Prompt: "Cas, why would you leave me like that? No answers, no goodbyes, nothing? Why?"
After a few more moments of silence, Dean said, "I'm not looking for an apology, Cas. I'm looking for answers."
Destiel.More PWP. Because reasons.
They were sitting on one of the few patches of grass behind Bobby's house that wasn't dead, shoulder to shoulder. Dean nursed a now-warm can of beer that he hadn't taken a drink from in over an hour while Castiel stared up at the sky, watching the clouds overhead pass by. Neither of them had said anything for what seemed like ages, simply letting the heat of the summer sun soaking into their bodies, soaking in each others presence after Castiel's three-month absence.
Dean toyed with the can in his hand before setting it on the ground, leaning back on his hands as he looked up at the sky. He had spent those three months killing demons, fighting with Sam, trying to keep Bobby from feeling worthless, and worrying. Worrying about where Cas was, if he was safe, if he'd been dragged back to Heaven for more holy boot camp, if he'd been killed by Lucifer or Zachariah.
So when Castiel had shown up at Bobby's door, of sound mind and in one piece, Dean had stared at him long and hard, emotions jumbled and confused, before walking out the back door and sitting where he sat now. Sam and Bobby had enough common sense to let Castiel be the one to follow him outside. The angel had sat beside him, silent.
That was almost two hours ago, and Dean still didn't know what to say. Well, he knew what to say, just not how to say it. He had so many questions to ask, so many answers he wanted, that he had no idea where to start.
He felt Castiel's shoulders shift as he sighed, could hear him take a breath before saying, "Dean, I know you don't like it when I apologize, but I am sorry."
Dean pressed his lips together, glancing towards Cas just enough to see the tan of his trenchcoat. Castiel turned to stare at Dean with those blue eyes-the blue of his wings, of the sky above right before he pressed his chapped lips to Dean's out in the middle of nowhere-when he didn't say anything to his apology.
After a few more moments of silence, Dean said, "I'm not looking for an apology, Cas. I'm looking for answers."
Castiel's shoulders tensed. "To what questions?"
Dean turned to meet Castiel's eyes. "Lets start with where you've been for the last three months." When Castiel opened his mouth to reply, Dean added, "And don't give me any of that 'I've been working' bullshit because I know that's not why you've been gone, and I can tell when you're lying."
The silence stretched between them as they stared into each others eyes. Castiel was the first to look away, shifting and sighing and staring at anything but Dean. When there still was no reply, Dean pressed on. "Cas, why would you leave me-us-like that? No answers, no goodbyes, nothing? Why?"
"Because I'm scared, Dean." The answer came in a whisper, so quiet Dean almost missed it. The idea of Castiel being scared instantly made him think of what was going on in the world around him, about angels and demons, enemies and threats.
"What, did something happen? Did you get hurt?" When Castiel shook his head, Dean frowned. "Then what are you so scared of?"
Castiel finally looked at him again, staring long and hard into Dean's eyes, reading every emotion and thought and worry in his mind. And then he leaned towards him, pressing those chapped lips that Dean remembered so well against his own, and Dean felt that same warmth in his mouth, in his throat, in his gut.
And almost as soon as their lips touched, Castiel was pulling away, brows furrowed. "I'm scared of what you do to me."
Then he was gone.