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Dean rarely had breakdowns, but when he did, they weren't a good experience. He'd lose control of himself and his body would tingle with this unsettling numbness and he just fucking hated it.
It was on a Tuesday afternoon. Castiel was gone at work, and Dean was all alone at his apartment, and it first started with the toaster not working properly. He shoved in a slice of bread, his stomach rumbling since he hadn't eaten since that morning, and waited. But it wasn't warming up.
The familiar irritability grew on him easily after that - when his foot caught on the rug and he stumbled a little. Or when he sat down on his recliner, and his shirt was bunched up and sticking to his back. And when the remote's batteries were burnt up, and he couldn't watch any television because he was out of double A's. It was just the little things.
Tears were already forming in his eyes when he was going through the mail. He knew it was stupid to be so annoyed by all these every day things but he couldn't help if he was pathetic.
Rummaging through the papers, Dean sighed heavily when he realized it was all junk mail that he could throw out. Going through all of it was completely pointless, and he'd wasted a few minutes of his day. That was fucking great. He raked his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands harshly. Everything was itchy on him and the room seemed to be growing hotter and hotter by the second.
He stood up, gathering the letters in his hands and tossing them in the garbage. Stay calm, he told himself. Deep breaths. He sniffed, rubbing at his eyes and cursing. He was so damn weak. It was just pathetic. Dean made his way to his bedroom, closing the door behind him and falling onto his bed. Dammit. Even the fucking covers were scratchy. He could feel his breathing pick up and his chest begin to rise and fall quickly.
"C-Calm down," he whispered to himself. Dean couldn't have a breakdown. Not today. Not right now.
The door opened, and the sounds of footsteps filled Dean's ears. "Dean," his boyfriend called. "I got off work early. Where are you?"
Dean quickly rubbed his eyes, erasing any signs of tears in them. "Coming," he called back, and stood up, despite the fact that he was shaking violently with each step he took. He walked into the kitchen, seeing his boyfriend standing there with his back facing him.
"Hey, did you happen to throw away my mail?" he asked, turning around to face Dean.
Dean's face paled. Fuck. Of course he did. Of course he threw it away, because he was a failure. That's all he ever did, was let people down. He clenched his jaw, staring at the ground and trying to control his heavy breathing. And of course, to top it all off, tears were forming once more, and this time, he couldn't hide his sniff.
"What's wrong?" Castiel walked up to him, setting his stuff on the table and grabbing Dean's hands.
Dean flinched at the contact. Please don't touch me. You don't deserve someone like me. You don't have to touch me. I'm so disgusting.
"Why are you crying? Dean, are you having a panic attack?" Worry laced his boyfriend's voice, and that should have showed Dean how much he actually cared, but instead Dean's face crumbled into a sob and he shoved Cas away.
"Please-please don't - " His breaths came in short and rapid, and he clutched his chest, feeling the tightness of it clench uncomfortably. "I-I can't - I - "
Castiel's hands were on him again. "Dean, please listen to me - "
"No!" Sudden anger bubbled inside him, and he shoved Cas away again, but this time with much more force. "Leave me the fuck alone!" He turned, grabbing the nearest thing to throw and chucking it across the room. "Leave me alone!" Dean snatched the pictures on the desk next, clutching them in his hands and then throwing them harshly against the wall. His vision was blurry now; a slight haze over his sight on top of a light red tunnel. He was just so damn angry. He was itching all over, and it was too hot in the room, and he - he -
"Leave me-leave me - " He felt himself grow light-headed. "Leave me alone." His breathing increased again. Soon, he felt himself hit the floor with a loud thunk, and he was kneeling, digging his fingers into the carpet beneath him. It was too rough, and he could feel the little hairs sticking up from it, and the stains on it, and it was just all too much, it was all too -
Hands touched him, and he whined, almost sounding like a wounded animal. "Please don't-don't t-touch me," he cried, feeling a heavy sob rise in his chest. But Cas kept at it, standing Dean up and walking him down the hallway and into the bathroom. Or the bedroom. He wasn't sure which, if he was going to be honest. He was too light-headed and he couldn't keep his damn brain focused on anything in front of him. But after he was pushed lightly back onto a bed, he knew it was their bedroom. The sheets were too scratchy to lay on, though, and he squirmed uncomfortably, his heartbeat increasing once more. Sobs escaped his lips, and he gripped the blankets around him, digging his fingers into the soft texture.
"Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop," he cried.
And then a cool, wet towel was on Dean's forehead, and he sucked in sharp breath. That felt nice. He felt fingers on his thighs, massaging nicely into the knotted muscles, and slowly moving their way up to the back of his neck. A pillow was propping his head up, he realized after a bit. Castiel's experienced fingers dug into Dean's sore muscles, and although Dean was on high alert still, it did feel really nice.
"... So well for me, baby," Cas's voice came, and Dean hadn't even realized that he'd been talking for some time now. "You're so beautiful, baby boy. You're doing so good. Keep breathing for me, okay? Take a deep breath and hold it for me. Good, good, baby. So good for me. Let it out... Good. I love you so much, baby."
Dean relaxed, his hands releasing the blankets and moving to Castiel instead. He gripped his back, realizing that the fabric Cas was wearing was actually nice, and wasn't bothering him at all.
"Keep breathing. You're beautiful, Dean. Absolutely beautiful for me." Fingers traced Dean's face - from his forehead, to his cheeks, to his nose and finally to his lips. "I love you so much, baby boy. You're mine. All mine. Everything is okay."
Dean felt himself completely relax, his anxiety soon fading away, and he allowed himself to be embraced by his loving boyfriend. After a minute or two later, Cas continued to whisper praises, peppering kisses behind his ear and down his neck.
"I love you, baby boy," Cas whispered, stroking his fingers through Dean's hair. "You're all mine. Forever and always."