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Castiel hummed, drinking in the scent of his lover, pressed tightly against him. Contently, the man nuzzled further into the wool blanket draped over them on the couch, enveloping the two in warmth.
Castiel loved these kinds of days; no hunts to worry about or research to do, no monsters to fight or curses to break, just him and Dean relishing in the arms of the other and watching a stupid movie. The angel knew that his partner shared his love for late-night snuggles, no matter what he said on the topic.
Dean needed this just as much as Castiel, perhaps more. The last monster had gotten too close, and it had come far too near to ending his angel's life. Sure, Dean was aware that Castiel could hold his own in a fight, but that didn't mean that he didn't get to worry about him every time they walked out that damn door.
No, Dean could worry. He could cling to Castiel and swear to whichever god would listen that no monster would touch him because that's what he deserved. Cas deserves the world, and Dean would move heaven and earth to give it to him.
The TV was mumbling; soft sounds were escaping its speakers. "Caddyshack" is playing in the boys' date night background. Neither man paid the television much attention, both too caught up in the moment to pay it any mind. Dean could feel the tips of Cas's soft hair scraping his cheek, though he couldn't say that he minded the touch. Warm breath rasped across his chin as Castiel's chest rose and fell in slow increments.
This was it. This is what Dean would qualify as heaven; him and his angel, together and safe.
Still, Dean can't help but be pulled out of his paradise by a nagging regret.
The hand that Dean has been resting in Castiel's hair now trails down to his neck, his fingertips helplessly lingering on the scabbed and raw indention left behind by the demon's blade. Castiel hummed distastefully at his boyfriend's prodding.
"Sorry." Dean admonished, quickly retracting his touch.
As they settled back into the movie, it was mere moments before Dean's fingers sunk once more to the injury. Castiel shot his right arm out, grabbing Dean's wrist and flinging it away, simultaneously, sitting up from his position against Dean's chest and moving to stand.
"Cas, I-"
"No, Dean. Don't. It doesn't matter. You shouldn't blame yourself."
"I don't-"
"Stop lying. I heard what the demon said to you; I was there, remember?"
"Fuck, Cas." He leaned back in exasperation, his face tensed at the memory. Dean's placating facade was gone in an instant. The demon's taunts and jeers echoed in his mind, or, more importantly, the whimpers that those taunts and jeers forced from Castiel. "How can you stand there and say that to me? How could you say that it doesn't matter what he did to you? And how can you tell me not to blame myself when he did it because of me?!"
Castiel's eyes fell to the floor, no longer able to stand the green fire alight in his boyfriend's gaze.
The truth was that Castiel didn't know what to believe. He knew that demons couldn't be trusted, but did that mean they could NEVER tell the truth? Cas had hoped that he would be able to forget about it, cuddle Dean, and let the rest of the world crash and burn -but he couldn't.
And who Could?
Who could be held at knifepoint by a chatty demon and come out of the situation with NO stupid questions?
"Dean-" Cas began before being quickly cut off.
"Shut up, Cas."
That reaction was enough to startle Cas into quick action. Time for 'operation: Reassure the Winchester' a game that he had gotten very good at since he'd been introduced to its rules by Dean during the aftermath of Sam's time in hell. Though, because he'd not actually been present for the majority of it and had himself held a plethora of guilt concerning his part in breaking Sam's wall, Cas supposed that Dean might have played a version of 'operation: Reassure the Winchester' with him too.
Castiel's eyes returned to meet Dean's; this time, it was he who held fire in his eyes.
The angel expertly placed the flame; his time with Dean had taught him that the hunter wasn't one to listen to calm discussion and that if you wanted to get a message across, gentleness would very rarely work in your favor. So, instead of kind reassurances, Castiel opted for a stern approach, his voice managing to achieve a lower tone than usual. "Do you forget who pulled you from hell? Do you genuinely believe that I would think any less of you for what happened- what you were forced to do?"
By the look in his eyes, Cas could see that Dean had not fallen for his carefully concocted trap. Dean merely stared into his blue eyes with a gaze that spoke in a language Castiel couldn't seem to understand.
"No one forced me to do anything, Cas; I chose to hurt those people, to subject them to the same torture that Allistair did me. The demon was right about me, Cas. I'm a monster. This? Us. It's gonna get you killed. I'm gonna get you killed." He paused, his face screwing up into a nasty scowl. "And you're stupid enough to ignore it."
An intake of breath cleared Castiels vision as Dean's words almost sent him stumbling back. Dean was more upset than he'd expected, and worst of all, It seemed to be directed at him? What had he done?
"You don't believe that."
"oh, yeah? How d'ya figure that, huh? God? His plans? It's all bull, Cas. That shit they fed you guys about the mighty Michael's Sword was garbage. I ain't special, and I certainly ain't worth dying for."
And just like that, a snap.
"YOU WERE THE RIGHTEOUS MAN!" Castiel bellowed, causing the room to go entirely silent except for the television's gentle murmurings.
The air seemed different. What was once peaceful and serene was now venomous as a pit viper, ready to strike out at any swift movement.
Castiel could not look away from his hunter; the anger fled from his reddened cheeks and was speedily replaced by an ill feeling, waving heavily in his stomach. Dean looked furious.
With his jaw set and muscles contracting rigidly beneath his sideburns, Dean steeled himself. His face now posed with a smirk- or ... sneer? Cas couldn't tell the difference. Only that he never wanted to see this expression adorning Dean's features again.
"You were always going to concede. It was pre-ordained! Dean Winchester, you are not a monster. You are a hero."
The need in Castiel's voice was almost embarrassing, his words coming out less like reassurances and more like pleads. Like the stern-toned corrections, Pleading was doing nothing to alleviate Dean of his anger. Whether that anger remained directed at him or Dean, Castiel was none the wiser.
"Hero, huh? Some hero I was, watching some low-level demon beat the shit outta ya. Yeah, Some goddamn hero that must make me."
Ah, of course. Dean's anger was focused upon himself.
"Dean, it wasn't your fault. You protected me. I knew you wouldn't let him harm me; not really."
"Yeah, well- We saw how that worked out, huh?"
"Dean."
"Don't." Waves of hair flopped as he gave his head a frantic shake. "Just... just, don't."
With that, he was out of his seat, striding towards the glass cabinet which often housed the whiskey.
Castiel registered the thud of glass on wood as Dean slammed the bottle on the table, followed by the sharp 'clink' of glasses.
Cas frowned in disapproval, briefly noting the existence of two whiskey glasses and resigning himself to approaching the lesser.
"You know I don't drink."
Dean's broad shoulders shrugged as he sunk back onto the couch, a calloused hand scrubbing down his face. "Yeah, well, ya better start, 'cause I ain't doin' it alone."
"I'm an angel."
"And I'm an Aquarius." Dean deadpanned.
"We done talking? I'm thirsty." Dean threw back his glass and went for another, earning a disapproving glance from his partner.
"Dean. Alcohol will not solve your problems. You've held on to this guilt for so long. I'd convinced myself that you were processing, but- I'm not sure that I came to the accurate conclusion."
"The hell's that 'sposed to mean?"
"It means," He took a breath. "It means that perhaps this was yet another instance of a demon using honesty as his weapon."
The floorboards, which had previously been creaking under the hunter's nervous foot, came to an abrupt silence. The anxiety-ridden tapping had ceased, returning at once to the deadly quiet that had previously engulfed them.
A hesitant swallow.
Firey green eyes locked with the rough seas across from them, "Honesty?" He grit, teeth forced together painfully in his growl.
Much to Dean's displeasure, there was no regret to be found pooling in his partner's eyes. Merely, an irritating look of sympathy.
His mind drifted to when he was a child, walking Sammy to elementary school in whatever rags John had managed to find during their latest thrifting spree. An event that had been few and far between since Sam left diapers.
Trudging to the brick building, rain, sleet, or snow, Dean often felt the burning stares of his peers. What was worse, Dean couldn't decipher their cause.
It couldn't have been his clothes; John had ensured they had met the dress-code requirements (even if it was by the bare minimum they met it).
It couldn't possibly be tardiness. Dean always managed to make it to Sammy's building with at least five minutes to spare, even if that meant he didn't make a single punctual appearance in his homeroom class.
Dean faintly recalled half-heartedly questioning whether or not Sam had a shiny pair of horns hidden behind his bangs that he'd overlooked the past six years.
Though, that wouldn't explain the looks teachers passed his way once Sammy was gone from the room, nor did it the concerned conversations initiated by school counselors. No, Dean didn't understand the attention.
What he could comprehend, however, was his hatred of it. The unexplainable glances and whispers left him feeling like nothing more than an ignorant child. Though, in retrospect, that is precisely what he was.
Dean couldn't help but draw similarities in that and the circumstance he now found himself in.
It took all Dean's might to hold Castiel's pitying gaze.
The reddening of his cheeks drastically contrasting with his tanned skin.
Dean's fury was being overwhelmed by shame. Cas shouldn't look at him like that. Why was he looking at him like that? "Wha-"
"You really are an idiot." Cas' lips quirked to a smile.
The sincerity of his words nearly gave Dean whiplash.
Heaving out a startled laugh, Dean's shoulders slumped, the majority of his tension being drained from his posture, his anger dissipating only slightly along with his confusion. The relief caused by the affirmation distracted Dean long enough for Cas to see an opening.
"Dean, I will never see you as anything but a great man. One of the best. Your soul is the most beautiful, though charred, I've ever laid eyes on. No Demon could ever scare me away. No one will ever change the way I feel about you... even if you are a stubborn asshole."
Dean's eyes fixed themselves on the angel's throbbing pulse. Castiel's attempt at humor seemingly lost on him. "I can't- I-"
"And you won't." Damn, this angel could read his mind. "You never will, not unless you want to."
At this, Dean broached the distance between them, their bodies pressing together as Dean honed in on every breath beneath him. "Never. You hear me? Not one goddamn day. You're stuck with me, angel, for better or worse." He paused. "And if we go down, well, then we'll do that together too."
Cas' head tilted, slightly taken aback by the darkness of Dean's words.
When it became clear that Cas meant to reassure him, Dean continued. "I mean it. I love you, Castiel- at least that I'm sure of."
Not waiting to hear any more, Cas took the others lips in his, kissing the young hunter passionately to the tune of the still buzzing tv. Once the embrace was broken, neither man wanted to take their eyes off the other. After many blissful moments, Cas broke the silence. "I believe you owe me more cuddles."
A fond smile spread across Dean's lips. "Yeah, I think I do."
~~~
Hours later.
The whiskey glasses remained unmoved on the table alongside the bottle, untouched since the argument had subsided. Their only purpose now was to provide a pleasing silhouette in the light of the television.
Castiel sat comfortably on the couch, his fingers carding through the head of hair that was settled in his lap.
While overshadowed by his brother's, Castiel couldn't help but marvel at the generous thickness of Dean's soft hair.
The subtle snores brought with them an unwavering peace.
Dean was here
...And whether or not the hunter believed it, Cas would never want anything more of him.
"I love you too, Dean."
Fin.