Supernatural fic: Grace Under Fire 8/10 (Dean/Cas NC-17 AU)

[the_diggler]

Title: Grace Under Fire [chapter 8/10]
Rating: NC-17 this part.
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Genre: AU, romance, angst
Spoilers/Warnings: AU references to season 6
Word Count: apx 3,390 this part (19,590 so far)
Summary: The one in which Castiel gets his answers.
A/N: I've revised this chapter since I first posted it. For some reason I forgot my plan for this chapter when I wrote it, so now I've gone back and re-ordered the sequence of events so it makes a little more sense. At least I think it does :S
Disclaimer: Supernatural is Kripke's. AND DESTIEL IS CARVER'S *dies*



[ Chapter 1] [ Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3] [ Chapter 4] [ Chapter 5] [ Chapter 6] [ Chapter 7]

~

The sky was already softening with the beginnings of sunrise by the time the building manager gave the all clear to go back inside, but even though most of the smoke had dissipated, Castiel still felt like he was walking through a fog. He was tired, and cold, and all he wanted to do was wrap himself in the nest of blankets on his couch and sleep. Forever.

So he was, understandably, more than a little cranky, when for the second time that night, he was abruptly woken by a loud banging on his door. Although this time the banging was accompanied by a considerable amount of rattling, since the security chain was the only thing that really held the door closed since Dean had kicked it in.

Castiel groaned as he pulled himself off the couch, his entire being a weary ‘What now?’ as he dragged himself to the door. So when he opened it, he only had the strength for a brief wash of angry disbelief, before going straight to resignation.

“Dean.”

Of course. It had to be.

“Hey, Cas.”

Castiel stared at the other man in silence, awaiting some kind of explanation for his presence there. There wasn’t any ‘fire’ to account for it this time. And it had already been hard enough to see Dean once tonight. So the man had better have a good reason for showing up, again, reopening new wounds he hadn’t even begun to recover from yet.

Dean cleared his throat, apparently summoning the strength to explain himself.

“So… I was driving home… and uh… I ended up here,” he finally managed to get out.

But it was flimsy, at best, and Castiel remained unmoved, unimpressed, the gaping hole in his chest still unsatisfied.

Castiel closed his eyes against the unwelcome sight before him and took a deep breath. As deep as he could. Trying to steel himself. Trying to find the strength.

But he’d been through too much today, and his body still remembered hitching sobs as he’d laughed and cried into Balthazar’s shoulder, coughing and choking gasps for air as he’d ran through his smoke filled building, and the weight of Dean’s gaze pressing on him as he tried to suck in the air to scream. It remembered, and faltered. His breath, a shaky and trembling thing in his throat.

That might’ve been the moment he crumpled, breaking down completely, but then suddenly Dean’s lips were on his, breathing life back into him, arms holding him close and keeping him from losing it right there in the doorway.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, you hear me?!” Dean gasped into his shoulder, hugging him almost painfully tighter. “I nearly went out of my mind when we got the call here!”

“Dean…” Castiel breathed, thing only thing he could say, the only thing he could feel, smell, taste, all around him, overwhelming.

“I don’t know what I’d do if something ever happened to you,” Dean whispered, still not letting go of him.

“Dean…” Castiel crumpled, helpless against the onslaught.

It had been so long. So long.

So when Dean started kissing him again he couldn’t help the groan that escaped his throat, like a man tasting water after an eternity in the desert. Couldn’t help latching on with his arms and lips, clinging, tasting, and drowning in everything Dean. Oh god, Dean.

“Cas!” Dean gasped back, before Dean was burying his face into Castiel’s neck, sucking at all the points on his throat that made him weak in the knees.

He didn’t know when Dean had begun to walk them towards the couch, but as soon as it hit the back of his legs, he buckled, sprawling onto his back on top of his blankets. Dean came down with him, lips never far from the next kiss, hands scrambling for the end of his shirt until it was found and being pushed upwards, exposing his stomach and chest for the next trail of Dean’s greedy mouth.

By the time Dean’s teeth grazed one of his nipples, Castiel was already covered in a sheen of sweat, his heart hammering like he was coming off the end of a marathon, instead of just beginning one. Every press of Dean’s lips sent flames spiralling through his body, and every touch left an inferno in its wake, until Castiel had to pull Dean’s hands away from where they were pushing up at his shirt, so he could take the damned thing off altogether.

The rush of air that met his heated skin was only a brief reprieve, before Dean was plastering his mouth all over the newly exposed skin as well, reclaiming every inch of lost territory. And when Dean finally met his lips again, lining the lengths of their bodies together, Castiel felt every inch of Dean’s hardness pressing against his own.

Still too much clothing. Still too many barriers between them. And this time Castiel was the one scrabbling at material, tugging at Dean’s shirt until it was gone too. He tried to pull Dean back on top of him, wanting to feel Dean’s bared skin against his own, but of course, Dean chose that moment to cease the relentless pursuit of his lips, holding back to look down at him. A needy sound escaped Castiel’s throat as he thrust his hips upwards in supplication, and Dean inhaled a sharp hiss at the sudden pressure at his crotch, exhaling a shuddering gasp as his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.

When Dean opened them again, they were dark with need, pinning Castiel still beneath him.

“Have you been with anyone?” Dean growled, something almost feral in his eyes as he searched Castiel’s face for his response.

“…What?” Castiel blinked, taken back by the question.

“Have you been with anyone?” Dean gritted out again, as if Castiel hadn’t understood the first time. But Castiel had understood. His surprise came from a different place altogether.

“No!” Castiel blurted angrily, pushing himself up and forcing Dean to sit back on his haunches. “How could I?!” he exclaimed, almost laughing at the absurdity of idea, “It’s only been you!”

Some of the wildness in Dean’s eyes abated at his outburst, but the core insecurity remained, and Castiel deflated, reaching up to press his hand against Dean’s cheek. “It’s always going to be you,” he said softly, a sad resignation underlying the words.

Dean closed his eyes, leaning into the touch for a moment, before he was reaching up to pull Castiel’s hand away.

Castiel panicked, with a sickening sense of déjà vu remembering the last time they’d been in this position, the last time Dean had pulled away from his touch. For a second he feared he might’ve said too much again, that Dean would turn tail and run, right after he’d bared his heart, yet again. But Dean merely pulled his hand far enough away to turn his lips into it, placing a soft, reverent kiss into his palm.

Then Dean twisted away, opening the drawer of the lamp table and rummaging around inside it. Castiel found himself hanging on tight to Dean’s hand when he realized what Dean was doing - searching for the lube they used to keep there when they’d started getting distracted from their movie marathons on a regular basis. It was still there of course. Everything that had anything to do with Dean was still exactly where it was, the way Dean had left it.

When Dean found it he turned back around, placing one more kiss into his hand, before sliding off the couch onto his knees. Dean adjusted him as he went, pulling him up to sit with his legs spread so that he could kneel between them. And all the while Dean kept pressing more kisses into his skin, this time making a path down his chest, over his stomach, and Castiel cleared a path for him, pushing down at his pants in anticipation.

More kisses then, pressed into his thighs, all over his waiting hardness, cradled in Dean’s hands as Dean nosed into every curve of his flesh, inhaling his skin and exhaling shaky moans against it.

“Cas…” Dean sighed.

“Dean, please,” he moaned, his hips squirming in need. And then Dean was sucking him down, loose and wet and without any rhythm, mouth a tortuous contrast against his flushed and heated skin. When Castiel felt slick fingers nudging against him, he threw his head back with gasp, his legs automatically spreading himself wider for Dean’s entry. And Dean’s mouth never left him, never stopped tasting him as he opened up around Dean’s fingers, easily, helplessly, mindlessly babbling his need.

He was still moaning incoherently when Dean finally pulled off, gently lifting his legs and hooking them over his shoulders as he positioned himself. And when Dean finally slid home, Castiel cried out, almost sobbing with relief.

It had been so long.

And yet, he didn’t think he would ever forget this.

The way Dean felt inside him, they way Dean filled him, touched him, looked at him, always so reverent at first, thrusting hesitant and slow until he urged Dean into a rhythm, building steady until it was just right and taking him apart inside.

But now it was as if Dean was afraid to get closer, afraid to take what he needed no matter how willing Castiel was to give it. No matter how Castiel urged and soothed and tried to pull him closer, Dean still kept a distance that began to infuriate him.

And then a car drove by outside, its headlights shining though the blinds and lighting up Dean’s face for a moment, and Castiel sucked in a breath, suddenly seeing the things he’d been too angry to notice before. The gaunt hollowness in Dean’s cheeks, the dark shadows under his eyes, as if he’d lost weight, and hadn’t slept in weeks. And most telling, the new lines in between his brows as he furrowed them in what was undeniably guilt. Guilt as he looked down at the similar mess that Castiel had become.

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” Dean whispered.

Castiel clenched his eyes shut, the admission twisting in his chest like a vice. Taking a shaky breath, he slid one of his legs off Dean’s shoulders, hooking it around Dean’s waist and pulling him that little bit closer, deeper.

“God, I missed you so much,” Dean breathed against his ear.

Biting his lip against a whimper, he slid his other leg down around Dean’s waist, pulling Dean flush against his body and winding his arms around him, erasing the last of the distance Dean had tried to keep between them.

Dean collapsed against him with a groan, clutching at him with something akin to desperation as he began to thrust erratically, recklessly.

“You gotta know how I feel about you, right?” Dean gasped. “You gotta know I love you, right? God, Cas…”

He couldn’t fight back the sob that escaped his lips then, and if Dean said anything after that he didn’t hear it, coming apart as tears streamed down his face, his entire body shaking as Dean rode him through the aftershocks.

He held onto Dean afterwards, running his hands through Dean’s hair as Dean gasped into his neck, straining towards completion. And when Dean came, filling him up inside, he nearly sobbed out again at the feeling of it, the need for it, Dean’s words still ringing through his ears and seeping into his bones.

Long minutes passed before Dean finally pried loose of his arms, rummaging around for one of their discarded shirts to clean them off with. And then Dean was helping him arrange himself more comfortably on the couch, lying down next to him and wrapping them both up in blankets. He felt Dean’s fingers brush his cheek, tracing the contours of his face, and Castiel drifted off almost instantly under the touch, utterly exhausted, but secure again in Dean’s arms, and the comfortable warmth of Dean’s body draped along his side.

~

Dean watched Castiel sleep, wanting nothing more than to curl himself around Cas’ body and join him in oblivion until the past months without him were a distant memory. Lord knows he needed it. He just hadn’t been able to sleep as well as he used to with Cas by his side.

Well, there were a lot of things that just didn’t feel right without Cas by his side, but that wasn’t something he let himself think about too much. Because when it came down to it, Cas was better off without him.

Running into Ben and Lisa that day had been a harsh reminder of that fact, that he was just a dangerous disruption to what would otherwise be peaceful, happy lives. He’d learned that well enough the first time, after his father died, but tonight had been a harsh reminder. He’d been so scared when they’d gotten the call to Castiel’s building, a million scenarios running through his head on the way over, all of them ending with him finding Cas... gone. Just like his Dad. His Mom... Too many important people in his life that had meant something to him.

The worry he’d felt until he’d found Cas safe and alive… No one deserved to go through that. And he’d put Lisa and Ben through it on a regular basis. Had begun to put Cas through it as well. And that just wasn’t right. Cas deserved so much better.

And he’d wanted to tell Cas that, ages ago. He really had. But he also knew he wouldn’t be able to trust himself around the other man. Knew that he just wasn’t strong enough to be able to resist Castiel’s pull on him, and do the right thing.

Tonight had proved it.

He thought he’d managed to get away at first, when he’d stopped himself from kissing Cas at the ambulance. Cas had looked so tired, and so fragile, Dean had just wanted to pull him into his arms and never let go. But there was also so much hurt, and so much anger in Cas’ eyes, Dean knew he didn’t have any right to touch him anymore, no matter how much he still wanted to.

But he really must’ve been exhausted after that for his brain to shut down altogether and find his way to Cas’ door, again.

Maybe he’d just wanted to see the man. Make sure he really was safe and alive and real. Or something. He was pretty much lost as soon as Cas opened the door.

It had been so long.

Dean sighed, ripping his eyes away from Castiel’s sleeping face, pressing his fingertips to Cas’ lips one last time, before very carefully extracting himself from Castiel’s side. Castiel huffed unhappily in his sleep, his brows furrowing with a little frown that Dean wanted to reach over and smooth away, but instead he turned around, pulling on his clothes and padding softly as he could towards the bathroom.

It took him a few seconds to realize something was off. He was so used to having all his stuff there that he didn't immediately recognize it was strange for his things to still be there in the first place. Not after all this time. And a quick check of the dresser drawers in the bedroom confirmed it - all his things were still there, exactly how he'd left them.

He didn't know what to make of that. Only that it made his chest ache, the way it ached to see the shadows under Castiel’s eyes, the lines, the pale thinness of his skin. All the things he had put there.

It hurt to look at the pictures of them on Castiel’s desk, happy and healthy and... together.

His eyes lingered on them a lot longer than was necessary, until he wasn’t even looking at them anymore, just standing there, fingers absently running over the edge of Castiel’s desk, over and over.

It was when his fingers caught on the pile of papers there that he saw it. Some official looking letter with a fancy letterhead from some private school across the country, offering Castiel a teaching job there.

Suddenly Dean couldn’t breath at all.

He found the duffel bag he’d left behind still under the bed where he’d stored it, and pulled it out, opening it on top of the bed and throwing his things haphazardly into the bag. He moved as quietly as possible, making quick work of the drawers, closet, bathroom... but it was when he was doing one final sweep he caught something he missed – his old Fire Dept. t-shirt, tucked under Cas’ pillow.

His chest clenched impossibly tighter when he saw it, and he immediately thought to the old AC-DC t-shirt he had stashed under his own pillow, one of Cas’ he’d worn home one day and never returned. Never even washed. And on those nights when he really couldn’t get to sleep, he’d pull it out from under his pillow and press it to his face, inhaling Cas’ scent until it soothed him to sleep.

That was practically every night now.

But it’d been working less and less as his scent had begun to replace Castiel’s. And he hadn’t realised how much so until tonight, when he’d been surrounded by the blankets on Castiel’s couch. God, the smell of him had driven Dean crazy. Cas must’ve been living in them or something. It had been pure instinct that’d made him seek out more skin, then, he’d been so out of his mind. And it hadn’t been what he’d come there for, but by then there was no way he could stop things from escalating.

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration, his grip slackening around the shirt. He didn’t know if he should take it with him or leave it where it was. He didn’t know what would do more damage at this point.

“You’re leaving.”

Dean jumped in surprise, but didn’t look up to the doorway, instead turning back to the bed to zip up his bag. “So are you, it seems,” he croaked, voice scratching over the words.

“What?” Castiel replied, confusion in his voice.

“St. Michaels?” Dean finally looked up, hitching his bag over his shoulder.

“Oh,” Castiel frowned, “Um… That’s an old letter. I’m not—“

“You should.”

“But—“

“You deserve better,” Dean said, brushing past Castiel.

“Wait,” Castiel hissed, grabbing hold of his arm. “Is that was this is about? You think you’re not good for me or something?”

Dean flinched, unable to look Castiel in the eye.

“What on earth would make you think something like that?” Castiel said, the grip on his arm changing to something more soothing, sympathetic. “Was it Lisa?” he asked softly.

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean sighed. “You shouldn’t have to wait around for someone who may or may not come home alive at the end of every day. You should be off molding the minds of future ivy-leaguers or something! And you should be able to have some sense of security in your life while you’re doing it!”

“I’ll admit, it was a lucrative opportunity. But I turned it down, Dean. I chose you instead,” Cas replied, his eyes full of certainty.

“Yeah, well you chose wrong, Cas,” Dean gritted out, breaking Cas’ gaze.

“And what about you, Dean? What about your happiness?” Castiel asked, a lot less angry than he should’ve been. “You said you love me. We love each other. Isn’t that worth fighting for?”

Dean scrunched his eyes shut, sighing wearily at the ceiling. “I’m gonna tell you what I told Ben, Cas - That just because you love someone doesn't mean you should stick around and screw up their life.”

Castiel didn’t reply straight away, but his fingers tightened around Dean’s arm, drawing Dean’s eyes towards him. Cas wasn’t looking at him anymore though, his eyes turned to the ground as he tried to steady his shaking breaths.

“Dean,” Cas finally whispered, “Can’t you have a little faith in us? Good things do happen.”

“Not in my experience,” he replied.

“Please don’t do this,” Cas begged, his voice barely audible anymore. And even though Dean ached so bad he could barely even breathe, he finally found the strength to free himself from Castiel’s grip, and turned towards the door.

“Bye, Cas.”

~ tbc

Okay, so... No more updates this month, at least. I wanna finish the first part of a bdsm fic before Halloween. But there's only a couple chapters left in this anyway, so don't hate me!