An old man sits silently in the cold breeze, rocking back-and-forth to a rhythm that only he understands.
He suddenly coughs roughly, holding his belly with one hand as the other brings a simple white handkerchief to his mouth.
It is a windy afternoon in fall, and the well-kept grassy ground is cool from beneath him. Around him, nature is quiet but for the whistling wind that ruffles what is left of his grey hair, and chills him to his ancient bones.
Despite this, he remains where he is, pulling his jacket tighter around his frail frame with wrinkled hands.
It is a bittersweet afternoon in September - the 27th to be exact. The old man is there once more, just as he always has been on the same day, every year, for the last six years.
He lets the cold numb him as his eyes close of their own accord, and he begins swaying back-and-forth again as a familiar tune continues to play in his head.
-
"What are you listening to?" Dean asks curiously as he enters the coffee shop where he had once brought Castiel when the other boy first walked into his life. Cas looks up and smiles, and Dean thinks how amazing it is that such a smile is reserved just for him. He is again reminded how worth it this is. How worth it Cas is. Dean knows he will go to the ends of the earth for this boy, do whatever it takes to prove to him that he isn't going anywhere, that he will love him as long as he should allow - if only Cas would let him. But Dean also knows that he screwed up. He knows that this chance he's been given by Cas is a very serious thing - knows that he doesn't even deserve to be friends with him at all. "Oh, just a song Sam told me about," Cas says mysteriously, taking out his earbuds. Dean raises an eyebrow, but doesn't push it, knowing Cas will probably tell him eventually. "You coming tonight?" Dean asks hopefully as he slides into a booth across from him. He, Gabriel, and Sam are going out for a bite to eat, but Cas still hasn't confirmed if he's going or not. Of course, it won't be as fun without him. Cas looks at him, a bit hesitant, and Dean holds his breath. But he doesn't have to worry - not this time anyway. Cas' lips lift slightly as he nods. "Yeah, I'm coming."
Dean and Cas are making their way to a familiar park alone together after having dinner with their other friends. The sun has gone down and the stars have come out, and it's a chilly, crisp night in November. Cas leads the way over to the swing set, and Dean follows without complaint. The two sit in silence, swinging from side to side in the wind. "You gonna tell me what you were listening to this afternoon?" Dean asks, because he doesn't want to ruin the tranquility with hard questions and even harder answers. Cas smiles again, like he has done all night, and Dean doesn't mind a bit. "It's called 'Chasing Cars'." "Never heard of it," Dean says promptly, because he hasn't - but he wants to. Anything that makes Cas smile, Dean wants to know about. Cas nods, swings a bit more, then plants his feet abruptly. He gets up and holds out a hand, and it is pretty obvious he's just had an idea. "Come with me." Dean looks at him curiously, but takes his hand without hesitation, because this is Cas, and Dean would follow the boy to his own death if he so wished for him to. Cas pulls him over to an empty field and, without a word, lays down in the grass. This time, Dean does wonder what exactly is going on in that boy's head, as it is cold outside and their jackets are too light to be laying on the no doubt icy ground. Not to mention Dean hates the grass - it makes him all itchy. But Cas is looking up at him insistently, and Dean knows he's going to give in. For Cas, he always does. They lay, looking up at the vast, dark blue ocean above littered with shimmering dots of light that illuminate the otherwise dark intimidating mass. They are huddled closely together to preserve body heat, and stay there for a couple minutes without saying a word, leaving Dean none the wiser as to why they are laying there - not that he minds it. But then Cas shuffles around in his pocket for his phone, pulling it out and messing around on it before a song begins to play. They listen in silence, the only thing to be heard being the song as their breath leaves their lips in cloudy puffs of air. When the song is finished, Dean finally understands why Cas had wanted to lie with him here. And he thinks he loves him a little bit more for it.
-
A sudden car horn blares, snapping the old man back to the present.
A considerable amount of time has passed, but he does not seem to mind. Instead, he rocks back-and-forth a bit faster in a last effort to warm himself up.
It happens every year, of course, but he refuses to go home until the day is over. He thinks the man he loves deserves that much.
-
Cas is bouncing up and down in the passenger's seat, and Dean can't blame him. He's excited, too. They're on their way to the new apartment they'd just purchased together, and it is a very exciting event if Dean does say so himself. They park on the side of the street by the small building their apartment is located in. It isn't much, but that doesn't stop the happiness flaring through Dean in waves. The movers will be bringing their stuff along in a few hours, when Gabriel, Sam, and even Ruby are going to show up to help unpack. Cas jumps out of the car before Dean even has time to turn it off, and then he follows suit a bit more slowly. He wants to take it all in. Cas is waiting for him by the door, bouncing on his heels, key firmly in hand. Dean nods, and Cas turns swiftly, sticking the key into the lock. He pushes the door open, and the sight of empty rooms and halls meets them, but Dean can already see it. He can see pictures on the wall of him and Cas, their friends, and their family. He can see painted walls of Cas' favorite color, a sea foam green, and crazy decorations that's all Dean. He can see worn furniture, and little knickknacks that belong not only to them, but the people closest to them as well who like to stay over every once in awhile. Dean can see it all, and he cannot wait to share it with Cas. They stand in the middle of their not-so-spacious new home and smile at each other. "So, you haven't changed your mind, then?" Dean asks in a joking manner, but inside he's still been a bit worried that Cas might not really want this after all. Cas gives him a look, the same one he always does when he thinks Dean's being an idiot, but Dean doesn't feel insulted. In fact, he's probably a bit relieved. "Of course not, Dean. I want this." The statement holds such finality that Dean can't help but smile wide before wrapping his arms around Cas' shoulders and squeezing the other man to himself tightly. If he's completely honest with himself, he wasn't really sure they'd even last this long. It's been a long and winding road with multiple bumps along the way, but they are still going strong - and Dean intends to keep it that way.
They lay together, exhausted, on the carpeted flooring of their new home, their friends having already gone home after helping them unpack - though Ruby seemed to do more talking than actual unpacking - and the place is now littered with boxes. "I can't believe we're really doing this," Cas breathes, turning his head to look at Dean, who has been staring up at the rather uninteresting ceiling for the better part of ten minutes. Dean turns his head to Cas, his lips quirking up, fondness for the man filling his voice as he asks, "Is that a good 'I can't believe we're really doing this' or...?" Cas huffs a laugh, turning towards his boyfriend fully. "Yes, that's a 'good' I can't believe we're really doing this." He smiles beatifically, and Dean's breath catches. "Good," he says without much thought, mesmerized and also ridiculously in love. Cas' deep blue eyes are sparkling, and Dean finds himself getting lost in them. All his worries and doubts vanish in that moment, the only thing left being Cas and Dean, on the carpet, caught up in everything that is each other. Dean doesn't think he's ever felt a happiness quite like it
-
Even more time has passed when the old man feels a brilliant chill go down his spine, relentless, and he finally begins to numb.
When he hears the noisy bickering of a couple a ways away, he shakes his head and lets out another cough. He wonders why they don't realize that being together is more important than their continuous fighting, that it always will be more important.
But then he thinks that they have not yet seen what he's seen or known what he knows. And his heart starts to ache a little.
-
The door slams shut as Dean strides angrily into the house. He's had it up to here with his idiot boss. Forget the fact that Dean has been a faithful employee for 15 long years, forget that he's covered Mr. Bigshot's ass more times than he cares to count, and forget that he spends long nights at the office cleaning up messes he didn't even make in the first place when all he really wanted to do was go home and sleep in his husband's arms. No, let's forget all that. Dean fucks up It's "Dean? That you?" Comes what should have been a soothing voice from the kitchen - unfortunately, Dean's too angry to think anything of the sort. "Who the fuck else would it be?" Dean grumbles under his breath, but immediately regrets it. He hopes Cas doesn't hear. "Dean?" Cas asks again, coming out of the kitchen and into the foyer where Dean is hanging up his coat. "Hey," Dean makes himself reply. He has to remind himself that Cas isn't at fault here, and it wouldn't be fair to start yelling at him. He knows he has been neglecting his husband, for a while now, but he doesn't know what to do. All he knows is that he definitely doesn't deserve this man. "Did you have a good day?" Cas asks, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck, kissing the corner of his mouth. Dean can smell the scent of his favorite meal, as he's always been a simple burger man, wafting from the kitchen, and he feels himself deflate a little. Cas has always been there for him, has always seemed to know exactly what Dean needs when he needs it, and Dean really, really loves him. "Not really," he answers truthfully, and the honest statement seems to start relieving what might as well have been the weight of the world off of his shoulders - even if just for a moment. Cas lets him collapse into his arms, and Dean lets him be the strong one for the both of them in that moment. "You're okay," Cas whispers, over and over, and Dean wants to weep. It's a bit pathetic really, but he's exhausted and overwhelmed, and Cas is so wonderful, so amazing, he feels his chest constrict a bit and it's rather hard to breathe. Dean eventually finds himself on the couch, laying with Cas wrapped around him, dinner forgotten on the counter. He feels bad that Cas went through so much effort, only for it to go to waste because of his own incompetency. Cas reassures him over and over again until finally Dean begins to pretend to believe him, and suddenly he's talking - just like he should've done a long time ago. Dean talks and talks, and Cas listens. The more he talks, the more he feels like he can breathe again, and he really isn't warranted such an understanding husband, but yet he got one anyway. He promises himself that he'll try harder to be a better husband, and an even better friend, because that's what Cas deserves. And if anyone were to look in their living room at one in the morning on that particular night, they'd find true lovers sleeping peacefully on a lumpy couch, wrapped up in each other's embraces for the first time in a seemingly very long time.
-
The old man is brought back to the present to see the sun setting in the distance, the horizon lighting up in a pinkish-orange glow - a rather beautiful sight, really, for those who might take the time to stop and actually look at it.
He takes in where he actually is at the moment, and the thought of it still hurts - he figures it always will. But, amazingly, he thinks that maybe the lie 'Time heals all wounds' isn't so much the lie he thought it to be, years ago.
He doesn't think he'll ever heal completely, but as the memories of what used to be wash over him and thoughts of the best thing to ever happen to him pop up in his head, he realizes it doesn't hurt as much to remember as it used to.
He realizes that maybe, just maybe, it might be alright to start letting go.
-
Dean looks around the white and sterile room, taking in the bursts of color from what he can only describe as a 'garden' that completely contrasts the white walls. He really hates hospitals, he concedes, but the bright flowers given to them by the ones closest to them makes it a little bit more endurable. It's hard for him to look at Cas on that bed, hooked up to so many machines that Dean feels sick. Neither of them are the young men they used to be, granted, but Cas' skin is wrinkled, what's left of his hair has turned grey, and he's so skinny and sickly that Dean aches for him even more than he does for himself. He takes a seat in the chair next to Cas' bed and holds on to his bony hand. He's cried and he's raged about how unfair the world is already, and now he's just tired. He's no longer lying to himself about how Cas will be alright. How he's going to get better, come back home, laugh at him for worrying so much, and go right back to what it always was before. And so he welcomes the numbness that floods his body, his limbs, his mind, and most of all, his heart. He knows that Cas is in pain, has been for awhile now, and he refuses to deny it any longer. He just can't wish something like that on the man he loves more than anyone and anything else in the world. Letting go is almost an impossible feat, and knowing he'll be gone seems entirely unbearable. So Dean doesn't think about it. If he does, he'll break. He'll beg and beg Cas to hold on a little longer, to fight a little harder, and he can't do that. He knows that Cas has already suffered enough due to Dean's refusal to see what was right in front of him, to realize that anything was wrong. It's easier this way. Cas groans, and Dean loathes the pain he hears in the simple sound. He abstains the endless repetitions of 'Why?' echoing in his mind, because an answer never comes. What is, is. "Dean?" Cas croaks, and the sound is unrecognizable. "I'm here, baby," Dean says, squeezing the hand he holds lightly as an extra reassurance. Cas coughs weakly, pulling at Dean's arm with what little strength he has left. Dean's heart flares painfully. "C-Come..." Dean understands at once, and stands from his chair. He pulls back the many sheets wrapped around his husband and crawls in, careful to rattle the other man as little as possible. Once he's settled, he holds Cas to his chest, kissing his forehead. They lay there for long moments, and Dean gets an incessant nagging feeling that he should say something. But every stupid little thing that comes into his head isn't good enough - not even close. Hopelessness washes over him, and he hates it, doesn't want this feeling to be the last he knows of Cas. "I..." he gasps, gulping and licking his lips. But no words will come out. "It's okay, Dean," Cas manages, pouring out his love for the other man in that one simple sentence. "I know." Dean lets out a breath of relief, not very surprised. Even now, after all this time, Cas still knows and understands everything that he is. He can't and won't think about what he'll do when this is gone, because it just isn't something his brain will comprehend. So he doesn't. He just lays
-
The old man lets a single tear slide down his cheek at that particular memory. The last, if one were ever to ask.
Night has finally fallen, not unlike the one all that time ago, when he had lain with Cas on a grassy field in one familiar park, listening to a song that had quickly been dubbed 'their' song.
His eyes are drawn to the stone in front of him, shiny in the starlight, yet still hard to read had the old man not known the words by heart.
In Loving Memory
of
Castiel Dmitri Winchester
August 20th, 1974 - September 27th, 2041
A Brilliant Son
Wonderful Friend
And Loving Husband
The man pulls out his hands from his coat pockets where he couldn't remember having put them in the first place and pushes himself to his knobby knees. Twisting around, he manages to get slightly comfortable before lying down on the grass - still as itchy as ever - and folds his hands under his head.
There isn't a cloud in the sky, and the night is just as vast and awe-inspiring as it had been all those many years ago.
He starts to remember that night when he realized Cas was and always would be the love of his life. He remembers his best friend, young and bright, destined for so many great things. He remembers brilliant blue eyes lighting up in delight at a joke he has long since forgotten and he remembers that boy's brilliant smile.
He remembers his sense of humour, his bravery and courage, and his personality that completely stole his heart.
He still can't believe how lucky he was to have a boy such as Cas fall in love with someone like him. There are no words to describe just how much the old man had cared for and loved that boy - that man. Despite any regrets he may have about his past, and despite all the hardships and all the obstacles, Cas had always been his constant. And for that, above anything else...
Dean Winchester is grateful.
-
"If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?"
Chasing Cars
Snow Patrol