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who will decide the shape of things
the shift of being
shall we divide and become another
who is due for gift upon gift
shall we swim over and over
the curve of a wing
its destination ever changing
When Eileen announces that the last one in the water will have to buy everyone dinner, she and Jack start running towards the ocean immediately. Sam is still wearing his t-shirt and his sandals and almost falls on his behind in his haste to get them off.
At Castiel's side, Dean snickers, “Need some help there, Tony Carlson?”
Rolling his eyes in annoyance at the teasing, Sam throws his clothes towards the other shelter and then takes off running after the others. “You’re getting old!” Dean yells after him.
Used to the brothers ribbing each other, Castiel instead focuses on watching Jack play in the waves, splashing water at Eileen and getting splashed back, a wide smile on his face. Seeing his family in such good spirits is very precious to Castiel, so he pulls out his phone and snaps a picture. They’re probably too far away for it to really show much, but he wants to at least have tried.
Dean nudges him. “Take a selfie!” he demands, so Castiel clicks on the button to switch the modus. Dean tucks himself closer and Castiel squints into the camera—he never knows what kind of expression to make for these.
“Okay, one, two, cheese!” Castiel announces and then clicks on the shutter several times. Dean makes a funny face and then laughs when he sees the result.
“Send it to me,” he says and then yawns, moving to lie down flat on his back inside the shelter.
Castiel takes a moment to thumb through the selfies. He supposes they did turn out funny and he likes how happy Dean looks just being silly. There is one though that gives him pause—he must have hit the shutter once without noticing while they were getting ready. In the picture, Castiel is frowning while Dean is looking at him instead of the camera. His smile is very soft and his eyes are warm. There’s a certain open vulnerability to his expression that Castiel has noticed Dean really only shows when they’re in private, when he feels safe.
How often has Dean looked at him like that and Castiel either didn’t notice or didn’t understand? He had been so sure that Dean didn’t return his feelings, it had never occurred to him what Dean was trying to tell him without words.
Dean must have decided that he feels lonely, because he tugs at the back of Castiel’s shirt insistently. Acquiescing to his demands, Castiel lies down only to immediately have Dean make himself at home with his head on Castiel’s chest and an arm slung around his waist.
Oh well. It has been almost two hours since they cuddled last. Obviously that’s too long.
Putting an arm around Dean, Castiel rubs gentle circles between his shoulder blades with his thumb. Dean makes a pleased noise and then asks, “Tell me a story?”
This has happened a lot lately—usually during cuddling time but also at bed time or when Dean wakes up during the night and can’t settle back into sleep. He says he likes hearing about things Castiel has witnessed, and Castiel is happy to share his memories with him—the ones that weren’t taken from him, that is. He has told Dean about ancient warriors and beasts and battles long-forgotten. About the first sword that was forged, the first stars that were named.
“Hmm.” Castiel strokes a hand down Dean’s spine, thinking. “Something true?”
Dean shrugs. “Somethin’ nice,” he mumbles into Castiel’s shirt, rubbing his cheek against it.
“Alright.” Trying to come up with something fitting, the sound of the waves gives Castiel an idea. “A long time ago, there once were a bird and a fish. They had names, of course, but the names are of a tongue so old I can’t pronounce them in this body.”
At that, Dean snorts and mumbles something unintelligible but likely inappropriate.
Ignoring the interruption, Castiel continues, “It is not known anymore how the bird and the fish came to meet, but they were immediately intrigued with each other. They did not speak each other’s language but communicated through gifts—seashells for the bird and flower blossoms for the fish. The bird admired the fish’s bravery in facing all the dangers of the deep ocean every day. The fish marveled at the bird’s ability to build a cozy home out of sticks and moss. They met in the shallows every day, and every day they fell deeper in love with each other.”
Castiel strokes his hand down Dean’s side. Dean’s lying very still and seems to be listening intensely.
“But in the end, they couldn’t build a home together—”
Dean pushes himself up so fast he dislodges Castiel’s hand. He’s frowning at Castiel, mouth pulled down unhappily. “What? Why?”
Confused at his outburst, Castiel takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “Well, they were two different species of two very different worlds. The bird would drown in the ocean and the fish suffocate on the land. There is a version of the story where the moon, hearing their cries, takes pity on them and lifts them up into the sky as binary stars—what you now know as Sirius A and Sirius B. In another version, the fish is so heartbroken it grows wings to join the bird in the sky, which was possibly used to explain the species of the so-called flying fish.”
Dean settles himself back on Castiel’s chest but he’s still frowning.
“They make it work,” he says, sounding almost angry. “Not all birds nest on trees, right? Maybe it can just make a nest on some small island. And there’s pools when the tide is low, right? They can hang out there.”
Endeared by how passionate Dean’s response to his story is, Castiel goes back to stroking a hand up and down his side, finding himself smiling softly.
“You’re right. I like that version better too.”
Dean grumbles something unintelligible in reply. He somehow manages to snuggle even closer and starts playing with the capybara pin attached to Castiel’s chest pocket.
>
Jack briefly returns to bring back the water ball and retrieve his snorkeling gear. He’s dripping wet, his hair is standing up wildly where it had started to dry again, and he seems to be enjoying himself greatly. He waves at Castiel and then runs back to the ocean.
Castiel waves back but makes the mistake of using the hand he’s been stroking Dean’s side with to do it, prompting an immediate displeased noise from Dean.
“I was just saying hello to Jack,” Castiel explains, a little exasperated. “And I want to sit up. The ground is hard.”
Dean moves his head and shoots Castiel a betrayed look, but Castiel won’t let himself be swayed this time. With a put-upon sigh, Dean pushes himself up and then sits, scowling.
Sitting up as well, Castiel starts stroking Dean’s back as a compromise. “Do you still want to swim when the others come back? It’s calm today but it might not be tomorrow.”
His mood ever changing, Dean nudges Castiel’s shoulder with his, smirking. “You wanna get me shirtless, Cas?”
Rolling his eyes, Castiel counters, “I know you were excited about swimming and I want you to have that.”
Of course, Dean isn’t done teasing him. “Think we can find a mermaid while we’re at it? Been a while since I’ve had a hot threesome. Mmm.”
“Mermaids don’t exist, Dean. They were based on manatee sightings.”
Dean mock-pouts. “Way to burst my bubble, man.”
They’re quiet for a while, just watching the ocean. Castiel catches himself not only keeping an eye on Jack but also on the beach around them, securing a perimeter. He knows that if there was anything evil or dangerous around, one of them would have noticed by now. He supposes old habits are simply hard to break.
“Cas?”
He was so deeply in thought, he hadn’t realized Dean was looking at him. Dean sounds vulnerable all of a sudden, and Castiel is quick to focus on him.
“What’s wrong?”
Dean shakes his head. “Nothin’, just um.” He drops his gaze into his lap where he’s nervously playing with his fingers. “Wanted to say thank you. It wouldn’t be the same, if you. If you weren’t here—” Dean’s throat clicks, his lashes are wet. He licks his trembling lips and tries again, “Sometimes I still wake up and I, I just get so scared.”
He looks like it, too, and it’s a fear Castiel knows all too well himself.
Reaching for him, Castiel cups Dean’s face in one hand, waiting patiently until Dean is ready to meet his eyes. Stroking a tear away with his thumb, Castiel says, into the scant space between them, “I’m here, Dean. I will always be here.”
Nodding mutely, Dean shuts his eyes and takes in a shuddery breath. He leans forward, initiating an embrace. Clinging to Castiel tightly, he asks, an edge of desperation to his voice, “Cas, you’re happy, right?”
Completely thrown by the question, Castiel must take a moment too long to answer, because he can feel Dean tense in his arms.
“Of course I am,” he says, speaking the truth. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Frowning, he tries to think back over their conversation but he can’t find the thread that led to this.
Dean is quiet. Castiel wants to look at him and search his eyes, but he can tell that Dean isn’t ready. “Why are you asking me this?”
They’re still hugging and Castiel can feel Dean’s heartbeat calming.
“Just wanna make sure,” Dean says at length. He sounds sincere but also a little evasive. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”
Still uncertain how they even got to this topic or why exactly Dean is so insistent about it, Castiel nonetheless is quick to reassure him. “Of course, Dean.” Sensing an opening, he adds, “If you return the favor.”
Dean huffs where he’s pressed his face against Castiel’s neck, seeking refuge, but he nods. Letting go and drawing back from the embrace, he quickly wipes a hand over his eyes and blinks against the sunlight.
Giving him a moment to sort himself out, Castiel keeps a grounding hand on his shoulder and checks in on the others. Jack is still snorkeling but Sam and Eileen are swimming towards the shore.
“They’re coming back. Should we get ready?”
In his periphery, he can see Dean nod. They’re both barefoot already and in their swim trunks, so they only have to take their shirts off. Castiel takes care with his capybara pin, putting his shirt down in such a way that he can see it’s still attached to the breast pocket.
When Castiel turns to him, Dean seems tense and withdrawn where he was so openly emotional before. It’s not unusual for Dean to retreat into his protective shell, though Castiel suspects it has less to do with his outburst, and more with what they’re about to do—while Dean swims in the bunker’s pool a lot, the ocean is a much less controlled environment.
Dean knows his limits though. He’s made up his mind and Castiel is equally as determined to support him any way he needs.
“Let’s get this show on the road.”
Castiel helps Dean stand and then walk over to the beach wheelchair. Sam and Eileen are over at the other shelter, drying themselves off with the towels they brought.
Castiel can feel Sam watching them closely. Dean doesn’t seem to notice, completely focused on every single step. Once he’s sitting, Castiel pushes the wheelchair as closely to the waterline as possible, then helps Dean stand again.
The waves are already washing over their feet when Dean suddenly sucks in a sharp breath and falters, his grip on Castiel tightening. He stops and looks almost panicked for a moment.
“I’ve got you,” Castiel reassures him, shifting his hold slightly to support Dean more securely.
Briefly closing his eyes, Dean takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then he nods and carefully takes the next step, leaning some more of his weight on Castiel.
As soon as they’re in deep enough water to be able to swim, the tense lines on Dean’s face smooth out and his discomfort visibly gives way to joy. As always, seeing him happy makes Castiel feel deeply content. Letting Dean set the pace, he swims at his side, trying to take it all in. He’s been swimming with Dean in the bunker’s pool but the ocean had always been something that he’d admired from afar, never having had reason or opportunity to swim in it.
He hadn’t expected it to be this nice. The water is cool and clear and smells of salt instead of chlorine. He can see the sky overhead and is able to actually touch the seafoam and hear the soft sounds of the water from up close.
It’s when he watches a small swarm of fish underneath them that he sees it, half-buried in the sand.
“I’ll be right back,” he informs Dean, and then dives.
His sight gets blurry under the water and the salt stings, so once he’s gotten what he came for he quickly surfaces again.
When he’s wiped the water out of his eyes and is squinting against the sun, his hair sticking to his head uncomfortably, he sees Dean looking at him with amusement.
“What was that all about, Aqua Man?”
Struck with sudden inspiration, Castiel puts his find into the pocket of his swim trunks instead of showing it to Dean right away.
“I’ll tell you later.”
Dean gets a glint in his eye. “You see a mermaid?” he asks, smirking, while they continue swimming.
“No, Dean.”
“Merman?”
“I told you they don’t exist, Dean.”
>
When they’re back inside the shelter, Dean is visibly exhausted and immediately lies down and curls up on his side. Castiel is glad to see it though—Dean has gotten a lot better at letting himself have the rest he needs. Letting himself have what he needs in general.
Dean quickly falls asleep and doesn’t even wake when Jack comes over to show Castiel the interesting stones he’s found and tell him about the fishes he saw. In return, Castiel shows Jack his own find. He presses a finger to his mouth and inclines his head towards Dean meaningfully. Jack frowns in confusion but then it clicks and he mimics zipping up his mouth—a gesture Castiel is pretty sure he’s learned from Dean.
When Sam and Eileen return from their walk along the beach—hand in hand and sharing private smiles—they all start packing up and getting ready to leave. They’re planning on returning the next day and Castiel hopes that the ocean will be just as calm again.
Dean is still asleep, so Castiel gently strokes his back through the shirt he’d draped over him in lieu of a blanket until he stirs. Blinking in disorientation, Dean immediately starts frowning in displeasure at having been woken.
“Hey, sleepyhead—” Dean glares up at him at that, but with his hair mussed and fluffy from letting it dry while he slept, he looks more adorable than intimidating. “We’re leaving.” When Dean’s glare deepens at that, Castiel adds, “Didn’t you want to check out that burger place today that the receptionist recommended to us?”
That gets Dean moving. When he’s got his shirt on, Castiel helps him back into the beach wheelchair so they can disassemble and fold up the shelter. When they’re ready, Castiel gives Jack a bottle of water from their cooler, and then Dean too.
“‘M hungry not thirsty,” Dean grumbles, but Castiel won’t be swayed.
“Hydration is important, Dean.”
“I don’t like plain water, it tastes like spit.”
“That's why I put some juice in yours before we left.”
Dean doesn’t have a comeback to that. Castiel can hear him complain some more under his breath but he finally twists off the cap. By the time they’re back inside their motel room—after giving back the wheelchair they’d rented and retrieving Dean’s—the bottle is half-empty.
Moving himself onto the bed, Dean spreads out starfish-style and snuggles into the covers.
“Don’t fall asleep again,” Castiel warns him. “You’ll lie awake all night.”
His only answer is a muffled grumble.
Smiling to himself—Dean really is an angry sleeper—Castiel uses the opportunity to clean up and polish his find in the bathroom sink. When he’s done, he’s filled with a sense of accomplishment but also realizes he’s nervous. But why? It’s just a whimsical gift, nothing more. Surely there’s no reason for him to feel like it means something more.
Deciding that he’s being irrational, Castiel forces himself to quit stalling and sits down beside Dean on the bed.
Dean, who was clearly dozing but jerks out of sleep as soon as he feels the mattress dip. “‘M awake!” he claims and quickly moves his hand to wipe away some drool from his cheek.
“Of course you were.”
“Mm-hm,” Dean agrees, then snuggles his head back into the pillow. “Just restin’ my eyes.”
“Well, if you’re not too busy with that, I would like to show you what I found earlier.” Before he can lose his nerve—though he still doesn’t understand why he’s even nervous in the first place—Castiel places his gift down in front of Dean on the mattress.
Dean blinks and then his eyes widen. “Dude! Is that what’s-it-called—an Abalone shell?” He picks it up and rolls onto his back, then moves the shell around in his hands, studying it. “It’s so big!” He raises his eyebrows at Cas. “You know Sammy is so gonna wanna use it for spells.”
“Then he’s going to have to find his own because this one is for you.”
At that, Dean’s eyes widen almost comically. He stares up at Cas and then his cheeks flush pink.
While Castiel’s own nervousness had already confused him, Dean’s reaction throws him completely. They’ve given each other presents before. How is this any different?
“I actually…” Dean fumbles with the shell in his hands, avoiding Castiel’s eyes. He sets it down carefully on the covers and then twists around and towards his wheelchair that he’d parked beside the bed. He retrieves something he'd apparently hidden under a flannel that he'd thrown onto the seat cushion when Castiel wasn't looking, and then moves back. Gently, he puts whatever it is inside the shell and then pushes it towards Castiel.
“Just, uh… saw them on the way back and… I know it’s stupid and really fucking corny, but I wanted to give them to you.” Dean has, however possible, grown even more embarrassed. His face flushed, he plays with his fingers, head ducked down.
Inside the shell are some small white flower blossoms and a big pink one. It looks lovely and has a subtle, pleasant scent.
It’s a very sweet gift, though Castiel is still confused why—
Oh.
Seashells and flowers.
Just like—
“I mean, they’re probably gonna dry up soon,” Dean is blabbering, likely made even more uncertain by Castiel’s stunned silence, “so it was dumb, really—”
Taking Dean’s hand in his, Castiel reassures him, “We’ll put some water inside the shell for them. And then when they do dry, we’ll press them and put them inside our photo album for safe keeping.” Dean nods mutely, cheeks still flushed, and Castiel feels warmth spread through his core. Every time he realizes again that he’s in love with Dean, it’s this same indescribable feeling, like the sun shining on his face for the first time all over again. Like understanding that he has finally found a home.
“I will keep them, Dean. Thank you.”
Dean squeezes his hand and then tucks himself into his side. Running a hand through Dean’s messy hair, Castiel asks, “Do you want to bathe before we leave for dinner?”
“Mm-hm.”
When Castiel makes to get off the bed, Dean immediately latches onto him.
“Not right now, dummy!” He tucks himself more firmly into Castiel’s side, grumbling under his breath. “We’re having a moment.”
Settling back down, Castiel puts an arm around Dean. “I apologize,” he says, endeared at how serious Dean is taking this. Unable to keep from teasing him a little, he adds, “I didn’t know romance came before personal hygiene.”
Shifting around, Dean glares up at him, but the effect is completely ruined by the pink flush to his cheeks and ears.
“You’re a dumbass,” Dean complains weakly, and then he tugs Castiel down and into a kiss. When they part, Dean adds, “And annoying,” and then reels him back in to kiss him again.
They get lost in making out for a while, Castiel’s hand petting Dean’s hair while Dean holds onto him with his fingers buried in Castiel’s shirt. Finally, they’re interrupted by Dean’s stomach grumbling. It’s not surprising—by falling asleep earlier, Dean had completely missed lunch.
There are still some sandwiches in the cooler. Dean makes grabby hands for them when Castiel brings them over and then immediately starts munching, his cheeks bulging like a chipmunk’s.
Castiel uses the opportunity to put a bit of water inside the shell for the flowers. There’s a little table right next to the glass doors that lead to the small balcony, and he puts the shell there. The light breeze coming in through the half-open doors jostles the flowers lightly and spreads their scent around in the room.
Satisfied with the outcome, Castiel sits back down on the edge of the bed and watches the way the water reflects the light. Dean is done eating and, after licking his fingers clean, moves himself closer and lies his head down on Castiel’s shoulder, takes his hand.
Castiel puts an arm around him and strokes up and down his side. “You’re very affectionate today,” he observes, though really Dean is generally quite cuddly when they’re in private. And often when they’re not in private too, like when they’re all watching a movie together in the Cave.
“Shuddup,” Dean grumbles, “Moment’s not over.”
Amused, Castiel huffs out a breath, “At this point it will never be over.”
“That a bad thing?”
Dean sounds pouty and defensive. Feeling that warmth spread through him again, Castiel is quick to reassure Dean, “If there are things that never end, I do hope that this is one of them.”
With his face tucked into Castiel’s neck the way it is, Castiel can feel the way Dean’s face flushes. Dean grumbles something about him being a sap, but he also squeezes Castiel’s hand and holds it tighter like he doesn’t intend on letting go ever again, and that is all the answer Castiel needs.