Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Reviews Welcomed. Any thoughts, PM. Hope you enjoy.
He met Castiel in high school, nerdy and under Daddy's thumb like a cockroach. New welts and bruises sprung up each week until the day Dean took a bat, Baby, his '67 V8 engine Chevy Impala, and drove to war with a completely different Castiel in the passenger seat. The end of that night started it all, the passion, the friendship, the profound bond.
Dean was also saved that night, his old man taken out by an eighteen wheeler with a pissed drunk driver and an equally if not greater pissed drunk John Winchester. Mom cried but as he lay beside Cas under the stars, matching black bruises on their shoulders, Dean felt free and in love and even though the bat stayed as shiny and unused as the moment he plucked it from the store, the truth was out and team free will was born.
So they got married, Sam, his gigantor of a little brother, a blubbering mess and Mary, who'd assumed the role of both their mothers, proud and loving. Their kiss was not electric or rushed but soft and tender, like the calm sea after a thunderous tempest.
A year later, they took in Claire, a beautiful babe with a blonde mane and the second pair of blue eyes that could stare right into his soul. They did everything together, the idea of a white picket fence for once not a prison and they were happy…for a while. Then all hell broke loose and Dean started losing his hearing.
The first time was at a friend's barbecue. They were laughing, Cas in shorts and a pale blue polo shirt and Claire in a sundress and pigtails. He was wearing…God, what the hell did it matter…but the next thing he knew, Cas was looking at him, head tilt and squint making him look gorgeous and adorable and…he was pointing at Claire. Dean turned and there she was lips in a pout and hands on her hips and for a second he laughed.
They had a game, where he'd pretend to not see her and she'd jump up and down trying to get his attention and Cas's lips were moving…moving…and still…no sound and Dean felt his face freeze and there Cas was again…talking. He made out an 'okay' before he winced as noise slammed into him like a train without brakes.
"Dean, are you okay?" he heard this time and Cas's voice didn't sound sexy and grave like usual. It sounded like drills digging into his ears. Slowly his inner volume button adjusted or something because the next time he heard a voice, Claire's, it was sweet and soft and Sonuvabitch, what the hell just happened!?
"I was calling you, Daddy."
He felt the blood drain from his face and knew Cas was worried the second he'd pulled Claire close and absent-mindedly distracted her with a doll having explained that 'Daddy wasn't listening, Sweetie', eyes trained on him.
'Is something wrong?' he mouthed then and Dean was afraid the silence was back only the dogs were still barking and he could hear Claire humming a song.
"Yeah," he said out loud and sighed heavily in relief at the sound of words in the air, having been heard and having been understood, and having been registered in his crazy, insane mind because that had to be it. He'd gone insane.
Cas didn't let his gaze fall and Dean shrugged off the deathly silence like he did everything that made fear crawl down his spine, a cruel reminder of the life he led with John and the beer and the damn endless nights of being terrified for his life.
The next time was a sea of brutal noiselessness that left him gasping for air in the bathroom of Angelo's, a fancy restaurant he'd picked out for their anniversary, Cas talking at him because the damn words fell on practically deaf ears, the sound like jamming a hell of a lot of cotton swabs in your ears and playing hard rock at full volume, whispers and sharp bursts of noise flitting through.
"De- You oka- ill call-"Dean felt his chest constrict as the silence came back at full force, drowning out His voice, the restaurant's French lover boy music crap, and even the sound of his own breaths, now harsh gasps.
Cas's face appeared in front of him and his mouth was moving but he couldn't….something about 'breathe'. And he did then, Noise coming back like a breath of fresh air….oh no wait, that was him, after having held his breath for God knows how long.
"Dean!" Cas's voice was urgent and thank God some douchebag hadn't gotten the urge to take a leak for all the time they'd been in the restroom.
"Cas…," he replied weakly and Cas let out his own breath and pulled him in in an embrace.
"Don't ever fucking do that to me again!" the blue-eyed man hissed and rubbed his back.
"Cas….," he remembers saying as the man in question raised his styled head and looked right into his soul…searching for an explanation or anything.
"What?"
"Language."
A wary smirk, a light smack to the head, and all was good…
The thing was…ignoring something doesn't always mean it'll go away…especially if you were a man as stubborn as Dean Winchester.
The bouts of Noiselessness continued and Dean's remedy was booze…lots and lots of booze.
One particular night, he came back late and Cas was furious…enraged…all the other damn synonyms for Angry.
Dean had missed his own daughter's ballet practice and Cas had gotten a call from the instructor after she'd noticed a lonely Claire sitting on the curb well past 5, the time practice ended.
Smelling like a liquor store and with five o'clock shadow, Dean was smashed.
"Dean, how in the hell could you go off and buy beer when your only daughter, who's six now by the way in case you forgot, was waiting for you all alone in that parking lot!?" Cas spit out with venom, Dean having heard about a third of it.
"I'm sorry, what?" Dean asked gruffly with squinted eyes and a hand cupping his left ear, as if that would make the sound register.
"You know what? You're sleeping on the couch tonight, Dean." He heard as a garbled mess, words mixing together.
Cas stomped off with hurt in his crystal blue eyes and Dean felt a hollowness grip him tight, Noise back only to hear the mocking air vent hum...no words left to hear.
Slowly, Dean's world started crumbling down around him, his hearing dwindling away faster and faster and he yearned to catch it in his hands and grip it tight.
Sam was always there in place of him, Claire having gotten used to calling him 'Uncle Sammy' after a Noiseless free afternoon gave Dean time to properly introduce the two and share a laugh at old memories of Sam and Dean, Superman and Batman.
After the Noiselessness had gotten particularly bad one Sunday evening, Sam having known about the loss of hearing for a good several months of urging him to tell Cas with no avail, Cas told Sam to take Dean and just go for a good few hours, Claire having been at a friend's house.
Sam had driven for a good thirty minutes and parked right up to a bar, an ultimate bitchface telling him not to try something stupid. A few minutes later, Sam having gone to the restroom for a mere five minutes and Dean on his fourth shot, a burly fella came up in his face and started talking, Noise gone and Dean grateful at not having to listen to the douchebag yammer on about a chick or a parking space as usually the bastards did to start a fight.
"Dean, just…don't do anything reckless. I'll be back in a second."
Dean ignored the jackass and took another shot, eyes half-lidded and annoyed at the flurry of movement beside him. A shove had him against the counter, drink spilling down his shirt and Dean saw red.
The next second, the douche was looking up at him with wide eyes, having been flipped and slammed on top of a nearby table by Dean, and his mouth was still running, damn him. He punched the guy across his meaty jaw again and again and the mouth was still running and Dean still couldn't hear.
Suddenly he felt arms hold him back and resisted, elbowing his attacker in the face, loosening the grip. Dean spun around, felt a rumble deep in his chest like a snarl, and stared into the bloody face of Sam.
All the fight left him at once and he was gone, out the backdoor of the bar and into the night. If he could still hear, he'd have heard the door slam a second time as Sam followed him.
He turned to the wall of the bar and started slamming his fist against it, skin ripping and blood running. Familiar hands had his arms pinned to his sides and Dean spun around, shoving Sam to the dirt floor.
Suddenly it was all too much. Sam started talking and Noise never returned and Why the fuck did this have to happen to him! He was happy! He had everything! WHy iN tHe Hell DiD HE HAVE TO GO DEAF!
His throat burned and he realized he'd shouted it out loud. Sam stared back at him with compassion and understanding and Fuck, he didn't want compassion and all that touchy-feely crap; he just wanted his damn hearing back.
He felt a single tear fall from his eye and ducked his head, turning to kick a bottle as hard as he could, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. How the hell had he let it get this bad? He needed to get his shit together...or he'd lose the only family he had.
He sighed, soundless like everything else, and turned back around to help Sam up, letting his little brother rub his back and grip his shoulder, bringing them closer together. 'I'm here' the actions seemed to say and Dean felt his breath stutter…so close to giving up right then and there and let the current take him away.
When he finally told Cas the truth that Sunday night, the blue-eyed angel that'd been sent to save him didn't cry at first but kissed him instead, urgent and messy and electric. Dean felt like he was drowning with every touch of lips and he didn't want it to end, every nerve on fire.
Cas pulled back and with the most gorgeous smile in the whole damn world, mouthed,
"I Love You".
And Dean was sobbing in hushed lament and Cas was holding him close, lips moving and trailing kisses up and down Dean's neck and he wished he could pluck the words from the air and hear them in that low, sexy voice that he'd come to love…just one last time.
The day Sam gets married; Dean wishes he could drive away forever...briefly. "I Do's" are exchanged and he just wants to laugh up at God or whoever the hell is upstairs and yell, "Really?"
Cause Noise could at least come back long enough for Dean to hear his baby brother's mushy vows… after Sammy had spent next to every waking minute perfecting it under the desk lamp and pacing of 'No, it needs…something.'
As the years went by, Dean had come to read actions as words. Cas's furrowing brows meant "I'm worried" and his head tilt meant "I don't understand that reference." Sam's Bitchface was filed away since before Noiseless set in after years of constant prank wars as "Are you seriously kidding right now?" And Claire's smile never meant just one thing. Sometimes it was sneaky and mischievous, other times it was innocent and carefree. That's one of the things he loved about her.
That and her laugh.
He liked to play with all the laughs he'd heard over the years and mix them up. Was it hearty and reverberating like Sam's? Was it a burst of sound like Dean's own body-laugh? Or was it low and quiet like Cas's? …maybe it was soft and light like his mom's?
Just the thought of Mary had his smile turned bittersweet in melancholy. She'd passed on a couple years ago and often times, in Dean's sea of silence, he found himself filling the void with memories of her talking about Mr. Jenkins's lawn or simple questions.
"How was school today, Dean, made any new friends?"
"Morning, Sleepyhead, want some pancakes?"
"Did you get your Halloween knapsack, Batman?"
"Did you get in a fight again, Dean?"
"Did you remember to take pictures of your brother in that clown costume? Oh, he got scared? My poor little Sammy…oh you told your brother you'd protect him so he wouldn't be afraid? Good, Dean-Bean, you deserve an apple pie…Yes, Dean, you have to share."
He can hear her carefree laugh even now, staring at Sam's dusty wedding photo, Claire's own wedding photo with what looks like the beginning of dust inches away, a gold amulet coiled in a circle in the space between the frames.
And he thinks of all the scolding he'll never hear, all the baby sounds he'll never get to cherish. And it all makes him break down at night, when the moon is shining bright and Cas is sleeping right beside him. Makes him cry likes he's never cried and hopes his tears are as quiet as the Noiselessness keeping him from his family.
He's old now, with a chink in his back he waves away and Noise is still gone. Somehow, when he's polishing up Baby after she too is covered in dust, he can hear Led Zeppelin play through the windows and gets in, thumping on the steering wheel to the beat, hands calloused and wrinkly with age but the fire still running through his veins. He always remembers to clean the green toy soldier jammed in the ashtray before shoving it back in, fighting its own silent battles...and to polish his and Sam's initials.
Dean remembers few things now and it's a damn shame because he'd promised Sam a prank war by the time they were both ready to bite the dust. One thing he does remember and will probably stay with him till the end of time…yeah, age had made me poetic, sue me.
Tulips.
Castiel has always loved tulips, and that piece of information had come from Cas's brother, Gabe, an all-around funny guy with a serious sweet tooth. Cas and Dean's first date was the result of a single violet tulip and a rushed confession.
And now, as he lays the tulips on the ground, he thinks of that gorgeous smile and crinkled eyes and damn sexy laugh and feels wetness fall from what are now weary forest eyes.
In Loving Memory Of A Father and Husband
Castiel Winchester
His body shakes with each breath and the torrent of tears don't stop. Noiselessness surrounds him and he stands up on weary legs to bow his head.
The next day he replaces the tulips, cleans Baby, checks the mailbox, reads Sam's card and laughs as the card sticks to his hand.
That night he lays awake, breath labored and eyes half lidded and quiet…oh ever so quiet…black surrounds him and he sighs his last sigh, noiseless.
.
.
.
"Dean," he hears, Noiselessness gone, clear as a bell in that grave voice he'd dreamed of for so…so long and smiles wide, single tear falling as he turns and gazes into crystal blue eyes, bright and tender and so alive.
Finally…
He's home.