Author: Mistofstars
Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel [Destiel]
Warnings: sappy, drama, romance. It is so mushy that I'm almost embarrassed. So forgive me if it seems OOC, but I want fluffy Destiel, so I wrote it.
Disclaimer: Dean and Sam Winchester as well as Castiel do not belong to me. Sadly they belong to the creators of Supernatural, and I bet they're having a lot of fun with the boys All of this is made up and purely made for fun – no copyright infringements intended.
Author's note: Basically it's just me blathering about Dean and Cas non-stop, presenting it as an actual plot. I'm starting at 8x17 and it goes up to 8x22 without digging into the actual plot too much because you all know that when you've seen the episodes. Rather canon until 8x22, then I decide for the shipper's road.
Spoilers: for 8x17 up to 8x22 and pretty much everything before that haha
Word count: circa 6400
Chapters: 3
Unspoken and Unheard
1.
He is always one step away, Dean muses, as he washes the blood out of his shirt in the sink. One step too far away, just when Dean tries to approach him, the distance to Cas simply becomes this tiny elusiveness, that makes it impossible for Dean to actually reach him, to get through to him. He sighs when he turns the tap off and towels his hands. He catches a glimpse of his self in the mirror, and for a moment he observes his face – no scratch left, no broken nose bone or bruises on his cheek. Cas has healed the outer damage he'd done, and Dean could pretend it has never happened, but he feels sick, sick to the bone. It pains him to remember what Cas had done today, even though Dean knows now he had been controlled by someone to do this to him.
Dean can't help but feel a violent hot churning in his stomach, making him kneel down in front of the toilet and retch and vomit forcefully. His legs are shaking, he coughs and pants as he throws up. He cannot forget what Castiel had done today – the punches are not the issue, Dean gets that Cas has been forced by some weird influence. What matters is Cas' face when he came around again, the way his voice had explained he was sorry for hurting Dean; the way his hand had touched Dean's cheek to heal him, resembling a caress in such a startling manner... Dean throws up again when he reminisces about Castiel leaving him in the end, with the tablet. Dean couldn't care less about the goddamn tablet – all he wants is Castiel safe and next to him. The concern for his nerdy angel friend drives him insane, and his worry mingles with his fury for Cas disappearing on him.
Altogether Dean is in a terrible state, and soon he decides to sleep it off. He brushes his teeth and wipes the sweat from his forehead – he looks disgustingly ill and pale, and he tries to convince himself it is just his physical condition making him look like that. He passes by a worried Sam as he walks to his room, telling his brother he'll take a nap. Sam is so decent to leave it at that, probably understanding Dean is too upset to voice his thoughts, that he needs some time to digest today.
When Dean lies in his bed, the bedside lamp still lit, he can't help but continue thinking about Castiel. Why is there always this distance, he wonders. Is it because he had been too harsh on the guy during the last years? Because he hadn't been forgiving enough after his little accident playing God? Or after he had threatened them and ruined Sam's mental health? Of course, Dean had been mad at him, but he thought he had made sure Castiel had understood that he had forgiven him. And even if he hadn't understood it back then, he must have noticed how much he meant to Dean when they had been in purgatory.
Dean had searched for his angel friend the better part of a year in there, insane and obsessed like his father had been with his hunt for Azazel. Jeez, he had even prayed to Castiel every night in purgatory, explaining his motivations and reasons to him, apologizing to him, praying to him he would find him. It was even before Dean had met Benny that Dean had started praying to Cas, before he knew there was a way out of purgatory. He just wanted Castiel's company, it would have made this cursed place more bearable. That was all he had asked for at that time – Castiel's reassuring company. And if it had been their destiny to die there, Dean didn't want to die alone, but at Castiel's side.
Nevertheless, Castiel still didn't seem to understand what Dean was feeling for him when they had come back to Earth. He had wanted to stay in purgatory, regardless of the depth of Dean's sentiments for him. Castiel's confession had hurt like a bitch then, and his suicidal tendencies weren't soothing either. Dean has been worried for Castiel's safety and his well-being since he had escaped from purgatory, and all the son of a bitch ever seems to do is run out on him time and again.
Dean is upset when he tosses and turns in bed restlessly, in attempt of finding a pleasant sleeping position. Suddenly there is the memory of feeling Castiel in his arms again – his lean frame pressed against Dean's body as Dean refuses to let go of him, so happy and relieved he had found Castiel again. Even in purgatory Castiel hadn't been able to reply to the hug, probably uncertain what to do and overwhelmed. Dean's breath hitches when he thinks how their bodies had fitted together so perfectly – sharp bones meeting his hip and his ribcage, Cas' tummy squeezed against his. Dean is painfully hard when he realizes he wants this again, just one more time. He is angry at himself for wanting this, for needing this. Especially when Castiel doesn't seem to feel the same way about him, especially when he has no qualms about leaving him over and over again.
Dean cups his crotch half-heartedly, feeling the warmth and hardness of his length under his palm. It's like an aching sting in his chest, making it harder to breathe, when he remembers Castiel's worried eyes observing him. The gentle touch on his cheek, one of Cas' fingers sliding down his skin slowly, as if he wants to linger on Dean just one second longer. Maybe he does care, Dean hopes. Maybe there is the slightest possibility he cares, Dean begs inwardly. He sucks in a breath when he starts massaging himself, his hand in his underwear. He is irritated and angry, and incredibly aroused when he allows his imagination to run free. Castiel's hand slides down from his cheek to his chest, wandering down determinately. Blue eyes are resting on Dean's again, possessive and demanding. Dean can hear himself stifle a low moan as he bites his bottom lip and his hand starts to pump him in slow long strokes. He gasps when he imagines Castiel kissing him painfully slowly, playfully, making him whimper with lust and need.
He almost hates himself when he starts praying to Cas while he's masturbating with the images of him, when he quietly moans he should come back to him. A part of him hopes Castiel isn't able to actually hear him, his braver, emotionally tired part wants Castiel to hear him. He turns on his back and lets his other hand crawl to the inner part of his thigh, stroking his skin languidly when he bends his knee. With half-closed lids he remembers the sound of Castiel's voice, resounding and vibrating through his body like a buzz. Dean's heartbeat is a mess, he's panting and sweating when he starts jerking himself harder and faster, hallucinating it's Castiel's hand doing this to him.
"D'you hear that?", he murmurs, making himself moan softly when he squeezes his length, making his thighs twitch. His other hand slides to his ass, one finger starts to circle around his entrance. He bites his lower lip hard when he shoves his forefinger inside his tight heat, his eyes roll to the back of his head. He can't suppress the urge to roll his hips to meet his own finger pushing inside him as he continues fucking his fist.
"It's all because of you, Cas", he pants, his voice raspy and dark, a small, humourless smile on his lips. He spreads his thighs further, working another finger inside his hole gently, a shaky low moan leaving his swollen lips. Dean's sweating and wincing whenever he fucks himself with his fingers, meeting them with steady rolls of his hips. Castiel's smile appears in his mind's eye, his tousled head; Dean remembers the feel of his coat underneath his fingers, how good his company and nearness had been, his warmth entering his mind. Dean already misses him and wishes he comes back. He prays to Cas he would come back.
"I need you, Cas, I need you", Dean says into the silence of his room, breathless and shaky. When he comes hard he bathes in the relieving bliss taking over his body, and he rocks his hips as he rides out his orgasm. But soon the emptiness returns, and the sense of being utterly forsaken smashes any hope he had. Dean feels like yelling, he wants to scream out his frustration and destroy some furniture. He has never been one to be denied, especially pretty much never when it came to sexual needs. It pisses him off that he can't have Cas, that the damn son of a gun doesn't seem to want him too. If only it was that easy that all of this is just a sexual problem. Dean is scared, transfixed with fear, when he thinks about the abyss in which Castiel had pushed him down. It hadn't been like that since Lisa, since Cassie. Dean is scared, because he is utterly and hopelessly - and he rolls his eyes when his mind actually forms this thought – he is hopelessly in love with a friggin angel.
Dean doesn't know that his prayers actually reach Castiel that night. The angel can't help but listen to Dean's ragged breaths, his quiet moans, his urgent words. It does something to Cas, makes his knees melt and his head dizzy as he slides down the exterior wall of a house in a deserted alley. He allows himself to take a time out for a few moments. It's a rainy night and darkness is all around Cas; he sees his breaths escaping him like white shreds of clouds. There's no one around and he can't sense any heavenly or demonic creature in the vicinity, so he rests his heavy head on his tucked up knees. He closes his eyes and focuses on Dean's prayers, running through him like a pulsing wave of heat. He can almost picture what Dean is doing to himself, his voice is giving him away easily.
Castiel has to smile melancholically when he hears Dean confessing it's all because of him, that he is to blame for Dean's arousal. Castiel feels a terrible yearning awaking inside him, and he wishes it was really him who did this to Dean, that he could be the one to please him. It had never occurred to him to share physical intimacies with a human, but during the last years he had learned what it was like to desire somebody, in this case no other but the man he had saved from Hell over four years ago. It is a longing Castiel can't completely comprehend, but the thought of touching Dean, of actually kissing him, makes him blush hard. It makes him feel vulnerable and unbosomed.
He can't help but tremble and sigh with pleasure when he hears Dean reaching his climax, his mind is at ease when he practically feels the satisfaction rumbling through Dean's body. He wishes dearly to hold him, to feel his body in his arms and to come home to him. Unfortunately his obligations keep him from doing so; he still has to figure out what do to with the angle tablet, he has to find a place to hide it safely – only then can he return to Dean. He smiles softly when he hears Dean saying goodnight to him, praying he is sound and alright.