Fic: Beside Me Today (Dean/Castiel, NC17)
Title: Beside Me Today
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Angst, bad language and sex.
Spoilers: 5x02 and the director's cut clip for 5x03.
Dedications: ibroketuesday and fahrenheit_f430 for the idea; but today an additional :D for tracy_loo_who on account of a) her birthday and b) the sheer adoration and effort she puts into this fandom. You three are part of the reason this fandom is so epic.
Summary: Dean's used to losing everything he wants.
Dean waited for Castiel in the lounge, flirting lazily with any girls who passed by to try and make the time go faster; still, he was kind of surprised when Castiel came back downstairs ten minutes after Dean sent him up. Didn't really know why he was surprised, given Castiel's virginity; wasn't like there was any reason for Castiel to have staying power.
"So? How did it go?"
"I could not," Castiel replied, shrugging as if he'd been practising the gesture but hadn't quite got the hang of it yet.
"You couldn't - what did you do?" Dean asked, suddenly wondering if he'd made a big mistake; he'd called Uriel junkless and all but after Anna he'd kind of figured angels did have the right equipment. Especially if Castiel was borrowing Jimmy's, God rest his soul. "Was she no good? Not your type?"
"I could not," Castiel repeated, as if it were answer enough. "I paid her and apologised. I would like to go back and rest."
Even if his discomfort was palpable, Dean had promised himself Castiel wasn't going to die without knowing at least one good thing about being human. "Like Hell."
"Dean."
"Come on, Cas, you haven't -" Castiel's eyes narrowed, and Dean sighed. "Okay, Romeo, booze it is."
"I do not wish to confront Raphael while intoxicated," Castiel replied, and Dean glared, wished for a moment Uriel was still around so he could at least shift the responsibility onto that bastard's shoulders instead of his own. "I would appreciate being driven back."
"You're determined to sulk through your last night on Earth, aren't you? Seriously, Cas, you know you're gonna die, and this is the best you can do?" Castiel simply stared before shrugging again, the gesture still odd, and Dean rolled his eyes before easing up off the sofa with a grunt, careful not to touch it with bare hands given God only knew what had happened on the leatherette surface before. "You owe me one after this."
"Death clears most debts," Castiel replied, and Dean honestly couldn't tell if it was black humour or Castiel being way too fucking calm about the prospect of dying. Then again, wasn't like he hadn't died before. Probably getting used to the idea.
Whatever radio stations were in the area had switched to easy listening and bland romance for the rest of the night, knowing they only had insomniacs and long-distance truckers for an audience, and the music only seemed to make the silence inside the Impala louder. Coping with the prospect of Castiel dying again would've been a lot easier with bourbon to wash it down, and he didn't honestly know if the fact Castiel didn't seem to care about the possibility of dying made the situation better or worse.
Either way, it pretty much felt like the longest night of Dean's entire fucking life.
"Okay, so, no hookers, no booze, and there's no way in Hell I'm just letting you sit quietly and wait to die. Isn't there anything you want? Anything you're going to miss?"
Castiel was quiet at first - big surprise there - before clearing his throat. "Dean, I am not being executed. You do not need to grant my last request."
"So you have a last request?"
"No."
Dean had to be thankful the Impala's wheel was made of stern stuff, given how tight he was gripping it. "Don't, Cas."
"I was not doing anything."
"Yeah, you are," Dean snapped. "You're sitting there like you don't care if there's no tomorrow, when I know damn well you do." Because Castiel had died before. Because Castiel had died for him, and he'd fucked it up. Because of a thousand other reasons Dean didn't want to think about and this damned silence was forcing him to.
"You made me care, Dean."
"And I'm sorry," Dean replied. "But I can't. I - with Sam - I'm tired of caring, Cas, you're an angel, you'll be alright." Castiel raised an eyebrow before folding his hands neatly in his lap, and Dean had to be thankful for the clear roads because his concentration was utterly shot. Of course Castiel was his responsibility, he knew that. He was the one who'd turned Castiel into something other than an obedient soldier.
And Castiel wouldn't stop looking at him.
"Say it. Whatever it is."
For a moment Dean didn't really process Castiel's words, the intensity of the fear in Castiel's eyes and the quiet delivery altogether distracting, but the moment didn't last long. "If I am dying, you should know that the responsibility for the apocalypse is not on your brother's shoulders alone."
"Well, duh," Dean replied, angry Castiel hadn't guessed he already knew that much. He'd started the whole thing himself anyway, broken the first seal under Alastair's watch. Lilith had done most of the work herself. Sam had been mind-fucked by Ruby; oh, yeah, and even that was only possible because of the same yellow-eyed bastard who'd killed their mother.
"You and Bobby had Sam safely bound," Castiel continued despite Dean's reply. "And my superiors knew this would mean Lilith's survival. I turned your brother loose on their command."
Dean stared back, forgetting the road altogether, cold flooding his body and his stomach twisting as realisation hit seriously fucking hard. "What?"
"A test of my faith," Castiel replied. "It was not enough to turn my back to you. They needed Sam free to break the final seal."
Dean swerved the Impala over to the side of the road, slamming down on the breaks, not caring if there were any cops around to see what amounted to some seriously dangerous driving, took a breath in lungs that felt too tight to do the job. "And you were planning on telling me when, exactly? Huh? What if you weren't waking up dead tomorrow?"
"Call it cowardice if you like," Castiel said, soft-spoken in contrast with Dean's growl, defeated. "But I am tired of lying, Dean. I will die easier after losing your friendship to truth than knowing it was built on lies."
Dean snatched Castiel's wrist, gripping hard enough he could hear the bones creak. "You think that makes it okay? You - your fucking - you let Sam end the world and you -"
"I turned my back on Heaven for you."
It still knocked Dean's breath out to hear it said so plainly. He didn't believe in Heaven, didn't believe in anything he hadn't seen for himself, but Castiel believed and as far as guilt trip points went, it was kind of hard to top. But even that didn't change the fact Castiel had - even under orders - "No. You don't get to run away from this," Dean said. "You're dying tomorrow? You're stuck with me. You're not dying alone."
Castiel looked down at his wrist before easing it out of Dean's grip. "You should hate me."
"Yeah, 'cause that'd make it even easier for you to die," Dean snapped. "Tough."
Dean stroked the Impala's wheel for a moment before starting her up again, wondered what he'd do if she ever stopped calming him down. Almost missed Castiel deciding to retry conversation. "If you will not give up on me, why do you give up on yourself so easily?"
Dean smirked. "I don't know, maybe you should've asked Alastair. Or anyone else who saw me in Hell."
Castiel shook his head. "You make little sense. You were - are - the righteous man and you do not believe you deserved to be saved. You were dragged from Hell by my hands and you do not believe in God."
"Never paid much attention to fairytales."
"You believe in demons."
"Seen 'em. Didn't believe in you 'til you showed up." He didn't want to admit it, even knowing it was true. Castiel - the angels - they weren't supposed to be real, but he'd never denied anything he saw with his own eyes. "Thought you didn't want to discuss theology?"
Castiel nodded before straightening, folding his hands in his lap again. "We should return."
Dean blinked, but it seemed that was it. No more arguing, and the silence fell heavy again as he took them back onto the road.
Castiel had been tearing Dean apart slowly from the moment they first met. He knew he was falling; knew he'd turn to dust in Castiel's hands if he let himself feel because he'd never known someone who looked at him for himself, not for something they could shape. And Castiel had turned up after Hell, not before. Someone whose opinion of him wasn't just based on perception, it was based on fact.
And around Castiel he kept joking, kept pushing. Had to; had to make the angel angry because if he carried on like this he'd either finally get the angel to leave him or he'd stop slowing down long enough to think about what Castiel offered him.
Castiel offered him friendship based on who he was right now. Unconditional. Not borne out of what Dean could become or offer him in return. And that terrified Dean, because it was one thing to be judged on merits he didn't have, but being judged on who he was?
In some world of rainbows and unicorns he never went to Hell. Castiel just said "Hi" for kicks and they were BFFs from the start, but Dean had never known anything he hadn't fought for first, had never known anything he hadn't lost. He wasn't ready to take one more risk to have it thrown back in his face again.
Half past one. Longest night of Dean's life didn't cover it; they had four, five hours before dawn, and Castiel had ruled out anything that might pass the time, ready to play the martyr already, eyes still bright despite everything. No secrets left to shadow them.
"This is really it for you, isn't it?" Dean asked, pulling up a chair in front of Castiel's, unwilling to leave the angel alone despite his claims of being perfectly okay with waiting in silence. "No last wishes, no regrets."
"I have regrets," Castiel replied. "But I have no wishes, other than for the ritual to work."
"Guess thinking for yourself takes practise," Dean suggested.
"As does selfishness," Castiel said, leaning forward a little, and Dean couldn't help but think of the park; of his first real hint that maybe there was more to Castiel than a winged messenger boy. "I have no needs. No desires."
"Guessed that much before. Waste of good money, y'know," Dean said, almost laughing, something about the inevitability of the situation making his flippancy feel valid.
"She was very beautiful, but I had no need of her," Castiel said, almost smiling, eyes softening a little.
"Dude, none of them were that beautiful."
"Yes, they were. You all are, and that's -" Castiel paused, seeming to have caught how his voice was rising despite himself. "I do not believe you ever realised your potential."
"I don't know, T.V. and sticking a man on the moon were pretty impressive," Dean says, and he does smirk this time, thinking of all the times in the back of the Impala when he and Sam would argue over what movie would stop aliens destroying the Earth. Maybe all Lucifer needed was to sit through The Shawshank Redemption and he'd give up trying to nuke mankind, assuming that was the plan. "And the ending slavery thing, that was pretty sweet."
"'Sweet'", Castiel repeated to himself, sounding torn between agitated and amused. "That would be one word for it, yes."
And okay, probably wasn't the best time to bring up the fact Castiel wasn't technically the owner of this body even if the original owner had vacated somewhere around the time it exploded, but it had been bugging him for a while now. "Why'd you choose this vessel?"
Castiel was quiet for a second, looking down at himself as if remembering all of a sudden that this wasn't actually him, just a convenient way to move around without blinding anyone who had their eyes open. "I could not say. Jimmy just... felt right."
"Like the Impala," Dean said, wincing at the words about as soon as they were out, but Castiel's glare didn't contain any real anger, more a certain exasperation.
"He was a good man. I suppose I was drawn to him."
"Yeah, because you've got a knack for making friends with good people," Dean replied, not meaning it to come off as cruel but Castiel's frown taking on a hurt edge he regretted putting there. "I didn't mean -"
Castiel reached forward, resting his hand where Dean's amulet should have been, and for a moment it almost hurt to fight back every silent acknowledgement in that gesture and that fact that he trusted Castiel; had to, couldn't afford to do otherwise. "Your words and your actions do not often match, Dean."
"Guess they don't," Dean said, looking down at Castiel's hand on his chest, not really having to wonder why he hadn't moved back from the touch. Castiel had basically been seducing him from the start, and hadn't even noticed. "But it's not like I'm a priest."
He hesitated and that was telling on its own, but even when he made a last move and kissed Castiel, aim slightly off, the angel was still surprised enough not to make a decision between breaking the kiss or fixing the angle.
He didn't love Castiel. He couldn't. Because he was never going to get Castiel; he was going to get an unmarked grave if he was lucky enough to die quiet, and probably a kid or two wandering around fatherless somewhere. He didn't get to love. He wasn't that lucky.
But Hell if he didn't want Castiel so much it was distracting, even if he wouldn't get to keep him.
"What are you doing?" Castiel asked, expression guarded and eyes open, waiting on Dean's reply.
A hundred clever answers came to mind immediately - "I said you weren't going to die a virgin", "Kissing you", "Giving you something fun to regret" - but they all fell flat when he imagined saying them. "I'm not sure," he said at last, and Castiel's hand fisted in his shirt before they kissed again; and it wasn't clumsy this time, because being a virgin wasn't the same thing as being clueless, and knowing when to stop for breath or to swallow was just - natural.
Castiel was warm and almost scentless, the weird static that had followed him around when he first showed up no longer present and even if that meant Castiel was weaker, had lost his connection to Heaven, Dean couldn't honestly claim to miss it.
And Castiel's hands were the first to turn adventurous, moving down Dean's chest and unbuttoning his shirt as they went, fingers pressing through his vest, and that was stranger still; Dean knew as Castiel worked that he could already be undressed and it would barely feel any different to how it did now. For all that Castiel was the virgin, Dean was the one who'd felt naked in front of him from the start. "Hey," Dean said against Castiel's lips, even as he pushed the trenchcoat off the angel's shoulders, grinning despite himself at finally getting Castiel to part with the damned thing. "You sure about this?"
"I do not have the luxury of doubt," Castiel replied, and Dean paused, fingers at Castiel's collar, loosening the tie but hesitant to remove it. "I trust you."
Dean had suspected that much to be true for a while now, as much as he didn't deserve it, but forced himself to nod; he'd do near anything to earn that trust, even if he wished he could give up wanting to. And Castiel's tie slid through his fingers, cold silk before his hands worked on the cheap buttons of Cas' plain white shirt. It was so normal. Despite everything - despite the circumstances that lead to this, despite Castiel being a guy, being an angel - it was normal. Castiel's skin didn't burn his fingers when he touched it; he wasn't struck by lightning for defiling an angel; normal.
"Stand up," Dean said, intending to reach for Castiel's trenchcoat so they'd have something to spread out on the floor, but finding he was really kind of distracted by the nervous clench of Castiel's stomach muscles when his face was inches from the angel's abdomen. Hard not to lean forward and plant a kiss against the firm skin; harder still not to blow a raspberry, and even if Castiel had never been a child, never played this game when it was an innocent thing, the angel still laughed despite himself, almost buckling in surprise.
"What was that?" Castiel asked, and Dean figured he'd have to remember that apparently some angels were ticklish even if Anna hadn't been.
"It's called a raspberry, dude."
"It did not involve any fruit."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Some people would argue with that," he said before completing his mission of seizing Castiel's coat - this time without getting distracted - and spreading it out across the floor.
Castiel didn't need instructions, lying down on the makeshift blanket and getting his hair covered in old plaster and dust in seconds, seeming committed to making an utter mess of himself and Dean found his throat tight at the view before he forced himself to turn away, digging through the zippers of his bag to find lube and furious at his hands for being clumsy; it was just sex, and it wasn't like Castiel was his first virgin.
Didn't change the fact that when he turned back and saw Castiel peeling off his trousers and folding them neatly for no reason whatsover given he put them straight down on the dust afterwards, he was still pretty much the most ridiculously fucking beautiful thing Dean had ever seen - plaster-covered hair, pink-flushed skin and all - and he'd seen some gorgeous naked bodies before.
Maybe that was half of it. There'd been Cassie, and a few others here and there, but most of the time it was just that they looked gorgeous on the surface. They weren't...
He shook the thought from his head before moving to kneel in front of Castiel, kissing him hard until the angel's head fell back against the floor before pausing for breath and to just - just look, really look. There weren't many things worth the effort in a hunter's life, not much more than a few truck stop waitresses or quick hook-ups in a bar, and here was - something else. Castiel was Jimmy's body given life by something Dean would never see, and whatever an angel was supposed to look like, he didn't even care anymore. Because this angel, stuck in human skin, this was the closest thing to a friend Dean had ever known. Sam, Bobby - they were family, the people you tried to live up to and live for and inevitably let down. Castiel just wanted him the way he was.
"God," Dean said, before kissing Castiel again, gentler this time but deeper, no dominance to establish here, no power struggle, just a need to know every inch of Castiel he could while they still had the time. And if there was a God - and as far as Dean was concerned, that was a seriously big if - there was no fucking way he'd be taking Castiel back come dawn, not if there was an ounce of anything worth worship left in the bastard, because Castiel - Castiel was perfect. Not flawless, nothing impossible or twee or ugly in its exact symmetry.
It shouldn't have come so easy, Castiel relaxing under him despite the cold, and if the angel hadn't put him back together better than he'd known possible when he pulled him out of Hell Dean's knees should have been killing him on a hard floor like this, but again, their surroundings, Castiel's virginity, they were just facts and some things came naturally no matter what the circumstances.
And he couldn't leave Castiel the only one naked, so he didn't mind if it was fiddly to keep kissing Castiel while he eased out of his trousers; especially didn't mind when the angel's first instinct once Dean had ditched his pants was to reach for his cock and God, he was almost weirded out by the fact Castiel's hands were hot but it'd be weirder if they weren't, and how did Castiel do that? How did Castiel even make sense in amongst all his contradictions?
"You promised," Castiel said after a moment, and Dean half laughed, half gasped at that; his angel's idea of pillow talk. Yeah, he had promised he wasn't going to let Castiel die a virgin.
"It'll hurt," Dean replied, and Castiel just gave the tiniest almost-smile. Yeah. Dean didn't really have any right to talk about anyone's pain threshold, least of all Castiel's.
In theory he was over-generous with the lube but he knew from practise there wasn't really any such thing, and Castiel's stoicism through being fingered - and God, if Castiel felt like that around his fingers - it tore him open. He almost, almost wanted to tell Castiel to stop because this wasn't just fun, this was -
He wiped his hands down hastily on his discarded vest before pulling Castiel's right leg up over his shoulder, pushing in, breathless, Castiel almost tighter than he could bear, and he could hear the hurt in Castiel's voice, but then he started to move and it just... eased. Castiel stopped clinging to his shoulders for dear life and Dean dared meet his eyes again because it wasn't just pain in his expression any longer, it was something he couldn't listen to or talk about, something that went unsaid in the way he let Castiel's hand rest against his more than guiding it as Dean stroked the angel's erection.
And Castiel just kept watching him, mouth falling open as if he wanted to say something but couldn't quite find the words, and all Dean could think was that yeah, that feeling was pretty mutual, shutting his eyes so he didn't have to cope with Castiel's gaze; didn't have to cope with the angel looking at him like - like a virgin, an actual romance novel virgin, who'd never watched porn or masturbated, and even though he knew Castiel at least had heard the stories about all this, had been watching humans long enough to get the idea, it didn't change the fact Castiel hadn't known what this felt like.
And he didn't know where Castiel's confidence came from, but then, as if there was anything about the angel that wasn't a total mystery.
"Dean -" There was an urgency in Castiel's voice that didn't need wording, his hand tightening over Dean's and urging him to stroke harder, breaths shallow and shaky, turning long and drawn out, and then Castiel was bucking up against him, his come dripping off Dean's fingers.
Dean didn't look until he felt Castiel settle, kept his eyes closed, because Castiel didn't even need to peel away his layers, he just saw him, and there wasn't any defense against that sort of attack. Castiel didn't understand him any more than he understood himself and it was like being turned inside out, more naked and exposed than he'd ever been with anyone else; than he'd been with Alastair when the bastard tore his mind open to find every last nerve he could push.
Castiel's hands reached up either side of his neck, rubbing circles into muscles he hadn't really noticed were sore, and Dean dared to look now, Castiel somewhere between blissed out and surprised, and looking was one Hell of a mistake because he barely managed to bite back Castiel's name as he pushed up hard into the angel, shuddering through his orgasm without words but with every last inch of his body aching, and collapsing against Castiel afterwards wasn't so much force of habit as a necessity.
"Thank you," Castiel said, voice still a little hesitant as Dean used his already ruined vest to wipe them both down, figuring he could live in just the shirt for now. It was such a stupid, formal, good-natured sentiment and in context it pretty much summed Castiel up in two words.
Any other circumstances and for a second Dean might have forgot; might have thought all he was looking at was a friend, the most ridiculously naive, accidentally hilarious, gorgeous friend he'd ever had.
They were both covered in plaster and Dean busied himself idly brushing the worst of it out of Castiel's hair, figured they could both use a shower before dawn. The trenchcoat had been far from enough to protect them, but it didn't really matter, not when it meant he could distract himself looking at the patterns his fingertips left where the dust was sticking to Castiel particularly stubbornly.
"Dean," Castiel said, hand returning to its place on Dean's chest where the amulet should have been. "I could -"
"Cas," Dean said, knowing it was futile, talking pretty much the last thing on his mind because he'd been here before, and there never was anything to say. "Don't."
Castiel seemed to listen to him for a moment before shaking his head, and Dean knew the angel was looking at him, knew the angel was waiting for him to meet his gaze. No point in drawing it out. "I do not want to die."
Dean closed his hand over Castiel's and pulled it from his chest, considered letting go before figuring there was no decent reason to. "I don't want you to either." Castiel nodded as if that was good enough for him despite what he'd just said - as if dying was just an inconvenience or a frustration - and damned if it was good enough for Dean. "Y'know, what happened at Chuck's might not be a one-off," he offered, hating himself for it; he remembered how well false promises had gone when he'd told Sam he didn't want to go to Hell. "I mean, if He does exist, I don't think He wants you to."
Castiel looked at him for a moment, seemed to consider saying something else before Dean found himself in the middle of a decidedly unexpected hug.
Castiel wasn't an idiot, knew he didn't believe, hadn't had faith long before Hell tore anything like it out of him. But Castiel believed. And stupid as it was, the angel seemed to take some comfort in it.
That was good enough for him. And it was as good as he could offer.
The End
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Angst, bad language and sex.
Spoilers: 5x02 and the director's cut clip for 5x03.
Dedications: ibroketuesday and fahrenheit_f430 for the idea; but today an additional :D for tracy_loo_who on account of a) her birthday and b) the sheer adoration and effort she puts into this fandom. You three are part of the reason this fandom is so epic.
Summary: Dean's used to losing everything he wants.
Dean waited for Castiel in the lounge, flirting lazily with any girls who passed by to try and make the time go faster; still, he was kind of surprised when Castiel came back downstairs ten minutes after Dean sent him up. Didn't really know why he was surprised, given Castiel's virginity; wasn't like there was any reason for Castiel to have staying power.
"So? How did it go?"
"I could not," Castiel replied, shrugging as if he'd been practising the gesture but hadn't quite got the hang of it yet.
"You couldn't - what did you do?" Dean asked, suddenly wondering if he'd made a big mistake; he'd called Uriel junkless and all but after Anna he'd kind of figured angels did have the right equipment. Especially if Castiel was borrowing Jimmy's, God rest his soul. "Was she no good? Not your type?"
"I could not," Castiel repeated, as if it were answer enough. "I paid her and apologised. I would like to go back and rest."
Even if his discomfort was palpable, Dean had promised himself Castiel wasn't going to die without knowing at least one good thing about being human. "Like Hell."
"Dean."
"Come on, Cas, you haven't -" Castiel's eyes narrowed, and Dean sighed. "Okay, Romeo, booze it is."
"I do not wish to confront Raphael while intoxicated," Castiel replied, and Dean glared, wished for a moment Uriel was still around so he could at least shift the responsibility onto that bastard's shoulders instead of his own. "I would appreciate being driven back."
"You're determined to sulk through your last night on Earth, aren't you? Seriously, Cas, you know you're gonna die, and this is the best you can do?" Castiel simply stared before shrugging again, the gesture still odd, and Dean rolled his eyes before easing up off the sofa with a grunt, careful not to touch it with bare hands given God only knew what had happened on the leatherette surface before. "You owe me one after this."
"Death clears most debts," Castiel replied, and Dean honestly couldn't tell if it was black humour or Castiel being way too fucking calm about the prospect of dying. Then again, wasn't like he hadn't died before. Probably getting used to the idea.
Whatever radio stations were in the area had switched to easy listening and bland romance for the rest of the night, knowing they only had insomniacs and long-distance truckers for an audience, and the music only seemed to make the silence inside the Impala louder. Coping with the prospect of Castiel dying again would've been a lot easier with bourbon to wash it down, and he didn't honestly know if the fact Castiel didn't seem to care about the possibility of dying made the situation better or worse.
Either way, it pretty much felt like the longest night of Dean's entire fucking life.
"Okay, so, no hookers, no booze, and there's no way in Hell I'm just letting you sit quietly and wait to die. Isn't there anything you want? Anything you're going to miss?"
Castiel was quiet at first - big surprise there - before clearing his throat. "Dean, I am not being executed. You do not need to grant my last request."
"So you have a last request?"
"No."
Dean had to be thankful the Impala's wheel was made of stern stuff, given how tight he was gripping it. "Don't, Cas."
"I was not doing anything."
"Yeah, you are," Dean snapped. "You're sitting there like you don't care if there's no tomorrow, when I know damn well you do." Because Castiel had died before. Because Castiel had died for him, and he'd fucked it up. Because of a thousand other reasons Dean didn't want to think about and this damned silence was forcing him to.
"You made me care, Dean."
"And I'm sorry," Dean replied. "But I can't. I - with Sam - I'm tired of caring, Cas, you're an angel, you'll be alright." Castiel raised an eyebrow before folding his hands neatly in his lap, and Dean had to be thankful for the clear roads because his concentration was utterly shot. Of course Castiel was his responsibility, he knew that. He was the one who'd turned Castiel into something other than an obedient soldier.
And Castiel wouldn't stop looking at him.
"Say it. Whatever it is."
For a moment Dean didn't really process Castiel's words, the intensity of the fear in Castiel's eyes and the quiet delivery altogether distracting, but the moment didn't last long. "If I am dying, you should know that the responsibility for the apocalypse is not on your brother's shoulders alone."
"Well, duh," Dean replied, angry Castiel hadn't guessed he already knew that much. He'd started the whole thing himself anyway, broken the first seal under Alastair's watch. Lilith had done most of the work herself. Sam had been mind-fucked by Ruby; oh, yeah, and even that was only possible because of the same yellow-eyed bastard who'd killed their mother.
"You and Bobby had Sam safely bound," Castiel continued despite Dean's reply. "And my superiors knew this would mean Lilith's survival. I turned your brother loose on their command."
Dean stared back, forgetting the road altogether, cold flooding his body and his stomach twisting as realisation hit seriously fucking hard. "What?"
"A test of my faith," Castiel replied. "It was not enough to turn my back to you. They needed Sam free to break the final seal."
Dean swerved the Impala over to the side of the road, slamming down on the breaks, not caring if there were any cops around to see what amounted to some seriously dangerous driving, took a breath in lungs that felt too tight to do the job. "And you were planning on telling me when, exactly? Huh? What if you weren't waking up dead tomorrow?"
"Call it cowardice if you like," Castiel said, soft-spoken in contrast with Dean's growl, defeated. "But I am tired of lying, Dean. I will die easier after losing your friendship to truth than knowing it was built on lies."
Dean snatched Castiel's wrist, gripping hard enough he could hear the bones creak. "You think that makes it okay? You - your fucking - you let Sam end the world and you -"
"I turned my back on Heaven for you."
It still knocked Dean's breath out to hear it said so plainly. He didn't believe in Heaven, didn't believe in anything he hadn't seen for himself, but Castiel believed and as far as guilt trip points went, it was kind of hard to top. But even that didn't change the fact Castiel had - even under orders - "No. You don't get to run away from this," Dean said. "You're dying tomorrow? You're stuck with me. You're not dying alone."
Castiel looked down at his wrist before easing it out of Dean's grip. "You should hate me."
"Yeah, 'cause that'd make it even easier for you to die," Dean snapped. "Tough."
Dean stroked the Impala's wheel for a moment before starting her up again, wondered what he'd do if she ever stopped calming him down. Almost missed Castiel deciding to retry conversation. "If you will not give up on me, why do you give up on yourself so easily?"
Dean smirked. "I don't know, maybe you should've asked Alastair. Or anyone else who saw me in Hell."
Castiel shook his head. "You make little sense. You were - are - the righteous man and you do not believe you deserved to be saved. You were dragged from Hell by my hands and you do not believe in God."
"Never paid much attention to fairytales."
"You believe in demons."
"Seen 'em. Didn't believe in you 'til you showed up." He didn't want to admit it, even knowing it was true. Castiel - the angels - they weren't supposed to be real, but he'd never denied anything he saw with his own eyes. "Thought you didn't want to discuss theology?"
Castiel nodded before straightening, folding his hands in his lap again. "We should return."
Dean blinked, but it seemed that was it. No more arguing, and the silence fell heavy again as he took them back onto the road.
Castiel had been tearing Dean apart slowly from the moment they first met. He knew he was falling; knew he'd turn to dust in Castiel's hands if he let himself feel because he'd never known someone who looked at him for himself, not for something they could shape. And Castiel had turned up after Hell, not before. Someone whose opinion of him wasn't just based on perception, it was based on fact.
And around Castiel he kept joking, kept pushing. Had to; had to make the angel angry because if he carried on like this he'd either finally get the angel to leave him or he'd stop slowing down long enough to think about what Castiel offered him.
Castiel offered him friendship based on who he was right now. Unconditional. Not borne out of what Dean could become or offer him in return. And that terrified Dean, because it was one thing to be judged on merits he didn't have, but being judged on who he was?
In some world of rainbows and unicorns he never went to Hell. Castiel just said "Hi" for kicks and they were BFFs from the start, but Dean had never known anything he hadn't fought for first, had never known anything he hadn't lost. He wasn't ready to take one more risk to have it thrown back in his face again.
Half past one. Longest night of Dean's life didn't cover it; they had four, five hours before dawn, and Castiel had ruled out anything that might pass the time, ready to play the martyr already, eyes still bright despite everything. No secrets left to shadow them.
"This is really it for you, isn't it?" Dean asked, pulling up a chair in front of Castiel's, unwilling to leave the angel alone despite his claims of being perfectly okay with waiting in silence. "No last wishes, no regrets."
"I have regrets," Castiel replied. "But I have no wishes, other than for the ritual to work."
"Guess thinking for yourself takes practise," Dean suggested.
"As does selfishness," Castiel said, leaning forward a little, and Dean couldn't help but think of the park; of his first real hint that maybe there was more to Castiel than a winged messenger boy. "I have no needs. No desires."
"Guessed that much before. Waste of good money, y'know," Dean said, almost laughing, something about the inevitability of the situation making his flippancy feel valid.
"She was very beautiful, but I had no need of her," Castiel said, almost smiling, eyes softening a little.
"Dude, none of them were that beautiful."
"Yes, they were. You all are, and that's -" Castiel paused, seeming to have caught how his voice was rising despite himself. "I do not believe you ever realised your potential."
"I don't know, T.V. and sticking a man on the moon were pretty impressive," Dean says, and he does smirk this time, thinking of all the times in the back of the Impala when he and Sam would argue over what movie would stop aliens destroying the Earth. Maybe all Lucifer needed was to sit through The Shawshank Redemption and he'd give up trying to nuke mankind, assuming that was the plan. "And the ending slavery thing, that was pretty sweet."
"'Sweet'", Castiel repeated to himself, sounding torn between agitated and amused. "That would be one word for it, yes."
And okay, probably wasn't the best time to bring up the fact Castiel wasn't technically the owner of this body even if the original owner had vacated somewhere around the time it exploded, but it had been bugging him for a while now. "Why'd you choose this vessel?"
Castiel was quiet for a second, looking down at himself as if remembering all of a sudden that this wasn't actually him, just a convenient way to move around without blinding anyone who had their eyes open. "I could not say. Jimmy just... felt right."
"Like the Impala," Dean said, wincing at the words about as soon as they were out, but Castiel's glare didn't contain any real anger, more a certain exasperation.
"He was a good man. I suppose I was drawn to him."
"Yeah, because you've got a knack for making friends with good people," Dean replied, not meaning it to come off as cruel but Castiel's frown taking on a hurt edge he regretted putting there. "I didn't mean -"
Castiel reached forward, resting his hand where Dean's amulet should have been, and for a moment it almost hurt to fight back every silent acknowledgement in that gesture and that fact that he trusted Castiel; had to, couldn't afford to do otherwise. "Your words and your actions do not often match, Dean."
"Guess they don't," Dean said, looking down at Castiel's hand on his chest, not really having to wonder why he hadn't moved back from the touch. Castiel had basically been seducing him from the start, and hadn't even noticed. "But it's not like I'm a priest."
He hesitated and that was telling on its own, but even when he made a last move and kissed Castiel, aim slightly off, the angel was still surprised enough not to make a decision between breaking the kiss or fixing the angle.
He didn't love Castiel. He couldn't. Because he was never going to get Castiel; he was going to get an unmarked grave if he was lucky enough to die quiet, and probably a kid or two wandering around fatherless somewhere. He didn't get to love. He wasn't that lucky.
But Hell if he didn't want Castiel so much it was distracting, even if he wouldn't get to keep him.
"What are you doing?" Castiel asked, expression guarded and eyes open, waiting on Dean's reply.
A hundred clever answers came to mind immediately - "I said you weren't going to die a virgin", "Kissing you", "Giving you something fun to regret" - but they all fell flat when he imagined saying them. "I'm not sure," he said at last, and Castiel's hand fisted in his shirt before they kissed again; and it wasn't clumsy this time, because being a virgin wasn't the same thing as being clueless, and knowing when to stop for breath or to swallow was just - natural.
Castiel was warm and almost scentless, the weird static that had followed him around when he first showed up no longer present and even if that meant Castiel was weaker, had lost his connection to Heaven, Dean couldn't honestly claim to miss it.
And Castiel's hands were the first to turn adventurous, moving down Dean's chest and unbuttoning his shirt as they went, fingers pressing through his vest, and that was stranger still; Dean knew as Castiel worked that he could already be undressed and it would barely feel any different to how it did now. For all that Castiel was the virgin, Dean was the one who'd felt naked in front of him from the start. "Hey," Dean said against Castiel's lips, even as he pushed the trenchcoat off the angel's shoulders, grinning despite himself at finally getting Castiel to part with the damned thing. "You sure about this?"
"I do not have the luxury of doubt," Castiel replied, and Dean paused, fingers at Castiel's collar, loosening the tie but hesitant to remove it. "I trust you."
Dean had suspected that much to be true for a while now, as much as he didn't deserve it, but forced himself to nod; he'd do near anything to earn that trust, even if he wished he could give up wanting to. And Castiel's tie slid through his fingers, cold silk before his hands worked on the cheap buttons of Cas' plain white shirt. It was so normal. Despite everything - despite the circumstances that lead to this, despite Castiel being a guy, being an angel - it was normal. Castiel's skin didn't burn his fingers when he touched it; he wasn't struck by lightning for defiling an angel; normal.
"Stand up," Dean said, intending to reach for Castiel's trenchcoat so they'd have something to spread out on the floor, but finding he was really kind of distracted by the nervous clench of Castiel's stomach muscles when his face was inches from the angel's abdomen. Hard not to lean forward and plant a kiss against the firm skin; harder still not to blow a raspberry, and even if Castiel had never been a child, never played this game when it was an innocent thing, the angel still laughed despite himself, almost buckling in surprise.
"What was that?" Castiel asked, and Dean figured he'd have to remember that apparently some angels were ticklish even if Anna hadn't been.
"It's called a raspberry, dude."
"It did not involve any fruit."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Some people would argue with that," he said before completing his mission of seizing Castiel's coat - this time without getting distracted - and spreading it out across the floor.
Castiel didn't need instructions, lying down on the makeshift blanket and getting his hair covered in old plaster and dust in seconds, seeming committed to making an utter mess of himself and Dean found his throat tight at the view before he forced himself to turn away, digging through the zippers of his bag to find lube and furious at his hands for being clumsy; it was just sex, and it wasn't like Castiel was his first virgin.
Didn't change the fact that when he turned back and saw Castiel peeling off his trousers and folding them neatly for no reason whatsover given he put them straight down on the dust afterwards, he was still pretty much the most ridiculously fucking beautiful thing Dean had ever seen - plaster-covered hair, pink-flushed skin and all - and he'd seen some gorgeous naked bodies before.
Maybe that was half of it. There'd been Cassie, and a few others here and there, but most of the time it was just that they looked gorgeous on the surface. They weren't...
He shook the thought from his head before moving to kneel in front of Castiel, kissing him hard until the angel's head fell back against the floor before pausing for breath and to just - just look, really look. There weren't many things worth the effort in a hunter's life, not much more than a few truck stop waitresses or quick hook-ups in a bar, and here was - something else. Castiel was Jimmy's body given life by something Dean would never see, and whatever an angel was supposed to look like, he didn't even care anymore. Because this angel, stuck in human skin, this was the closest thing to a friend Dean had ever known. Sam, Bobby - they were family, the people you tried to live up to and live for and inevitably let down. Castiel just wanted him the way he was.
"God," Dean said, before kissing Castiel again, gentler this time but deeper, no dominance to establish here, no power struggle, just a need to know every inch of Castiel he could while they still had the time. And if there was a God - and as far as Dean was concerned, that was a seriously big if - there was no fucking way he'd be taking Castiel back come dawn, not if there was an ounce of anything worth worship left in the bastard, because Castiel - Castiel was perfect. Not flawless, nothing impossible or twee or ugly in its exact symmetry.
It shouldn't have come so easy, Castiel relaxing under him despite the cold, and if the angel hadn't put him back together better than he'd known possible when he pulled him out of Hell Dean's knees should have been killing him on a hard floor like this, but again, their surroundings, Castiel's virginity, they were just facts and some things came naturally no matter what the circumstances.
And he couldn't leave Castiel the only one naked, so he didn't mind if it was fiddly to keep kissing Castiel while he eased out of his trousers; especially didn't mind when the angel's first instinct once Dean had ditched his pants was to reach for his cock and God, he was almost weirded out by the fact Castiel's hands were hot but it'd be weirder if they weren't, and how did Castiel do that? How did Castiel even make sense in amongst all his contradictions?
"You promised," Castiel said after a moment, and Dean half laughed, half gasped at that; his angel's idea of pillow talk. Yeah, he had promised he wasn't going to let Castiel die a virgin.
"It'll hurt," Dean replied, and Castiel just gave the tiniest almost-smile. Yeah. Dean didn't really have any right to talk about anyone's pain threshold, least of all Castiel's.
In theory he was over-generous with the lube but he knew from practise there wasn't really any such thing, and Castiel's stoicism through being fingered - and God, if Castiel felt like that around his fingers - it tore him open. He almost, almost wanted to tell Castiel to stop because this wasn't just fun, this was -
He wiped his hands down hastily on his discarded vest before pulling Castiel's right leg up over his shoulder, pushing in, breathless, Castiel almost tighter than he could bear, and he could hear the hurt in Castiel's voice, but then he started to move and it just... eased. Castiel stopped clinging to his shoulders for dear life and Dean dared meet his eyes again because it wasn't just pain in his expression any longer, it was something he couldn't listen to or talk about, something that went unsaid in the way he let Castiel's hand rest against his more than guiding it as Dean stroked the angel's erection.
And Castiel just kept watching him, mouth falling open as if he wanted to say something but couldn't quite find the words, and all Dean could think was that yeah, that feeling was pretty mutual, shutting his eyes so he didn't have to cope with Castiel's gaze; didn't have to cope with the angel looking at him like - like a virgin, an actual romance novel virgin, who'd never watched porn or masturbated, and even though he knew Castiel at least had heard the stories about all this, had been watching humans long enough to get the idea, it didn't change the fact Castiel hadn't known what this felt like.
And he didn't know where Castiel's confidence came from, but then, as if there was anything about the angel that wasn't a total mystery.
"Dean -" There was an urgency in Castiel's voice that didn't need wording, his hand tightening over Dean's and urging him to stroke harder, breaths shallow and shaky, turning long and drawn out, and then Castiel was bucking up against him, his come dripping off Dean's fingers.
Dean didn't look until he felt Castiel settle, kept his eyes closed, because Castiel didn't even need to peel away his layers, he just saw him, and there wasn't any defense against that sort of attack. Castiel didn't understand him any more than he understood himself and it was like being turned inside out, more naked and exposed than he'd ever been with anyone else; than he'd been with Alastair when the bastard tore his mind open to find every last nerve he could push.
Castiel's hands reached up either side of his neck, rubbing circles into muscles he hadn't really noticed were sore, and Dean dared to look now, Castiel somewhere between blissed out and surprised, and looking was one Hell of a mistake because he barely managed to bite back Castiel's name as he pushed up hard into the angel, shuddering through his orgasm without words but with every last inch of his body aching, and collapsing against Castiel afterwards wasn't so much force of habit as a necessity.
"Thank you," Castiel said, voice still a little hesitant as Dean used his already ruined vest to wipe them both down, figuring he could live in just the shirt for now. It was such a stupid, formal, good-natured sentiment and in context it pretty much summed Castiel up in two words.
Any other circumstances and for a second Dean might have forgot; might have thought all he was looking at was a friend, the most ridiculously naive, accidentally hilarious, gorgeous friend he'd ever had.
They were both covered in plaster and Dean busied himself idly brushing the worst of it out of Castiel's hair, figured they could both use a shower before dawn. The trenchcoat had been far from enough to protect them, but it didn't really matter, not when it meant he could distract himself looking at the patterns his fingertips left where the dust was sticking to Castiel particularly stubbornly.
"Dean," Castiel said, hand returning to its place on Dean's chest where the amulet should have been. "I could -"
"Cas," Dean said, knowing it was futile, talking pretty much the last thing on his mind because he'd been here before, and there never was anything to say. "Don't."
Castiel seemed to listen to him for a moment before shaking his head, and Dean knew the angel was looking at him, knew the angel was waiting for him to meet his gaze. No point in drawing it out. "I do not want to die."
Dean closed his hand over Castiel's and pulled it from his chest, considered letting go before figuring there was no decent reason to. "I don't want you to either." Castiel nodded as if that was good enough for him despite what he'd just said - as if dying was just an inconvenience or a frustration - and damned if it was good enough for Dean. "Y'know, what happened at Chuck's might not be a one-off," he offered, hating himself for it; he remembered how well false promises had gone when he'd told Sam he didn't want to go to Hell. "I mean, if He does exist, I don't think He wants you to."
Castiel looked at him for a moment, seemed to consider saying something else before Dean found himself in the middle of a decidedly unexpected hug.
Castiel wasn't an idiot, knew he didn't believe, hadn't had faith long before Hell tore anything like it out of him. But Castiel believed. And stupid as it was, the angel seemed to take some comfort in it.
That was good enough for him. And it was as good as he could offer.
The End