean could rut against him, groan against his mouth but it wasn't the same as when he moaned against Cas' neck, trying to be quiet because Sam was only in the other room.
"I'm fine, Castiel."
Castiel noticed the change. His eyes were mirroring sadness that Dean knew were in his own. Castiel leaned in to kiss him softly. Dean would take this. He would take anything Castiel would give him because he was greedy but they both knew the truth.
Dean kissed back forcefully and when he opened his eyes they were on Dean's bed and Dean let him be ravaged by Castiel. Dean looked in Castiel's eyes and they both knew there was another pair that he wished he was looking in. He thrusted against Castiel's hips and felt Castiel growl against his mouth.
---
You took your coat off and stood in the rain
When Dean woke up again it was still raining. He knew Castiel was gone, probably back in heaven. He sighed and looked at the empty spot in his bed. There was a still damp trenchcoat and suit folded neatly on the pillow. Dean smiled a sad smile. Castiel wouldn't need it. It never really belonged to him anyway.
End.