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Castiel was convinced eternal life was utterly useless– somehow the fear of death being the only thing that keeps human life interesting. When Castiel was changed, he thought he was grateful– a man pulling him from underneath his crushed car and promising him he’d be ok felt like a blessing from whatever higher power was dishing out miracles that day. But as the years went on, it felt more and more like Castiel had been cursed from below.
When you live forever, the monotony of life is only contrasted by the constant shock of loss– either people die or you have to leave before they realize you’re aging too well. As for the other Immortals, they’re either hunted or turn to solitary existence, the weight of sharing infinite life with someone not meant for them often too much.
Despite what the storybooks and love songs say, humans were never meant to coexist together forever– not literally at least.
There are a few who share a bond Castiel used to ache for but has since considered unlikely. Those are considered the lucky ones. Life eternal, love eternal, happiness eternal… all the bullshit Christina Perri sings about and humans wish for despite not knowing the true meaning of the word forever.
It bears weight and promise that was never intended for humans to experience.
Castiel had grown tired of watching people waste away and Immortals either find their match or spiral into something so dark there was no coming back. Completely writing off the chance of finding his own companion, he did not want to wait for himself to waste away.
He simply wanted it all to be over with.
Turns out it’s easy to off yourself when all you need to do is drink your own blood.
But first, he had a promise to keep. Castiel searched high and low for the answer, but certainly didn’t expect his solution to be in a small town in Kansas.
Dean Winchester will be the means to an end.
When Castiel called the number given to him by a friend of a friend, he had hoped Dean could help him with an odd request while asking almost zero questions. Castiel had heard of the artist’s talent through the grapevine, and after spending hours one evening scrolling through the artist’s portfolio, he couldn’t help but travel the distance needed to meet the man behind the exquisite embroidery.
He pulls up in front of a coffee shop examining the vintage sign that tells Castiel he’s in the right place. HARVELLE’S is spelt out in a vintage cursive in old paint that’s almost aesthetically chipped in all the right places over the years. Satisfied with Dean’s meeting choice before even entering the door, Castiel reaches into the back of his small car. It takes a moment for him to collect himself as he pulls out a worn suit box. With a deep breath, Castiel brushes his hand softly over the permanently dusty cardboard cover– not daring to open the box until he’s inside and sure a bird won’t take a shit at an inopportune moment.
With courage he didn’t expect to need, Castiel moves towards the front of the coffee shop and opens the door carefully while making sure not to bump or crush his box in the process. After making it through the front door unscathed, he scans the coffee shop and somehow knows Dean is who he’s looking for before even spotting the embroidery hoop on the table.
The artist’s eyes shoot up at the sound of the bell above Castiel’s head signaling his arrival and Castiel is positive his heart skips a beat.
Even from across the room this man’s eyes gleam like sunlight reflecting off a maple tree in the middle of summer– a warm green Castiel is sure carries flecks of gold patterned neatly within if you’re lucky to be close enough to see them. He moves towards the artist as he smiles and Castiel can’t help but return the sentiment.
Having crossed the small coffee shop, Castiel reaches his hand out in greeting. Dean’s grasp is strong around Castiel’s as he stands to introduce himself. When the artist lets go to offer Castiel a seat, the Immortal has to dig his fingernails deep into his palm to keep from reaching out again.
Castiel didn’t realize how touch-starved he was.
A traitorous voice warns, maybe you were Dean starved.
That’s ridiculous. How could Castiel have been craving someone he’d never met?
Through his hurricane of thoughts Castiel manages a “Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel.” as he sits in the chair offered to him. He’s sure he imagines the way Dean’s eyes twinkle at Castiel’s use of his name.
“So, Cas, what can I help you with?” Dean asks as he grabs the hoop sitting on the table and begins stitching. Castiel’s mind short circuits at the easy nickname he’s been given after only two interactions with the man. In all his years he’s never been given a nickname he liked.
He tries to ignore that he’d probably let Dean call him anything.
Turning his attention away from his sudden attraction to the man across from him, he waivers a glance towards the hoop cradled gently in the artist’s hands. It’s so mesmerizing the way his fingers work the needle through the fabric seemingly of their own accord. The artist never takes his eyes off of Castiel despite stitching expertly– his green boring curiously into Castiel’s forehead before he lifts his gaze again to make eye contact.
It takes his breath away.
Realizing he’s been staring, Castiel clears his throat and organizes his thoughts, “Oh, well, as I said I need a sort of laborious commission piece.” Dean just nods, curiously following Castiel’s hand as it reaches for the box settled precariously on the chair next to him. He opens the box before continuing, “I would like to add embroidery to this suit jacket.”
Dean watches closely as Castiel lifts the old satin jacket from the dusty box and Castiel can feel the artist’s eyes on him as he holds it. Castiel barely knew his father, this jacket all he has of the man who died long before Castiel had the ability to form memories. Even if he did have memories of the man, by now decades in the past, they’d be fuzzy at best. When his mother gave him this jacket on her deathbed, she requested Castiel wear it for his wedding as his father did before him.
Already changed at the time Castiel just smiled and nodded, placating his mother’s dying wish. Resigned to his fate, he reasoned that dying in it would be the next best thing.
But he wanted something that made the jacket his.
He spent longer than he’d care to admit to come to the conclusion that embroidery was the way to go, and even longer finding the person he’d trust with such a task. Time isn’t really an object for him anymore, but he still can’t find it in himself to waste it.
It’s that thought that forces him to continue, not wanting to waste Dean’s time that’s as numbered as any other human’s. “This was my father’s. I would like some sort of intricate detailing on the back that can wrap over the shoulders and toward the front. Cost is no issue for me, but I do worry about how much time this will take you. Not for myself, I have no deadline so this can be a side project, but if you’re worried that it will take up too much of your time then I–”
Castiel didn’t realize he was rambling until Dean cut him off, “Time isn’t an issue, Cas.”
The artist smiles, reassuring Castiel that he isn’t a burden on him. Dean gestures towards the suit, silently asking to take a closer look. Castiel hands it over without hesitation despite guarding this jacket with his life for the past 20 years.
Dean regards the jacket with as much respect as Castiel would have wanted. He’s awed by the way the artist’s hands run across the fabric, seemingly cataloging every inch to memory.
“Yes.” The artist speaks abruptly without looking up from the suit.
“Pardon?” Castiel isn’t even sure Dean was talking to him, but his worries are sated when the man’s kind eyes meet him once again.
“I’ll do it, Cas. I mean… I’d be honored.” Blush creeps across Dean’s cheeks and Castiel feels his cheeks mirror his companion’s. “I gotta ask, man. It’s super thoughtful and intricate…” Dean pauses, “What’s this for?”
Castiel feels himself bristle at the question– not expecting to be asked and therefore not thinking of an appropriate response. He’s positive “well see I’m immortal and sick of it so I’m going to drink my own blood to kill myself in this jacket from my dead parents” would deter the artist from wanting to help. He settles for something simple, “It’s something my mother wanted.”
It’s not a whole truth, but Castiel hasn’t had the luxury of those in decades.
“Well, that’s admirable to me.” Dean’s smile almost looks relieved and Castiel can tell it’s genuine.
Abruptly and without warning, Castiel realizes that he could see himself falling in love with this man.
Dean’s kind and thoughtful and talented, and downright gorgeous, and Castiel's heart aches for the possibility of what he simply can’t have. His gut becomes more resolute in his decision with this realization– now knowing Dean exists and someday won’t practically making the decision for him.
Dean must continue talking while Castiel wars against every rule he ever set for himself— namely stay away from humans— because, when Castiel looks up again, the artist is looking at him expectantly. “I’m sorry, Dean. I got lost in thought.”
“No kiddin’,” Dean chuckles back. “I just wanted to ask about payment…”
Castiel nods pragmatically, “Of course. I can pay in… installments. Cash if you’d prefer?” He’s not sure why he offers this arrangement, knowing seeing more of Dean is a decidedly bad idea, but he can’t help himself.
Dean nods, “Works for me!” If Castiel didn’t know better, he’d think Dean seemed excited at the prospect of seeing more of each other. His mind is wading into dangerous territory when Dean continues, “Does, uh, bi-weekly sounds ok? I know it seems like a lot because maybe it is but this seems important and I—“
Cutting off a increasingly nervous Dean before he can adorably ramble more, Castiel covers the artist’s hand with his, “Sounds perfect.” He looks down towards the jacket once more, “I suppose I’ll leave this with you.” His hand leaves Dean’s to run across the fabric, and his breath catches when Dean finds his hand, overlapping them once again.
“Cas…” It comes out almost like a question and Castiel levels his eyes with Dean’s. “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
The sincerity of Dean’s gaze assures Castiel more than he expected— truth be told he didn’t realize he was so attached to the last piece of his family. Nodding, Castiel folds the jacket carefully and sets it into the box. Logically this is where he should make his exit, but his ass feels glued to the chair, not ready to leave Dean’s proximity.
“Ah, where are my manors!” The exclamation startles Castiel but he looks up to see Dean smiling. “I didn’t even offer to buy you a coffee.” Castiel goes to protest but Dean continues on, “Joanna Beth! Hey!” The barista shoots Dean a death glare before walking around the counter to their table. Castiel feels bad– Dean almost seeming rude– until she kicks Dean’s foot out from under his chair while holding back a laugh.
Clearly this is just their dynamic.
“Do NOT call me Joanna Beth, Dean.” The barista is scowling but the mirth behind her eyes tells Castiel all he needs to know. “Who’s your friend?” Joanna eyes Castiel up and down with a look that makes him feel practically naked.
“Down, Jo.” Dean growls and the barista shrugs. “This is Cas, my new client. Can you get him whatever he wants and just throw it on my tab?”
“Your tab?” Dean shoots her a look. “Yeah, sure, whatever. What can I get you, Cas?”
Castiel orders his usual latte and somehow finds himself talking amicably with Dean about his embroidery when Jo returns with his cup. He smiles a thanks and she looks like she’s going to continue the conversation when the bell above the door rings and she has to dash back behind the counter.
“So, uh,” Castiel is surprised by the hesitation in his own voice, “How do you know Jo?” He wishes there wasn’t a tinge of jealousy at their comfort with one another but he can’t help the feeling of green swirling in his gut at the sight of the beautiful woman interacting with Dean.
“Ah, that twerp is like a niece to me.” Dean smiles widely but doesn’t elaborate more. Castiel has heard of people referring to their friends as sisters or even mother figures but niece is a new one– probably an inside joke he could only wish to be a part of.
“So, Cas… what do you do?” Dean folds his arms across his chest and leans back comfortably in the wooden cafe chair.
“Oh, uh, I–,” Castiel stumbles. He doesn’t usually share this part of his life– pen names and indie publishing companies that come and go have allowed him to keep writing without suspicion. It largely works so well because no one knows it’s actually him. Being an author is one of the only things that is purely Castiel– no half truths or white lies. He shocks himself when he finishes the sentence truthfully, “I… I write.”
Dean’s eyebrows shoot up in curiosity, “Oh, an author. I can see it,” he rakes his eyes across Castiel and the Immortal finds himself leaning into it rather than shying away, “You write anything I’ve heard of?”
Castiel scoffs, “No, I highly doubt that. Just small things here and there, nothing… important.”
Eyebrows stitching together, Dean answers thoughtfully, “I don’t know, man. If you took the time to write it, it must’ve been a story worth telling.” Castiel can’t bring himself to pull his eyes away from Dean’s despite the intensity of the gaze. He wants to know what the artist would think of his writing, wants to divulge the fantastical stories that are based off the real life magic that is threatening to drive Castiel mad.
He can’t.
“I suppose you’re right.” He casts Dean a tight smile before feigning a glance at his wrist where a watch would be… if he wore a watch. “I should be going.”
The artist glances at the empty wrist and Castiel braces for being called out on his ruse but Dean just smiles and nods, “Yeah, man. Me too. But I’ll see you in two weeks, right?”
If Castiel wasn’t kicking himself for being so attracted to a human, his heart would flip at the hope laced in Dean’s question. “Yes of course. I will have your first and second payment then as I didn’t think to bring any with me now.”
Dean raises a palm, “Don’t sweat it, Cas. I’ll, uh, see you soon.” Castiel nods and they hover awkwardly before Castiel reaches out a hand to shake. The artist smirks before indulging in Castiel’s offer, his fingers lingering longer than would be considered professional.
The minute he’s outside of Harvelle’s, Castiel let’s out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Combing his hands over his face and through his helplessly unruly hair, he tries to recenter himself despite his world being completely shifted off balance. He promised himself to never feel this way about someone destined to be temporary in his permanent life.
But how was he ever supposed to release himself from the magnetic pull of Dean Winchester?
. . .
Two months into their arrangement, Castiel is effectively head over heels for the green-eyed artist.
Bi-weekly meetings quickly turned into weekly ones, Dean’s excitement over the jacket’s progress infectious. It didn’t take long after that for Castiel to realize Harvelle’s was the perfect spot to work on his next novel. On his third consecutive day at the cafe, Dean called him over to his table, an invitation to work side by side, and suddenly their meetings became almost daily occurrences. On any given day it was more than likely you’d find the two men sharing a table to work on their projects in companionable silence.
Their conversations were lively– never awkward or forced– but they rarely waded into waters beyond their hobbies turned careers. Castiel asked Dean about a particularly difficult sentence and Dean would ask Castiel’s opinion on thread color and then they’d turn back to their work. Some days, they’d spend hours talking, but neither would broach the topic of family or life outside of themselves and their hobbies. Other days, they’d barely talk for ten minutes, Castiel just reveling in the consistent company that had grown so foreign to him.
Castiel was falling in love with Dean over coffee and conversations about nothing and he was absolutely terrified.
It wasn’t just Dean either. It didn’t take long for Castiel to be one of Jo’s regulars so he had effectively made two friends in the span of two months– two more than he had made in decades.
Castiel knew it was temporary– their lives a blip on the timeline he was meant to have without his own impending interruption– but he could never find it in himself to care. Sometimes late at night, alone in the home he’d been renting indefinitely, he would fret over how to make a clean break, not wanting his eventual death to ruin their happiness. He never intended to mean anything to anyone again. He was never supposed to be noticed by someone again. No one was supposed to realize Castiel was gone mostly because they wouldn’t understand why.
Everyday he walked into Harvelle’s was selfish, but Castiel couldn’t stop.
. . .
“Can I take you on a real date?” Castiel barely hears Dean’s question over the sound of Jo grinding coffee beans and chuckles as he puts two and two together. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Dean in their five months together it’s that he likes to have an out rather than look like a fool.
Castiel, logically, should say no, but he’s never wanted to say yes more in his life. It’s a bad idea all around, getting involved with someone who has a very real expiration date, but Castiel seems to be full of bad decisions when it comes to Dean.
He’d figured (hoped) this was coming. It was impossible to ignore the way their hands touched longer than necessary, their knees bumped beneath the table more often, and their eyes lingered every time they’d meet. Beyond all of that, Castiel learned his feelings were reciprocated about a month ago…
Dean’s phone vibrates loudly on the table, effectively breaking both of them from their work-induced trances. “Shit, sorry, Cas. I gotta take this.”
Castiel waves off his apology and Dean smiles before answering the phone, “Hey, Sammy…” and walking a few feet away. The Immortal knows he shouldn’t be listening to the conversation, at least the parts he can pick up, but he can’t help it and Dean isn’t exactly being quiet.
“I know, Sam… No, he doesn’t… This one is different… Because I just know… I know I said that about…” The artist must turn away because Castiel loses Dean’s side of the conversation for a bit. Castiel tries to turn back to his story, but he’s soon within listening range again and catches the end of Dean’s call. “... I think he’s it, Sam… No, I know… I will… We can visit Jess tomorrow…”
Castiel tunes the rest out– names he’s only heard in Dean’s conversations with Jo drowning out as the artist’s confession to whoever he’s talking to rings through his ears.
“I think he’s it.”
Even in remembering that day, Castiel’s heart breaks a little– the fate of their budding romance most certainly clouded in darkness. Knowing both he and Dean were in this deep should’ve deterred him from continuing on, but almost a month later, Dean is asking him out and Castiel is about to flirt his way to a yes.
Selfish.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat yourself? I couldn’t hear you over the coffee grinder.” He smirks for good measure, hopefully reassuring Dean that he knows what he asked.
“You’re an asshole.” Dean retorts but he’s smiling and intertwining their hands across the top of the table in a sign of comfort that has become second nature to the pair of them. Castiel tilts his head in mock confusion and Dean rolls his eyes, “I was asking if you wanted to go out on a real date and not whatever this,” the artist motions between the two of them with his free hand, “has been for the last couple months.”
Selfish– a voice keeps reminding him of his faults but Castiel slams it in a compartment deep within his brain. He reasons he’s only got a few more months left to live and he’s going to live it… he’ll figure out Dean later. Right now, he wants to be selfish. “What did you have in mind?”
Dean’s eyes light up and Castiel feels the joy mimicked in his own chest. His joy may be laced with dark threads of guilt but it’s still the happiest Castiel has been since before his accident… since before he was changed.
. . .
After the first date, things with Dean seem to take off at lightning speed, and almost a year to the day since Castiel walked into Harvelle’s the first time, he finds himself kissing the holy hell out of his boyfriend in Baby– the name Dean affectionately gave his vintage 1967 Impala.
Not for the first time… or even the hundredth. In fact, these heated sessions have become more regular than their working dates at Harvelle’s.
Castiel is not complaining.
Or at least… he wasn’t.
Coming up for air, Dean smiles against Castiel’s lips and the Immortal is suddenly overcome with emotion– the guilt, grief, and happiness he’s been warring with for seven months hitting him like a freight train. He tries to train his breath, not wanting to let Dean into this part of him. Castiel, for months, has effectively compartmentalized his emotions, not letting anything other than the pure happiness he feels when he’s with Dean show through until he’s back in his motel room alone.
This is the first time the flood gates didn’t hold.
“Hey, hey, hey, Cas…” Dean is speaking softly, Castiel apparently more obviously distraught than he thought. “Cas, sweetheart, what’s going on?”
Castiel wishes he could tell him, he wishes he could pour his heart out to the man who effectively claimed it– he wants to share the burden of everything he’s feeling with the man he loves.
He wants to tell Dean he loves him.
Selfish. The word has been tattooed on his thoughts since the moment they went on their first date and Castiel kissed Dean goodnight. It haunts his dreams and every waking moment he isn’t with Dean.
But Dean wouldn’t understand and he would never change someone just because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing them. He couldn’t curse Dean to this fate no matter how much he’d want to… not even if Dean wanted him to.
Castiel holds back a sob as Dean kisses his face, reassuring him through his tears– the Immortal leans into the contact as the gentle promises peck across his eyelids. Dean loves him.
He loves Dean and he can’t be selfish anymore.
“I can’t do this anymore, Dean.” Castiel barely spits it out, a whisper gritted into Dean’s shoulder as the artist comforts him as if this isn’t Castiel’s own fault.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Dean puts his hands on either side of Castiel’s face and forces Castiel to look at him. “What’s this all about?” With a swipe of his calloused thumb, Dean wipes a tear and it only makes Castiel’s heart break more.
How could he ever hurt a man so full of love?
“It… it won’t work. It’s not you…”
“Don’t you dare use that line on me, Castiel.” The Immortal winces at the use of his full name, typically only used in the back of the Impala when things much more pleasant are well underway.
“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.” He knows he has to stay strong, Dean would be able to persuade him back with only a kiss, but it won’t stop the hurt, only delay it. Even though Castiel decided not to end his own life last month– realizing he’d rather live a life alone in darkness than even think about the toll the news of his death would take on Dean– he will still have to let the man go. Within a few years it would be obvious Castiel wasn’t aging and people would start asking questions– Dean included– and they’d end up having this conversation all over again…
“You’re thinking so loudly, sweetheart.” Dean uses his pointer finger to tilt Castiel’s head up a bit, locking their eyes once more. He smiles softly, “Penny for those thoughts?”
Castiel snorts out a laugh through his tears, “I think they’re worth more than a penny…”
Dean smiles at Castiel’s retort but doesn’t say anything– he just keeps hold of Castiel’s eye contact, the artist’s eyes laced with a hope Castiel is about to destroy.
“I– I can’t tell you why, Dean… you just have to trust me.”
“Don’t you trust me?” Dean still has hope in his eyes and it confuses Castiel.
“I do– implicitly, but some burdens are too heavy to share and I–”
“Give me a minute, ok?” Dean puts up a finger to cut Castiel off before untangling them from one another and leaving the Impala. Castiel is left in the dimly lit backseat confused, heartbroken, and so in love it’s painful.
It only takes a minute for Dean to grab something from the trunk of Baby and return.
Castiel would recognize it anywhere, “My… the box… I don’t need it back, I–”
“Just open the box, Cas.” Dean nods in encouragement and Castiel gulps. Wiping a tear from his cheek he paws at the edges of the worn box, releasing the top and setting it on the floor beside him. When he pulls back the tissue paper, he can’t help but gasp at the piece of art Dean has transformed this jacket into. Castiel runs his fingers across the blue and silver thread, accented with the perfect shade of burnt orange and feels himself start to well up once again. There is more than hard work, craftsmanship, and artistry put into this… this is no doubt a work of love. It is above and beyond anything Castiel could’ve possibly imagined and he’s rendered speechless by both the beauty and the significance.
“Dean…”
“Here, lemme show you the best part…” Dean’s voice is laced with nervousness as he takes the jacket out of the box and grabs the left sleeve from where it was neatly folded.
He follows Dean’s hand to the bottom hem near the cuff where, intricately embroidered in a gorgeous script, he finds the word Forever.
Castiel cries.
Forever seems so romantic to those who don’t know the toll, but to Castiel it’s inevitable– roaming the earth through monumental shifts. His life is always changing, adapting, and learning– neverending. He remembers cassette tapes and CDs and Spotifys and readies himself for whatever is next. It’s all he hates and yet all he craves– with Dean. With Dean the change wouldn’t be so scary– he wouldn’t be alone.
But Dean… he doesn’t– “Dean I…”
“In the grand scheme of things,” he winks and Castiel can’t fathom why, “I know we haven’t known each other that long… but I feel like I’ve known you a lifetime and… the idea of living a lifetime with you… maybe lifetimes… I’m too selfish to pass it up.”
Castiel barks a laugh, “You?! You think you’re the one who is selfish?” He sounds like he’s lost it and maybe he has— his star crossed love with the man across from him finally the tipping point.
Dean doesn’t even flinch.
“I mean… forever is a lot to ask of someone like us.”
Castiel shakes his head, ready to tell Dean he doesn’t understand. Dean just looks at Castiel… hope radiating from his gaze. Castiel is confused how he could still seem so happy despite his very real attempts to end what could’ve been, but then he replays Dean’s last words and an alarm goes off in his head.
“What did you say?” Castiel feels his own eyes widen, the tears drying comically quick at what he thinks he just heard.
Dean’s eyes turn nervous and Castiel wraps their hands together tightly, “Oh, I… we— unless there’s someone else you’ve already…”
Castiel’s heart is pounding through every nerve in his body and he can barely hear what’s happening let alone comprehend it all.
He cuts the artist’s rambling off, “Dean.” It comes out harsh but in a frantic sort of way that somehow describes all the emotions Castiel is feeling at once.
Dean doesn’t answer, he just holds Castiel’s gaze and gulps.
“Are you…” This is a risk Castiel can only take once, “an Immortal?”
Fear and hope pinball inside of Castiel as he waits what feels like hours for Dean’s response.
Dean nods, “Since 1967… I thought— I thought you knew?”
Castiel can’t think, breathe, or speak. Everything he was terrified of— mainly Dean being wrought with this curse— and everything he wants is sitting right in front of him behind nervous green eyes. He shakes his head, remembering little things throughout conversations that Castiel should’ve seen as clues.
“Time isn’t an issue, Cas.”
“Eh, we don’t really celebrate birthdays.”
“Baby is as good as the day I bought her, better even!”
“In the grand scheme of things, I know we haven’t known each other that long.”
Forever.
Dean never tried to hide the fact he was an Immortal, he just assumed Castiel knew and was— was— he shakes his head, “No, I didn’t— how did you? And how long have you… I was born in 1967.”
Somewhere along the way he begins holding both of Dean’s hands like lifelines and Castiel only notices the strength of the grip when Dean releases one to scratch behind his head in the adorable tell that he’s embarrassed, “Well— that makes it all make sense then.” Castiel tilts his head in confusion. “I’ve known you were it since the day you walked into Harvelle’s actually…”
Castiel is stunned into silence, not able to form a coherent thought beyond Dean is immortal, so he simply waits for the artist to elaborate.
“I… I knew you were my match from the moment I saw you.” Castiel’s breath hitches at the confession and Dean rubs his thumb across the grooves of Castiel’s knuckles grounding him. The artist continues shakily, “When I… when I was changed, it was because I thought I was in love. And maybe I was… Benny and I were— well we were something.”
Castiel ignores the growing jealousy in his gut, and focuses on Dean’s story— not sure what this has to do with him but unable to tear himself away from the Immortal.
“Anyway, I found out Benny was immortal after I was already a goner so I begged him to change me— together forever and all that bullshit you believe will be super romantic when you’re human,” he winks again, clearly Dean and him sharing views on the true weight of forever, “And he did it. No hesitation. We swapped blood, I went through the most painful thirty minutes of my life, and the deed was done. My brother was the only family I had left but he’d married up and had a child already so it was mostly just me. I figured if I’d found the one it’d be worth it.”
The artist is staring down at their entwined hands, Castiel figured this wasn’t a happy story— if it was Dean wouldn’t be here telling Castiel that he’s his match— right? He panics a bit, but controls his voice and encourages Dean to continue, “Go on…”
“Uh,” Dean stutters but levels their gaze once again, “Benny died a year later. Couple’ve hunters snagged him from a bar and that was that.”
Unsure what to say, Castiel just squeezes Dean’s hand and nods in unfortunate understanding. Castiel had never been in love, but he’d lost his mother and that pain can’t be that far off. He’d also attempted a fair share of friendships with other Immortals— each one either feeling too forced by circumstance and crashing in a blaze of glory, or more often than not, being lost to hunters or their own sadness.
“Turns out Benny and I weren’t matches anyhow— we were doomed to fail. I did a lot of research after he died, wondering what happens to me now that my soulmate,” Dean says it in a mocking tone, “is caput.”
“What’d you find out?” Castiel can’t help the curiosity. He’s never looked that deep into the lore, always convinced it wasn’t in the cards for him after spending decade after decade alone.
“You can’t match with a human.” Dean’s emotions level out and he states it as the fact it is. “Benny and I had fun, but there was no shift in how I felt about him after we changed… Not to mention, supposedly, if your match dies, the pain you feel is unbearable.”
Castiel nods, taking all of this in and still reeling from the knowledge that Dean is Immortal.
Dean must realize this because he continues on, “I also realized that if I loved someone and was cursed with this shit, I never would change them… No matter how hard they begged me to… I’d just have to find a way to— wait…”
His jaw goes slack with realization and Castiel can’t help the blush that forms across his cheeks.
“You were— you—“
The author rolls his eyes, “Of course I do, didn’t you just say we were matches?” He’s messing with Dean, trying to lighten the mood that quickly became somber, but he’s also hesitant. Dean thought he had a match once before so what if he’s wrong about them too.
“Yeah, but you have to feel it too and if you didn’t even realize I was immortal than how could you have—“
“I’ve never been in love.” It blurts out of Castiel before he can’t stop it, but once it’s hanging between them he wishes more than anything he could take it back. “I mean— I hadn’t been…
Dean smiles softly and leans in for a kiss. They’ve kissed a hundred times but this is the first time the voice in the back of Castiel’s mind hasn’t yelled about how selfish he’s being to fall in love with a human.
Because he didn’t.
“I feel like the luckiest man in the world.” Dean whispers against Castiel’s cheek, placing a soft kiss in the same spot to punctuate the sentence.
He leans into the touch, reveling in the fact that he doesn’t have to be guilty anymore.
Everything Castiel thought was impossible for him is holding him tightly in the back of the Impala bought new in 1967.
There is one thing Castiel can’t get over, “But…”
Dean sighs, leaning away in a protective measure Castiel should’ve seen coming. He catches the artist's wrist and pulls him back, “Jo… and— and Sammy… and Jess… Ellen… these are all names of people you interact with to this day— how do you?”
Dean smiles shakily, “Ah yeah, the first rule of fight club is to not talk about fight club and I sorta broke that.”
Confused, Castiel tilts his head, “Fight club? I don’t—“
Dean throws his head back laughing, “Nevermind… add it to that list of movies I told ya to watch.” He winks and kisses the top of Castiel’s hand before continuing, “As soon as Benny died, I knew I was fucked. My mom died when we were young and my dad— wasn’t much of a dad. I’d been taking care of Sam, my brother, for as long as he’d been alive. I know he had Jess and all, but I couldn’t imagine just disappearing from his life. Even worse, I couldn’t imagine faking my death and leaving him in pain like that either. The kid is smart and strong, but he didn’t need that.”
Castiel is sure he’s fallen in love with the most selfless man in the world.
“So I told him. I told Sam what happened and he gave me a swift slap to the back of the head before promising to figure it out with me.” Dean smiles as he reminisces and Castiel can’t help the flutter in his heart. Someday, they’ll do that… reminisce together. “We eventually sat down and told Jess, his wife, and as soon as their kid, Bill, was old enough to understand, we told him too.” Dean barks out a laugh, “It’s sorta the Winchester Family Secret.”
They shift, the natural pause in conversation allowing them to adjust. Dean wraps his arm over the bench seat allowing Castiel to lean into his side. The heat of the previous moment is long gone. Tonight will be a long one full of conversations they’ve been dodging for a year, but Castiel can’t help but be excited by it all. Excited to really learn about Dean the Immortal rather than tiptoe around a human he loves and can’t have.
So he keeps up his round of questions, “Sam sounds like a great man. I’d love to meet him… Jess and Bill, too… but what about Jo and Harvelle’s? Don’t people notice…”
Dean cuts him off, “If anyone has noticed, they haven’t said anything. Before, and even a little bit after, Ellen took it over, it was a bar so right when people would’ve started getting suspicious, the clientele changed.” He shrugs and Castiel is astounded at how grounded Dean is with all of this. “As for Jo, she’s my great niece.” Dean smiles proudly and one of their first conversations comes back to Castiel. I love that twerp like a niece. Looking back, there were so many clues, but Castiel was too overwhelmed by Dean’s presence to pick up on any of them. The artist continues his explanation, “Harvelle’s is her mom’s family’s store. Ellen is Bill’s wife and she inherited it when her folks died. Now she and Jo run it together although she mostly stays home and keeps track of the books.”
Castiel nods, “And Ellen and Jo, they know too?”
Dean smiles, “Yeah, hah, like I said Winchester Family Secret.”
Castiel smiles, too, taking Dean’s hand still intertwined in his and kissing each knuckle. They sit in a comfortable quiet for a minute, letting the realizations that came to light settle around them.
“They all know about you, too.” Dean effectively breaks the silence and fits together every broken piece of Castiel’s heart with one sentence. “I couldn’t shut up about ya, and then Jo started spilling the beans to Sam and they sorta put two and two together.” Dean laughs and Castiel finds peace in the vibration of the artist’s joy against his back.
“I’d love to meet them.” It’s lame, Dean waxing poetic this whole time and Castiel unable to spit out more than five words at a time— he’s supposed to be the author.
He feels a kiss atop his head before the response, “They’d love that, too.”
Dean doesn’t seem to mind.
“So, Cas…” Dean breaks the silence once again and adjusts so that they are nose to nose once again, “Forever?”
Castiel sucks in a deep breath before smiling widely– disbelief at his luck coursing through him as heavily as his nerves.
No, not nerves, but excitement. There’s no doubt in his mind that he’d live forever with Dean a hundred times over. Castiel kisses the artist gently before softly answering, “If you’ll have me.”
. . .
With Harvelle’s shut down for the evening, Ellen frantically begins to hang string lights as Dean paces back and forth in front of the booth Sam has commandeered.
“It’s gonna be fine, Dean.”
“No shit.” He snaps at his brother who just laughs and shakes his head. Sometimes, in moments like this, Dean can’t help but see the same younger brother whose youthful wit and blue-ribbon brains made his older brother proud even through the wrinkles that now grace every inch of his face.
Sam’s 33rd birthday was weird– tense jokes of “whose older now” hanging like lead balloons between them. It was similar to surpassing the age of someone who died too young and not knowing how to come to terms with the fact that you’re experiencing something they never will.
Dean would forever be 32.
Even now, as Sam sits next to his grown daughter (also older than Dean) and inches closer to his 83rd birthday, Dean still feels uncomfortable if he sits in this train of thought too long.
He can’t even think about what it’ll be like when Sam is gone.
It had come up before, over drinks one night when Sam found out he was going to be a grandfather, and after a few too many, they started digging into the darker side of immortality.
“You could change me, ya know.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Jess would understand and I just don’t like thinking–”
“I said no, Sammy.”
“What happens when I’m gone, Dean?”
Dean didn’t ever answer Sam’s question, knowing that, as soon as his family had passed on, he’d do the same. It hung like an ominous cloud over Dean’s life– freak accidents on the daily news acting as a constant reminder that the day they’re all gone could be sooner than he thinks.
But then there was Castiel.
The minute those blue eyes crinkled with laughter, thoughts of forever didn’t seem so scary. He had made the decision to embroider the jacket and add his own promise to the hem the day he met Cas.
And now he was waiting to marry him.
Dean jumps at the sound of the bell on the front door and lifts his head to find Bill walking in, “Five minute warning, folks.” His nephew looks at him across the room with a smile, “Jo’s got Castiel all spruced up for ya, Uncle Dean. He’s quite the looker if I do say so myself.”
Ellen appears at Bill’s side in enough time to swat at his shoulder in jest, “Ah, El, you know I’ve only got eyes for you.” Dean laughs as Bill kisses his wife’s temple, “Besides, those baby blues sure seem stuck on Dean.”
Dean blushes at his nephews ribbing, “Thanks Bill. Uh, Ellen, would you mind helping me…”
“You don’t gotta ask me twice.” Ellen rushes Dean into the back and helps him slip on his jacket. He foregos the tie, leaving the charcoal grey undershirt slightly unbuttoned underneath. He stares at himself in the mirror Jo brought in for him this morning and uses the moment of quiet to take it all in.
Ellen leans her head against his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his back. She speaks when their eyes meet in the reflection, “You look great, Uncle Dean.” He turns his head to kiss her forehead and she leans into the touch.
Dean remembers when he first met Ellen. Bill had brought her home from college for a weekend and both Sam and Dean knew he was a goner before she even got out of the car. She was a spitfire then and they knew Bill would be in good hands. They’d all come so far since then… he never thought they’d be standing here today.
“I never thought I’d see the day Dean Winchester was made an honest man.” Ellen speaks as though she can read Dean’s mind. “But, I’m glad I’m here to witness it.”
Dean nods, choking back what he’s sure won’t be the last of his tears for the day. Ellen squeezes his shoulders a bit before letting go, “I’ll go get, Dad, ok?”
He doesn’t answer, not sure what he’s going to feel as his younger brother walks him down the aisle knowing he won’t be there to see much else after this. Sam’s been waning ever since Jess passed a little over a year ago. What they say about dying of a broken heart doesn’t seem that far off– everyone can see it, but Sam keeps hanging on. Ellen thinks it’s because Jo needs an extra set of eyes, but Dean knows better.
Sam and him never were good at letting one another go.
In the mirror, Dean sees Ellen walk Sam through the kitchen door, her arm looped through his, and he turns around to greet them. “Hey, old man.”
Sam gives him one of his classic bitch faces– still just as bitchy even now– before looking him up and down. “Huh, Castiel looks better in his.”
Dean’s heart flutters at the thought. He chances one more glance in the mirror, looking over his shoulder at the surprise he crafted for his fiancé. “I’m sure he does.”
Sam laughs and Dean feels like they're young again, but the cough that follows reminds him of reality. Albeit, one he’s not so scared of anymore– and one he won’t have to face alone.
“You ready?” Sam reaches out a hand, shaking Ellen off much to her chagrin and nodding to let her know that Dean can take it from here.
Dean takes his brother’s arm, silently telling Ellen she can head back into the café before answering his brother, “Born ready.”
“Well, technically, you weren’t born this way and you and Cas would have quite the age difference...” Sam stops in his tracks before reaching the door, turning towards Dean with a matter-of-fact smirk on his face.
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
“You know it.” Dean smiles before taking a deep breath and grabbing the doorknob. He hears the soft music begin– his cue to open the door, and squeezes Sam’s hand in the crook of his elbow. “I’m gonna be ok, Sammy.”
“Never doubted it for a second, Dean.” Sam says it resolutely– both of them realizing the bigger picture but neither strong enough to acknowledge it head on. “Now, let’s get ya hitched.”
Dean smiles at his brother and opens the door.
It takes two seconds for him to catch Castiel’s eyes and when he does he can no longer stop the tears from pouring.
The walk to the front of the cafe feels like a mile, but as soon as his hand intertwines with Castiel’s and Sam starts to speak, Dean knows he’s home. Ignoring Sam’s reading– he got ordained especially for this occasion– Castiel turns to Dean, “When did you possibly find time to embroider that, Dean?”
“I started it the day you walked through the door at Harvelle’s.”
Castiel’s eyes glisten before he turns his attention to the back of Dean’s suit jacket.
Aside from the colors– Dean’s green to Cas’s blue– it's an exact match to Castiel’s initial commission. It may have been a little presumptuous to have started it the day they met, but somewhere deep down Dean knew they’d end up right where they are today.
His fiancé grabs his hand a bit tighter before raising up their joined fist and kissing it chastely– it’s then Cas notices the phrase embroidered into Dean’s cuff.
If you’ll have me.
. . .
Monumental. Impossible. Abso-fucking-lutely the best day of Dean’s life.
They’d done the deed, marriage license signed and official thanks to Sam’s resolve to be ordained online.
Cas is dancing with Ellen to some newer song Dean can’t quite place and his smile is practically lighting the entire room while Jo hangs her head in embarrassment against the shoulder of a girl she introduced as Charlie.
The look Jo gave Dean when he shook Charlie’s hand told him all he needed to know.
Sam had long since resigned to the booth set up for his comfort but was tapping his foot along to the music while Bill chatted his ear off about something. Dean could see Sam’s thumb against his knee, gripping Jess's old locket tightly and rubbing it so purposefully that there’s no way that thing would ever tarnish.
Jess would’ve loved this.
Dean shakes away the painful nostalgia and turns back to watch his husband.
Husband.
The song changes and Charlie practically screams before pulling Jo on the dance floor. Dean laughs at what can only be described as young love and catches Ellen walking towards Bill and Sam.
Within seconds he finds Cas’s hand in his. Dean pulls his husband in tightly, kissing him soft in a way he had thousands of times before, but the new title making it seem exciting and more permanent than anything Dean thought he’d ever have. Cas hums into Dean’s lips, smiling before he speaks softly, “Dance with me?”
“Forever.” Dean smirks.
Castiel rolls his eyes at the word they both see as a curse and a promise before pulling Dean onto the makeshift dance floor next to Jo and Charlie.
They're having an awful dance off when the music changes mid-song. With his eyes on Cas he barely notices when Jo and Charlie quickly leave the floor.
I don't get many things right the first time
In fact, I am told that a lot
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls
Brought me here
Castiel pulls Dean in close, humming off-tune against his shoulder.
And where was I before the day
That I first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it everyday
And I know
That I am
I am
I am
The luckiest
What if I'd been born—
”THIRTY-TWO!” The entire cafe interrupts their favorite part of the song to shout their actual age difference and Dean feels Cas laugh into his neck.
—years before you…
It’s their song, found off a random Spotify playlist Jo played while they worked in tandem at the cafe, and his husband is humming it off-tune in his ear while the rest of his family cheers them on.
Dean holds on a little tighter. Worry seeps in, the fear he’ll wake up and it’ll be a year ago, that he’ll be alone in the curse of immortality. He would still never wish it on anyone, but he’s finding it harder and harder to complain that he’ll have an indefinite number of lifetimes with Castiel. Briefly, his mind flicks to Benny. A pang of fear finds its way into Dean’s gut– the way he felt about Benny pales in comparison to the love he feels for Castiel, but that doesn’t stop hunters from dragging Immortals out of bars.
“You’re thinking so loudly, sweetheart.” Cas smiles into Dean’s ear as he tests the waters before asking if everything’s ok in the usual way. It knocks every ounce of fear out of him and Dean kisses his husband softly, trying to assure him that Dean’s thoughts won’t get the better of him today. “Penny?”
Dean chuckles into Cas’s neck, “No need.” He pulls back, one arm tight around his husband’s waist, and the other looped gently across his shoulders while Dean’s fingers dance at the nape of his neck. “I’ll give them to you for free.”
Cas smiles the gummy smile that stole the air from Dean’s lungs the first moment he saw it, “Does it have anything to do with that new hardware you’re sporting?” Cas grabs Dean’s hand from his waist and twists the ring so it catches the dull glow of the string lights. The song behind them fades to another slow one– an acoustic cover of Simple Man that Dean played for Cas on their second date. This is their playlist. Dean is pretty sure the rest of the crew has left them alone for the night.
He relaxes a bit, knowing they're alone, “It has everything to do with this hunk of metal and the man who picked it out for me.”
Castiel hums into another kiss, his smile seemingly tattooed on his face. Dean kisses him back as they continue to sway to the music. One song bleeds to the next and soon enough Castiel is yawning.
An hour later they’re laying in bed, sated, happy, and promised to each other. Castiel kisses Dean goodnight with a whispered promise of forever before turning over and falling fast asleep. He whispers a mirror promise back, but is sure it’s lost to Cas’s deep breathing which now disrupts the entire room.
Dean can’t remember a time in his life when he had felt so whole.
Just over a year ago, this room was his and his alone– meant to be a place to live and die, nothing more and nothing less. Castiel came into his life and perfectly filled cracks even Dean didn’t know existed. He was an unexpected surprise in what Dean expected to be an eternity of disappointment and he wouldn’t change it for the world.