Fic: Life on Earth - Part 4/? [SPN]
TITLE: Life on Earth - Part 4/?
AUTHOR: Nansense
RATING: R to NC-17 overall for swearing, adult themes and graphic depictions of sex
PAIRINGS: Dean/Castiel, Dean/Lisa
SPOILERS: All of Season 5, and Season 6... kinda?
SUMMARY: With Lucifer dead, Sam in the ground and the world effectively saved, Dean has forsaken hunting and everyone associated with it to settle into a life of domestic bliss with Lisa and her son Ben. The only ghosts left for Dean to lay to rest are his own, but they are plenteous indeed, and some of them don't go down without a fight.
DISCLAIMER: Supernatural and all associated content is, sadly, owned by others much more fortunate and creative than I. Up yours, Kripke.
NOTES: I feel I should apologize for how short this part is - it's more of a Part 3.5 than 4, but it's owing more to LJ's policing of post length than anything (plus, half-parts are confusing, and this isn't an interlude or anything of the like). While the intermission between this part and the last is acceptable, I would encourage you to continue immediately to part 5 from the end of this one, since the break seems jarring otherwise. It's pretty obvious that the conversation is not meant to pause where it does, so blame LJ if it takes you out of the scene, yeah. Kthx!
Life on Earth (Pt. 4/?) by Nansense
It must be a while that Dean remains outside, watching the deep blues and greens of twilight overtake the sky, because Lisa comes to join him on the porch and snakes her arms around him. Dean pulls her close like it’s second nature.
“What’s been up with you lately?” she asks sincerely, craning her head to look him in the eye. “You’ve been acting like-” She goes quiet but still watches his face for a hint.
“Like what?” prompts Dean. He seriously hopes she doesn’t say he’s been acting like a douchebag; Dean has done some pretty messed up things over the last couple weeks, but he’s done none of it trying to hurt Lisa or Ben.
“Like when you first came here,” Lisa finishes. He can tell from her face that Lisa knows this is a dangerous thing to say, but there is no uncertainty behind the words. She was largely the reason Dean got through it at all; she has his implicit permission to say the hard thing. “You never answered my question the other day, about whether you’ve been out hunting again. I know it’s a part of who you are, but-”
“Hey, no way,” Dean interrupts. Even the small honesties feel wrong in light of the bigger omissions, but Dean tells himself he just needs more time to figure it all out. Somewhere out there is a rulebook that says it’s not lying if you’re also being dishonest with yourself. “I made a promise to you and Ben,” Dean reminds her. “I would never break it unless it was to protect you. The game changed for me when Sammy died and I came here, okay? No more hunting.”
“Is that why you and Bobby were yelling at each other?” she asks. Before Dean can wonder about how much Lisa overheard, she tells him. “Who’s Cas? You mentioned him a few times. I didn’t mean to listen in, but you were getting pretty heated out here, cowboy.”
“Partly,” Dean says in response to the first question, mind racing as to how to answer the second. Does he start with the part where Castiel brought him back from Hell, or the part where he makes Dean an emotional mess? “Cas is just a friend who’s… going through some things. It’s not really important. But if it’s okay with you, Bobby’s gonna come visit for a few days. So we can catch up, set everything straight. I want him to meet Ben.”
“When? He’s not going to try and steal you away from us, is he?” teases Lisa, the subject seemingly at rest. “He’d have to be prepared to fight Ben for his Xbox punching bag.”
Dean gives a genuine laugh, and kisses Lisa firmly. He pulls away just as she begins to deepen the kiss and honestly regrets it when he does, but her questioning look is distracted by sound of the doorbell that echoes through the house.
Lisa pulls back and begins to turn indoors with a half-smile. “You didn’t mean Bobby was gonna come visit now, did you?”
“Not that I know of,” says Dean, only a few steps behind her. His skin prickles but Ben is already racing to the door from his perch in the kitchen, a desperate bid to escape the homework laid out on the counter. His sock feet skid on the hardwood flooring in his rush.
A big part of Dean is completely unsurprised when Ben opens the door to reveal a perplexed-looking Cas standing on the other side. He’s dressed as a civilian again but with the addition of his old trenchcoat, and the expression on his face when he looks from Ben to Lisa is reminiscent of the picture of Cas Dean holds in his mind: unreadable, alert, kind of sad. Castiel’s eyes flicker over to him, then back to Ben holding the door open expectantly.
“Can we help you?” asks Lisa as Dean looks on, uselessly.
“I am here to speak with Dean Winchester,” Cas informs them.
“Uh, he’s right there, dude,” says Ben strangely. When he glances back at Dean, his pupils are huge. There’s a look in his eye that Dean recognizes as saying, This guy isn’t human, is he? Dean notices that the hair on the back of Ben’s head has bristled up like an uneasy animal’s. Damn intuitive kid.
“You must be Ben,” Castiel says in an offhand way. “Dean thinks of you often.”
“Didn’t I see you guys together the other day?” Ben asks. His tone is both suspicious and terrified.
“Uh, thanks, Ben!” Dean finally manages to get out, throwing a hand out to catch the door before Ben can respond. Castiel, along with Dean’s family, is looking at him for additional input. Gesturing first at Cas and then at Lisa, Dean says, “Lisa, this is Castiel. My… friend.”
“What are you?” Bean bursts out as Lisa extends her hand towards Cas.
“Hey,” she reminds him sharply with a tap to the head. “Watch it. Go finish your homework.” But it’s possible that Lisa senses something too, since she doesn’t shake Castiel’s hand for longer than a second, is quick to fold her arms across her chest with a sidelong look at Dean. “I’m sorry, his teenage brain goes into overload if he can’t say something offensive at least once an hour,” she explains to Cas. “But we were just talking about you, weirdly enough. Right, honey?”
“Yeah, how weird is that?” Trying to act as normal as possible, Dean drags Castiel into the foyer by the sleeve of his coat and shuts the door behind him. “Hope your, ah, ears aren’t burning or anything.” Fucking amazing, he thinks. The picture of Cas and Lisa together in the same room is robbing him of any kind of wit or coherence. “Hey Cas,” he adds brightly, “Can I talk to you for a minute, buddy?”
Still gripping the edge of Castiel’s sleeve, Dean half-shoves, half-pulls the angel into the den with an apologetic glance at Lisa. The privacy of the room is minimal, so Dean has to keep his voice at a whisper as he hisses, “What the fuck is wrong with you, man?”
“I don’t understand,” Cas says easily. “I knocked first.”
“Don’t even get me started on what you’re doing here,” Dean growls, “but the other day you show up like something out of a freakin’ Abercrombie catalogue, and to ambush my family you revert back to acting like a goddamned alien? C’mon! How am I supposed to explain that shit to them?”
“Ah,” Castiel sighs. “I see. You’re upset that I did not act more like a human.” His voice is low and calm but, holding Dean’s eyes with the electric blue of his own, Castiel grabs the lapels of his trenchcoat and jerks the garment down his arms. Somehow he manages to look preternaturally elegant even when wrestling with articles of clothing, though the effort leaves him rumpled, shirt jerked open at the neck. Flustered, Castiel asks, “Is this more appropriate? Are you more comfortable with my presence now, Dean?”
This constrained little display of frustration stops Dean’s next sentence in its tracks, and he pauses. For some reason the only thing he can think of to do is pick the discarded coat up from the floor fold it over the back of the couch. As he smoothes the wrinkled fabric, he decides that Castiel doesn’t really want to have a discussion about wardrobe choices and meeting the family. What would be the point, when Cas already knows all of Dean’s questions, all of his thoughts?
“This thing’s been through a lot,” he says instead, watching his fingers run over seams so secure that they’ve defied the wrath of angels. “I think it’s been obliterated almost as many times as I have, in fact.”
“It’s just a coat,” says Castiel, tautly.
“Nah, it’s more like an identity than a coat. It’s you.” Dean glances up again to find that Cas is watching his hands, watching him. When other people are thinking very hard about something, they screw up their faces or fidget; Cas, he watches Dean like all the answers are written on the inside of his head, a manual on How to Be. “That’s why you wore it here,” Dean finishes.
“It was Jimmy’s coat,” Cas corrects him. “Angels don’t care what they wear the way humans do. We are-”
“Yeah, I know, you’re over Hilfiger, I get it.” Dean tilts his head to meet Castiel’s eyes, and as usual he is completely unhinged by their unfathomable depths. He wasn’t imaging the sad look from before, though, so he keeps talking without feeling too much like Dr. Phil trying to psychoanalyze Aristotle. “But you’re not just an angel anymore, are you? You’ve been… studying. Preparing.” When Dean says it, it feels right.
“I will always be an angel,” rasps Castiel, voice breaking. “I Fell once because of you, but I am in no such danger this time.”
“Because the rules have changed,” offers Dean.
Castiel looks at him for a long time, and before he speaks he reaches out to touch the coat, his hand settling next to Dean’s. “Yes,” he eventually agrees. “The rules have changed. It no longer matters to the Host if I… dabble.”
“So why bother showing up in that thing like it’s important?” Dean asks, even though he’s the one who made a big deal of it in the first place. “If you’re ‘dabbling’, you might as well know that humans don’t wear the same thing every day. That’s disgusting.”
A twitch of the shoulder passes for a shrug. Dean kind of likes it, more than he did the cartoonish gesture Cas made at their first meeting. This feels more like a shorthand Dean can understand without being told, I don’t know everything. “You seemed… disturbed by me, before. Without the jacket.”
“That’s not the only reason I seemed disturbed,” Dean points out, wanting to sound spiteful, but even he isn’t sure that Cas is buying the act.
True to form, Castiel’s exasperated look shows what he thinks of Dean’s compulsion to avoid discussing certain issues while trying to be right at the same time. “It’s the reason currently up for discussion,” he deadpans. “The jacket was something you recognized me by, so I wore it here. Obviously that was a miscalculation on my part. But I can tell that isn’t really what you wish to ask me about.”
“Not really,” admits Dean with a nod. “I’d kinda like to know why you’ve enrolled in Meatsuit 101.” This is not entirely honest either, but somewhat closer to the truth. If Dean circles the hot topic for a while longer, sooner or later he’ll be able to talk about how seriously topsy-turvy his life feels with Castiel back in it. He might not be over punching things when he’s upset, but damn it, everything happens in its own time.
There’s another sigh, whether of impatience or defeat, Dean can’t tell. Castiel gives a murmur that Dean can’t hear without moving closer, and their shoulders press together just slightly. Comfortably. He’d forgotten what an experience it is to hold a conversation while joined at the eyes to an angel. “Let me show you,” Castiel suggests.
Part Five