FILLED: Untitled - Dean, Cas, Sam; gen; PTSD, non-specific spoilers for 8.17, part 1/4spitsparksMarch 30 2013, 07:33:04 UTC
A/N: Um, it's maybe obvious I haven't written these guys in a while, and that I've only seen bits and pieces of season eight, eek, but I hope it's still kinda what you're looking for! (Wow, way to sell it, self, haha.)
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He doesn't realise how badly he's jumped until Sam's righting the upturned cup of coffee and Cas is taking a concerned step backwards.
“I apologise,” says Castiel, “I didn't mean to startle you.”
Dean flushes, makes a show of mopping up the spill with the newspaper clippings scattered on the table. “Didn't startle me,” he grumbles. “M'not friggin' startled“Hey, hey, not that one,” says Sam, snatching an obit out of Dean's hands. “Or that one. Dean, wow, quit being useful
( ... )
FILLED: Untitled - Dean, Cas, Sam; gen; PTSD; non-specific spoilers for 8.17; part 2/4spitsparksMarch 30 2013, 07:37:28 UTC
“Hey, man,” he says, because he's not not pleased to see him, “what's shaking?”
Castiel frowns a bit and replies, “You summoned me. I should be asking you … what's shaking.”
Dean chuckles. “Please. Please always ask me that.”
He settles himself on the motel bed, thinks, See, I can do this, and lifts his chin in Sam's direction: shoot. Their current hunt's proving a substantial bitch, and they're pretty much banking on Cas providing a celestial knowledge-drop. Sam's even written out and numbered a series of questions he wants answered, something Dean was fully prepared to mock him about until he realised that Sam never used to do that. His brother's not acting like heir to the nerd throne because he wants to - he's writing stuff down because he needs to remember things properly to make connections. It makes Dean cold to think about the way Sam's changing, and he distracts himself by picking furiously at a splotch of mud caked into his jeans
( ... )
FILLED: Untitled - Dean, Cas, Sam; gen; PTSD; non-specific spoilers for 8.17; part 4/4spitsparksMarch 30 2013, 07:42:44 UTC
“Dean, I have to call Cas, okay, and you're already in shock, that's why I'm telling you. I'm gonna call Cas and I'll stay right here while he heals you, all right? Dean.”
“Hmm,” Dean slurs, “s'okay, Sammy.”
“I'm right here, bro, I'm right -”
He fades out again, stirs wetly at the sound of crunching leaves. A figure kneels beside him, murmurs something in a low, familiar rumble. A palm rests against his cheek.
“Easy,” Sam hisses from somewhere to his right, but Dean doesn't flinch. The touch is cool and dry, nothing to be afraid of. He turns into it, mouth opening soundlessly.
Grace fills him.
He must pass out, because when he wakes Sam is a few metres away adding sticks to a rotten-smelling fire, and Cas - Cas is next to him, still cradling his face. He smiles when Dean doesn't move, waits quietly for him to blink away the disorienting crawl of near-death.
Re: FILLED: Untitled - Dean, Cas, Sam; gen; PTSD; non-specific spoilers for 8.17; part 4/4geckoholicMarch 30 2013, 13:35:03 UTC
Ohhh. :D This was great, and I adore your Dean voice. Also, this made me giggle: “Hey, hey, not that one,” says Sam, snatching an obit out of Dean's hands. “Or that one. Dean, wow, quit being useful.” Hehe.
Re: FILLED: Untitled - Dean, Cas, Sam; gen; PTSD; non-specific spoilers for 8.17; part 4/4nad_no_ennasSeptember 15 2013, 02:24:28 UTC
I think this is one of my favorite Dean/Cas fics ~ever~. I'd wondered how Dean and Cas' relationship would have been affected by the beating, and this is the perfect response. Thank you so much!!
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He doesn't realise how badly he's jumped until Sam's righting the upturned cup of coffee and Cas is taking a concerned step backwards.
“I apologise,” says Castiel, “I didn't mean to startle you.”
Dean flushes, makes a show of mopping up the spill with the newspaper clippings scattered on the table. “Didn't startle me,” he grumbles. “M'not friggin' startled“Hey, hey, not that one,” says Sam, snatching an obit out of Dean's hands. “Or that one. Dean, wow, quit being useful ( ... )
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Castiel frowns a bit and replies, “You summoned me. I should be asking you … what's shaking.”
Dean chuckles. “Please. Please always ask me that.”
He settles himself on the motel bed, thinks, See, I can do this, and lifts his chin in Sam's direction: shoot. Their current hunt's proving a substantial bitch, and they're pretty much banking on Cas providing a celestial knowledge-drop. Sam's even written out and numbered a series of questions he wants answered, something Dean was fully prepared to mock him about until he realised that Sam never used to do that. His brother's not acting like heir to the nerd throne because he wants to - he's writing stuff down because he needs to remember things properly to make connections. It makes Dean cold to think about the way Sam's changing, and he distracts himself by picking furiously at a splotch of mud caked into his jeans ( ... )
Reply
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“Hmm,” Dean slurs, “s'okay, Sammy.”
“I'm right here, bro, I'm right -”
He fades out again, stirs wetly at the sound of crunching leaves. A figure kneels beside him, murmurs something in a low, familiar rumble. A palm rests against his cheek.
“Easy,” Sam hisses from somewhere to his right, but Dean doesn't flinch. The touch is cool and dry, nothing to be afraid of. He turns into it, mouth opening soundlessly.
Grace fills him.
He must pass out, because when he wakes Sam is a few metres away adding sticks to a rotten-smelling fire, and Cas - Cas is next to him, still cradling his face. He smiles when Dean doesn't move, waits quietly for him to blink away the disorienting crawl of near-death.
“Hey,” says Dean, gravelly and tired.
“Hello, Dean,” says Cas. “What's shaking?”
END.
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