Work Text:
Ever since Dean and Castiel had begun sleeping together, fewer nightmares plagued Dean’s rest. On the nights when they did ravage his sleep, a soft kiss on the forehead and gentle, soothing words from his lover quickly chased them away.
But not tonight. Tonight, Dean woke from a terrible dream of Hell, sweating, his heart thundered within his chest. With alarm, he noticed the room was empty. Castiel was nowhere in sight.
The hunter took a deep breath, desperately trying not to panic. Cas is human now, Dean reassured himself. He can’t just fly away anymore; he must be nearby.
Dean fought the irrational urge to grab one of his weapons hanging from the wall. After all, plenty of mundane reasons could account for Castiel’s absence at one o’clock in the morning. He could have woken up needing to use the bathroom or craving a late night snack. Their new home in the Men of Letters’ bunker may well be one of the safest, most secure places in the world. There was no reason to assume anything was wrong, yet the adrenaline rush from Dean’s nightmare prevented the hunter from calming down right away—although, he did manage to leave his bedroom weaponless to look for his friend.
He soon found Castiel, with his back turned, sitting and gazing intently through the gigantic telescope the Men of Letters had left behind. The tension drained from Dean as rapidly as air from a balloon, and he immediately started to wonder why Castiel decided to go stargazing. Dean never did figure out why the defunct organization would have installed such a thing here in the first place. After all, what did the stars have to do with the sort of supernatural phenomena the Men of Letters would have studied and cataloged?
Sam would most likely know the answer to this, as his younger brother had been fully immersing himself in the Men of Letters’ lore. One of these days, Dean will get around to asking him. Quietly, he began to make his way to Castiel, who seemed so intent on his stargazing that he gave no indication of having heard the hunter coming up behind him.
The hard floor of the bunker chilled Dean’s feet on that winter night. Thankful he at least had the foresight to put on a thick, dark blue robe before going out here, he nonetheless looked enviously at the warm, pink bunny slippers on Castiel’s feet. Dean stifled a chuckle at the memory. When Dean and Sam took Castiel shopping for all the sundry accoutrements the newly-made human would need, Sam had suggested Castiel grab a pair of house slippers. The former angel had no idea why his selection of pink bunny slippers had elicited so much guffawing from the brothers and tilted his head with a puzzled frown.
“I can choose another pair if there is something wrong with these. I only chose them because they were the cheapest.”
“No, no.” Dean had wiped the tears of laughter away and tried to compose himself. “They’re fine. These are rather fitting for you, now that I think of it.”
Finally standing behind Castiel, Dean put a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, the ex-angel elbowed him so hard in the chest that Dean staggered backwards, the wind almost knocked out of him entirely.
“Dean!” Castiel cried out, alarmed and mortified. He scrambled out of the chair to Dean’s side, grabbing his shoulder. Dean shook his head and, when he regained his breath, laughed.
“I’m fine, Cas. My fault for sneaking up on you like that. Impressive reflexes you got there. Let’s just call this a test for your hunter training. Now, go; sit back down.”
Dean pulled up a chair next to Castiel at the telescope and slipped his arm behind him.
“So, when did you decide to take up astronomy as a hobby?”
Castiel shifted uncomfortably, and Dean frowned. What was bothering him about this perfectly casual question?
After some hesitation, the former angel answered evasively. “It’s not a hobby, exactly.”
It occurred to Dean that maybe he should let it drop and respect Castiel’s privacy. However, curiosity and a deep-seated fear when it came to keeping any sort of secrets between them caused him to push on.
“Then, what is it?”
Castiel did not make eye contact with him—always a red flag—and, instead, sat looking straight at the telescope. He then scooted his chair away from it and motioned for Dean to take a look.
“See that bright red star there?”
“Yeah…?”
“Humans named it Antares. I lost a bet on that star.”
Dean let out a short laugh and looked at him quizzically. Castiel gave him a brief flicker of a smile, but he explained with a soft, sad voice, staring away from Dean and at the telescope.
“So many millions of years ago, we angels knew our Father had selected this galaxy for something special, but we weren’t sure for what exactly. There was so much excited speculation about what our Father might create next among the millions of planets within the galaxy. So, we ended up playing a game, each of us angels choosing a star we thought would most likely host the solar system of this special world.”
“And you chose Antares.”
Castiel nodded. “It is still my favorite star though. I used to…I’m not sure how to describe it.”
Dean’s inner science fiction nerd squealed with delight at all this information, but for the first time in years, Castiel seemed once more otherworldly and alien to him. So easy had it been, especially now that Castiel had become human completely, to forget he wasn’t born to this body. His existence for millions of years had been on some other plane entirely.
“Perhaps the closest human equivalent is a hot tub.”
That was not what Dean was expecting to hear, and he almost doubled over laughing.
“A hot tub? Seriously? You’d just dipped into a star like a hot tub?”
Castiel fidgeted in his seat, his eyes adorably squinty in frustration as he furrowed his brow trying to find the adequate words.
“I was a being born of light and fire. Humans were born from the water. Just as you use the water to clean, to replenish yourselves and relax, so did we angels with the stars.”
An undercurrent of melancholy pervaded his voice, and, suddenly, Dean figured out Castiel’s hesitance to share this with him.
“You miss it, don’t you?” Guilt, the ever persistent monkey that claws and clings to Dean’s back, made its presence known once more. He did this. He made the damn demon deal to save his brother that set off a domino chain that eventually resulted in all the angels expelled from Heaven. Admittedly, he would not do that part differently if he could. The idea of Sam remaining dead made his stomach lurch, and, besides, if he hadn’t made the deal, he never would have met Castiel. However, his failure to prevent Sam from killing Lilith continued to gall him, especially when Castiel had died to give him that final chance. His friend had sacrificed and suffered so much for him, and what had he gotten in return?
“I do miss it,” Castiel admitted after a pause, ”but not as much as I would miss this.”
The man who used to be an angel grabbed the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck and pushed their lips together. He kissed Dean passionately, his tongue exploring every crevice of his mouth. Dean responded in kind, wrapping his arms around Castiel, and a low, triumphant growl rose up in him.
My angel. The heady rush of hormones and emotions Castiel’s kiss stirred awake made him eye the telescope with as much wariness as he might a potential romantic rival.
You used to belong to the heavens, Cas, but now you belong with me.