Fic: Giving Up is Giving In (3/3)
Masterpost
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Dean woke up first, he was good at that. This wasn't the first fuck he'd snuck out on, after all. This one should be relatively easy. Cas might be borderline insane these days but Dean knew he didn't have any delusions about this. He'd made the mistake of catching his eye just briefly, in passing really, as Dean had untangled himself from Cas using an overly starched blanket to wipe up the fucking lake of cum trying to glue them together. He knew Cas and he knew what goodbyes looked like even better. Cas understood.
Couldn't have been more than an hour he was out of it before his eyes had snapped open, feet on the floor and clothes in his hand before his brain was even all systems go. Cas hadn't peeped as Dean got dressed, hadn't even shifted as Dean opened the creaking door and slipped into the corridor. Dean wondered if he was even asleep or faking it for his sake before realizing that it didn't matter. Cas was the one in the mental ward so it said a lot about Dean that between the two of them the angel was the one who had his shit together. He's said his piece, heart laid bare, and while he'd probably spend the next millenia feeling like he'd been involved in an emotional train wreck he could at least find a nugget of comfort in knowing that he had been the one to reach out and try.
Not Dean. Dean was all but creeping out in the middle of the night like some teenager past curfew. With time and the right combination of pills prescribed Cas could, maybe, find peace. Dean's master plan was finding enough alcohol to drown out the self loathing long enough each day to function. There was something fundamentally broken in him. He'd chase after Sam unwanted all over the country but offer him something solid to hold onto, something that could be good, and you might as well book a ticket for the next bus out of town in his name.
He'll just keep running. Smile through the stabbing pain in his chest, call Sam a bitch when he asks what's wrong, and keep running.
That's the plan already in progress when his exit is suddenly blocked. The woman is in scrubs, older, and looks less than pleased to see a visitor wandering the halls after hours. Dean's calculating the best way to swing this in his favor when she asks, straight faced, "Have I told you the one about the rabbit and the rabbi?" before bursting into hysterics.
Dean bothers to take a second look and catalogs her socked feet, the medical bracelet, and uncombed hair. Damn headcases.
"Yeah, Sweetheart," he assures her, all but pushing his way past as she stands unmovable in the middle of the narrow hall. "It was a real hoot too."
He's only made it about 20 feet before she calls out, too loud for the short distance, "Are you sure?"
He spins around, tries not to hiss, "Yes. Yes, I'm sure."
The last thing he needs right now is to be chased out of a hospital by a bunch of night nurses only to have to red-line it out of the state trying to ditch the flashing lights in his rear view mirror. He listens closely for the sound of rubber soles stampeding across linoleum. Nothing yet.
Confused, the woman nods, corner of her mouth etched down. One hand buries in her dirty hair. "Okay," she offers, face still turned towards him. And Dean, for some stupid reason, sticks around to hear her say, "If you're sure. It's always the things I don't do that I end up regretting the most."
He watches her shuffle back into her room unaware of Dean's master plan being torn to shreds.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
When Cas opens his eyes he barely registers the empty bed having expected nothing else. He rolls over, tugging the covers a little higher, to find the sight of Dean lounging in one of the chairs near the window.
"Are you real?" He asks because he's sunk so low that it needs to be asked.
"I'm real," Dean assures, thumb tap-tapping on the cheap plastic arm rest.
"You're still here." Its not a question but it leads to many. He wasn't ready for this. He sits up, feeling like whatever is about to happen isn't something he can handle lying down.
"Yep," not standing, not coming closer. "Bed wasn't exactly built for two but you looked like you needed the sleep. Get dressed. You're coming with me."
Cas sighs, fear twisting knots inside of him, "Dean-"
"You're coming, Cas," like it's fact, not option.
He thinks about saying something childish like, 'Try and make me,' something he learned from Dean himself but he lets his guard down long enough to look at Dean and see him. Dean's all there. Set jaw, cocky smile, shoulders slack but Dean's eyes are wide open in a way he never allows. Cas can see inside of him for miles and Dean knows, wants Cas to see it. He leans forward in his chair, feet now planted firmly, chin stretched out over his knees.
"I'm in love with you. This is all messed up and we probably can't fix it but I'm not doing this without you. I need you with me."
There's a lot of reasons not to, so Cas replies, "Okay. I'm with you."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
They're about halfway back to Sam before Dean can get the pain in the ass to stop calling every 5 minutes. Dean's set on hoping that Sam takes one look at them and just knows 'cause every time he tries to figure out where to even start explaining this he can feel the beginning tingles of a panic attack.
The world was ending again, their team was dwindling, they had no leads, Meg was back in their hair and Dean was having a homo-nervous-breakdown.
"Dean? Why is this man so intent on getting a slice of this woman's custard pie? Is she a particularly skilled baker?"
Yet somehow, things were looking up.
Onto Part II!
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Dean woke up first, he was good at that. This wasn't the first fuck he'd snuck out on, after all. This one should be relatively easy. Cas might be borderline insane these days but Dean knew he didn't have any delusions about this. He'd made the mistake of catching his eye just briefly, in passing really, as Dean had untangled himself from Cas using an overly starched blanket to wipe up the fucking lake of cum trying to glue them together. He knew Cas and he knew what goodbyes looked like even better. Cas understood.
Couldn't have been more than an hour he was out of it before his eyes had snapped open, feet on the floor and clothes in his hand before his brain was even all systems go. Cas hadn't peeped as Dean got dressed, hadn't even shifted as Dean opened the creaking door and slipped into the corridor. Dean wondered if he was even asleep or faking it for his sake before realizing that it didn't matter. Cas was the one in the mental ward so it said a lot about Dean that between the two of them the angel was the one who had his shit together. He's said his piece, heart laid bare, and while he'd probably spend the next millenia feeling like he'd been involved in an emotional train wreck he could at least find a nugget of comfort in knowing that he had been the one to reach out and try.
Not Dean. Dean was all but creeping out in the middle of the night like some teenager past curfew. With time and the right combination of pills prescribed Cas could, maybe, find peace. Dean's master plan was finding enough alcohol to drown out the self loathing long enough each day to function. There was something fundamentally broken in him. He'd chase after Sam unwanted all over the country but offer him something solid to hold onto, something that could be good, and you might as well book a ticket for the next bus out of town in his name.
He'll just keep running. Smile through the stabbing pain in his chest, call Sam a bitch when he asks what's wrong, and keep running.
That's the plan already in progress when his exit is suddenly blocked. The woman is in scrubs, older, and looks less than pleased to see a visitor wandering the halls after hours. Dean's calculating the best way to swing this in his favor when she asks, straight faced, "Have I told you the one about the rabbit and the rabbi?" before bursting into hysterics.
Dean bothers to take a second look and catalogs her socked feet, the medical bracelet, and uncombed hair. Damn headcases.
"Yeah, Sweetheart," he assures her, all but pushing his way past as she stands unmovable in the middle of the narrow hall. "It was a real hoot too."
He's only made it about 20 feet before she calls out, too loud for the short distance, "Are you sure?"
He spins around, tries not to hiss, "Yes. Yes, I'm sure."
The last thing he needs right now is to be chased out of a hospital by a bunch of night nurses only to have to red-line it out of the state trying to ditch the flashing lights in his rear view mirror. He listens closely for the sound of rubber soles stampeding across linoleum. Nothing yet.
Confused, the woman nods, corner of her mouth etched down. One hand buries in her dirty hair. "Okay," she offers, face still turned towards him. And Dean, for some stupid reason, sticks around to hear her say, "If you're sure. It's always the things I don't do that I end up regretting the most."
He watches her shuffle back into her room unaware of Dean's master plan being torn to shreds.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
When Cas opens his eyes he barely registers the empty bed having expected nothing else. He rolls over, tugging the covers a little higher, to find the sight of Dean lounging in one of the chairs near the window.
"Are you real?" He asks because he's sunk so low that it needs to be asked.
"I'm real," Dean assures, thumb tap-tapping on the cheap plastic arm rest.
"You're still here." Its not a question but it leads to many. He wasn't ready for this. He sits up, feeling like whatever is about to happen isn't something he can handle lying down.
"Yep," not standing, not coming closer. "Bed wasn't exactly built for two but you looked like you needed the sleep. Get dressed. You're coming with me."
Cas sighs, fear twisting knots inside of him, "Dean-"
"You're coming, Cas," like it's fact, not option.
He thinks about saying something childish like, 'Try and make me,' something he learned from Dean himself but he lets his guard down long enough to look at Dean and see him. Dean's all there. Set jaw, cocky smile, shoulders slack but Dean's eyes are wide open in a way he never allows. Cas can see inside of him for miles and Dean knows, wants Cas to see it. He leans forward in his chair, feet now planted firmly, chin stretched out over his knees.
"I'm in love with you. This is all messed up and we probably can't fix it but I'm not doing this without you. I need you with me."
There's a lot of reasons not to, so Cas replies, "Okay. I'm with you."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
They're about halfway back to Sam before Dean can get the pain in the ass to stop calling every 5 minutes. Dean's set on hoping that Sam takes one look at them and just knows 'cause every time he tries to figure out where to even start explaining this he can feel the beginning tingles of a panic attack.
The world was ending again, their team was dwindling, they had no leads, Meg was back in their hair and Dean was having a homo-nervous-breakdown.
"Dean? Why is this man so intent on getting a slice of this woman's custard pie? Is she a particularly skilled baker?"
Yet somehow, things were looking up.
Onto Part II!