Archive of Our Own

He was shaking.

Just couldn’t stop. No matter how much he tried to calm down, he kept twisting the sheets in his fists and breathing heavily like he was about to pass out. He couldn’t stop.

Castiel was laying next to him, sleeping– if you could call that sleeping – peacefully, quiet snores leaving his lips every other second. He looked completely content, after their sweet and intimate time filled with –ugh– love-making.

And Dean was almost having a panic attack like a complete loser.

Thoughts were running through his mind, overwhelming, constantly taking breath away from his lungs. He kept thinking that he might suffocate right there, next to his love in their comfy, warm bed. His conscious mind knew that he wouldn’t actually die. It would take more than some mild –major– anxiety to take him down six feet under.

Yet still, no matter what he tried, he couldn’t quiet down. Not until the sun rose up and it was time for his grumpy walk to the coffee mug.

***

It’s not like he didn’t like it.

He enjoyed the time he shared with Cas, especially in bed. Over some time he adjusted to feeling vulnerable while being completely naked, both physically and mentally, with his angel. The only problem was that Castiel just never shut up.

Of course, he loved the angel with his whole heart. Dean was never quite good with words, he shared his feelings by constant bickering and mostly cooking food, providing a safe space for them to live in. That might have been a phase in their relationship that caused it, the pink-coloured glasses of their companionship, but there wasn’t a single thing he didn’t love about Castiel. The way he walked, moved and viewed the world. How he did the dishes even though they finally got a dishwasher, how he watered fake plants, because he didn’t want them to feel left out.

What he especially loved was Cas’ voice. It was stern, low, almost grumbly, but yet sweet and tender when needed. He could listen to his angel talk his whole life and beyond and he still wouldn’t grow tired of it. Not when he was so calmly lulled to sleep by his soft singing or brought to climax almost only from Cas’ words alone.

But he just couldn’t shut the fuck up.

Dean had an obvious praise kink. It was not a huge surprise to him at least, after years of being under-appreciated and neglected that he needed the reassurance in everyday life and in his sex life to barely function. His low self-image had always been a part of him, it made him who he was today. He probably shouldn’t glorify how his father brought him and Sammy up, but that was a mile stone he still couldn’t quite cross. At that moment, he was kind of glad of what he accomplished, though still a bit reluctant to actually assign any good quality to his overall character.

That’s why he was fucking crying like a baby. Because his lovely, too-perfect-to-be-true angel just couldn’t shut his mouth and fuck him in the mattress peacefully. No, he had to make an elaborate way of telling Dean how much he loved him, cherished him, how good of a person he was, how caring and –god fuckin’ dammit– beautiful he’s been in his eyes. How he deserved all the pleasure, all the love and care in the world. That he was, in Castiel’s words, worth everything.

The thought of it made him want to throw up.

It was Dean’s fault, really. He should have stopped, protest, fight back with every bit of strength he had. Make the angel aware that he was in fact a stupid piece of shit, that he deserved nothing but pain and the dull feeling of alcohol in his veins. He had killed, tortured and hurt too many people in his life to be worth even a dime, but Cas apparently did not take that memo. He was lying to himself, seeing Dean as this perfect being with no flaws, beautiful and not a shattered piece of glass, he had always thought of himself. He could almost feel the cracks deepen every time the thought crossed his mind that someone may actually like him, love him.

He didn’t deserve shit.

And like an absolute selfish fuck he did not intervene. He let Cas say all these mesmerizing words, spit out sentences that should be heard by someone else, someone worthy, and relished in how it made him feel. The feeling of love and intimacy fuelled him, made him reach highs he could never thought even existed until now.

That was until he was there, Cas attached like an octopus to his arm, feeling like a liar. For a second he made himself believe he was not a broken man, that maybe he was more than he always forced himself to be. Not a puppet of God, a blunt instrument his father brought him up to be, but an actual living and breathing human, capable of feeling anything other than rage.

When the high of his orgasm came down, when Cas was snoring in his ear, he was miserable. He was left maybe not alone, but feeling so lonely in his own head, with only his thoughts to comfort him. He would never be enough, never be anything more than a blade with blood lingering on its edge. He was a shit partner, brother and person. Constantly insecure, always fearing the day when everyone would get their heads out of their asses and leave him behind, as they should had done years ago.

But Cas was just a stubborn bastard with a golden mouth.

***

He woke up before Cas did. With a numb feeling in his body, he stumbled out of the bed with a grimace and begrudgingly walked to the kitchen to have his morning coffee. He assumed that he looked like shit, after having almost not slept at all the previous night. He needed to pull himself together, just man up.

His eyes were definitely a bit puffy, he thought while sipping a hot cup of black coffee. It had a sour taste to it, probably because he kept adding spoons of powder without thinking. Or maybe he wanted to punish himself just a little bit more for being such a wuss. He didn’t quite know and so obviously didn’t care. He just needed to look like a functional human before Cas woke up, so his pathetic secret could remain hidden.

He must have been falling asleep at the table, because every sip he took grew colder and colder, until the coffee turned so disgusting that he couldn’t hold back a frown. He didn’t even notice the quiet footsteps and small yawns, until he felt a gentle kiss on his temple.

“Hello, Dean.”

He brought his eyes up lazily and smiled at the angel. Of course he looked perfect even in the morning. His dark hair was all ruffed up as always after a night like that, almost falling on his blue eyes, kind of hazed, but still aware of his partner’s state.

“Are you okay? You look a bit tired, love “ Cas said, worry lingering between his words. He pulled down his eyebrows which made Dean’s stomach twist in on itself into a tight knot.

Fuck.

“All good. Just didn’t sleep much, thanks to you” he replied calmly with a little smirk on his lips. In response Castiel rolled his eyes and swiftly stole his mug. After a small sip he frowned and looked down at the sitting hunter.

“Why is it so cold? And so sour? How long have you been up?”

Dean try to seem as unmoved as he possibly could have.

“It’s old” he lied. “Didn’t feel like making a coffee. But I can make some if you want.” he offered, trying to stand up.

“No, stay there, I can manage. Why don’t you cover yourself with a blanket, I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

Do I look that shitty? , he thought, staring at himself in the reflection of the remaining liquid.

Pull yourself together, Winchester. You’re acting like a teenage girl.

***

He could work it out on his own. Eventually. It shouldn’t be this hard, he just needed to focus on Cas, not his words. Make himself deaf to everything the angel said.

You stupid piece of shit.

He would manage. They didn’t have sex that often anyway, at most couple times a week. He could get through it.

Pathetic.

He started having regular headaches from the lack of sleep. Nothing few painkillers wouldn’t handle.

You are a waste of space.

Maybe if his attention was only on Cas then he would stop saying those things.

Just a fucking faggot. You like being called a pretty girl, don’t you?

Just one drink before. Everyone needed a little bit of liquid courage, right?

He’s lying to you and you are taking it like a whore.

He stopped getting erections. He blamed it on anything he could think of.

Now you can’t even get it up. He is disappointed in you.

Weeks flew by as he grew more and more anxious and frustrated.

He will leave you. Now he can see how pathetic and worthless you really are.

Cas tried to talk to him, but he offered nothing more than a sarcastic joke and a quick laugh.

Pussy.

The wrinkle on Cas’ forehead deepened.

Coward.

Sam noticed.

Bastard.

And everything went to shit.

***

He was laying on their bed, his head resting on Cas’ warm thighs as the angel browsed on Dean’s laptop looking for… Dean didn’t remember. He wasn’t listening.

Failure.

His hand was absent-mindedly stroking the angel’s leg while he was in a deep state of relaxation. He relished in the moment, which did not occur in weeks, feeling calm and safe. He tried his best to push away any thoughts and be grounded where he was, next to Cas, taking notice of his breathing and how his fingers kept tapping on the keyboard, stopping and then tapping again.

Suddenly the tapping on the keyboard stopped and Dean felt a warm hand caressing through his hair.

“How are you feeling?”

The question seemed out of nowhere, but Dean couldn’t be sure as he lost the track of their conversation a long time ago, responding mostly with murmurs and nods.

“Good. Relaxed” he sighed, clinging harder to Cas’ thigh and burrowing his face in it. “You’re warm.” His voice muffled by the fabric of angel’s pants.

He was able to almost sense the small smile on Castiel’s lips. His hand followed, ruffing Dean’s hair up.

“Would you like to take a bath?”

No.

“God, yes” he replied enthusiastically, already trying to get up. He met Cas’ lips with his and gave him a quick kiss. “You are an angel, you know that.”

You don’t deserve him.

Cas chuckled and nodded with a smile.

“I am aware. Wait here, I will prepare it.”

He sighed, content. The angel stood up gracefully, leaving him alone in his room. Without having anything to do and not having the courage to fall into a spiral of over-thinking Castiel’s proposition –coward– he took his laptop and scrolled through the article Cas had been reading.

Weird, he thought, blinking a few times to stay awake.

‘How to help a partner with depression’ was apparently the title of the article. Confused, Dean went on to the search history, because Cas still haven’t figured out how to delete it, and what he found left him even more anxious than he had been for weeks.

‘Depression’

‘Signs of depression’

‘Antidepressants’

‘Problems in a relationship’

‘How to communicate better with your partner’

‘Do painkillers affect libido’

‘Lack of sleep signs’

‘Self-harm signs’

‘Suicide thoughts signs’

A pit in his stomach started growing wider. He felt like a rock was stuck in his throat, slowly closing it up, blocking the airway until there was no room to breathe.

He was so fucking selfish. So caught up in his head that he didn’t even think how it affected Castiel. He had been neglecting him and their relationship for weeks, only caring about his god damn business and fucking it up.

And now Cas thought he was depressed. Fucking great.

Suddenly the angel appeared in the door with a small, but genuine smile on his lips. Dean looked at him in a slight disbelief, turning off the laptop as fast as he could.

If he was such a misery to be with, why didn’t Cas leave him already?

“Ready?”

Dean put the biggest fake smile he could muster and nodded.

The bathtub was filled with hot, steamy water. A couple of candles were lit on its edge, lightening up the dark room. The tension in his body somewhat loosened up a bit, although still remained, like a headache in the back of his head that never really went away. He dropped his clothes to the ground, not even bothering to make a show or a jokey comment about it as always. He didn’t have the strength. He plopped into the water and sighed in relief. With closed eyes he inhaled the steam and the light scent of his favourite candles.

 “Care to join me, angel?” he asked, not caring to open his eyes. He felt the need to make Castiel happy, to take care of him.

He heard a small, low chuckle.

“I thought you could use some pampering today, dear. Let me wash your hair.”

He finally opened his eyes only to see still clothed angel with a shampoo bottle in his hand. No, this wouldn’t do. He was supposed to take care of him, not the other way around. After being a shit boyfriend for weeks he should be begging Cas to stick by his side, not take advantage of him.

“But…” Cas wouldn’t let him finish.

“No but’s. Just relax and let me take care of you.”

Seeing as he did not convince Dean in the slightest, his face softened a little.

“It would make me very happy to see you getting the care you need, Dean.”

Oh, the smug bastard. He knew how to make Dean comply.

The Winchester only rolled his eyes and let them close up again. He felt a light touch on his head and streak of warm water dampening his hair. Then, with a gentleness that almost made him cry, he felt Castiel’s fingers slowly, but surely massaging his head with a just right portion of shampoo. Not a single strand forgotten, he kneaded his scalp like it was a blessing. Dean could only sigh, tension finally leaving his muscles, making him feel like he was going to turn into a puddle.

“That so good, Cas” he mumbled, not able to form any other sentence than that. Cas chuckled again.

“I’m glad you like it” he said quietly, his fingers massaging the sides of his head, as though he knew where Dean’s head hurt the most. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

Dean hummed in response, his senses dulled.

“I’m a bit worried about you, Dean.”

He opened his eyes and looked up.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Of course Cas had that sad-puppy look on his face that made his heart stop.

You fucking piece of shit, now you made him worry about your idiotic problems.

“You’ve been distant lately. I know you don’t really enjoy talking about certain things, a chick-flick as you call it, but I just want you to know that I’m here for you. If you need me.”

SHIT.

He wanted to say he was fine. Everything was fine and dandy and they could forget that anything happened. Because nothing happened, right? He was just a bit tired, maybe a bit off his game, that’s all.

Except it wasn’t. But he needed to prove otherwise. Anything to make that sad frown go away from his love’s face.

He sat up, his hair still covered in bubbles and took the angel’s face in his wet hands. He kissed him, slowly. Although not sure at first, Cas returned the kiss, his arms sneaking behind Dean to hold him tightly. The kiss turned a bit frantic as though they were scared the other wanted to leave. As they parted, Dean could see the hope in Cas’ eyes which made his heart sunk.

You’re a miserable excuse for a boyfriend.

“Wanna take this bed?” Dean offered, hoping it would take Cas’ mind off of his state. He knew it would end pretty badly for him, another sleepless night of intrusive thoughts and even worse morning, filled with disgusting coffee only to keep him standing straight.

But he needed to do it. Just to make things right again.

Cas watered down his head, getting rid of the remaining shampoo. He dried him with a towel once he had got out of the bathtub. They started kissing again, even more frantic than previously and stumbled to the bedroom like this. Dean hands were rummaging through angel’s clothes, getting them off as fast as he could. Once Cas was completely naked, they fell on the bed, clinging to each other as tight as humanly possible.

“I love you, you know that?” Cas whispered into his damp hair as Dean was passionately kissing his neck. He smiled in response, biting a bit of his flesh, which made Cas moan. He felt Cas’ erection already poking at his thigh as he rolled his hips at him.

And you can’t even get it up. Pathetic.

He rushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He was going to take care of Cas and that was it. There was no need for him to be involved in this. He just needed to satisfy Cas as he should had done weeks ago.

Still kissing the soft skin of Cas’ chest, he went down to his nipples and sucked one of them gently. The angel tucked on his shoulders, scooching him back up and kissing him with a force that made his knees wobble.

His hand wind up between their bodies, searching for Castiel’s dick, but was swiftly caught by him and casted away. He whined and tried again, without any improvement. Suddenly, he found himself under his man’s body, covered by him like a hot blanket.

He broke of their almost desperate kiss and looked at the angel with slight confusion. Cas only smirked at him and went down to lick a trail across his chest. He moaned a bit too loudly for his liking, but his dick stubbornly remained soft with no intention of going hard. Castiel focused on his neck, knowing exactly where his sensitive spots were.

“You’re so beautiful” he grumbled into his skin affectionately, almost possessively tightening his hold around Dean. The tension returned to the hunter’s muscles, but he instinctively tried to relax.

“Such a good boy” he whispered in his ear, while his fingers were kneading into his hips just the way he liked, drawing another whine out of his throat. “You’re so good for me. I love you so much.”

No.

With guilt starting to expand in his stomach like a dark pit, he felt his arousal grow. He shouldn’t like it. He should push Cas off and start shouting, arguing, do something. He definitely shouldn’t moan like an absolute whore and listen to those lies.

“So beautiful” he whispered into his lips, as his hand lowered to Dean’s pathetic, soft as butter dick and started tentatively playing with his head.

Dean was so confused. The mix of arousal, guilt and anxiety boiling under his skin, making him want to crumble like a piece of paper and hide deep under the ground until hell swallowed him whole, just to stop him from feeling so torn up. His breathing quickened and his vision narrowed in panic.

“You’re so good for me. Worth everything” Cas interrupted himself again only to restart taking care of Dean’s already sensitive nipples. “So perfect…”

“Impala!”

Cas immediately pushed himself up, worry behind his blue eyes. He started eyeing Dean, looking for any harm that he might have caused.

“Dean, are you okay? What’s going on?” he asked, wanting to place his hand on Dean’s face. The hunter withdrew suddenly, as though Cas’ fingers were burning his skin. Maybe they were.

Pussy. You were supposed to make him happy, now look what you did.

He shook his head, wishing the thoughts to go the fuck away. And now he was shaking. Great.

“Dean, please, talk to me” Cas pleaded, looking more and more scared with every second.

“It’s nothing!” Dean snapped, immediately regretting his harsh tone, as Cas flinched in response. “I’m fine, fucking fine. Just give me a minute.”

He stumbled out of bed, frantically looking for his jeans, avoiding Cas’ confused stare.

“Dean, wait, what are you…”

Fury started to rise in his chest, fuelling him beyond any measure. It was the only way to stop him from collapsing.

“I said I’m fine, Cas! Fuck, could you shut up for a second and let me think!” he snarled angrily, wanting to smack himself across the head. The hurt look fled through angel’s face, making him nauseous. He finally found his –Cas’– sweatpants on the floor and put them on “I’m sorry, I- fuck, I’m going on a drive.”

He was about to run away, already feeling weaker than before, when a stern hand locked on his wrist and stopped him.

“Dean, stay.“ The intensity in Cas’ voice was nothing to fuck around with. “You are not going to safeword and then run away like nothing happened, when you’re obviously ‘not fine’.”

He felt the anger leaving him, even though he desperately tried to cling to it. He needed to be furious, screaming and throwing stuff. Anything to make Castiel mad and leave him be.

“Fuck off, Cas” he tried to shout and break away from his hold, but it ended up weak, without any real rage to it, more so like a whisper, a plea.

The angel already saw through his bullshit.

Cas squeezed his wrist tighter and dragged him back to bed. Dean plumped on the mattress, losing all the strength he had in himself to fight back. The angel wrapped his arms around the man and pulled him closer. He shuddered as he felt a soft kiss on his temple.

He was absolutely useless.

“Cas, just let me go, please” he pleaded, his voice now small and pathetic.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay” Cas shushed him like a child, his hands lightly stroking Winchester’s back.

Dean started to deflate, the tension leaving his entire body and making him go soft and pliant under Cas’ care. He closed his eyes, the sheer embarrassment hovering over him like a cloud.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t, Dean. It’s okay.”

Dean shook his head, this time gathering up the courage to protest.

“It’s not, Cas! I acted like a complete ass!” he argued, finally looking up at the angel. He must have looked miserable, because Castiel’s face softened as he kissed him on his forehead.

“Dean, you’ve been upset for weeks. I’m not surprised you’ve finally bursted out” Cas tried to reason with him, fully knowing how stubborn Dean could be. Before Dean could even start feeling even remotely guilty, he added “You don’t need to tell me what’s wrong. But please, let me help you?”

Dean frowned at him, not sure how to respond without lying. He just nodded and let the angel tighten his hold around him.

***

It wasn’t dawn yet. At least he thought. No one was up. Dean was drinking his morning instant coffee, still sour from too much powder added to it and staring blindly at the table. It had been two days since his last failed attempt to have sex with Cas, which ended in some sort of argument. He still felt guilty about it, about his harsh words and the inability to perform like a normal human being.

He tried to be better, but anger still lingered in his mind as a safe way to escape other emotions and drive others away, when he so desperately needed them.

He heard footsteps, too hard on the wooden floor to be Cas’ and saw Sam emerging into the dining room, still in his pyjamas. His brother yawned almost aggressively and padded to the kitchen. He came back with his own mug, probably with tea.

“G’morning” the taller man mumbled, plopping on the chair next to him. “You look like shit.”

Dean only mumbled under his breath in response.

They both took a sip of their beverages. The silence was hovering over them like a shadow. Over the last couple of weeks they hadn’t been talking much, Sam usually away at Eileen’s and Dean constantly napping, because of sleepless nights.

“So… How are you? I hadn’t talked to you in forever it seems” Sam started, the curiosity in his gaze.

Dean only shrugged, not wanting to have a serious talk right now, with only one hour of sleep.

“Come on, Dean. You already know that I’m worried about you. There is no point in hiding anything.”

“I’m not gonna have another chick-flick moment, especially with my little brother, thank you very much” Dean snarled, wishing him to go away.

“Another?”

Dean didn’t answer, just sipped his awful coffee. He tried to hide his disgust, but it was nearly impossible. That coffee tasted like sour shit.

Sam gave him that bitch face he had perfected since they were teenagers and Dean was acting stupid about his repressed emotions.

“I’m fine, Sammy. Now go away” he snarled harshly.

Sam continued to stare, his eyes boring into Dean’s mind and increasing his headache. The hunter sighed heavily.

“You are a shit-head, you know that?” After no response from his brother, he continued. “Just having a rough week. Nothing to be worried about.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Sam offered.

Dean wanted to smile at the simplicity of it. If only Sam could do something that would actually change anything.

“I don’t think you can, Sammy.”

They stayed silent for a while, drinking from time to time.

His coffee was still absolutely disgusting. And now cold.

“You know, I think you should just talk to him.”

Seeing Dean’s shocked look, Sam smiled knowingly.

“Of course I know it’s about Cas. I’ve noticed something was off.” Sam put his mug down. It had a pink elephant carved into it. Dean bought it sometime ago, because he loved how Cas’ face lit up when he found it at the store. “I know you, Dean. I know you get scared and how you try to act angry just to push everyone away, because God forbid, you could be happy for a second.”

Dean wanted to argue, but words never left his lips. His brother was right and it only made him feel worse.

“I’ve known you my whole life and got used to it. It’s just how you are and I’ve stopped trying to change that. But Cas… he loves you, Dean. And I think he would rather you were honest with him than to have you shouting for no apparent reason why.”

Dean nodded, words still stuck in his throat, not being able to get out.

Sam gave him a small, sad smile and patted him on the shoulder.

“You got this” he assured him and stood up. “I’m gonna be at Eileen’s till tomorrow, so feel free to go wild.”

Dean watched his brother go back to his room and then leave the Bunker, without moving from his chair. After the door closed behind Sam’s back he finally got up and padded slowly to their bedroom. Cas was still asleep on their bed, laying on his side, arm stretched out as to hold something. He crawled next to him and clinged to his side as tight as possible.

***

He woke up alone with Cas already gone. Dean sighed heavily, feeling the exhaustion in his limbs preventing him from getting up. Usually when he was like this, Dean would sleep all day without a care in the world, but now he had to get up. To make things right. Somehow.

He lazily made his way to the bathroom, after feeling the awful stench that surrounded his entire body. The hunter wasn’t a particularly huge sweater, but that’s what not showering will get you. Mostly foul smell.

The candles from two days ago still remained on the bathtub, an obvious reminder of his failure as a partner. He hid them under a sink with shame, knocking over some of Cas’ perfume. Luckily he managed not to break the little bottle somehow. He didn’t want to have any more reason to argue with his boyfriend. They had been doing it a lot in the last couple weeks. Not that he could remember any of the reasons. They all seemed so vague to him now.

Almost like he was the one causing the arguments.

That’s Dean Winchester for you, ladies and gentlemen. Codependent, but still emotionally closed up. A forty-six years old guy with anger issues who can’t get his shit together. Only for 2.99£ or best offer.

Winchester skimmed hazily through his things on the counter. Their things. Since Cas had moved to his room for good, Dean’s bathroom got progressively more and more… domestic. He was a simple guy, all he needed was a towel, something to wash himself with and toilet paper. It was Cas who brought everything else, always adding something new to the cart when they were shopping for essentials.

The candles were angel’s favourite though. However Dean had a theory Cas bought them just for him, to pamper him in every way possible. Dean absolutely loved the smells covering him like a blanket whenever he snuggled his angel in the bathtub.

The cold water rained from the shower head, clearing his own from intrusive thoughts nagging at him like an annoying child.

Maybe it was that mysterious ‘inner child’ that Sam was always talking about. It would make sense that Dean’s ‘inner child’ was an infuriating little shit-head.

Heal the ‘inner child’, protect the ‘inner child’. Dean was tired of that crap.

Heal this. Overcome that. Some things weren’t meant to be healed or even remembered. If he wanted to bottle up his trauma –if you could even call that trauma, it’s not like he went to war in Afghanistan– he should be one hundred percent allowed to. It was still an impossible task to shut Sammy up though.

Dean shook his head, realizing his old thinking patterns taking the wheel again. The voice of his father lingered in the back of his head like a dead body, festering his mind. It was the only thing he couldn’t kill, couldn’t bury. He was able to slaughter any monster he’d ever known, but this one remained unbeatable. How could he wipe out his own mind without losing himself in the process.

He got out of the shower shivering, without washing himself. He assumed that the cold water cleaned him enough to not stink like an old man. It had to do for now. He had a task to fuck up like always.

Dean dressed himself in his most comfy clothes he could find –they weren’t even his, it was all Cas, it was always Cas– and went to the kitchen in hopes of finding his angel making a coffee with a beautiful smile of his.

What he found was not his pleased angel, but a troubled-looking man, slumped on a chair, nose buried in the screen of Dean’s laptop. He padded his way to the kitchen to make another sour-shit-tasting coffee, when Cas stopped him in his track.

“I have already made a coffee for you, Dean. It’s on the counter” said Cas without looking up from the screen. Although there was a tentative smile forming on his lips.

Dean checked the kitchen out and indeed there was a cute enormous mug filled to the brim with whipped cream. He scrunched his eyebrows taking the sweet drink back to the table. He sat down, eyeing the cup which he didn’t recognised with puzzlement.

“’The best BF in the world’?” the hunter read aloud the colourful engraver on the mug. With perplexion written on his face he stared at the angel, waiting for an explanation.

Castiel finally rose up from his mysterious research and smiled at his partner.

“Went on a shopping spree while you slept. I think it’s kind of cute” he stated like it was as obvious to him as sun coming up in the morning.

“I’m hoping you meant yourself while buying that.” Dean smirked at him and tentatively sipped a bit of his coffee.

His taste buds exploded with the sheer amount of flavours. He had been drinking so much of a disgusting, old and sour coffee that he had forgotten what it was like to enjoy a sweet one. There was a light sent of vanilla covering his nostrils and an incredible amount of sweeter than his whole life caramel syrup draping over his tongue, complementing the main taste of coffee. He drank that coffee almost like a mad man, covering his entire mouth with whipped cream.

“How is it?”

His eyes rolled back from the amount of endorphins that drink had created.

“You don’t even know, angel” he muttered under his breath, closing his lids to enjoying every bit of it. He licked his lips clean from the sweet whipped cream with pleasure. “I forgot coffee shouldn’t taste like sour shit.”

Castiel chuckled lightly, taking Dean by his hand and laying it on the table.

“I’m glad to hear that. I’d actually tried tasting that, as you just said, sour shit for a couple days. It partially explains your, for the lack of a better word, sour mood.”

Dean tightened the grip on Cas’ hand, wishing him to stop talking about that subject. Yes, he would tell Castiel…

What would he actually tell him?

Hey, Cas, I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick to you, but our sex life is making me have nightly panic attacks?

Sorry, Cas, I’m just a pathetic, little loser who is mad his dick is not working properly.

Cas, you know how you love to praise me whenever you can? I constantly feel like I should shoot myself for letting you do that.

Ok, Cas, I know I’m a grown-ass man, but I still feel like my dad’s little bitch, so if you could treat me like a piece of shit I am, that would be the best.

Hey, Cas. I think you’re gonna leave me if I tell you what’s been on my mind. I fear you’re gonna hate me for it and disappear. I feel like I’m trying my best all the fucking time and all that comes out is… just me. Still the same Dean Winchester.

Maybe he should do it now. Rip the band aid off till it’s still fresh, bleed for a while, then lick his wounds like always and keep moving. He needed to keep moving.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

He cleared his vision which had turned foggy for some reason and looked at Castiel. His worried angel with a deep wrinkle going down his beautiful forehead. He wanted to say something, he really did. But all that came up was a sigh and a half-assed smile.

“Wanna watch a movie? I’ve been wanting to rewatch a Adam Sandler comedy for some time now.”

Cas smiled at him, but the disappointment in his eyes still remained. Not wanting to look at it any more than he had already, Dean got up quickly to put together their favourite snacks in the kitchen. Once they laid on the couch comfortably, Dean’s head resting on Cas’ lower abdomen, hand stuck in the bowl of popcorn, Dean started the movie.

With unnatural for them silence they sat through the rest of the movie, staring blankly at the screen.

***

Dean couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing and turning in their bed for hours and he still couldn’t –fucking– sleep. He stared at the ceiling, trying to count how long it’s been since he and Cas did anything remotely intimate.

Surprise, surprise, he couldn’t remember.

Feeling like a complete loser, he retrieved to the garage where his beautiful Baby stood, having not left the Bunker for almost a month now.

Maybe it’s been a month? Dean finally recalled a steamy make-out session in the backseat which ended in some hand stuff and traumatized Sam, who happened to walk in on them.

No, that was two months ago. They did have sex a month later, which caused a not–a–panic–attack. Dean had no idea if it really was a panic attack or not, but he didn’t wish to know. What would his father think of him? His oldest son, his legacy taking it from behind and then to top it all off having a sissy fit of hysterics.

John Winchester would roll in his grave if he wasn’t burned.

Dean slid into the driver’s seat and put hands on the wheel. He always felt safe there, in control. He always chose the direction, which route to choose and in that seat he was never in the wrong. The hunter always reached his goal.

Dean was hoping that maybe sitting behind that precious wheel, feeling the scent of his favourite car would help him get out of that impossible situation. Enlighten him with words to say to Castiel, to explain his ridiculous behaviour without having to talk about his stupid feelings.

But nothing happened. There was no revelation, no lightbulb moment. Just a son of a bitch sitting in his car that was his father’s, wearing clothes that weren’t even his.

Dean felt like he was losing his mind.

What was the point in all of this? Cas would leave him anyway, no matter what he said. Dean had already lost him, he knew that. The least he could do was try to get him to stay by…

Yeah, sex was out of the equation. He wasn’t gonna risk having a panic attack or some other shit right before his lover’s eyes. Chickflick moment also wouldn’t work. It would just turn into an argument with Dean getting all worked up and defensive. Maybe if he was hurt then Cas would stay with him a little bit longer out of pity.

And there it was. His lightbulb moment. It was perfect. He just needed to get hurt.

You pathetic son of a bitch, you just wanted an excuse.

The sun was rising. He confidently went to the kitchen. For the first time in weeks he felt like he had a purpose.

Your father would beat you with a belt if he knew.

‘Where is your common sense boy?’

‘Stop acting like a girl and quit crying, you look pathetic.’

Dean filled the kettle with tap water.

‘Protect Sammy, Dean.’

He turned on the switch.

‘You were supposed to take care of him.’

The water started to boil. Anxiety bubbled under his skin.

He took the kettle and–

John Winchester stumbled through the door, barely closing it behind him. Sam was already asleep next to Dean, holding tightly a pillow in his skinny, long arms. Dean pretended to be sleeping as well, it was easier that way. Maybe Dad would let him be.

“Dean.” His father hoarse voice filled his ears. Dean kept his eyes shut, wishing John away in his head. “Dean!”

Dean slowly looked up at him. John’s face was red, eyes puffy, gaze feverish.

“Get up.”

“Yes, sir.” He immediately did was he was supposed to. He was a son of a Winchester. He needed to obey.

John sat on his bed. He must’ve drunk a lot to not to be able to walk properly. It was rare for the Winchester to be this intoxicated. Usually he drunk a beer or three and was ready to go for the next hunt.

Dean was almost glad to get out of bed. Their beds smelled like vomit and the sheets had been bled onto. This was one of the most gross hotels they have ever been to.

“Did Sam eat?”

Dean nodded.

“Answer me properly, Dean.”

Dean swallowed thickly and stared at his father’s shoes.

“Yes, sir.”

Dean didn’t eat that day. The food they had wouldn’t keep them both full.

“Good.”

John took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. After a long huff, he handed the cigarette to Dean. Not wanting to argue he took it with a half-assed smile and breathed in the smoke. He hated cigarettes with a passion, only smoking them when dad asked him to.

Demanded it from him.

“So… When were you going to tell me you’re a faggot?”

“What?” Dean whispered, scared to say anything else. His mind stopped working the second his father got up from the bed. He hovered above him, like a punishment just waiting to happen.

“Don’t bullshit me, Dean. I saw you with that fuckin’ queer. Are you a faggot?” John’s voice was quiet, but the hatred in it made Dean shake. His breath quickened, his vision tunnelled.

“No, sir. I swear.”

He felt his heart drop when he saw John loosening his belt.

“If you wake Sam up, I will kick you out on a street, do you understand?”

Dean started to cry, as quiet as he could.

“Yes, sir.”

–poured the boiling water on his forearm.

***

“Son of a bitch!” Dean shrieked from the pain that now covered his entire arm. His nerves were on literal fire. For a second he was worried that his arm might actually fall off. “Fuck!”

He hit the kitchen counter with his injured hand, which only increased the pain. Adrenaline hit him like a freight train, clearing his vision from the tears forming in his eyes. He felt almost drunk off of the endorphins. His mind was finally empty. No John Winchester and his black belt. No dead bodies. No Sam or Cas. No pain.

Only the one in his arm, which was starting to burn again like it’s been tortured with red hot metal rod.

He heard footsteps incoming from the corridor. Dean quickly took out a random cup from the cupboard and threw in a lot of instant coffee.

“Dean? Are you okay?” Dean heard Cas’ worried voice from behind him. He felt a warm hand wrapping around his non-injured hand and turning him around.

“It’s nothing, Cas don’t worry” he muttered under his breath, the pain being increasingly more unbearable with each second.

“What happened?” Cas gasped in disbelief, the terror slowly reaching his eyes. He darted his fingertips, lightly touching the burned skin to assess the damage. Dean reluctantly let out a whine.

“Accident. It’s nothing, Cas, really. It will heal in a week. I had worse things happen to me” he insisted, gradually regretting his choice. The adrenaline started to drop and the endorphins disappeared, making him see the true distress on Castiel’s face.

“Let me heal you, love.”

When Dean felt Cas’ grace beginning to work, he tore him arm from the angel’s grasp. The pain shot up through his burned skin, making him whince.

“Don’t waste your grace for this, Cas. Nothing some cold water can’t fix.”

“Dean, don’t act stupid. You have a second degree burn on your entire forearm. Just let me heal you…”

“Cas, it’s nothing. Let it go” Dean snarled at him, already feeling the anger coming back like an old friend.

Cas tightened his lips together. Dean could see he was infuriating his lover, but there was no going back.

“Dean, give me your arm.” The command was short and simple. With no room for excuses.

“No.”

Castiel let out an deep sigh, closing his eyes for a second. Dean knew he was on the verge of patience.

They were for sure going to fight.

“Dean, stop getting defensive over something you are not going to win. Give me your arm or I will take it myself” Cas growled, his eyes glistening. Winchester almost gave in, so used to listening to the tone Castiel only used in bed. If he wasn’t in such pain, it would definitely get him going.

“Why do you have to be such a pain in the ass. I said it’s nothing!”

“Why don’t you just let me heal you? If you want to fight AGAIN so badly, we can do this after.”

Dean’s heart stopped for a second. The rage filled his head to the brim.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he whispered, trying not to start another argument, even though it was inevitable. Castiel was fed up with Dean’s behaviour and Dean…

Well, Dean still hasn’t learned how to express himself without anger.

You are acting like a toddler, quit with this bullshit and tell him.

“You’ve been starting fights for weeks over the smallest of things. As you are reluctant to tell me what’s wrong with you, I’m starting to think you just want to use me as a punching bag. You’re making it impossible to live with you!” Cas shouted at him, finally gripping his arm tightly.

“Cas, let go of me!”

He tried to take his hand away, but the strength Castiel used to hold him tight wasn’t human. He was going to lose.

“Fuck off!” Dean screamed at him, feeling the grace slowly reaching his pained skin. With a light glow to it, it beginned to heal. “God fuckin’ dammit, Cas, if you don’t let go…”

Cas shushed him instantly with his grace. Dean tried to scream at him more, but his mouth was closed shut. Before he could fight back, the injury was healed. Cas let go off him in an instant.

“Was it that hard, Dean?”

Dean felt his face getting red in shame and fury at the slight mockery from Castiel.

Fuck it, it’s going down.

“What the fuck did you do?” he growled.

“I healed you, Dean. That’s what I always do. Why are you so adamant this time?”

“You know what, Cas? Fuck you. And your little grace.”

Cas tightened his fists and took a step forward.

“When will you stop acting like a bitter teenager and actually tell me what you think. You’ve been insufferable for weeks picking up fights, taking painkillers like a drug addict…”

“Oh, so now I am an addict just because I had a few headaches? Get your head out of your ass, Cas!”

“You’ve been taking them with a beer every day!”

“Well if you haven’t been trying to get into my pants everyday then I wouldn’t have had to take them!”

Castiel face dropped from anger to true disbelief.

“Dean, I’m going to say this with every ounce of my love for you. What the actual fuck are you talking about?!”

Dean laughed without any joy to it.

“Don’t act like you didn’t figure it out. I fucking hate it when we have sex together!”

Liar, liar, pants on fire. Congratulations, now you intentionally hurt the only man that loves you.

“Don’t bullshit me, Dean. If you want to hurt me you need to be cleverer than that.” Cas only rolled his eyes, exasperated with Dean’s shit. “You are just mad at yourself, because you have a slight problem with getting an erection, but it’s not an excuse to project that anger onto me!”

Dean wanted to smash something on his head.

“I swear, if you say one more word about that…” he threatened with a fury. But the shame was already there, festering in his body. He started to deflate, having lost the reason of this fight.

Pathetic limp dick. What are you going to do, Dean? Show him how he’s wrong and then cry about that all night?

“What? What will you do? Have sex with me? I thought you found it awful” Cas mocked him again.

Dean stepped back. His words hit him right in the face. That’s what he wanted though. To push Cas to the edge, to confirm all the thoughts he’s been having all his life. Dean felt awful using Castiel like that, but that was all he had to offer.

The Dean Winchester special.

Cas must have notice the drop on Dean’s face, because his expression melted into the worried look he’d been carrying for weeks. He took a couple breaths to calm himself down before speaking again.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for” he sighed deeply, coming closer to Dean. “I don’t mind, Dean, really. You know I love you just the way you are. If that’s what been keeping you from getting intimate with me, that’s fine. I just want you to know that it doesn’t matter. I would love to pleasure you in any other way that you can imagine.”

Dean’s breath caught up in his throat. He had nothing to say. He couldn’t.

Cas stared at him for a moment then he knitted his eyebrows together. Dean followed his gaze to the empty cup of unfinished coffee. With a realization painting in his eyes he looked back at Dean.

“Dean.”

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it.

“Did you do this to yourself? On purpose?”

Dean was tired. He wanted to take a nap in their room, not having this stupid fight in the first place. He wanted to cuddle up with his angel, watching his favourite movie. Show him that he loves him. Apologize for being a shithead and figure it all out together.

He wanted to stop feeling so lonely.

Dean just nodded slightly, not being able to admit to it out loud. It was too shameful. He was a Winchester.

Winchesters don’t act like kids.

They were never kids.

“Why?” the pain in Cas’ voice made him cringe. When Dean refused to answer, he added softly “What’s going on, love?”

Dean wanted to get defensive again, but he choked that feeling away. There was no running away from this. He just needed to get it out.

“It’s a nightmare up here, you know?” He waved his now healed hand to his head. He wasn’t looking at Cas, he didn’t have the strength to see his face.

He was probably embarrassed to be with a man like him. Dean was too unbearable to be around and Cas would leave him. He didn’t want to see that yet again.

“Oh, Dean. Come here” Cas said in the most soothing tone Dean has ever heard and hugged him. He draped his arms over Dean like a mother holding a child and tightened them.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I didn’t mean any of it” he barely choked it out.

“I know, darling. I know.”

Dean just stood there. He wanted to actually cry, to hug him back, but he was too closed up to do that.

“Come on, Dean. Let’s sit and talk about it, hm?”

Dean still only nodded. He didn’t believe it would even work out. He was so empty.

They sat on the couch in the living room, Cas covered him with a blanket. It had bees on it. They bought it the second Cas moved to Dean’s bedroom. Sometime later they made their relationship official, telling Sam about it. That blanket already had so many good memories attached it.

And now it was going to have a bad one.

“What’s going on, Dean?”

The hunter shrugged, touching one of the cartoonish bees.

“Same as always. Typical Winchester bullshit.”

Cas sighed and made Dean look at him with his hands on Winchester’s shoulders.

“Dean, if you want me to help you, you need to be more specific.”

Dean leaned against the couch, getting a little more comfortable. It was going to be a really shitty talk.

“I didn’t know you were a fan of chickflicks, Cas. Remind me later to show you Mean Girls” he tried joking to lighten the mood, but it all came out sour. Like he was there as a punishment. He finally admitted shamefully “I don’t know where to start, angel.”

Cas took his hand in his and held it tightly to reassure him. Dean could almost feel the love he’d missed for a long time.

He did it to himself.

“Ok. I’ll help you” Cas said mostly to himself, like he wanted to ground them both in the conversation. “Why are you taking so many painkillers?”

Dean looked at him in shock. He was sure Cas would smother him with questions about the burned arm first. But this could work. This question was easy.

“Headaches. I’ve been having them for some time now.”

“Do you have any idea why?” Cas asked.

“I can’t sleep right for some reason. I wake up too early or never fall asleep.”

It was good, he was managing. The conversation he feared the most turned out to be as easy as breathing. Finally talking to Cas was freeing. He was going to be cared for. Dean forgot why he had been doubting Castiel for so long.

“Okay, but why did you start drinking again? You’ve been sober for some time now. I thought you preferred it that way.”

Fuck.

“I…” Dean looked at Cas, who stared at him with patience, but still waiting for response. He couldn’t tell him that. It was shameful to even admit to it in his own head, he couldn’t imagine how he would say that to Cas. “I just missed beer.”

Cas raised an eyebrow, eyeing Dean’s face with scepticism.

“Do you want to tell me, Dean or not? I will not push you, but I will acknowledge when you lie to me.”

Dean took a long breath in. He could do it, it was easy. He needed to rip the band aid off. He has done it so many times, he could do it again.

He gazed down at the blanket, not wanting to see the disappointment on Cas’ face.

“I needed that liquid courage, you know? I… don’t like it when we have sex. I mean, I do, mostly. It’s just… I can’t sleep after and I feel… something I guess. And it got worse about two months ago. I’ve been just so tired, but I didn’t want to disappoint you, so I tried my best, but… I’m sorry, Cas, you have to believe me, I really tried. “

No, you didn’t. If you tried your best you wouldn’t be acting like a little bitch.

He managed to finally look up at Castiel again. To his surprise he didn’t see any disappointment or disgust, just a thoughtful gaze of his favourite angel. With a small smile on his lips, Cas nodded.

“Thank you for telling me. I know you don’t really enjoy talking about our sex life, but as I’ve been telling you since forever – it’s important. I think you already know the consequences of not doing so.” Cas kissed him lightly on the forehead. Dean gave out a chuckle.

“I was being stupid, I know.”

“Just a little bit” Cas comforted him softly. “Is there a particular part of our love-making that makes you feel like that or something more general?”

Dean thought about his answer for a moment.

“First of all, when you call it love-making” he laughed. Cas just gave him a slightly annoyed look for that. “And… I think it’s both? I… I don’t like it when you say some things.”

“What exactly? I say a lot of things.”

“Exactly! You… call me things I never was. You constantly say how beautiful I am and how good I am to you. Don’t get me wrong, it gets me going everytime, especially when you lower your voice…” Dean got a little side tracked by the memory of one night, which may or may not have included a rope and a blindfold. He shook his head lightly and continued. “I just can’t stop thinking about it later. I feel like a liar everytime. Like I should fight you, convince you that it’s wrong. That I should make you finally realize that I am just a faggot and that I don’t deserve it.”

He ended his speech almost whispering. The only thing he could think about was the black belt on his back.

You’re a dirty, little whore.

“Dean…” Cas started with confusion in his voice. “I had no idea… And I am so sorry that you thought like you had to live alone with thoughts alone. I’m so sorry, love.”

Castiel hugged him tightly, chests pressed together as close as possible.

Dean didn’t know what broke the dam in his brain. Maybe it was the hug or Castiel’s voice. Maybe it was everything all at once, because when he finally started to cry, he became completely helpless.

He didn’t sound human. His wailing reminded him of haunted ghosts, who couldn’t let go of their past life. Dean gripped tightly Cas’ dark sweater like it was a life line and Dean was fighting with a storm.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I’m so sorry” he sobbed, still not letting go. “I can’t stop thinking about that fucking belt. I’m sorry!”

Castiel gripped him even more tightly, already aware of what Dean was saying. Before he gave up drinking, Dean had a first night with just Cas. They’d been watching a silly comedy and drinking heavily. While Castiel was unfazed by the amount of alcohol he consumed, Dean was absolutely trashed. So trashed that he started crying –nothing unusual, just a drunken cry of an alcoholic middle-aged man– and slipped up. Apparently told Cas about one of many nights where John tried to rectify Dean’s sexuality.

Dean didn’t know what was worse. That it happened right next to sleeping Sammy or that Sammy never knew. That he was completely alone.

“It’s okay, love. Let it out” Cas cooed him, hand in Dean’s hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

The tears had already wet Castiel’s sweater, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“God dammit, why am I crying?”

Castiel took Dean’s face lightly with his soft hands, rubbing away new tears with his thumb.

“It’ okay, Dean, I mean it. You are hurt and you deserve to let it out.”

Dean looked at his angel with hope. Maybe he was right. Maybe Dean wasn’t as bad as he always thought. Maybe he deserved his little heaven with Castiel. He still had a lot of hidden insecurities and –possibly– traumas, but it Cas believed in him, then maybe he could get through it. Cas’ faith was all Dean needed to move forward, step by step.

The hunter quickly pressed his lips to angel’s. He wanted to show his love, the love that was bursting out of his heart in waves, making him feel like he was about to collapse. Angel immediately without an ounce of hesitation kissed him back. At first it felt feverish, almost aggressive, but soon turned slow, steady and sweet. Dean fell on his back with Castiel hovering above him. There was no anxiety, no stress, just the love of his life keeping him safe between his arms, showering Dean with kisses on his entire face. Like there wasn’t a part of him Cas didn’t worship. They finally parted to catch a breath and to smile at each other.

“I love you so much” Dean whispered softly, kissing Castiel again. “You don’t even know.”

“I love you too, Dean.” Castiel pressed another kiss on Dean’s forehead and moved him to the side, to cuddle on the couch together. They laid like this for a while, caressing each other without a break.

Dean missed it. He missed it so much that he forgot why he isolated himself in the first place.

“Dean… I still need to know” Cas started tentatively. “Why did you burn yourself?”

Dean didn’t answer for a while. He thought about his answer, tried to make up some lie on the spot, but it all sounded stupid. But truth was even worse.

“It’s stupid… I thought you were going to leave me and I… I just wanted you to stay for a little bit longer. I figured that if I was hurt then you would at least pity me and stay” Dean answered with shame.

Yeah, it’s sounded fucking dumb.

Castiel looked dumbfounded.

“Dean… you know I would never leave you? Now that I have you… I would move heaven and hell if someone took you away from me” Cas comforted him, placing yet another kiss on his face. “And fighting with you isn’t new to me. But we do need to work more on healthy communication. We can’t keep doing this every time one of us feels worse.”

Dean stayed silent. He wondered if it was a good idea to say one more thing.

“Well, it actually wasn’t the first time I tried boiling my hand” he laughed stiffly. Cas tilted his head in a bird-like way. Sometimes he reminded Dean of a little bird, curious about the world. “I was young as fuck, maybe ten? After one of dad’s drunken rants how I should keep Sammy safe, never let him get hungry and whatever. I convinced dad that it was an accident, tried to fool myself, but deep down I knew that I did it on purpose. I just wanted him to take care of me for a bit. But he never did. Still loved him though. I still do.”

Castiel hugged him tightly like he wanted to shush the nightmare away.

They laid there for a long time, talking about everything they could think off. Castiel was coming up with ways Dean could get a hold of his anger and let it out in a more healthy manner and Dean texted Sam.

‘stay at Eileen’s. we made up’

After a thumbs up from Sam, they decided to watch a movie.

Even though there had been harsh words shouted in the argument, the Mean Girls idea turned out the best.

***

They laid naked on top of the sheets, bodies still intertwined. The sweat glistened in a warm light of a lamp on the nightstand, their breaths filled the room. Cas caressed Dean’s wet thigh, whispering sweet words into his ear. Dean didn’t pay attention to them, just to Cas’ voice. The low grumble filled him with bliss after an amazing orgasm he desperately needed.

Sometimes they would get like this after he came back from therapy, feeling almost used. At first Castiel was unsure of the idea, worried that it wasn’t the best for Dean to engage in such an intimate affair because of a hard session, but after he noticed that Dean yearned for comfort, wishing to feel grounded in his own skin, he happily complied. There was nothing better than showering his love in praises and kisses, as he kept assuring Dean.

It was good for him to give up control. At least that’s what he figured out in therapy.

Therapy. It was Sam’s idea. He had been already researching therapists in area that are also aware of the supernatural since Dean started isolating himself. There was still a lot of work for Dean, all those years of unprocessed trauma kept coming back to him. He got angry, sad, confused, empty, but at the end of it all he always had someone to come home to. Therapy turned a lot harder than he thought.

He was already seeing some effects of this. He learned some ways to deal with his anger, which didn’t always work, but at least he could use them. It resulted in a lot of discussions instead of arguments which brought him closer to Cas.

He was content. Even though he still sometimes waited for the other shoe to drop, he knew that nothing could stand between him and Cas. Even his worst insecurities or ghosts of the past. They always made it through. Dean could fairly say that he was happy.

Oh, and his dick was finally working again.