Author: Mistofstars

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel as Future!Dean / Future!Castiel (of 5x04) [Destiel]

Author's notes: The title of this story is an excerpt of Falco's song "out of the dark" and roughly translated into English

Disclaimer: Neither Castiel or Dean Winchester belong to me, they're property of the writers and creators of Supernatural. All of this is made up, I make no money with this. No copyright infringement is intended.

Warnings: sad, smutty, romance, drama, hurt, comfort, angst, endverse-based

Plot: Castiel wants to see Dean smile again, so he tries to make a CD-player work to play Dean's cassettes. Of course, it isn't that easy to educe a smile from the bitter man like this.

~*** Your hell burns within me ***~

They haven't heard a good song in quite a while. It's not like Castiel appreciates most of the music Dean used to listen to – when he had the chance, and that seems like ages ago, Dean proudly introduced him to AC/DC, Motörhead and other bands, whose name he can't remember. Still, there were a few he liked, and those names stick to his memory like glue, and he smiles to himself as he tries to imagine the sound of Led Zeppelin, of Lynyrd Skynryd and Metallica. Today is a good day. On another raid this morning he found a working battery, that means only two left to find – until that damn portable radio can work without a socket for electricity. It's something to hold on to, a plan, something beside those complicated, dangerous ones – just a little dream he hopes he can make true someday. He wants Dean to listen to his music again, he wants to see it happen.

Little did Dean know that Castiel had found an intact CD player almost weeks ago, and he hid it from everyone quite well. An idea had formed in his drugged, befogged brain, and ever since, it had clutched his troubled heart tightly, filling him with purpose. Ever since, he wishes, once his plan can be carried out, he might see Dean smile again. How he misses his smiles... The dangerous glare would pass away, and a warm luminescence would find its way through those lovely, green irises. Crinkles would form around his eyes, and maybe, just maybe, Castiel would see something akin to love emerge from Dean's look. Day and night he tried to remember what Dean's smiles had looked like. Granted, mostly they had either been mischievous smirks or toothy grins, and those had made Castiel's stomach do a flip nevertheless, and his heart had throbbed wildly within his now human chest. However, what he was really looking for were those secret, intimate smiles Dean had extremely rarely worn on his plump, pink lips. Rarely had they graced his mouth, but those smiles were the ones, which made Castiel's heart leap into his throat and which made his breathing stumble.

Like this, Dean had smiled after they had shared their first kiss and when they had made love the same night. Afterwards, Castiel was certain he had detected those lovely movements of his quirky lips when they had exchanged little, innocent caresses, such as an embrace, or holding hands and kissing each other's cheeks foolishly. Those days were long gone, and so were Dean's smiles. Castiel feels sadness blanketing his mind, like a black shadow he can't shrug off. He smiles sentimentally and places the battery into the steel case he keeps under his bed in his own cot. A pang of pain courses through his heart, and he knows he needs some remedy to soothe it. Joss sticks fill the air with grey smoke, and Castiel sits on his bed cross-legged. He injects himself with methamphetamine, a smug, artificial grin comes to his mouth, as he thinks how wonderfully insane human beings are, creating things they enjoy and which will kill them in the same breath. The frenzy of the drug takes over him and his eyes become unfocussed, glassy, as they try to watch the smoke dance through the room. He closes his heavy lids, and there it is. He sees the memory of Dean's smiling face, the raw emotions tugging at his features – it's just a hazy picture in his mind's eye, but it's enough to satisfy him for this day. He passes out on his bed, his limbs twitching uncontrolled, with the dream of Dean's beautiful smile lulling him into oblivion.

…

Castiel has to wait several days until he's told off to participate in the night watch. He and a few other men patrol the fences of the camp, machine-guns strapped over their shoulders and at hand. It takes Castiel a few attempts, so that he can creep away to the ridiculousness, which used to be Dean's beloved car. Now it's a rusted, dysfunctional shame of the beautiful vehicle it used to be, and it pains Castiel, when he sees the moss and vines growing around the metallic frame of the Impala; it's just another epitome of the change, which had clutched Dean tightly, another gravestone of the person he used to be. Castiel bends down and searches for the old cassette tapes he had seen so many times. They're dusty and dirty, and their plastic is cold due to the night's frostiness; he hides them quickly in the pocket of his military jacket and returns to his patrol. He feels the worry wrinkles on his forehead disappear slightly, and he even manages to smile meekly, as he feels them bobbing up and down with every step, reminding him, he's got everything together now...

…

The next evening, they're having a scarce dinner in the poor excuse they name common room; a few people talk, but some of them are quiet as usual. Castiel's eyes flee to Dean's again and again, as both of them spoon their stew absentmindedly, without any appetite. The whole day through Castiel skipped his tranquillizers, absinthe and any other form of drugs his cot harbours. Though he feels twitchy and restless, he's more like his old being than ever before. Dean meets his eyes finally, sitting a few steps away from him, and they observe each other pensively. Their eyes rest on each other, and there's no smile on Dean's nor on Castiel's mouth; eventually Dean blinks softly and slowly at him, it's his new way to smile without the movement of his lips, and Castiel feels a blush come to his face. He looks down at his plate for the rest of dinner time, refusing to glimpse at Dean once more. Usually, it was easy to shrug off emotions and wishes and dreams these days, but not when it comes to this single desire Castiel feels coursing through his veins like venom. He is nervous, as nervous as he hadn't been in years, just because he is going to ask Dean a favour. His legs feel strange, not like they belong to his body, as everyone's leaving, and as he slowly approaches Dean, still sitting at the table with a brooding mien.

He reaches out for the hand, which lays flat on the wooden table, and to touch the warm, soft skin makes Castiel's fuses blow; Dean looks up at him, a questioning expression in his grim eyes. Castiel withstands his gloomy glare, having received far too many of those to be impressed with them. He grabs Dean's hand and holds it loosely in his, trying to feign a smile to veil his jumpiness. Today's the day he has been waiting for within the last weeks.

"I want to show you something... a little surprise", he utters, and Dean nods and gets up with a tired sigh. Castiel lets go of his hand and walks outside, and Dean follows him on the path to Castiel's hut. The dusk is lingering between the wooden houses, and armed men, setting out for their night watch, meet them on their way. While they're walking, Castiel feels antsy, filled with the thrill of anticipation; He can't resist turning around to Dean's stern features, and as he gives him an honest smile (those Castiel uses less and less these days), he can detect surprise flare in Dean's eyes, and his lips twitch, as if he's about to smile too. They enter Castiel's cot, and Dean stands in the middle of Castiel's bedroom, obviously without a plan. Castiel watches him glance around, his eyes never come to rest on the bed they used to share countless times. They're both very still, as Castiel sets up the CD-player with shaky fingers. He presses the play button, and the cassette tape starts – music fills the room, intermingled with crackling static, because the cassette is so old.

Pleased with himself, Castiel turns around – he's proud of himself, his week-long search had been successful. He meets Dean's eyes, and he freezes on the spot, as he sees the confusion and hesitation in his gaze. There's no smile there, just more worry lines on his forehead.

"What are you doing?", Dean asks not too friendly, while the music plays in the background, and Castiel flinches as he hears the anger seep through Dean's voice. His shoulders slump down as he avoids Dean's penetrating eyes. He bites his bottom lip agitatedly, as he scolds himself for his stupidity. Frustration takes over him. How idiotic of him to think Dean would be glad to listen to his old mix tapes... He rubs his neck, flustered, and uplifts his head to regard Dean's eyes once more. The twilight's dim light touches his features gently, Dean's face looks pale and grey, so damn exhausted, that it clutches Castiel's heart with pain.

"I thought... I wanted to... I thought you'd be pleased to listen to your music again... Ah, whatever. Nevermind. Forget about it", Castiel explains, and the more he talks, the easier it becomes to hide his disappointment. He has become astonishing talented in hiding his feelings, it's sort of a protective shield of his. Quickly he turns around to silence the CD-player. It's in that moment, that he feels the weight of two warm hands on his shoulders, and he turns into stone. Electricity crackles between them, immediately the sexual tension of former days is back. Castiel lets his head hang down, and sighs, as Dean kisses his neck softly. His arms come around Castiel's middle and hold him, Dean rests his forehead against Castiel's shoulder blade. The music keeps playing, a slow, blues rock song resounds in Castiel's bedroom. Castiel smiles tentatively to himself, as Dean begins swaying them hither and thither along to the wonderful music. His otherwise so brutal, merciless hands feel gentle and their touch is affectionate, as they crawl underneath the hem of Castiel's blue tunic. Carefully, Dean strokes Castiel's flat stomach and his sides. He presses himself closer against Castiel's backside, so that their bodies are entwined as far as possible.

It hurts too much, more than Castiel would have ever imagined, as the joy of being with Dean again runs through his system, as he gets butterflies in his stomach again, as if nothing has changed. He hears his heart's vehement pulse, as Dean speaks again, dangerously quietly.

"Cas... you know I can never be that man again. I won't listen to anything but the rattle of guns and the thuds of falling monsters, until the day comes I kill Lucifer. Things will never be the way they were...", he says, and kisses Castiel's neck once more. Tears well up in Castiel's eyes, realization comes to him, and a terrible ache strangles his throat. Dean's warm hands leave his body, and in an instant, he's left his side. He turns around to see him go, but something stirs inside of him, tugs at the depths of his heart – he can't see Dean leave again, denial clouds his mind.

"Dean... just for one day. Please, just one day", he wails desperately, examining Dean's broad shoulders, his stiff back. Dean stops dead in his tracks, and when he turns around again, Castiel sees pain written all over his face, so obviously, that his breathing stops for a second. Then Dean's glance becomes mellow, and he walks back to Castiel, stops right in front of him. Their eyes dart over one another's faces, estimating, careful. Then, without a warning, Dean's fingers find their way into Castiel's dark strands, and he fists his hair fiercely, as he pulls him into a heart-wrenching, longing kiss. Castiel's knees go weak as he melts against Dean's mouth and as he leans into their kisses. It's sloppy, desperate and needy, Dean kisses him with such a ferocity that it makes Castiel shudder with delight. There's not a single thought of dignity left inside of Castiel, as Dean lets go of him and pants against his wet lips hotly – he lets him grab him by the hips and thigh and Dean uplifts him. His legs come around Dean's waist effortlessly, and they ravage each other as their mouths merge together in more heady, passionate kisses. Castiel's arms linger around Dean's neck, Dean holds him in his arms and steers them towards Castiel's broad bed. They fall down on it, and their hands start doing the work they had forgone so many months ago.

Shirts are thrown to the ground, joined by tattered, holey jeans and boxershorts. Their moans and sighs are accompanied by the music echoing through the room in a never-ending manner. Once they're both naked, and as Dean's naked body hovers above Castiel's, they regard each other with flushed cheeks, dilated eyes, kiss-swollen lips. Castiel's marvelling at Dean's lean, haggard body, as he lets his eyes roam over the planes of flesh and muscles. He's lost too much weight, and it bothers Castiel to see how Dean had neglected himself ever since they had stopped being together.

Suddenly, Dean pauses in his movements, and his hand cups Castiel's stubbly cheek. Castiel feels light-headed, permeated with a warm joy, as Dean looks him deeply in the eyes. It's feels like the sun is rising, like the night finally fades away, as something flares in Dean's gorgeous, green eyes. With an agape mouth, Castiel watches, how the dimples form on his cheeks, how loveable wrinkles encircle his eyes. And finally... there it is. Dean smiles again, and Castiel wants to break down and cry shamelessly, because he's so happy he could die. He kisses Dean stormily and holds on to him like a drowning man. Everything hurts, his body is oversensitive with bliss and sorrow. He smiles and cries silently, as Dean penetrates him slowly, his eyes resting on Castiel's with an immensely, tender gaze. It's like Dean can read his every thought with a single look; compassion and love are visible in Dean's dilated eyes, the cautious, adorable smile still lingers on his lips as he thrusts inside Castiel gently.

Their hands are finding each other, and their fingers intertwine, just like their lips meld. Castiel closes his lids and lets Dean take him; he focuses on the surges of his orgasm building up inside of him, as Dean hits his prostate again and again, gliding out and inside of him sensually. He still remembers how to undo Castiel easily. A death wish rises in Castiel, as he cries and smiles and moans as he holds hands with Dean while they're making love. He realizes, these wounds will never mend, he will never have Dean all to himself again. Surely, he will always find a willing body, and he'd slept with many ever since they'd broken up. But it had never been associated with feelings. Being with Dean again is quite different, and Castiel never wants it to end. He's beyond hapless, devastated even, as he kisses Dean and combs through his hair tenderly. He wants this to last...

They both reach their climaxes after a while, and they cling fervently to each other, as they're riding out each wave washing over their bodies. When it's over, they both still, and the cassette still plays nonchalantly in the CD-player. Dean carefully glides out of Castiel and lays down beside of him. They're sweaty and exhausted, and, strangely, Castiel feels like accepting the turmoil inside of him, as Dean rests his arm around Castiel's bare stomach and snuggles up to him. Dean pillows his cheek on Castiel's boney, broad shoulder, and he's certain there are tears on his clavicle, as Dean silently cries. A few seconds later, Castiel is crying too. Without much thought, he turns around and cradles Dean in his arms, holding on to him for dear life, as he cries into the crook of his neck.

At some point, both calm down, though Castiel still feels torn in two. The cassette comes to an end, and silence wafts through the room, their shaky breaths whoosh loudly in Castiel's ears. Dean's lips brush over Castiel's bare skin, kiss his shoulder and neck softly. His fingers comb through Castiel's hair slowly, soothingly, and Castiel feels tears well in his eyes again. They're both so broken, exhausted and hopeless... He doesn't know how much longer he's able to endure this life, especially without Dean. Dean whispers "Thank you, Cas", and Castiel smiles weakly. They fall asleep like this, and Castiel is thrilled to hold Dean's warm body in his arms for the whole night, it has been quite lonely without him at night. When he wakes up the next morning, Dean is gone, and so is the CD-player. Castiel searches for his drugs.

THE END

Ah, omg. Please let me know what you think... I've had this idea in my head for months! Oh, and don't listen to Falco's song, it's so amazing and depressing at the same time... x3