Title: Adventures in Fighting
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2,171
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, of course. I also do not own Castiel, sadly.
Summary: He had fought with Dean many times, it was only natural seeing how stubborn they were. But they had never fought like this before, and Cas was starting to worry Dean was finally giving up on him. Part of the Adventures in Falling verse.
Note: Thank you for the support in this verse! Feel free to drop me a comment with any ideas you have for "firsts" for Castiel as he tries to adjust to being human, or even just anything you're curious to see in this verse as prompts/suggestions are always accepted, appreciated and encouraged. :)
They fought a lot. It was something Cas had come to accept. Dean was raised stubborn, and Cas had hardened with time. He knew it was part of their relationship, and he knew it didn't mean that they were doing something wrong. It was just how they were, and he would be lying if he said he wanted it any differently.
This time was different, though, and Cas knew it almost immediately. Their fights were always heated, filled with yelling and the odd crude comment from Dean. The bad ones, the ones Castiel knew were serious were always the ones which found them both quietly fuming, more in disappointing looks and a few comments that were aimed directly for their weak spots. This one was especially bad. Anything to do with his mother's death was a sore spot for Dean, and even though Cas knew he was pushing boundaries, he had continued to speak, continued to urge.
"Would you just stop forcing yourself into my past?" Dean shouted, and Castiel froze. He hadn't heard Dean that angry and broken since finding out about his deal with Crowley. "I don't need your pity." He spat bitterly, his eyes moving away from Castiel's.
"It's not pity, Dean." Cas said, much softer than before. "I don't pity you, I just want to help. I don't want you to be sad."
"You can't help. You didn't help."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Dean scoffed, "You kept sending me back. You knew I wouldn't be able to do shit but you kept sending me back. You could've saved her, but you didn't."
"I had my orders, Dean."
"So you can make deals with demons, what the fuck ever, but you can't save my fucking mother?"
Cas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger in an attempt to contain his anger, "If I would have it would be likely you and Sam would never have become hunters."
"And that's bad?" He stepped forward, crowding into Cas' space, leering over him. It took all his effort not to take a frightened step back. When he started to fear Dean, he didn't know. "You had the ability to stop me from having this shitty excuse for a life, had the chance to make it so I would have an actual, happy family and you didn't?"
"If you would've had that life, Lucifer would have destroyed the world."
"Using what vessel? Sam wouldn't even know about demons, never mind angels. Neither would I. Hell, Adam wouldn't even exist."
"Dean—"
"Who would possibly want to keep living like this, Cas?" His eyes were watery, but Castiel could tell he wouldn't let the tears fall. He was too proud. "I could've been normal. Had a family of my own."
The words caught Castiel's attention, stabbing into his chest painfully, "What am I to you, then, Dean?"
"What?"
"You could've been normal. You could've had a family of your own. You could've lived happily without me getting in the way. You could've never known that I existed. Is that what you want?"
Dean took a step back, his eyes were wide and his hands raised in surrender as he shook his head, "Cas, no. That's not what I—"
"It is. I will never make you as happy as a woman would, someone who could bear your children. I can never provide you with the family you crave, and you resent that." Cas couldn't look at him, he forced his eyes away and the tears back, "You pity me. I fell for you, in all senses of the word, and you just feel bad for the poor, fallen angel, so you stay."
"Cas you know that's not true."
He barked out a cold laugh, "No, it's fine. I don't need you to stay with me. I'll manage on my own." He turned on his heal, leaving abruptly and ignoring as Dean called his name. He walked directly down the hall and to the cold, dark room he had once claimed as his own. Now it was just another reminder that the only thing important to him was gone. As soon as the door had shut behind him he slid down it, finally letting the tears fall as his whole body shook. Dean was… He had been his first friend, his best friend. And then he was his first lover, and finally his first love. Now it was gone. Half an hour, a handful of words and it was all over.
He hated the finality of it all. He hated the sinking feeling in his chest. He hated that Sam was already at his door, practically begging to come in. He hated being in the bunker, which not two hours ago had been his favorite place in the world. "Go away, Sam." He called weakly through the door, "I don't want to talk."
"Cas, c'mon man. You know Dean; he says stuff he doesn't mean."
"He doesn't need you to fight his battles for him, either." Cas said simply, pushing himself away from the door, "If he was sorry, he would say it. He knows what was said was simply the truth."
"No, Cas—" Sam continued to talk, but Cas climbed into the cold bed, pulling the single pillow over his head so the sound was muffled past comprehension. This bed—his bed—felt cold and alien. The thin sheets provided little warmth when he compared it to the heat that radiated off of Dean. The single pillow provided no comfort to the mass of pillows he had forced Dean to have. The room was too quiet. There was no shallow breathing, no barely audible heartbeat matching his own. He hated it.
It had taken forever for sleep to consume him, and when it did he dreamt of falling without the hopes of being caught, instead hitting the cold ground. He dreamt of isolation, of being forced to spend the remainder of his human days alone. He dreamt of death and the bitter satisfaction it would bring. When morning finally came Castiel felt no more rested than the night before. His chest was still just as tight, and the emotions still weighed just as heavily on his heart. His room still felt cold, unwelcome, and he was uncomfortable in the jeans he had been forced to sleep in since all of his clothes were still in their room. Dean's room, now.
He would have to leave. He knew that, it was a constant, urging thought in the forefront of his mind. It doesn't matter that Sam would insist he was welcome, he couldn't face Dean every day and not crawl back begging for forgiveness. He tried to think of a way to sneak out unnoticed, but he would have to grab at least a few clothes and, if he was lucky, one of their fake credit cards. The chances of doing so without notifying Dean or Sam were unlikely. So, instead of continuing to hide away in his room Castiel decided to act as nonchalant as he could.
When he pushed the door to his room open, it was eerily quiet. There was no clicking of a keyboard, no arguing between Sam and Dean, no sound whatsoever. He couldn't remember a time it had been this quiet, but he didn't like it. His footsteps as he made his way to Dean's room were too loud, each seeming to echo and amplify, and the creak of the door was almost deafening.
His attempt at quiet was pointless. Dean was sitting on his bed, facing the door and watching expectantly as Cas tried to sneak in. Once he discovered it was pointless, he simply pushed the door fully open and walked in. He tried not to make eye contact with Dean as he made his way to the dresser, but he caught sight of how he looked and Cas imagined it was about how he must look right then; tired, eyes red and face blotchy, tense. Still, he didn't allow himself to feel pity. He didn't allow himself to move over to Dean and pull him into his arms and tell him everything was fine, that they were fine. Instead, he started pulling his few clothes out of the drawers.
"Cas," Dean said weakly, his voice breaking. Cas bit his cheek to stop his response. "Cas, please." He heard him get off the bed and his shoulders tensed. He tried not to focus in on the sound of steps. He still flinched when Dean's hand stopped his own from grabbing a shirt, but it was more the touch of his warm hand that Cas had already been craving so much.
"Cas, what are you doing?"
"Leaving."
"Where?"
Cas refused to look at him. Even as Dean's eyes searched out for him, as he tried to move into his line of sight. He couldn't look at him; he couldn't see what he had done. "If I told you there would be no point in me going."
Dean didn't protest as he moved away from him, but just before he reached the door his voice returned, barely audible from his position on the other side of the room. "That's it then? This is your goodbye?"
"You can move on, now." His voice was blank, as was his face. He refused to allow his emotions through until he was a safe distance away from Dean.
"What if I don't want to move on?"
Cas sighed, "You can be happy now."
"Can I?"
"You can go and find the family you yearn for."
Dean sighed this time. He dropped heavily onto their bed—his bed—his face falling into his hands. "Y'know that used to be what I wanted. I used to think that maybe, just maybe, if I had a family I could prove that I could do something that was good. That I could make something instead of break it. I knew I wasn't going to get that, though. I'm a hunter, and I wasn't gunna bring a kid up into this lifestyle. So I just thought that I'd give up on the whole idea of having a family." He looked up, and for the first time Cas allowed their eyes to meet. "Then this angel shows up, and he can burn out someone's eyes without even trying. He sees something in me that I couldn't see myself. He helps us save the world, and just like everything else, I drag him down and he gets in a whole load of shit because of me. I broke him, and then God fixed him again.
"But that wasn't enough. I didn't just let him go. I should've let him go, but I was selfish. I didn't know what was going on, but I wanted him in my life. I wanted you in my life. And you fell from Grace for me, and you made me realize that I could have a family; that you were my family. And I just knew that if I could keep you and Sammy safe, if I could keep you happy, everything would be okay. But I couldn't. I ruined us, just like I always have."
His head fell back into his hands, and Cas' heart clenched painfully. He didn't care if he was weak, he dropped the clothes he was holding and moved to stand in front of Dean. He didn't reach down and touch—he didn't even say anything. He just stood.
"I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm just… I'm not used to people trying to care about my mom. Sam and I don't talk about it, Dad and I didn't talk about it. Even Bobby kept it hidden away like it was something bad. I didn't know what to feel when you tried to make it something to… celebrate. To remember." When he looked up his eyes were pleading, "Please, Cas. We can fix this. I… I need you, man."
Castiel dropped to his knees, his hands moving to Dean's face. Any anger that was still lingering left and it was just him and Dean. He pressed their foreheads together, "It's not broken, Dean."
"I'm sorry," He still sounded broken, and Cas didn't want him to. He wanted him to smile, to be happy.
"We both said things we shouldn't have. I'm sorry, also."
"Please don't leave."
Cas pressed his lips to Dean's forehead, and then his eyelids, cheekbones, each corner of his lips. "Never," he breathed against them before pressing their lips together firmly, "I love you, Dean Winchester. That will never change."
"I love you, too."
Sam smiled from his position in the doorway. They were both idiots, which was still a little weird cause Cas was an angel, so you'd think he'd be able to see past Dean's bullshit, but they were idiots that would always figure it out in the end. Thank God for that, too, 'cause he really didn't want to deal with Dean's pouting.
