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Dean lays in the bed. The body beside him warm, his breath slow and even. His hair dark brown and wavy frame his face in an almost angelic way. Almost, Dean notes, and he knows It's not enough. A petal blows through him, scraping his windpipe, getting caught in the narrow space only air should enter and escape from. He tries to keep the cough down as it threatens to wake the person sleeping soundly on the just-okay hotel bed, and he makes his way to the bathroom, pulling his jeans and shirt with him.
Hunched over the toilet, slick flower petals expel from Dean's throat. He had just managed to pull his shirt over his head before he started gagging, now he's kneeling on the cold tile floor in his boxers. He runs his hand over his arm in a warming up fashion, trying to circulate less blood from his face and more to the rest of his body. The toilet bowl is scattered with an array of crumpled —just barely blooming— flowers. Most seem to be forget-me-nots, the deep blue of the petals almost saturate the water around it.
When it started, it was nothing. A small petal would find its way through his mouth, which was pretty weird, but it wasn't that weird. When he started coughing up multiple at a time, Sam got concerned. And Dean didn't wanna freak out about it but like— dude's coughing up petals for seemingly no reason.
"Dean?" Sam said, not looking away from his laptop, "I think I got something."
Dean makes his way beside Sam, peering over his shoulder.
"Hanahaki Disease." Sam reads out.
"Hana- what now? Is that Japanese or something?"
Sam chuckles, "Spot on." he pauses. "So, uh. -Hanahaki is something of a uh.. portmanteau from the Japanese words hana, flower, and hakimasu, to vomit."
"Flower vomit. Got that part, I'm puking petals once a week.-Why is this happening?"
"Right." Sam scrolls down the page, his eyes moving across the lines of text. "….Love?" He offers, the words coming out as confused and blank as his brother feels.
Dean stares at the web page. "Love?" He says, a questioning sarcasm lacing his voice.
"Unrequited love, actually." Sam points out. "Or that's what— feeling causes it, I guess."
Dean starts walking away, gearing up to pace around this shitty two-star motel for the rest of the night. "Well, how do we—? How do we get rid of it? Is there a cure for it?" He asks, pausing in the middle of the room, looking back at his brother as his eyes scan the page.
"Uh…" Sam reads. "Okay, there's a high risk surgical option that absolutely no doctor in their right mind would do, or, your unrequited love gets reciprocated."
Dean laughs humorlessly, "Great, that's.. that's just great." he says, trailing off. He feels the petals bloom slightly with every breath that leaves his lungs.
" 'If Hanahaki Disease is left untreated, the sufferer will suffocate on their feelings for the one they love'." Sam reads out.
Dean looks back at him. "So, I either die from a risky surgery or I die by suffocation? On flower petals?"
"Dean," Sam starts, "there isn't much information about this online, it's clearly a rare supernatural phenomena, maybe… maybe the info's wrong, you know? Maybe with time it'll just.. go away?"
"Yeah, or it doesn't and I die choking on some flowers." Dean grabs his jacket, moving to the motel room door, his jaw tightens. "I'm gonna get some air."
Love —unrequited love— is how Dean's gonna go. Really? Dean guesses there's.. something poetic about that. But poetry or not, it's still shitty to go out like that. Who is Dean even — in love with? Dean's only been "in love" with two people, and he ruined it both times. —Because being in love sucks. Loving is vulnerable, and Dean doesn't do vulnerable. It makes him feel all-too exposed, too seen and known to his core. So who does he……
Oh god.
Dean feels something pry itself from his lungs and try to escape, but it gets caught in the middle of his larynx, lodged halfway through his vocal chords. He chokes. Falling to his knees, he breathlessly makes an attempt to pray, clawing uselessly at his neck.
A flutter of wings beside him. "Dean?!"
Dean forces his eyes shut, trying with all his might to expel the caught flower. He coughs, he tries to cough, but instead a painful wheeze exits him. He punches his chest, and a few petals break free, letting him cough again, letting him breath again. There's a healing hand on his back and a warm body close by him on the ground. He chokes for a moment before finally coughing up and expelling the brutal flower.
A carnation. A bright blue crumpled-carnation sways across the concrete, before being swept away by the wind.
Dean falls back and tries to return his breathing to normal. "Jesus." He mutters, under his breath. He can feel Cas's eyes on him.
"Are you alright?" Castiel asks, and Dean looks up to meet his gaze.
His worried eyes are all over him, his face is half illuminated by the motel's exterior wall lights, the dim yellow marks his face and coats his figure. "I'm.." Dean just wants to stare at him. He's not sure how much he cares about breathing right now. He looks away. "I'm dying."
"You're— what?"
Sam spends about 20 minutes going over Hanahaki Disease with Cas, as Dean tries to ignore the angel in the room and rest his lungs. He barely hears their conversation through his fatigue. "That's the first time— I mean, that I know of— where he's coughed up an entire flower. There's not much lore about this but.. knowing that he couldn't breath when this one came up.."
"How much time do I have left?" Dean asks, sitting up in the motel bed.
"Dean-"
Dean cuts him off "No, Sam. Really. How much time do I have?" his voice is tired. They've been here before. A ticking clock.
Sam doesn't want to answer. "We don't know. Maybe— maybe it goes in waves, you know? Maybe it… maybe we can get you your cure before it.."
"Before it suffocates me?" Dean looks to Cas, the expression on his face makes something twist in Dean's heart. He feels the infection bloom ever so slightly further across his lungs. He looks away. "There's no cure for this— for me, Sam. There's no way they would.." Deans expression flashes angry, then mournful.
Sam stares. Dean isn't sure what face he's making, but he can imagine it. He remembers when he told Sam about the demon deal. At least then he was dying for a good cause. Sam sighs, about to say something, but Dean gets up from the bed, grabbing his bag he moves across the room, "I'm gonna sleep this off." he says, hoping to stop Sam from starting whatever 'we'll find a way' speech he has at the tip of his tongue.
Dean remembers stirring slowly, his eyes opening and meeting someone else's through the dark. Cas's. It had reminded him of the time he woke up and Cas was beside him in bed, watching him sleep. Seems that's what Cas was doing this time. His voice croaks quietly, "Cas?"
"Sorry." Castiel says, looking away. "I didn't mean to intrude. I wanted to make sure you slept soundly." He moves, seemingly to leave, and Dean reaches out a hand.
Dean's hand on Cas's. He stares, unable to pull away his gaze. "Don't—" Don't go. Dean stops himself. "You don't need to do that." He says instead, letting go of Cas's hand.
With a quiet flutter of wings, the body beside him is gone. Dean feels a light pressure behind his eyes and he feels his throat tighten ever so slightly as hot tears helplessly stream across his face. His expression contorts angrily, as he smears the moisture across his face.
That morning, Sam had asked with some failed attempt to be casual when asking, "So who is it? —Your unrequited love?"
Dean makes a face. "Really, Sam? Now?"
Sam adjusts his hands around the mug, taking a sip of coffee. "You can tell me, man. C'mon. Is it Lisa?"
Dean just looks away, shaking his head.
"Cassie?"
"No." Dean answers a little too quickly. "I-I mean.." He stutters, "I hope she's— I hope she's doing alright, but no. Not for years."
Sam's expression is attempting to seem light, attempting and failing to mask his mild concern. "Then who?" Sam sighs, "Give me a hint at least, man."
Dean quietly considers, taking an unsteady breath. "The name isn't too far off."
"What?" Sam's face contorts further in confusion.. until it clicks. "Castiel." His voice a whisper. "You're in love with Castiel?" Sam says, his voice a little louder in the discovery.
"Would you keep your voice down?!" Dean says, his tone hushed, anger pressed at the edges of his words. He huffs, ripping apart the waffle on the plate in front of him and wolfing it down. "Not like I chose the guy."
"So many things make sense now."
"What?"
"I always thought that—" Sam pauses, chuckling lightly. "—that you and Lee were a bit more than friends, and you always just brushed me off. I mean, I get it, but still."
"Sam."
"Right, not the time, sorry." Sam says, finally dropping it.
Dean looks out the window and takes a steady sip of his coffee, glad for the silence.
"So," There he goes again. "what do we do now? I mean— could Cas…" The unasked question hangs in the air.
Dean turns his eyes back. He briefly looks at Sam before deciding to stare into his half empty and now cold coffee. "I doubt it. I mean, can angels even..?" He trails off. "Love is mostly a-a human concept, you know? So how could an angel, a being not even of earth, feel love like that?" His eyes threaten tears as they fixate on the layered coffee stains in the mug.
He can feel Sam's expression, that puppy eyed look of absolute pity.
Dean can't deal with this right now.
That night he coughs up a small handful of blue tulip petals.
Before he leaves the sleeping guy's hotel room, he folds his clothes and leaves them on a chair by the bed with a small folded note on top reading, "Thank you for last night".
As he exits the building he fumbles with his keys, pressing his thumb into the metal. It's cold out. Dark. Dean can see his breath in the air. When he looks to the sky, he gets caught in its beauty. They haven't been this far out west in a while, he forgot how much he missed seeing the stars so clear at night.
"Nice night out." A voice calls to him, and he looks to see who it is, "How are you, Dean?"
"Cas." Dean says, a little breathless. Maybe it's the cold. "What are you doing here?" He ignores Castiel's question to ask one of his own.
Castiel looks up to the stars briefly, before meeting Dean's eyes with the intense stare he always gives him. "Angels are able to find those who pray to them."
"Uh, Cas, I didn't pray to you." Dean says, confused and still a little breathless.
Castiel leans ever so slightly on the side of Baby, his hands resting in the pockets of Jimmy's —now his— trench coat, mimicking a human action. Needing to be warm. "It doesn't have to be a formal prayer. I picked up on a.. yearning, a longing. Perhaps you wanted to tell me something..?" His breath is visible in the air.
I do. But I can't. I shouldn't. "..Nothing comes to mind." Dean says, looking away.
"I'd be happy to keep you company either way." Castiel says. Dean thinks he says, anyway.
Dean moves beside Cas, leaning against Baby in a similar fashion to how he did. Dean looks to his pockets, how his hands are rested in them. "Are you cold?" He asks, looking to meet Cas's eyes, noticing they were already looking at him. "Can angels even get cold?"
Castiel takes out his hands briefly to look at them, "Not really." he puts his hands back in his pockets and looks up at the stars. "It's more of a muscle memory, you'd call it. This was a human's body, those don't like to be cold for extended periods of time."
"Is he still in there?" Dean asks, and he looks at Cas. A face that didn't originally belong to him.
Castiel stares at the stars, "No. I haven't sensed him here since I was brought back. Since the archangel watching over Chuck tore this body apart." he pauses, his brows furrowing. "I would like to think he's in heaven. But I.. have no idea. I have no way of knowing."
"…What about Claire and Amelia?" Dean's cautious to ask, but Cas's expression returns to something neutral.
Castiel turns his head from the sky to the mostly empty parking lot. "They're together. With Amelia's mom. Last I saw of them they were leading a mostly normal life."
Dean nods, looking away now. "That's good."
"Yes. I'm glad they have each other."
..
When Dean looks back to Cas, he's staring. Dean didn't notice how close they were standing. He feels a tickle at the back of his throat, and he finds himself unable to breathe. He looks away from the angel, his mouth agape he coughs breathlessly, his body bends at the hip in a mock bow as he hits his hand against his chest, a few petals fall.
"Dean?!" Castiel says, his tone panicked, a hand moving to Deans back. He moves to face Dean, the hand moving to his shoulder.
Dean can feel the healing sensation flow through his body, but it does nothing but heal a bruise or two. The feeling can almost distract him. He coughs up a few forget-me-nots and his airway clears enough for him to breathe again. "I'm okay. Really. I'm—" He coughs, he gags. He hits his chest, and a rose exits from his trachea. A fully bloomed, deep blue rose. Fuck. "I'm fine."
"You're getting worse, Dean" Castiel's hand doesn't move from Dean's shoulder as he stands up, instead, Cas moves closer to adjust.
Dean tries to focus on his breathing, his hand still on his chest, now unfurled from a fist, gripping his shirt, feeling air enter and exit his lungs. "I'm fine, Cas." He pushes Cas's hand off from his shoulder, "I don't need you worrying about me when you have better things to do."
"Dean, I—" Castiel huffs. "I rebelled from heaven. From my home. And I did that — for you, Dean."
Cas looks beautiful in this light. Dean wishes.. "Just go."
"Dean—"
Dean cuts him off, "Just go!"
Dean regrets his words when they leave him. He regrets them an hour later, when he's pulling over on an incredibly secluded back road that's barely a back road — it's an abandoned access road for a decommissioned fire tower.
Dean takes the key out of the ignition and props his hands up on the steering wheel. "Cas?" He starts. "Cas, I'm sorry for getting mad at you. It's just.. this whole thing has been—" His eyes well, and he pushes down the feeling.
He gets out of the impala and eases his way down to the ground.
"I've appreciated you being here. Really, I have. I know sometimes I'll act like— like I don't— but it's just a lie. And not just for this. We saved the world together, man." Tears fall down his face. "It's barely been a year, but I don't think I could imagine my life without you in it." His words come out like a confession. Because, in a way, they are. "I mean, I could, but I— I really wouldn't like to." He pauses, wiping the tears from his face. "What I'm getting at is that.. this-this feeling.. it scares me, man. How much I lo-" He stops. He corrects. "How much I care about you. I'm sorry, man." He sobs into his hands, "I'm so sorry." he feels utterly exposed.
A flutter of wings. "I'm sorry too, Dean." Castiel's voice croaks as it leaves him.
Dean looks up, covering his face and standing up slowly as he does so, trying to casually wipe away his tears. Cas has been crying. Dean can just barely tell in the moonlight. He raises a hand to Cas's cheek, wiping away the stray tears. "I didn't know angels could cry."
"We shouldn't be able to." Castiel mimics Dean's action, wiping the stray tears Dean had missed from his own face.
Cas's hand is warm. A warmth that Dean has longed for all night. Dean moves his hand from Cas's face to his free hand, holding it like he did however many weeks ago. "What are you sorry for, Cas?" Dean asks, his voice quiet as he stares down at their hands, his mind screams at him to let go, to brush the caring hand from his face.. but in the moment he finds himself unable.
"I hate to see you suffer. I wish I could do something to help you." Castiel admits, his voice heavy with guilt as his hand falls from Dean's face.
Dean lets go of Cas's hand and raises to his hand to Cas's shoulder. "You being here is enough, man." Dean says, barely above a whisper.
Dean mindlessly fiddles with the collar of Castiel's trench coat. When he looks back to Cas's face, to his eyes, something in his expression has changed. "I wish you'd tell me who you're in love with. I don't see how anyone could meet you, Dean Winchester, and not fall in love with you."
Dean stares at him. "Cas?" Dean whispers, moving ever so slightly closer.
"Dean?" Castiel whispers back, staring right back. His eyes glance to Dean's lips once. Twice.
Dean's hand moves from Cas's shoulder to his cheek. Dean's eyes mimic the angel's, going from Cas's, to his lips, to his eyes.. lips.. eyes.. "I'm in love with you." He says, pulling the angels face to his.
When they part, Cas can only say one thing, "I'm in love with you too." before leaning back in.
Kissing an angel actually isn't that different from kissing a human, really. Say for a few things. Like the healing feeling surging through Dean as their lips move in tandem. It's warm. Everything right now is warm. He opens the door behind him and he smiles against Cas's lips as he pulls them both into the impala's backseat, humming as he does so.
Dean pulls Cas over him as he lays against the upholstered interior. Dean's got his jacket and flannel combo halfway off when he's helping Cas take off his trench coat and suit jacket. Throughout this, their lips stay locked as much as they can, not wanting to part. Dean bites Cas's lip lightly as he sits up slightly to help him take off his shirt and tie. He's unbuttoned halfway before Cas pulls off Dean's shirt, breaking them apart.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Dean?" Castiel says, sounding a little out of breath.
Dean can feel how hot his face is, the cold air moves in the space between them. "Of course I do, man!" He chuckles, his hands still on Cas's button down. "Do you?" Dean asks.
"I don't think I've ever wanted anything more." Castiel answers, connecting their lips once more as he undoes Dean's belt, pulling it from his belt loops and placing it on the car floorboard. Cas moves from Dean's lips to his neck as Dean undoes Cas's belt, mimicking the other's prior action.
It's pleasantly warm. The sun is about to begin rising, The sky through the windows is mostly a lightening blue. Dean and Cas should get up soon, Dean knows this. It's just so fucking nice. The moment feels raw with new energy. Dean makes slow lazy patterns across Cas's skin. Dean feels like he never wants to leave this moment. Like he could stay here, laying against Cas, laying with Cas, for the rest of time.
He breathes in his smell, kissing across his neck, his jaw, his face, before landing on his lips. Intertwining them like he could never get bored of this, because, let's be honest, he probably couldn't.
They break apart. Castiel stares at Dean, his eyes terribly fond. "I rebelled for you, Dean Winchester." He whispers, repeating his words from last night. "And since then, all I've wanted was you. And I got you."
"You got me, Cas." Dean chuckles, a smile stretching across his face. "And I got you."