[fic post] Certain
Title: Certain
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst/Humor
Pairings or Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Warnings: slight spoilers for 5x01
Word Count: 1,356
Summary: The Devil is dead, and it's time for Cas to go.
Author Notes: This hit me while I was in the shower yesterday, and, um. Yes. I am very mean to Dean. It was actually supposed to be funny, but then Dean needed some angst time, and this became something entirely different on accident.
Certain
They've killed Lucifer. They aren't entirely sure how they managed it, just yet, but they did it. The Winchesters and an angel stare at the dead, no longer Devil-possessed body of Nick and wonder, "Well, what happens now?"
No one appears to congratulate them on a job well done. Or to inform them that the job is still not done -- which, knowing their luck, wouldn't be surprising at all. No angels, no demons, and certainly no God arrive in the wake of the death of Satan. They don't quite know what to do in the empty field, scorched and burned where Lucifer's great wings touched the ground, so they opt to drive back to the last motel they stayed in. The last motel they thought they'd ever see.
They take turns showering -- except Castiel, who was already clean and patched up by the time they'd reached the Impala -- and under the pour of hot water, Dean's entire body shakes as the rush of adrenaline finally starts to ebb.
He feels uncertain. He feels uncertain and anxious and scared, and that was not how he was supposed to feel after he killed the Devil. Well, okay, he didn't do it. Not alone. The three of them did, somehow. But there is no comfort in that. He was supposed to feel vindicated, satisfied, like all the wrong he'd done was forgiven and all the weight on his shoulders lifted. Instead, all he feels after killing the evilest evil ever to evil is more uncertainty than ever before.
He steps out of the bathroom as he's pulling his shirt on, after taking an extra couple minutes to sit on the bathroom floor and breathe until the shaking stopped, and doesn't see Sam, though he catches Castiel heading out the door.
"Where are you going?" Dean demands, stomping towards the angel, though he knows if Castiel wants to go there's nothing he can really do about it. Cas stops in the doorway, looks nervously outside before turning back to Dean.
"I am leaving."
"What? Why?" Dean asks with a sudden panic.
"Because Lucifer is dead," Cas answers calmly.
Dean stares. Because, honestly, he should've been expecting this, but it doesn't quite compute. Cas betrayed his brethren, defied his superiors, and even died for him -- though he got better. Cas didn't leave then, he wouldn't leave now, right? The thoughts don't quell his steadily growing fear, though.
"So what, that's it? They don't come down here, they just pull you back up? After everything they've done to us, to you, you're just going to go because they said so?"
"But, Dean--"
"No," he interrupts, glaring even harder now, "Y'know what? Just go. Go frolic in your fields of clouds or whatever while we are stuck being the clean up crew. We've stopped the apocalypse; we can save the billions of people suffering from what's been unleashed on this planet, we'll figure out what happens now that Lucifer's gone. Don't even worry about."
Castiel at first looks surprised, and then confused, before finally catching on.
"Dean, you are assuming I am leaving you behind to return to Heaven," he says slowly.
"Well, yeah. It's not like you can bring me with you," Dean grunts, before quickly amending, "And I don't want to go, either. I'm still young and healthy and I'd like to keep living here on Earth, thanks."
Castiel looks like he has an answer, but he stops and appears to reconsider whatever he was about to say, instead asking, "Is that what you would prefer?"
"What, you going back to your dick friends upstairs? What's it matter what I 'prefer'? Not like I can stop you," Dean scoffs, but he's glaring down at his feet now.
"Dean," Castiel presses, but Dean is staying quiet, so the angel takes a step towards him, managing to bring his stubborn green eyes back up. "Dean," Castiel repeats, suddenly sounding desperate and Dean can't help himself from grabbing Cas by the trench coat and shaking him.
"No, alright. If I had any say in anything, I'd say I don't want you to go back, okay? Just-- Jesus, Cas, I finally do something right and they take you away? What kind of fucking reward is that?"
Castiel places a gentle hand over one of Dean's, who is still gripping his trench coat, looking like he has every intention of willing Cas into remaining in place before he can disappear. They're both silent and still -- Castiel in his unnerving, almost-creepy way that serves to remind Dean that he isn't actually human, but never successfully deters him from wanting. And if the last few sentences out of his mouth weren't an admission of that want, well. He's just going to have to make it clear, once and for all.
"Cas, don't go. Goddamnit, I know I can't-- Just, don't go," Dean practically whispers. The hand Castiel laid over Dean's squeezes gently, and he smiles wide for the first time in a long time. But the angel still hasn't said anything, and Dean is still braced for the inevitable disappointment he's so used to getting.
"I am glad to hear you say that, Dean," Cas smiles gently, "but I have not been called back to Heaven."
"What? But... you said you were leaving," Dean blinks.
"Oh yes, I am."
"Okay, seriously. Stop fucking with me."
"I am not fucking with you," Cas replies in all seriousness.
"Then where are you going, Cas?" Dean demands.
"To a bakery."
"... A bakery."
"Yes. With Sam."
"... Why?" Dean asks, voice quiet.
"Because Lucifer is dead," Cas replies, as if the answer had always been obvious, "Sam said a celebratory pie was in order."
Dean's grip on Castiel's trench coat loosens until he completely lets go, hands falling to his sides, though he brings one back up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Castiel frowns, tilting his head at the reaction, once again confused.
"Dean? Is pie not appropriate in this situation?"
"Pie is appropriate in every situtaion," Dean answers seriously before adding, "... So are you staying or going?"
"Sam is still waiting in the Impala. He said I could help pick the pie--"
"Forget about the pie, Cas. I meant, when they call you back. What are you going to do?"
"Now that I am certain you want me to remain as well, I would also like to stay," Cas admits.
"Oh. Well, okay then," Dean mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck in slight embarrassment.
"... Dean, may I still pick the pie?"
Dean laughs, takes a step forward into Castiel's personal space, and grabs him by the tie.
"Dude. Forget the freaking pie. Sammy's got it this time."
He still feels uncertain and worried about a lot of things -- will the angels or demons ever show up? is the Devil really dead? is he going to feel this miserable forever? will Dr. Sexy ever get that threesome he was angling for with the intern and the nurse? -- but Cas has proven again and again that while he is unpredictable, he provides certainty where Dean otherwise has little at all.
Outside the motel room, in the Impala, Sam looks up from his newspaper at the sound of the front door closing, followed by a thump that is unmistakably a body being pressed up against it. He rolls his eyes and starts the engine, tossing the paper down on the seat beside him.
"Finally," he grumbles, "I thought I was gonna be waiting all day for that idiot to get it."
Sam heads for the local library instead of the bakery, figuring he won't want to come back to the room for a while and he can pick up some pies on the way back. He also makes a mental note to start booking two separate rooms for future hotel stays, because it's one thing to convince an angel to trick your brother into telling the truth about his feelings, and a completely different thing to walk in on those feelings being demonstrated.
As if he needs more therapy.
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst/Humor
Pairings or Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Warnings: slight spoilers for 5x01
Word Count: 1,356
Summary: The Devil is dead, and it's time for Cas to go.
Author Notes: This hit me while I was in the shower yesterday, and, um. Yes. I am very mean to Dean. It was actually supposed to be funny, but then Dean needed some angst time, and this became something entirely different on accident.
Certain
They've killed Lucifer. They aren't entirely sure how they managed it, just yet, but they did it. The Winchesters and an angel stare at the dead, no longer Devil-possessed body of Nick and wonder, "Well, what happens now?"
No one appears to congratulate them on a job well done. Or to inform them that the job is still not done -- which, knowing their luck, wouldn't be surprising at all. No angels, no demons, and certainly no God arrive in the wake of the death of Satan. They don't quite know what to do in the empty field, scorched and burned where Lucifer's great wings touched the ground, so they opt to drive back to the last motel they stayed in. The last motel they thought they'd ever see.
They take turns showering -- except Castiel, who was already clean and patched up by the time they'd reached the Impala -- and under the pour of hot water, Dean's entire body shakes as the rush of adrenaline finally starts to ebb.
He feels uncertain. He feels uncertain and anxious and scared, and that was not how he was supposed to feel after he killed the Devil. Well, okay, he didn't do it. Not alone. The three of them did, somehow. But there is no comfort in that. He was supposed to feel vindicated, satisfied, like all the wrong he'd done was forgiven and all the weight on his shoulders lifted. Instead, all he feels after killing the evilest evil ever to evil is more uncertainty than ever before.
He steps out of the bathroom as he's pulling his shirt on, after taking an extra couple minutes to sit on the bathroom floor and breathe until the shaking stopped, and doesn't see Sam, though he catches Castiel heading out the door.
"Where are you going?" Dean demands, stomping towards the angel, though he knows if Castiel wants to go there's nothing he can really do about it. Cas stops in the doorway, looks nervously outside before turning back to Dean.
"I am leaving."
"What? Why?" Dean asks with a sudden panic.
"Because Lucifer is dead," Cas answers calmly.
Dean stares. Because, honestly, he should've been expecting this, but it doesn't quite compute. Cas betrayed his brethren, defied his superiors, and even died for him -- though he got better. Cas didn't leave then, he wouldn't leave now, right? The thoughts don't quell his steadily growing fear, though.
"So what, that's it? They don't come down here, they just pull you back up? After everything they've done to us, to you, you're just going to go because they said so?"
"But, Dean--"
"No," he interrupts, glaring even harder now, "Y'know what? Just go. Go frolic in your fields of clouds or whatever while we are stuck being the clean up crew. We've stopped the apocalypse; we can save the billions of people suffering from what's been unleashed on this planet, we'll figure out what happens now that Lucifer's gone. Don't even worry about."
Castiel at first looks surprised, and then confused, before finally catching on.
"Dean, you are assuming I am leaving you behind to return to Heaven," he says slowly.
"Well, yeah. It's not like you can bring me with you," Dean grunts, before quickly amending, "And I don't want to go, either. I'm still young and healthy and I'd like to keep living here on Earth, thanks."
Castiel looks like he has an answer, but he stops and appears to reconsider whatever he was about to say, instead asking, "Is that what you would prefer?"
"What, you going back to your dick friends upstairs? What's it matter what I 'prefer'? Not like I can stop you," Dean scoffs, but he's glaring down at his feet now.
"Dean," Castiel presses, but Dean is staying quiet, so the angel takes a step towards him, managing to bring his stubborn green eyes back up. "Dean," Castiel repeats, suddenly sounding desperate and Dean can't help himself from grabbing Cas by the trench coat and shaking him.
"No, alright. If I had any say in anything, I'd say I don't want you to go back, okay? Just-- Jesus, Cas, I finally do something right and they take you away? What kind of fucking reward is that?"
Castiel places a gentle hand over one of Dean's, who is still gripping his trench coat, looking like he has every intention of willing Cas into remaining in place before he can disappear. They're both silent and still -- Castiel in his unnerving, almost-creepy way that serves to remind Dean that he isn't actually human, but never successfully deters him from wanting. And if the last few sentences out of his mouth weren't an admission of that want, well. He's just going to have to make it clear, once and for all.
"Cas, don't go. Goddamnit, I know I can't-- Just, don't go," Dean practically whispers. The hand Castiel laid over Dean's squeezes gently, and he smiles wide for the first time in a long time. But the angel still hasn't said anything, and Dean is still braced for the inevitable disappointment he's so used to getting.
"I am glad to hear you say that, Dean," Cas smiles gently, "but I have not been called back to Heaven."
"What? But... you said you were leaving," Dean blinks.
"Oh yes, I am."
"Okay, seriously. Stop fucking with me."
"I am not fucking with you," Cas replies in all seriousness.
"Then where are you going, Cas?" Dean demands.
"To a bakery."
"... A bakery."
"Yes. With Sam."
"... Why?" Dean asks, voice quiet.
"Because Lucifer is dead," Cas replies, as if the answer had always been obvious, "Sam said a celebratory pie was in order."
Dean's grip on Castiel's trench coat loosens until he completely lets go, hands falling to his sides, though he brings one back up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Castiel frowns, tilting his head at the reaction, once again confused.
"Dean? Is pie not appropriate in this situation?"
"Pie is appropriate in every situtaion," Dean answers seriously before adding, "... So are you staying or going?"
"Sam is still waiting in the Impala. He said I could help pick the pie--"
"Forget about the pie, Cas. I meant, when they call you back. What are you going to do?"
"Now that I am certain you want me to remain as well, I would also like to stay," Cas admits.
"Oh. Well, okay then," Dean mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck in slight embarrassment.
"... Dean, may I still pick the pie?"
Dean laughs, takes a step forward into Castiel's personal space, and grabs him by the tie.
"Dude. Forget the freaking pie. Sammy's got it this time."
He still feels uncertain and worried about a lot of things -- will the angels or demons ever show up? is the Devil really dead? is he going to feel this miserable forever? will Dr. Sexy ever get that threesome he was angling for with the intern and the nurse? -- but Cas has proven again and again that while he is unpredictable, he provides certainty where Dean otherwise has little at all.
Outside the motel room, in the Impala, Sam looks up from his newspaper at the sound of the front door closing, followed by a thump that is unmistakably a body being pressed up against it. He rolls his eyes and starts the engine, tossing the paper down on the seat beside him.
"Finally," he grumbles, "I thought I was gonna be waiting all day for that idiot to get it."
Sam heads for the local library instead of the bakery, figuring he won't want to come back to the room for a while and he can pick up some pies on the way back. He also makes a mental note to start booking two separate rooms for future hotel stays, because it's one thing to convince an angel to trick your brother into telling the truth about his feelings, and a completely different thing to walk in on those feelings being demonstrated.
As if he needs more therapy.