Supernatural fic: Grace Under Fire 7/10 (Dean/Cas PG-13 AU)

[the_diggler]

Title: Grace Under Fire [chapter 7/10]
Rating: PG-13 this part.
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, some Balthazar/Sam
Genre: AU, romance, angst, humor
Spoilers/Warnings: AU references to season 6
Word Count: apx 3,280 this part (16,200 so far)
Summary: The one in which Balthazar helps (?)
A/N: I really have to give nicole_sill a big Thank You here, for some of the inspiration for this chapter. She probably won't even remember giving me the idea though, it was so long ago lol ;D And thanks to ktrisha for reminding me about about fireman fund-raising calenders, and elfladyarwen for suspenders. YES. *drools* ... Also, I wanna thank Sebastian Roché, just for being him, because I was miserable when I first started writing this chapter, and then his character showed up and I couldn't stop laughing XD So Thank You Seb Roché, wherever you are.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is Kripke's. Stardust is Neil Gaiman's. Pretty sure I need to reference Roddenberry too.



[ Chapter 1] [ Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3] [ Chapter 4] [ Chapter 5] [ Chapter 6]

~

They say there are five stages of grief. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and finally, Acceptance. And though Dean hadn’t actually died, the manner of his leaving was so abrupt, and so final, that in the months afterwards, Castiel grieved his loss almost as strongly as if Dean had died.

Or maybe it was Castiel that died, when Dean ripped out his heart and left behind an empty shell of a man, cold and alone, with barely a pulse of life left in him.

At first Castiel hadn’t understood what was happening. He was almost sure whatever it was would’ve blown over and Dean would’ve returned his calls the next day, come crawling back to him, all apologies, so they could talk things out. (Denial).

But Dean didn’t. And then Castiel had gotten so angry that Dean wasn’t answering his calls he’d smashed his phone against a wall. (Anger). The shards of it were probably still lying on the ground where they’d landed, along with whatever other dust and mess had collected since he’d stopped bothering to clean his apartment. Or doing other basic things like eating properly, or even bathing every day.

When he’d gotten a new phone he promised he wouldn’t call Dean anymore, just as long as Dean would call him back. (Bargaining). But he was still waiting on that. In fact, he’d made a nice nest of waiting on his couch, covered with quilts and pillows and remote controls, and everything else he needed for survival nearby, just so he didn’t have to move anywhere or do anything, but wait. And every day the Summer sun mocked him through the blinds of his darkened apartment, as he tried to ignore the Depression he was so obviously wallowing in, struggling to find some form of ‘Acceptance’ that didn’t make him feel like a crazy person. (Cycle and repeat).

This was the state in which Balthazar found him, after one strangely philosophical and possibly insane call for help.

“It’s my karma. No, it’s ‘The Secret.’ It’s the ‘law of attraction’ sending me what I want but in the most twisted possible way, reminding me that I can’t have it,” Castiel ranted, air quotes and all, still in his bizarrely detached, philosophical state, as he produced glossy paper from the depths of his nest and handed it over to his friend.

“Good lord,” Balthazar remarked, his eyes going wide as he took in the picture the calendar flopped open to – Dean in his fireman’s uniform - jacket, pants, helmet and all - but sans shirt, holding a hose in a suggestive manner, and sending a cheeky grin right at the camera.

“Good lord,” he breathed softly, as he flipped the page and saw Sam, topless altogether save for his pants’ suspenders, his chiselled upper body covered in oil and streaked with some kind of dirt or ash, the small smile on his face awkward and self-conscious and incredibly endearing.

“Good lord!” Balthazar yelped, flipping the page and coming across the month with a leering Rufus on top of it, and quickly slammed the fund-raising calendar shut. Castiel chuckled a little at the appalled look on Balthazar’s face, before he lost the energy to continue, and let out a bone-weary sigh.

“I’d pre-ordered it as a favor to Sam when…” he trailed off. When he and Dean were together. It was still hard to say. Still hard to talk about them in the past tense. Not when he still felt the same way, just as strongly as he did before. And talking about them in the past tense meant really accepting how over they were, and he just wasn’t ready for that yet.

“I’d totally forgotten about it until it arrived,” Castiel frowned, eyeing the calendar in Balthazar’s hands.

Balthazar sighed. “I don’t understand, Cassy. I mean, I get that he looks even better out of that fireman’s uniform than he already does in it… But what did you two even talk about?”

“Whether Kirk or Picard was a better captain of The Enterprise?” Castiel shrugged. “Anything. Everything. Nothing. The conversation itself wasn’t important.”

“I’ll bet it wasn’t,” Balthazar smirked. Castiel smacked him with his free hand, earning an unrepentant snigger from his friend before Balthazar stopped to sigh theatrically. “How you managed to get a Winchester in bed on the first date and I couldn’t is beyond me!” he bemoaned, shaking his head woefully as he opened the calendar to Sam’s month again. Castiel almost smacked him again, but stopped when he saw the look on Balthazar’s face, and realised his friend wasn’t entirely joking around.

“You really liked him didn’t you?” Castiel ventured, and something flickered in Balthazar’s eyes. Something he hadn’t seen since the old Drama teacher Gabriel had taken off to India.

Balthazar didn’t answer, his eyes fixed on the Calendar.

“Why didn’t you ever try to see him again? Castiel asked softly.

“And have to deal with this kind of drama?” Balthazar snorted. Castiel flinched.

“I’m sorry Cassy, that was cruel of me,” Balthazar apologised, immediately realizing his insensitivity.

“Cruel, but true,” Castiel replied, resigned. “I should’ve known better,” he muttered. “I do know better. I never let myself get so involved so fast! What exactly did I think would happen?!” he chastised himself angrily.

“Oh, Cassy,” Balthazar sighed sympathetically, wrapping an arm around him and squeezing him tight.

Castiel sighed, his gaze turning back to the Calendar, and before he knew it, he was reaching out, flipping back to Dean’s picture, the Calendar easily finding the place after being bent open and held on that month for so long.

“Yes, well,” Balthazar cleared his throat, “I think I’ll just… confiscate this then,” he said, tucking the Calender into the side of the couch away from Castiel. “For both of our benefits, eh?” he added with a wink, which made Castiel chuckle a little again.

“Thank you, Balthazar,” Castiel sighed, leaning onto his friend’s shoulder. Balthazar pressed a kiss into his hair, before resting his cheek on top of Castiel’s head.

Castiel burrowed into his friend’s side, the warmth of the contact a comforting balm. It just got harder as the years passed, as he got older, to recover from this kind of disappointment. He couldn’t spring back from heartbreak like he used to when he was younger. And maybe that’s why he’d become more cautious over the years, took fewer chances. Maybe he had been foolish with Dean, to let himself fall so deep, so fast. But it had just seemed so right at the time.

“I miss him so much,” Castiel whispered, trying to blink back tears and failing miserably.

“I know, Cassy, I know. Just let it out,” Balthazar crooned, squeezing him tighter. “Ah, Cassy. You feel so much, so strongly, it’s no wonder you have a stick up your ass all the time, trying to hold it all in.”

Castiel barked out a laugh at that, and then couldn’t stop, laughing and crying at the same time as Balthazar chuckled beside him. Balthazar loosened his hold, pulling back to grin at Castiel, and Castiel smiled back at him, the first genuine smile he’d been able to muster in a long time.

“There you are,” Balthazar beamed proudly, wiping the tears from Castiel’s cheeks. “See, Cassy? Things would be so much simpler if you’d just love me the way I love you.”

Castiel snorted, smacking Balthazar on the arm yet again as his friend laughed, tucking him into his side once more.

“Don’t worry, love. I’ve got a few more weapons hidden away in my arsenal. Things will get better soon.”

~

Castiel went to sleep a little easier that night. Balthazar had forced him to shower and shave and put on some clean clothes, and when he’d emerged from the bathroom there were dvds, dinner, and a couple bottles of wine waiting for him. Balthazar had even tidied up his apartment a little, and made some sense of functional order to his nest of blankets on the couch in preparation for their movie marathon. He’d had a minor moment of panic, though, when he saw one of the movies was titled ‘Stardust,’ but when he realised the film wasn’t actually science-fiction, the panic subsided. And he tactfully chose not to raise the point that Balthazar had managed to break his own rule about watching movies with the word ‘Star’ in the title after all.

As enjoyable as the film was, though, the story’s love triangle was still a little too close to his own emotions to deal with, and he found himself drinking more than his fair share of the wine. It was that more than anything which lulled him to sleep, right when the heroine was confessing her love to the hero. Who had been turned into a mouse. For some reason. Castiel was shaky on the details by that stage. And he never found out how it ended, because the next thing he knew his alarm clock was going off, and there was a loud banging on his door, forcing him from his wine-induced sleep. And he must’ve still been drunk when he finally sat up and opened his eyes, because not only did the room sway around him, but he could barely see through the haze of his dimly lit apartment.

And then his front door crashed open, splinters flying through the air from where the lock was kicked in, and there was a firefighter in his apartment, calling out his name in a voice that sounded a lot like Dean’s.

Castiel blinked at the apparition, beginning to wonder if he was having some kind of strange, alcohol-induced, calender-inspired nightmare, but when the apparition rushed over and grabbed him by the shoulders, it felt far too real to be a dream.

“Cas! Cas, you okay?!” Dean yelled through his mask.

“Dean? What are you doing here? What’s happening?” Cas had to yell in return, the fire alarm he’d thought was his alarm clock still blaring in his ears.

“C’mon, Cas. We need to get you out of here,” Dean growled, yanking him off the couch and pulling him towards the door. “Put this over your face! And stay low!” Dean ordered, yanking his trenchcoat off the hook by the door and thrusting it into his hands. Castiel pressed the coat to his face obediently, and when Dean pulled him out into the hallway he was grateful for the barrier the material provided, as the smoke was much thicker there. It began to sting his eyes as well, forcing him to squint, so he tried to stay as low and as close as possible as Dean led the way out.

Not that Dean ever let go of his arm. In fact, even when they finally made it outside the building Dean still didn’t let go. He just dragged him straight past the firetrucks, where Sam and Rufus were trying to deal with some kind of cannister that was still spewing forth smoke - the apparent cause of alarm - and straight past the crowd of his pyjama and robe-clad neighbors, to the ambulance on site.

“Check him over!” Dean snarled at one of the Paramedics. But when one of them rushed over to look at him, Dean still didn’t leave, taking off his mask to check him over with his own eyes as well.

Castiel found himself looking at anything but the other man, his emotions quickly becoming overwhelming now that everything was beginning to sink in.

“You’re fine, just breathe on this for about 15 minutes,” the paramedic said, pressing an oxygen mask to his mouth.

Castiel nodded, still trying to avoid meeting Dean’s eyes, though he could sense less tension in the way Dean hovered over him now that he was given the all clear. He probably should’ve been relieved as well, but he was still trying to choose between the need to cry and the desire to scream. Scream and rail and demand answers for why Dean had left him, breaking his heart with barely any explanation at all.

Trying to breathe properly became exceptionally difficult. Even with the help of an oxygen mask. And he was so consumed by his conflicting desires that it took him a while to realise just what he was seeing.

It confused him at first, as he would’ve thought Balthazar had gone home when he’d fallen asleep, as his friend usually did when Castiel nodded off during a movie. But for some reason Balthazar was still here, and still sitting in his car where it was parked some distance down the street.

And then Castiel put two and two together, and huffed a more than exasperated sigh.

“Is that Balthazar?” Dean asked, having followed Castiel’s attention closely.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Castiel murmured, glancing guiltily at the smoke bomb, which had been abandoned on a sidewalk, sputtering out its last few gasps of smoke. He knew Balthazar had only meant to help, in his own twisted way, but the false alarm was ultimately an unfair use of the town’s emergency services.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed, before stalking towards the car.

“Dean, wait!” Castiel yelled after him, though the effort of it made him feel woozy. Dean whirled around.

“Stay there,” he growled. “You!” he pointed at one of the paramedics, “Make sure he doesn’t move from there.”

The medic nodded, murmuring something about needing to keep his oxygen mask on for a bit longer. Castiel clenched his fists in frustration, unable to do anything but hope Dean wouldn’t be too hard on his friend.

~

“Dean!” Balthazar smiled grimly as he stepped out of his car. “And Sam!” he added, seeing the younger Winchester chasing after his brother. “This should be interesting,” he muttered under his breath.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Dean snarled at him, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him up against the car. Typical caveman reaction, but he hadn't expected anything less.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, rushing forward to pull at his brother’s grip, but with little success.

“Well, if I’d known this was what it took to get us all together again, I would’ve done this ages ago.” Balthazar smirked, full of mock innocence.

“This was you?” Sam breathed, suddenly going lax in shock at his admission. But then Dean was slamming him against the car again.

“He could’ve suffocated,” Dean growled angrily.

“He was fine,” Balthazar replied, unconcerned.

“His blood was already thinned out with alcohol, and if he didn’t wake up, he could’ve died!” Dean yelled. But there was an edge of panic to his voice, underneath the anger, and Balthazar raised an eyebrow when he caught it.

So the neanderthal cared after all.

“Good thing our emergency services are so efficient then,” he grinned. Dean’s eyes flared dangerously again, but thankfully Sam chose that moment to intervene on his behalf once more.

“Dean, come on. Please,” Sam cut in. Dean’s eyes narrowed, but he finally loosened his grip.

“If you ever put him in danger again, I will end you,” Dean gritted out, all menacing-like.

“Uh, sorry, what right do you have to be threatening me again?” he shot back, straightening his clothes with a huff. “If I remember correctly, you were the one that hurt him in the first place!”

Dean’s eyes flashed with anger at the low blow, but Balthazar had hit the intended mark, effectively silencing the firefighter.

But there was still Sam. And God he was still gorgeous, even with all that righteous disappointment on his face.

“Balthazar, what if there had been a real fire somewhere else?” the younger Winchester sighed. And Sam had a point there. Just not one he was willing to concede.

“You boys must have me confused with someone who cares,” he sighed condescendingly. “You know, like the one in the dirty trenchcoat over there, who’s in love with you,” he added, glaring at Dean.

Dean pursed his lips as that hit home, turning his glare at the ground as those words sunk in, and then without another word he turned around, and stalked off.

Good. Maybe now the neaderthal would man up, and actually talk to Castiel.

Except now that left him alone with Sam. Gorgeous, disappointed, Sam.

“So… Sam…“ he fished awkwardly, attempting to ease his way into some kind of conversation.

Sam raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

Balthazar sighed internally, knowing there was probably nothing he could say that would win his way back into Sam’s good graces at this point.

So he just went with what he really wanted to say.

“What time do you get off?”

Sam gaped.

“... Now?” he exploded. “Now you ask me out again?” Sam yelled, turning an impressive shade of red. But Balthazar couldn’t tell if it was from anger, or something else entirely. So he hinged his bets on the latter, and summoned up the most charming smile in his arsenal.

“Well, I wasn’t so much asking you out as I was asking you in,” he winked.

Sam sputtered at him, quite adorably, before spinning around and stomping off as well.

Ah, well, he tried. C’est la vie.

~

Castiel’s head had cleared a little by the time Dean returned to the ambulance, silent and sullen after his exchange with Balthazar. But although Castiel’s lungs were feeling better by then, he knew he wouldn’t be able to find the breath for all the things he wanted to ask. Including what had transpired at Balthazar’s car.

And he knew once he started, one question would lead to another, in an endless chain of questions. Starting with why? Had he moved too fast? Maybe Dean wasn’t ready for that kind of depth in their relationship? Even though it wasn’t as if he’d required Dean to reciprocate his feelings right then and there. But then maybe seeing Ben and Lisa that day had somehow reminded Dean he wasn’t ready? Or that he wasn’t ready to risk that kind of loss again? Or maybe Dean had begun to think that Castiel simply couldn’t offer the same kinds of things Lisa had?

There were so many things. But he’d already wasted enough breath, leaving messages on Dean’s phone, asking them over and over again. And when it came down to it, whatever had been going through Dean’s head, Dean simply hadn’t cared enough to fight for him, or for what they had. What they could’ve had.

He wondered if Dean had ever felt anything for him, at all.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked him gruffly, unable to look at him now, after whatever it was Balthazar had said to him.

Castiel sighed, removing the oxygen mask and finally raising his eyes, now that Dean’s were turned to the ground.

“…Yes,” he replied, although every fiber of his being said, “No.”

Dean’s eyes flicked up to meet his at that, hearing the truth behind his lie. But this time Castiel’s gaze didn’t waver, silently daring Dean to call him on it.

He didn’t know how long they stayed there, locked in that showdown, but the next thing he knew Dean was breaking the deadlock, pulling away with a sharp intake of breath, from a distance that had somehow become dangerously close to his lips.

Castiel frowned as he came back to himself, his heart pounding in his ears as he exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“Well, you’re safe,” Dean croaked, clearing his throat with a hard swallow, before abruptly turning and walking away.

Castiel didn’t even bother to try and reply. When it came down to it, he’d already said the only three words that mattered.

~ tbc

Um, so, if you're a Star Wars fan, I just wanna throw out a recommendation here... You must go read bleeding_muse's Dean/Cas Jedi!verse fusion. Now. *Jedi mind-tricks you.* And leave plentiful comments so she writes more. Faster. I need it. Not kidding.