I hope everyone had or is having a happy holiday!
I think, as my present to you, I will give you a treat. (: Keep reading.
The Innocent
Chapter 6: Out of Sight, In Mind
Song of the Chapter: One Life to Love- 33 Miles
After both Castiel and Dean had calmed down enough to move and form coherent sentences, Castiel led them into the small living room that housed a television, a couch and a bookshelf in serious need of an increase of space.
Castiel sat Dean down on the sofa, a little more than nervous. Dean could sense it in the way Castiel's hand was sweating in his own.
"Cas? You okay?" Dean asked, a little concerned. Castiel's fingers tensed in his own. Dean squeezed them reassuringly.
"I'm fine. Dean, I-I want to try something," Castiel said, his hands shaking slightly. He ran a hand through his hair. Dean's thumb caressed the back of his hand, hoping to soothe whatever was troubling Castiel.
"Sure." Dean said it with such innocence and open understanding that it wiped away any fears Castiel had of his next move.
"O-okay. Just…hold still," Castiel said, sucking in his breath and conjuring up his courage.
He leant forward til he and Dean were a breath apart, their lips close to touching. That was when Castiel hesitated, when he wondered if this was good for either one of them.
Then, Dean spoke. "Don't worry, Cas. We'll get through this together." And with that, Dean placed his hand behind Castiel's head, fingers twining in the curly locks, and pressed their lips together.
Castiel didn't think he'd ever had a kiss like this. So sweet, so innocent. Dean's lips were shaking beneath his and he wrapped his arms around him, holding him to his chest. It was all soft lips, pushing and softly pulling, the epitome of care for the other.
Dean let the tears fall as he tasted love for the first time in his life. Real love. It was sweet on his tongue, it was heady in his nose and it was thick enough to cloud out the past and the pain. He almost melted into Castiel as they shared that one moment together, both finally tasting what they'd never had.
Castiel felt the wetness on his cheeks and pulled away slightly, lightly resting his forehead on Dean's, his hand on the back of his neck. Their breaths mingled and their knees lightly touched on the sofa.
"Are-Are you all right, Dean?" Castiel asked breathlessly. He let his thumb trace across Dean's cheekbone, wiping away the tears that shone there.
Dean sucked in his lower lip and looked to the heavens and shook his head slightly. "God, I'm more than okay, Cas. I'm just…fantastic. No one's ever kissed me that way," said Dean, smiling.
A light blush stained his cheeks and he ducked his head, teeth worrying at his lip. He was wringing his fingers in his lap and Castiel gently took them in his, unclasping his fingers and setting them flat on his thighs. Dean gulped when Castiel's warmth seeped into his palms.
If Castiel was to be completely honest with himself, he thought Dean was the most beautiful creature on the face of the Earth. From his scuffed boots, to his sandy, close-cropped hair, to his strong will that nearly knocked Castiel backward.
Dean was what Castiel could now use to describe beautiful.
He'd never known what beautiful meant, only that it pertained to people such as his little brother, or his mother; people with a heart that was capable of showing love. Dean had that. He had a heart he wore on sleeve proudly, a heart that was just as vulnerable as strong.
It made Castiel's own heart ache just thinking about how torn his and Dean's pasts were. How many scars, inside and out, they had received. All the grief, the loss, the pain.
Not anymore.
Castiel planned to mend Dean's heart. He planned to make this other man whole again. New.
Castiel was pulled from his thoughts as Dean's hand lightly stroked his cheek. He smiled.
"What are you thinking about?" asked Castiel, as he noticed the concentration lines deepen in Dean's forehead. He reached a hand out and smoothed them away.
Dean's eyes were closed tight. "Shh. I'm trying to picture you in my head." Dean's hand trailed along Castiel's jaw, and then his fingertips ghosted over his lips. Castiel let out a quiet laugh.
"How's that working out for you?" Dean's hand ran through Castiel's hair then traced his hairline.
Dean grimaced. "Unless you look like a Picasso painting, not so well," replied Dean, who sighed and dropped his hands, only to have them encased in Castiel's, who then lifted them back to his face.
"I'd rather be a jumbled mess than for you to stop," he said.
It was the truth.
He hadn't let himself be touched by anyone else, anywhere. He would shy away from people in hallways, nurses handing him papers; especially male nurses. They scared him the most, terrified him even. Even the relatively nice ones. He tended to keep to himself and hide out in his office when he wasn't needed.
But right then, he wanted it. Gentle touches were something he received so little of, he was sure he was in withdrawal. He liked the warm, calloused skin that ghosted over his own. He was aware of the fact that he needed to shave, but he didn't care, right then all he wanted was comfort.
He knew it was selfish. He knew he should want to comfort Dean instead. But again, he didn't care. He didn't just want it. He needed it.
Castiel let a contented sigh roll through his parted lips and Dean ran his hands repeatedly through his hair.
Dean was happy. For the first time in a long time, Dean was actually happy. Castiel's hair was soft as it sifted through his fingers. His stubble was scratchy on his palms, and he liked it. Dean felt Castiel relax under his soft touches, letting out a soft sigh. Dean knew the feeling.
As Dean's hands touched Castiel's face, the picture in his head became just a bit clearer. But there was a piece missing.
"Cas."
"Hmm?" Castiel rumbled contentedly.
"What colour are your eyes?" Dean asked, almost desperately.
"My mother once told me they were bluer than the ocean and the sky, and deeper than the Loch Ness. I never saw her point of view. I only think my eyes are blue," replied Castiel, happy to answer Dean. Remembering his mother had him smiling again. He missed her. She'd had the biggest heart, so big Castiel would wonder as a child how it even fit inside her small frame.
Her big heart had been the death of her; literally. Cardiomyopathy.
She was the reason he'd become a doctor.
FLASHBACK – 17 Years Ago
'Mommy?' A seven year old Castiel said, standing inside the doorway to her hospital room; alone. His father was out being a drunkard somewhere, probably hustling away the last of their money.
'Cassie. Come here, Sweetie,' replied Meghan Collins, holding out a frail and bony hand to her son.
Castiel shuffled quietly to her side, clutching his winter cap and light blue Anorak tightly in his hands. His mom looked so small, swaddled in the stark white blanket. Her dark hair in striking contrast to the white walled room that smelled of cleaning solvents and sickness. Of death.
Castiel's brain being much too large to keep anything out conjured up the gruesome question of 'how many people have died in this very same room? On this same bed?'
'Cassie, come sit by mommy. Where's your Da?' Meghan said, patting the spot beside her. Castiel used the bedside chair as a step stool and gingerly settled in next to his mother.
'Pub,' answered Castiel softly. He felt he had to whisper in this big, white room. For if he didn't, it would collapse on them both.
'Oh, Declan,' Meghan tsk-tsked, shaking her head. 'So, you're here all by yourself? I'm sorry, Love. He'll straighten himself out eventually. Now, enough of this sad, nonsense talk. Tell me how you've been.'
Meghan let Castiel snuggle into her side, ignoring the increasing pain in her arm and chest. She knew she was close to over and she was scared.
She wasn't scared of dying; she was scared of leaving her little boy alone in this big world. Alone with Declan and his drunk habits.
'I got an A on my grammar quiz. They say I could drop my tutor classes,' Castiel said, idly playing with his mom's hair. It felt like silk between his fingers.
Meghan's chest tightened, both from sadness and her impending end. 'Castiel, Baby. I-I need you to listen to mommy,' Meghan said, interrupting Castiel in the middle of a sentence about scraping his knee on the playground.
'Yes, mama?' Castiel looked up at her with wide blue eyes, her tone telling him something was wrong.
'I love you. I love you so, so much, my little angel. You know that, right? You know mommy loves you?' Meghan said, her breaths turning to short pants as she crawled closer to the end of her timeline.
'Yes, mama. I love you, too.'
'More than the moon and the stars,' said Meghan.
'Than the sun and the sky,' recited Castiel.
'More than anything in the world, I love you,' they both finished.
Then Meghan grasped her son's hand and gave a last, final squeeze.
'Mommy?' Castiel said, as his mother's eyes closed, a pleasant smile on her lips.
'Mommy. Mommy! MOMMY!' Castiel practically screamed, shaking her shoulder. The EKG machine beside them beeped one last time then flat lined, the sound piercing Castiel's ears like nails on a chalkboard.
Suddenly, nurses and doctors were flooding the room and Castiel was being separated from his mother.
It was then, as little, seven year old Castiel Collins watched in the background as they took his mother away, he decided he would never let another person into his heart.
"Cas? Cas, you all right?" Dean murmured as his fingers traced Castiel's collarbone. He'd noticed Castiel's muscles clenching and unclenching, his pulse racing. His skin was burning slightly, his body shaking.
Castiel didn't answer, only fought to keep the angry tears back, to keep his sadness and anger from letting himself break down again.
"Castiel!" said Dean, grasping one of Castiel's hands in his own. His concern was growing, he was worried. He wanted Castiel to be happy again, not practically pulsing with anger and sadness. Even without his sight Dean could feel the emotions inside Castiel threatening to explode.
Castiel turned Dean's hand palm up and placed a small kiss there, letting out a soft, shuddering sigh before he was falling apart again.
Dean felt Castiel's tears before he actually heard anything. He'd never heard sobbing like this, with sounds so broken and a heart so damaged. He pulled Castiel down and onto his chest, stroking the back of his head and murmuring nonsense things in his ear.
And as Castiel's tears fell onto his skin, Dean suddenly realised…he didn't care. He didn't care he wasn't able to see. He didn't care that all he could do was listen, and touch and taste.
Listen to the broken, despairing sobs that wracked Castiel's body.
Touch the fevered skin, the shaking limbs of a man coming back together after being detached for so long.
And taste the relief. The relief of finally letting go and breaking down the wall he'd worked so hard to build and reinforce.
Both of their hearts were discovering something new. They were discovering a new sense of need and pain.
They needed each other. They needed each other more than the lungs in their body that pumped oxygen that, on worse days, only filled them with poison that choked them.
The pain was good. The pain stitched old wounds. Let the stitches dissolve, let the wounds close and the skin heal over.
They were both cutting the cord on the anvil that hung above their failures, their pain. They were cutting it and letting it fall to crush what was left of it and let it be swept away in a whirlwind of love.
And, if Dean was to be completely honest with himself, he relished the fact that this one man was breaking him down and wiping him clean. Rubbing his skin raw so new skin could grow.
Love's funny like that.
Little tidbit about me: My grand Da, Gael, died of the same heart disease as Castiel's mother. It's an inside joke with my family…big hearts, we have!
Annnnnd now…I'm going to bitch about how short this chapter is and how I tried to stretch it out as long as I could. Look how 'stretching it out' worked…GGRRRAAWWR!
Well, I'm tired, my heaters are still out and I can't type with frozen fingers, so G'night to you all!
Salt and Burn,
Dublin O'Malley
XOXOX