So this came out of the fact that the canary/coal mine metaphor has always been pretty much my favorite, but I've never had a line/situation to use that in. the line popped into my head out of the blue last night, and it took me a few hours to realize it had to be future!Dean saying it.
I think I must have been coated in something that smells attractive to apocalypse!angst plot bunnies at some point. So many of them bite me. T.T
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
You're a canary The truth hurts worse than anything
I'm a coal mine
Cause sorrow is just all the rage
Take one for the team
You all know what I mean
And I'm so sorry
But not really
Tell the boys where to find my body
New York eyes, Chicago thighs
Pushed up the window to kiss you off
I could bring myself to do to you
-I've Got All This Ringing In My Ears and None On My Fingers, Fall Out Boy
"I'd hoped it wasn't true."
Dean froze at the reproach in Castiel's voice, his head cocking just a little back toward the door. "When'd you get in? Thought you guys'd be out 'til late."
"We got the job done." There was such hollowness to the way he spoke now, and at least once every day Dean hated himself for it. Sure, the angels getting the hell outta Dodge hadn't helped things, but he'd been the one to put that there. He'd heard it for the first time the night after the day that guy had come into the camp, saying he'd seen the Devil in Ocala. He hadn't let himself vent before that how goddamn much he was missing Sam - not on Croats, or on inanimate objects, or even on himself - but he'd let it all out then, and he'd beat that poor son of a bitch to hell. No one had stopped him, but Cas had watched with a kind of quiet horror, the same way a flighty dog would look at you after you beat it. He'd gone home with him that night like he always did, but something in his spirit had been broken after that, and it hadn't ever come back.
Dean rubbed at the last stubborn spot of blood on his wrist before throwing the rag down on the table, flexing his fingers. "Yeah, well…I had a job to get done, too." He rubbed his hand absently over the stubble on his cheek, the result of having been out of razors for the past couple of days. "In fact, as I remember it, was just a few years ago you were asking me to do the same thing." He turned around to face Castiel, leaning back against the table with his arms crossed over his chest. "So, what, Cas, is it only right when someone else asks?"
Castiel shook his head, defeated. "It's never right at all, Dean." His eyes flicked up to meet Dean's, brilliant, endless blue that looked far too fucking old. "Weren't you the one to remind me of that? You never believed in this. You never wanted to go back to it, but now-"
"Well, I'm good at it!" His voice rose angrily as he shoved off from the table, pointing in the direction of the room where he'd spent most of his afternoon. "And that demon in there? He told me where they're striking with this thing next. Maybe, because of what I just did, we can get some of those poor saps out before it starts! So, if I've gotta do some torturing to get information like that, then I sure as hell better stop being fucking squeamish about it!"
"It's not the act, Dean! It's the principle behind it!" Cas raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I understand you're capable of it, but just because we're capable of things doesn't mean we should do them! That's what separates-"
"Us from them? I don't buy it." He moved in closer, his voice lowering to something not so close to yelling but a lot more dangerous. "See, the way I see it, outside of you, the angels never did anything good for humanity. They did a lot of horrible crap, and then when it got really bad, they fucked us over even more. They're not any better than the demons; they're just different, less chaotic. Everybody wants to think this is some epic good versus evil showdown, but it's just a goddamn war, just like any other, and both sides should end up in hell as far as I'm concerned. But you know, it doesn't even really matter. I just want it to be over." He took a breath, let some of the venom leach out of his voice. "So, that's what I'm goin' for, however I have to get it."
"Dean…"
Even now, whatever there was left of his heart still responded to Castiel, especially when he sounded suddenly so goddamn broken. He reached out to him, catching him with one hand on his waist and the other on his shoulder to pull him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"Look, I know it sucks, okay? I know. But it's not gonna take me like it did in Hell, I promise. I won't let it; it's not gonna be like that. I'm still here, and we're gonna be okay, alright? We're gonna be okay, Cas."
Castiel's hands encircled his neck, one palm pressed gently against his jaw, conforming with easy familiarity to the lines of his face. "And what if it has already taken you, Dean? What if they have all of us, and we don't even know it? We're not who we were when we started this fight. Sometimes I think I don't even remember anymore, but that's crazy, because it's only been two years…" He trailed off, let himself be pulled the rest of the way in to rest his head against Dean's shoulder. Dean tightened his grip, his lips against his temple.
"I think that's what war is, Cas. You've gotta adapt. Sometimes, you don't like what you become, but you try your best to keep some part of yourself, and you make it through. And when it's done, whatever you've got left has to be enough, 'cause you're lucky to even have that." He could still hear the man's screams from that afternoon, feel the blood splatter against his knuckles, his chest, his face, and he turned away from the memory, tucking his face in against Castiel's neck and closing his eyes, breathing him in. He was dirty and sweaty, but he still smelled like Cas underneath it all, and it was familiar. Steadying. "Here's the thing… I know this is dangerous, okay? I know it, believe me, 'cause I was the one there when I did all this before. But…you know the reason miners used to take canaries down mine shafts? That's why I need you with me. When I really cross the line, when you can't take it, then I'll know I've gone too far."
Cas laughed, short and hard, and Dean could feel him shake his head against his shoulder. "That's where you're wrong though, Dean. I couldn't leave you now if I wanted to, not that I ever would. I can't be a very effective signal if I can't be fully effected."
He was probably right about that. Whenever this ended, however fucked he was by the end of it, Dean could see them still going down together. That, at least, was comforting. He pulled back just enough to capture his lips in a slow kiss, tongue delving deep as Cas's hands tightened their grip. The heel of one palm pressed against a burn on the side of his neck, and he flexed into the pain, relishing the fact that it came from a friendly hand. These days, if he stopped to examine how he thought, how his mind worked now…he really was fucked. Most of the time, it was better not to care.
He slipped a hand between them to work at Castiel's buckle, unfastening his pants and pushing them and his boxers to drop to the floor without ever really taking his attention off the kiss. He turned them, walking Cas back toward the table without looking up, his lips trailing down along his jaw, leaving wet, sucking kisses and listening to the way Cas was already starting to moan, soft breathy sounds that shot straight to his cock no matter how many times he heard them.
They came to a stop when the table's edge rammed into the small of Cas's back, his body jerking in surprise at the sudden contact. Dean nuzzled against him, stubble scraping rough against his cheek, one hand rubbing reassuringly against his flank underneath his shirt. "Get up."
He nodded once, let go of Dean to push himself up onto the table, legs spreading instantly for him, already hooking around behind to pull him in close and hold him tight. Dean groaned in pleasure, bit down on Castiel's shoulder as he thrust against him, confining denim on bare skin. He made quick work of his own button and zipper, leaving his pants in place and just pulling his cock out, impatient. He slotted himself in closer, forcing Cas'ss thighs open wider, and for a moment he stroked their cocks together, the kiss they'd been sharing broken as they panted against each other's lips.
After a few strokes he pulled his hand away, fingers nudging at the edge of Castiel's mouth until he suckled them in, coating them eagerly. He prepped him quick, two fingers right away and three after only a few pumps, but just like he knew he wouldn't, Cas didn't mind. He arched into it, panting, his eyes closed as his head bowed, their foreheads resting against each other. He wiped his hand on the back of jeans when he finished, reaching back down to guide himself in with a quick kiss beforehand, whispering against his lips.
"Ready, Cas?"
He nodded, wordlessly shifting his hips closer, his legs spread as far as he could manage in invitation. He pushed in quick and smooth, groaning at the sudden heat. For himself, the day this ceased to make him lose his fucking mind would be the day something was seriously wrong. He bit down on Castiel's shoulder over a bruise he'd made the day before, laved his tongue against the darkening mark when he finished. "So fuckin' good, Cas, goddammit…"
Cas moaned his name, hungry and wanton, but he could still hear it even then, the indefinable something missing, and he pulled him closer, made his strokes slower and deeper, his hands rubbing gentle over his back, sliding down to squeeze his ass.
He kissed his neck, soft, his breath hot against damp skin. "It's okay. We're okay, I promise. Don't I always look after you? They left, and I promised…" He broke off, becoming too distracted for actual words that weren't incoherent mutterings. He had to remind him though, he had to. When the angels had left, Castiel had been shattered, and Dean had snapped him out of it, taken him in his arms and shaken him and promised him he'd always look out for him, even if he was alone, the last of his kind. He needed Cas to remember that now, because he meant it as much at this moment as he had when he'd said it, and that was the thing he couldn't let himself lose. If he lost them, that'd be his last shred of humanity. That'd be everything.
He held on as tightly as he could, arms wrapped crushingly tight around his torso, his strokes short and hard. Castiel held on just as tightly, wrapped around him like a vine, his eyes closed and pressed hard into Dean's shoulder. Dean came first, his hips stuttering in their movement, his hands digging in hard enough to bruise as he spilled over deep inside him. Cas twisted, fought for leverage with his legs around Dean's waist and fucked himself harder into him, coming hard with a loud moan, still grinding hard against him through it.
Dean took a moment to catch his breath before he pulled away, and he reached over for the bloody rag to clean Cas up a little before tucking himself back into his jeans. He stepped in close again after that, his hands rubbing possessively at Cas's bare thighs, still spread on either side of him. He leaned in for a kiss, humming deep in his chest when Cas sucked lightly on his tongue.
"So, what I was sayin' is that I've got you, alright? You don't need to worry about a thing. I can handle this." He let go with his right hand, used it to tip Cas's chin up, making him meet his eyes. "You trust me, right, Cas?"
It was fleeting, but he smiled. Just a little. "Yes, Dean. Always."
"Good." He kissed him again, a light peck before stepping back and crossing the room to pick up Cas's pants and boxers, tossing them back at him. "Get dressed. I'm gonna go see if dinner's ready." At the door he stopped, turned back to watch Cas buttoning his pants. "Oh, and hey, I know you haven't been sleepin' well, so I asked one of the guys from the raid this morning to get you some pills to try. We can see if that helps with the nightmares. Sound good?"
He got a real smile then, just hopeful enough to make his heart beat a little bit faster. "Thank you."
Dean let himself smile back for a second, and it felt a little good. At least, as good as he could expect. Sure, they were fucked, but who wasn't these days? All things considered, they were getting by. They were gonna be okay.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
….except for the fact that you turn into a psycho crazy ass, Dean. GAH. X.X