Work Text:
"Dude, what the hell is going on with you?"
Dean looked up from his computer to see Sam standing above him, a book in hand, scrutinizing his older brother in the way that irritated Dean beyond comprehension. "What? Nothing, I'm fine. Shut up."
Plopping down beside him, much to Dean's chagrin, Sam sighed. "That's what I'm talking about. You seem... I don't know... happy."
Raising an eyebrow, Dean turned to his brother, incredulous. "And, I'm sorry, that's a problem... Why?"
Sam tossed his hands up in frustration, turning his attention to leafing through his book. "It’s not a problem, Dean. It's just strange. With everything that's going on around us, you've just been different. But, like... Happy different, and it's kind of throwing me for a loop."
“Sammy, just--” He held up his hand to stop him.
"Hello, Sam. Dean."
The Winchesters looked up to see Castiel standing at the end of the table, hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat. He locked eyes with Dean and his face softened with a smile, a gesture the elder hunter happily returned.
Sam looked between them, mouth agape. "No..." It was everything he could do to stop himself from laughing hysterically. "Seriously?!" His voice high-pitched and obviously ready to burst with laughter.
Dean clenched his jaw. "Sammy,” Dean growled, “can it or I swear to god--"
Sam let loose, slamming his hand on the book as he hunched over, his body racked with laughter. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he gasped for breath. "I just.... Wow. Holy shit. That Marie girl was right! CasDean! Finally!"
Castiel's brow was furrowed in confusion as he watched the exchange; watched Dean's face burn bright crimson as Sam howled with laughter. Castiel still had much to learn, but In the years he'd spent on earth, studying human emotions; studying Dean, he had absorbed a great deal of knowledge in differentiating the emotions. It finally occurred to Cas in watching the brothers that Dean was embarrassed. By him. By their relationship.
“I see,” he muttered. Casting his eyes downward, he disappeared with the soft flutter of wings.
Before he could comprehend what had happened, Dean stood. "Cas, wait!" Looking upward, his jaw clenched, he nodded his head. "Thanks, Sam. That's just.” He jabbed his hand in the direction of where Castiel had been standing. “Fan-freaking-tastic."
With a frown, Sam's laughter had finally subsided. "I'm sorry. Dean, really. I'm sorry. I just. Wow. I mean, when did this happen?"
Licking his lips, Dean ran a hand over his hair and sighed, shaking his head. "That night Charlie and Cas stayed with us. After we burned the Book." He sank into his chair, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. "It's not... Nothing has really happened yet--"
"You mean you haven't had sex."
Dean narrowed his eyes, annoyed. "Jesus--No, Sam. We haven't had sex."
"Yet."
Dean exhaled, leaning back in his chair to rub his face. "I guess--I don't--I just--why the fuck am I talking to you about this?!"
Sam pursed his lips. "Dean, come on. It's Cas. I mean, honestly, it's been obvious how you two feel about each other for years. I’ve seen it. The way you look at each other… I'm observant. I observe things. In an observational, observant kind of way."
Grunting, Dean stood, pacing the library.
Sam watched his brother for a moment, as if considering how to proceed. "Is it... I mean have you not... Because he's, you know... Well, a he?"
Turning to glare at his brother, Dean scoffed. If he was being honest, yes. This was his first foray into that territory, and it was terrifying and unfamiliar. But on the other hand... Castiel made him feel things he never dreamed were possible. Everything about Cas turned him on. Everything about Cas made him feel alive and safe and loved. And for those very reasons, he didn't know if he could live up to everything Castiel had done for him; everything he'd made Dean feel.
"No," he said finally, swallowing his fear.
Sam smiled knowingly. "Then stop being such a pussy and go for it, dude."
Raising an eyebrow, Dean looked back at his brother. "You don't think it's weird?"
Sam scoffed. "I think it's weird that you've taken this long to figure it out. There's no judgment here. Just..."
Pursing his lips, Dean gestured impatiently. "Just what?"
With a heavy sigh, Sam snatched the book from the table and stood. "Don't do the Dean thing. I know you don't like chick flick moments, but I'm saying it anyway. You guard yourself too much. Let yourself have more. Let yourself be happy for once. Yeah, there's awful shit all around us. But we'll fight it. We always do. We always find away."
He nudged Dean's shoulder and chuckles quietly, shaking his head. "You're lucky enough to have found someone who not only knows what you do, but fights along with you, day in and day out. Someone who will literally go to Hell and drag you back to life. Someone who, I mean let's face it, Dean, loves you," Sam couldn't help smirking triumphantly, "despite all your asshole tendencies."
With a sigh, he stepped passed Dean, heading toward his bedroom. "Just, for once in your life, let it happen. Don't push him away." And with that, he left Dean alone with his thoughts.
"Well, fuck," he muttered, rubbing his eyes as he leaned back against the table. Dropping his hands, he looked around. "Cas? Cas, come on." He waited, looking around. No Cas. "Cas, come on, man. You promised you'd be here whenever I call. Please." He waited. And waited. Still no Castiel. "Fucking awesome," he grumbled, pushing himself off the table and grumbling all the way to his bedroom.
It wasn't until the door was closed behind him that he looked up and saw the scruffy, black-haired angel sitting at the end of his bed, his trench coat draped over the chair.
"Cas. You're here," Dean breathed, a nervous smile twitching at his lips.
Castiel refused to meet Dean's gaze. "I told you I would be here." Finally, he looked up at Dean, and the instant their eyes locked, Dean's heart was pounding.
Dean smiled. "Yeah," he chuckled softly, looking down at his feet. "Yeah, you did." He took a step toward Cas, and the angel took a deep breath. "Look, about earlier--"
"You're embarrassed," Cas cut him off, his tone matter-of-fact, as if explaining what he'd seen in a nature documentary. "Our relationship is not conventional within your society, and as the alpha male, you feel embarrassed by sharing a... romantic... bond with another male."
Dean felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "Cas," he croaked, a lump rising in his throat. "Cas, no." He knelt in front of Castiel, laying his hands on the angel's thighs. "Is that what you think?"
Cas stared at him defiantly. "That's what I observed. Sam was taunting you, and you were embarrassed. By me.” His gaze dropped to Dean’s hands on his legs. “By what we have--had."
"Have," Dean growled. "And no, I'm not embarrassed by you, Cas. I hadn't told Sam yet, and he was just being the asshole little brother that he is. That's all that was. He’s kind of a douche sometimes." He would never be able to bring himself to admitting that Sam was right, though.
Sighing, Dean reached up and gripped Castiel’s face between his hands. “Cas, look at me.” His thumbs stroked Castiel’s cheeks as his green eyes met blue. “I suck at this, okay? I suck at feelings and relationships and all that chick-flick bullshit. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. But the one thing I do know is that I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you, Cas. Never.” As tears filled his eyes, his voice wavered. “And I know that I am fucking terrified. I’m terrified of losing you. I’m terrified of fucking this up. And I am terrified that I can never be good enough for you.” He laughed despite himself. “Relationships are hard enough. But y-you’re a friggin’ angel, man. I’m just a guy.”
Castiel's was silent for a moment before leaning in to kiss Dean softly. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Everything I’ve ever done has been for you, Dean. Please never think that you’re unworthy of anything. More often than not, it is I who is trying to prove himself worthy. I am an angel, yes. But you, Dean… You have taught me what it means to be human. What it means to feel. What it means to love. Dean Winchester, you are everything to me.”
Biting back tears, Dean pressed his forehead to Castiel’s. “I told you I don’t do chick-flick bullshit,” he teased. When Cas scoffed, Dean leaned back to look at him, one hand behind his neck, toying with the hair that curled at his collar. “But, Cas, I…” He paused, sighing. It was now or never. “I love you, man, I do… I--”
He was denied the opportunity to finish his rambling sentence when Castiel’s lips crashed into his. It was desperate and heated, his hands slipping down Dean’s chest to push his flannel off his shoulders and to the floor. He shift and suddenly Dean was on top of him, gripping his tie, their kiss unbroken. This was the most physical they had been since acknowledging their feelings, and Dean felt like his heart would pound right out of his chest. His fingers slid through Castiel’s hair; one hand holding his weight beside the angel’s head.
Castiel's wanted more; wanted all of Dean. “Dean, please--”
Dean growled, his fingers working frantically to rid Cas of his clothes. “Shh.” The angel complied without further argument, melting into Dean’s touch.
+
Dean lay on his stomach, his head resting on the pillow wedged between his face and his folded arms. He closed his eyes, a sleepy, euphoric smile on his face. Castiel was beside him, lying on his side propped up on one elbow; his free hand tracing faint scars on the hunter’s back.
“Are you happy, Dean?” the angel asked quietly, his voice low and gravelly.
Dean took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, finally opening his eyes to look up at Cas, taking in every aspect of this moment. Castiel’s dark hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction -- strikingly similar to the first time they’d met. “I am,” Dean whispered finally. His smile faltered briefly, but the angel was quick to notice.
“What is it?”
Dean hesitated for a moment before shifting to push himself up on his left elbow, extending his right arm from beneath the pillow. Both sets of eyes fell to the Mark, angry and red. “Whatever happiness I feel now,” he began slowly, his voice low and gruff, “here… with you,” he raised his eyes to meet Castiel’s gaze. “I’m… I-I-I don’t know. I’m just scared it’s not gonna last. This thing… I can feel it getting stronger, man. Every day. I’m fighting so damn hard to stay in control.” He shifted, rolling onto his back, Castiel’s hand following his movement to rest on Dean’s chest. Staring up at the angel, Dean sighed, settling the Marked arm behind his head, the other hand resting over Castiel’s. “For Sam. And for you. I’m trying my damndest to fight.”
Castiel settled closer, resting his head against his hand; his elbow on the pillow. “We’ll find a way, Dean. There’s always a way. You’re Dean Winchester. You’ve never let anything stand in your way. I don't doubt you now.” His fingers traced the hunter’s tattoo before dragging across his chest to his shoulder where the angel’s handprint once lay. Dean watched, his breath hitching at Castiel’s touch on the no-longer-visible handprint. As Cas leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Dean’s lips, Dean’s hand found it’s way to Castiel’s unruly hair.
“I do love you, Dean,” he began slowly as he pulled away, his gaze finding Dean’s. “I suppose I always have. Since the moment I laid my hand on you in Hell. I promise to always remain by your side. No matter what. Always.”
+
“You killed him.”
Dean scoffed, uncocking his gun to stuff back in his jeans. He was in no mood to argue with anyone, let alone Castiel and his path of righteousness. “I took down a monster. Because that’s what I do. And I will continue to do that until…”
Castiel stood. “Until you become the monster.”
Dean stared, anger boiling beneath the surface. “You can leave now, Cas.” He nodded, matter-of-fact. The Mark had dragged him so far away from Castiel; from that time, not so long ago, he had begged Castiel to stay with him; begged him not to leave; begging Castiel to find him worthy of love.
“No,” Castiel replied, forcefully. I promise to always remain by your side. No matter what. Always. “I can’t. Because I’m your friend.” Because I love you.
Dean stopped in his tracks and turned, fire in his eyes. “Really?” He took a step forward, and Castiel refused to allow his emotions belie his strong demeanor. “Well lemme ask you something. You screw over all your friends?” He was close to Castiel; close enough for Cas to reach out to him; to comfort him. But he didn’t.
“Sam and I were trying to cure you. We still are.” The look on Dean’s face is something he’d never seen before. His heart ached for the hunter. He ached for the peace they had found not long ago, lying in bed together - each other’s world consisting solely of the other.
“Like hell,” Dean growled.
“We can read the book now,” Castiel protested desperately.
“Oh, so what? So you might find a spell? Might get this crap off my arm?” Castiel’s strength was faltering beneath the weight of Dean’s glare. The hunter took no notice, however, as he continued his tirade. “And even if you do, what’s it gonna cost? ‘Cause magic like that does not come free. No, it comes with a price that you pay in blood. So thanks. But I’m good.” Dean turned, satisfied with having made his point.
Desperate, Castiel reached out, grabbing hold of Dean’s shoulder. “No.” He stepped in front of the hunter, and his heart broke at the angry and disgusted look on Dean’s face, merely as a result of being touched by Castiel. “You’re not. Maybe you could fight the Mark. Maybe centuries like Cain did. But you cannot fight it forever. And when you finally turn - and you will turn… Sam… And everyone you know, everyone you love… They could be long dead. Everyone except me.” For a brief second, he recognized a flash of agony and regret in Dean’s eyes. “I’m the one who will have to watch you murder the world.” He promised Dean to stand by his side, no matter what. Even with the Mark; even when Dean’s humanity was long gone, the angel would be by his side. Nothing could break that promise.
He tilted his head, as if to emphasise his point. “So if there’s even a small chance that we can save you, I won’t let you walk out of this room.”
“Oh you think you have a choice.”
“I think the Mark is changing you.” There was no doubt in Castiel’s mind that the man in front of him was no longer wholly the man he loved. The Mark was twisting and devouring his once beautiful and vibrant soul.
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I? Because the Dean Winchester I know,” the Dean Winchester he loved, “would never have murdered that kid.”
“Yeah, well,” Dean glanced away nonchalantly, as if what was happening here; what Dean had done, was no big deal. “That Dean’s always been kind of a dick.” He moved to step past Castiel, and Cas reached out to grab the hunter’s arm; his hand where his Mark once was. It was almost -- no, it was -- an act of desperation. Desperately hoping his touch could calm Dean. That their bond could somehow fix this.
“Dean.” Please come back to me. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He never wanted to hurt Dean, no matter what. The look in Dean’s eyes at that moment was truly one of the most terrifying things he had ever seen.
“I really don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.”
And then they were fighting. Despite his angelic strength, Castiel couldn't bring himself to fight back. Not really. He couldn’t bring himself to injure the man he loved.
And suddenly, Dean was on top of him, gripping his tie. This, time, however, was nothing but rage, anger, and pain. He stared up at Dean, gripping his wrist as the hunter held his angel blade above him. “Dean, please.” He wasn’t begging for his life. Whether he lived or died was of no importance. But somewhere, deep down, Dean was still Dean. Somewhere, deep down, he knew Dean still loved him. There was a chance of him recovering from the Mark, and he couldn't bear the thought of Dean knowing he had murdered someone he loved. He wasn’t begging for his life. He was begging for Dean’s.
As Dean’s arm cocked back, however, Castiel’s eyes fell closed, accepting his fate. Seconds felt like eternity. He heard the blade hit somewhere beside him, and Dean’s weight lift. He turned his head, his eyes falling on the angel blade buried in the book beside his head. His body ached and his head was throbbing, and when he heard Dean speak again, it sounded muddled. “You and Sam stay the hell away from me. Next time I won’t miss.” And then he was gone.
It was only then that Castiel allowed his tears to fall. He wept for Dean and what he had become. He wept for the loss of the one person who had loved Castiel in spite of everything. Dean, his Dean was gone. He would rather have relived the Fall for eternity than to have lost Dean like that. He had failed in his promise to Dean, and for that, he would never forgive himself.