Just a little fluffy thing I wrote for a request from a friend, C.U, who asked for something involving "my only love sprung from my only hate". She doesn't even watch SPN. I'm trying to get her into Destiel ;) A sort of tag to 9x06 (Heaven Can't Wait), set a little after it anyway.
Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to Supernatural. I don't own anything- I'm just borrowing them!
Dean watched as Cas worked through the window of the Gas-n-Sip, doing stupid little things with his stupid little hands wearing his stupid little blue vest. It had been at least a month since they'd last seen each other, and the time apart was wearing down on the hunter so much that he'd managed to make up some dumbass excuse to tell Sam and Kevin that he had to go off to Idaho for a case, but they knew. They always knew when he just needed to see Cas, to make sure he was okay, because it was something he could never stop doing. Just like with Sam, Dean couldn't bring himself to leave him on his own for long without checking up on him, so when his brother was in Stanford and completely oblivious, the older hunter would go and watch him. Maybe only for a minute, maybe only for a second as he strolled on past with a steaming coffee in his hand, but it was necessary.
And just like all those times with Sammy, Dean felt the ache in his cheeks long after he'd started smiling.
Castiel was just doing his job, just doing ordinary things he must be bored of doing now- refilling the slush puppy machine (that he'd finally got the hang of, thank our absent Father), serving customers and changing light bulbs. But there was something in his manner, in the way the ex-angel went about his boring job that was warm and comforting. Something about the way he moved made him look like he didn't hate what he was doing, like he was building something- a life for himself, away from hunting and Heaven and dick angels. And that was comfort in itself for Dean.
He watched for a while, sipping at his tea with just a little whiskey dashed in for luck- the same as the last time he'd come to see Castiel. The two different kinds of heat roared in his throat, and he grunted in appreciation of something nice in such a dire situation. As Cas handed over a bag to a customer, Dean noticed the brace still on his arm. Damn, he thought, that must've been worse than I thought. Finding comfort at the humming blush under his cheeks, Dean turned back to the Impala and pulled open the creaking door. He sat inside and slammed the sleek door closed, huffing out a breath and forcing every emotion he was feeling down. The urge to jump out of the car and just rush in and scoop Cas up in his arms and carry him all the way to the nearest motel room was almost unbearable- hell, he'd drive his baby into the walls of the overly clean gas station without a second thought if it meant the fallen angel would come with him. No, Dean thought, don't think of him like that. But it was instinct, pure human lust, and he couldn't ignore it.
The passenger door opened with a startling creak, making Dean jump out of his temporary stupor and look to whoever had opened the door. At the same time as being so unbelievably relieved that it was Cas, the heat made its way to Dean's cheeks as he realised the other man knew he'd been there, watching. Castiel's tired face appeared in the doorway as he leaned down, not getting into the car, nor standing outside, instead hovering half way in between, his head awkwardly bent under the roof.
'Son of a-!' Dean startled and hit the steering wheel with his palms. 'You can't even zap around anymore and you still make me freaking jump, Cas.'
Castiel observed Dean's face like he always did, only the hunter could see the hurt that the comment had caused the ex-angel by commenting on his loss of powers. It was a sensitive subject. He sighed loudly and ran a tanned palm down his face, forcing away the smile that twitched at his lips upon seeing his hunter. 'My shift ends in an hour, Dean.' Cas said simply, the sound of his husky deep voice filling Dean up with enough angel juice to keep him going for another month- not that he wanted that. God, he wanted more than that. He wanted him there every day. Both of them did. 'I have the rest of the day off.' And with that, he shut the door and went back to work.
For the next hour, Dean idly strolled around town, inspecting shop windows and newspapers for any sign of a case. Surprisingly, everything was exactly the same as he had checked the very same morning. He counted the minutes as they passed, desperate for the second hand just to move faster. When it finally came to twenty minutes until the end of Castiel's shift, Dean argued to himself that despite the gas station being only a two minute walk away, he could get stuck in pedestrian traffic or have to help an old lady cross the road or-
No, Dean, stop. Just go. Who cares if it's early, just go in there and grab him and take him far away from his stupid job and take yourself far away from the bunker and angels and heaven and just live a normal life.
You wish.
At exactly 2:45pm, Dean Winchester made it back to the Gas-n-Sip, exactly fifteen minutes before Cas's shift ended. He stayed in the car for another ten minutes, scratching his neck and his legs in frustration, watching Castiel occasionally shift his gaze to meet with his until he had to get back to work. He could tell Cas wanted out, too.
Right on time, Cas hurriedly packed up his things and headed out to the Impala. Dean watched him clutch his arms tight around him and hunch his shoulders as thick, heavy raindrops started pouring from the sky. The drops spattered his shirt and vest darker in little splotches and for a second, Dean had the horrible image of the water being blood, crimson and sticky and littering the body of what once was Jimmy Novak, until he blinked heavily and drew in a well needed breath. When had he stopped breathing?
Cas quickly got into the warm car, hugging himself and shuddering from the sudden cold the rain brought with it, a few stray drops of water splattering from his stupid hair onto Dean's face. They sat in perfect silence for five minutes, watching nothing and never coming up with anything to say. Instead, Dean just pulled the Impala out of the lot and started driving- not far, just to the side of the road next to a field, a bit further out of town. It wasn't raining as much there.
'Cas-' Dean started, but didn't get to finish.
'Dean.' Cas said, turning his head to look out of the side window. 'I understand that you want to see me, but I cannot say the same for myself unto you.'
'Look, I'm sorry, if you want I'll just…' Dean faltered. 'I'll just drive you back to… to wherever.'
'That will not be necessary.' Castiel said quickly and sharply. 'I am happy to have some time with you, at least just to see you, Dean. I still do not have full grasp on emotions, but I believe the sensation I have been feeling in my stomach since I last saw you… is the feeling of missing someone. It has been very educational to experience it in this human form.'
Dean paused. 'So, you felt it when you were an angel?'
'Yes.' Cas replied simply. Purgatory, they both thought. Every day, they thought.
Once again, the glistening Chevy Impala was plunged into deep silence. There was so much they wanted to say, so much that needed to be expressed, to be shown- in touches, in gestures, in their eyes- but neither could bring themselves to do or say anything. They didn't even look at each other.
For half an hour they sat like that, by which time the rain had completely stopped and the air smelled like a freshly watered garden, the dried hay bales dampened and sopping in the weak sunshine. Castiel and Dean, watching birds fly overhead and the sun slowly shift across the watercolour sky. Droplets shimmered down the shining black metal, past the wheels and to the ground. Dean tapped the beat to Back In Black on the steering wheel, admiring the simplicity of the open expanse of land in front of them. He imagined what it would be like building a house in one of the golden fields, being with Cas and seeing Sam and Kevin often, the life of a hunter far behind him. Growing food and never eating it, playing music so loud that the neighbours two miles away would complain about the noise, and laughing it off until the sun rose over the land and the world started a new day, and they would fall asleep for the whole day in each other's arms, tangled limbs and the heat of each other's body's pressed up against each other, only waking when the moon came up so that they could do it all over again, until their sleeping pattern was so fucked they'd never see the light of day. It was a beautiful thought, and neither of them realised they were smiling until they started actually laughing.
Dean looked over his shoulder, pulling the plastic bag he'd shoved back there earlier on, undecided on whether or not to give over what he'd bought. 'Hey Cas, uh, I guess I bought you some stuff, y'know…' Dean weighed the crinkling plastic in his hands for a second before passing it over. 'For life. Ordinary life, that is, no knives or guns or explosives. I hope… hope they fit.' He looked down at his thumbs in his lap and played with his nails, absently tapping his toes.
Cas searched the bag like he was Mary Poppins. His head was practically in the thing before he finally decided it would be better to look at the gifts if he took them out of the bag. There were a couple of shirts, a pair of trousers, a few books, and three t-shirts, one of which was distinctly softer and thinner than the rest. He held it up in one bandaged fist, unfolding it, staring at the AC DC logo printed across the front with wide eyes. 'Dean, no…'
'Cas, just take it alright?' Dean rubbed his neck. 'I just… I want you to have it.'
Cas didn't know what to say. Sharing clothes was not something Winchesters were known for, each taking to their own in most circumstances, so it meant a lot. Especially for this shirt, judging by how thin the fabric had worn over the years. Without realising what he was doing, Cas lifted it to his face and smelled the fabric, wallowing in the scent of cheap shampoo and coffee and Dean.
Surprisingly enough, the hunter didn't say a word. If anything, he just looked humbled by the fact Castiel cared so much. They settled back into the silence that wasn't even slightly awkward this time, relaxed and just enjoying being in each other's presence.
'Thank you, Dean.' Cas finally said, turning his head to look at the other man.
Dean beamed back at him, the first time they'd looked at each other the whole time they'd been in the car. Green stared at blue, longingly and with so much desire glistening just beneath the surface, ready to rush out of them any second, becoming an almost impossible task to just keep their hands to themselves. Settling for in-between, never breaking their breathless stare, they blindly reached for each other's hands, clumsily gripping each other as if the ground would fall out from beneath them if they didn't. Chests heaving with shaking breaths, Cas and Dean took in everything about this moment.
Cas counted the freckles on Dean's face, and Dean memorised the ridges in the azure expanse of Cas's eyes.
They would forget them in a week.
Dean licked his lips without realising it, and Cas's stupidly thick lips parted slightly. Their gaze drifted to each other's mouths, hovering there for a few seconds before blinking back up to their eyes. It was one of those moments that lasts for eternity.
Dean huffed out a gentle laugh as he broke their touch, clearing his throat. 'My only love sprung from my only hate…' he said softly.
'What?' Cas asked, his eyebrows furrowing together and his head tilting just slightly to the right in questioning. His familiar movement made Dean want to just throw life away and give up on everything, the old look of the angel that he had met with a knife to the heart still there after all this time and painfully beautiful.
'Nothing, just…' Dean chuckled to himself, his eyes lined by crow's feet when he smiled. Cas loved that almost more than anything else. 'I never liked blue eyes, actually. Not before you.'
'I don't underst-'
'You don't have to understand, Cas, just forget it.'
'Oh.'
There was silence again. They could feel the warmth of each other's bodies, and somehow the t-shirt in Cas's hands seemed to glow in his hold, in the presence of them both. Dean thought about the fallen angel wearing it, the hem at the bottom maybe reaching just to the bottom edge of his boxers, then stopped himself.
'Dean I…' Cas sighed and looked down, shaking his head lightly, his expression lined with deep thought and suppressed emotion. 'I feel this-'
'I know, Cas.'
'But we can't-'
'I know.'
'And I want to.'
Dean stopped, looking warmly at the man sat next to him, fumbling with the items in his lap and adjusting the position of his jaw so that the little bumps of his bones jutted out of his cheeks.
'Yeah. Me too.'
Cas looked up. 'Someday, Dean. Someday this will be over and everything can be new and beautiful.'
A bird's wings beat overhead. Neither men heard.
'You say weird shit, Cas.'
'As you have reminded me often, Dean.'
Cas ran his slender fingers over the dashboard, watching the sweat from his clammy palms leave a dark trail on the surface. Dean didn't say a word about it.
'Coffee?' Dean said gently, almost pleading.
'Coffee.' Cas tested the word as if tasting the drink. 'Yes. Coffee.'
I hope you enjoyed this :) Drop me a line and tell me what you thought in a review if you have the time- they're always greatly appreciated!
-Emily xxx ^_^
