Grand Funk Railroad - I Fell For Your Love
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They didn't talk about the kiss, but after that, the touches started. Quick, fleeting touches that still somehow lasted longer than they should. Cas would press a hand to Dean's shoulder, or skim his finger over the hunter's knuckles while they sat and talked. In return, Dean would rest his hand over Cas' knee, and would sometimes draw the angel in for hugs which weren't strictly warranted and lasted a second too long. Days went by, and there were a thousand moments when they could have, but they didn't kiss again. There wasn't anything remotely sexual about the touches, but that was when the dreams started, too.
Oh, they were good dreams. But they always left him gasping for air, sweaty and desperate and thinking of Cas. He knew it should feel wrong – waking up in the middle of the night, sheets bunched around his waist, with his best friend's name on his lips. The dreams, though, they were always so… beautiful. He could see Cas' wings in them, black and majestic. The dreams were never the same, either. Sometimes he and Cas were strangers, meeting on a dusty road. Sometimes they were in Purgatory. Tonight, he'd been hunting, and Cas had been the man he'd saved. Cas had worn a black suit and tie – that is, until he'd pulled it off hurriedly, pushing Dean back against the wall. Dean had moaned in his sleep at the feel of his lips, his tongue, even if it wasn't real. The dream had been going perfectly, Cas stripping off his clothes and sinking down to his knees, dragging Dean's pants down and licking a lazy circle around the head of his cock – when he startled awake. "Fuck," he muttered, mind still hazy and swimming with pictures of Cas. He couldn't say for sure what had woken him. You really can't go on like this, he told himself firmly. Sighing, he moved his hand down, gripping his aching dick.
Every time, he woke to the tune of the damn Grand Funk Railroad song. It circled round his head, and around, and around.
Hey baby, so now you're goin
Does your mind believe
Did you get what you wanted, and have some fun
Playing make believe?
And so what, if he couldn't help but whisper Cas' name? So what, if when he came, all he could see was sparkling blue eyes and those too fucking soft lips? No, none of that was important. What was, though, was that when he'd taken care of himself and rolled over on his side to sleep, he wrapped his arms around his chest, imagining that they were Cas' arms.
I have never lost so much pleasure
So it's hard to be nice
Hey baby, feel my hand
Ain't it cold as ice?
He sat bolt upright. No. He was not thinking about cuddling Cas. No. Sex dreams were one thing. He hadn't gotten laid in forever, and it was normal. Sort of. Fantasies of cuddling were a whole other deal. Dean sighed. He really wasn't going to be able to get any sleep tonight. He threw on boxers and clothes, after wiping the cum off himself with a warm washcloth. He'd almost been tempted to get into the shower, but had decided against it. Even if he couldn't resolve what was going on with him and Cas, there was one question he could answer - what the hell did Cas do at night? His bed was almost always unslept in, used only for reading in the afternoons.
Shrugging on his leather jacket, Dean headed up the stairs. He was pretty sure Castiel was on the roof. Cold air bit into his cheeks as he opened the door to see Cas' back to him. The angel was staring up into the night sky.
Cause I fell for your love when I was out of my mind
I fell for your love and now you tell me it's time
To kiss it away, to stand here and say goodbye
That fucking song. Cas isn't going anywhere, he always had to tell himself when the classic rock rudely awoke him. But maybe it was from all the times Cas had vanished into thin air, leaving Dean to wonder what that pulling sensation in his chest was. It seemed only inevitable that Cas would leave again someday, even if he didn't want to believe it. He felt like they'd built something with their lazy afternoons at the bunker, showing Cas music and going for drives. Dean swallowed. Maybe he'd fucked that up when they kissed.
Can't you understand the way I live?
Half a love is all that I can give
"Hello, Dean." Dean strode up to Cas, more confidently than he felt. While Cas stood facing the steep drop, Dean sat on the edge of the wall, facing the opposite direction. "I do hear you," Cas said slowly.
"W-what?" Dean gulped. Cas couldn't mean… God, he hoped not.
"Every night. I hear you." Dean's eyes went wide, and his breath caught in his throat. "Praying."
Lonely ladies and empty faces
F or a long, long time
And you might be one baby, when we meet again
And I'll still try to make you mine
"Praying?" Dean's mind had gone blank, and it was noticing stupid little things, like the way the moonlight fell on Cas' neck.
"Yes. Every prayer is a kind of longing." Cas never took his eyes off of the night sky, like he was counting the stars. "I thought you should know why I never answer."
Dean stayed silent. Every fibre of him was ready for something bad to happen. "I don't answer because, well, I want to." Castiel bit his lip. "I want to answer you, Dean, and that's the problem."
"How is that a problem?" The words came hoarse, needier than he'd intended.
"Wanting's the problem. Dean, I am an angel, and I feel things differently than you." Dean was distracted for a moment from every implication of the conversation by how good it felt to hear Cas say, confidently, that he was an angel. Without the word 'broken' tacked on. "I do want things, but that's a human emotion. I'm not explaining this very well. I told you once we had a profound bond. So when I answer your prayers, whatever they may be, it ought to be… pure. Because you needed me, not just because I wanted you to." Cas let the words fall between them, hanging still in the air before shattering into imaginary glass pebbles on the ground.
Cause I fell for your love when I was out of my mind I fell for your love and now you tell me it's time To kiss it away, to stand here and say goodbye
God, he wanted to say it so bad. I need you was burning a hole in his throat, making it impossible to get anything out other than a harshly empty laugh. The words he should have said, had to say, were I love you, I need you, stop staring at the sky and look at me. Instead, he laughed.
I fell for your love when I was out of my mind I fell for your love when love was so hard to find I gave you my heart, and you tell me it's time To give up my love, when it's so damn hard to find
When Cas finally did look at him, it was awful. His gaze was even, piercing. He wasn't expecting an answer or a declaration of love. He was merely setting the rules. "I think I should go."
"No." Dean said loudly, red rushing to his head. No, no, no.
"I'll stay." Cas said, pressing his lips together like there was more he wanted to say. "But I think I should go."
Love is so hard to find, love is so hard to find
I don't want lonely ladies and empty faces
All I wanted was you
"Why?" Dean whispered.
The angel's face twisted into an unfamiliar, bitter expression. "Because I want to stay."
"Oh, Cas." Will we ever get fixed? Will we ever fucking fix each other? Or will we just stay here, punishing ourselves for the past? Fuck it. "Take a drive with me tomorrow." The words seemed so mundane, inadequate. Dean covered Cas' hand with his, circling a thumb over the back of Cas' hand. These touched were what they were allowed now, what was all right.
Cas nodded slowly, a smile forming that looked like it had been carried all the way from hell and back. Which, Dean supposed, it had. It was then that he resolved he would show Cas he loved him in an utterly human way. Small things, every day. No matter how hard it'd be to battle down that wrenching fear in his chest. Almost imperceptible changes to show that damn angel he needed him.
I gave you my heart, and now you tell me it's time
I say, I ain't sayin goodbye
