Author's note: Wahey! Quick update! I think I said it'd be around two weeks...? Yeah, I was wrong. This one came super quickly. That said, I have no idea when the next chapter will be coming. I have a horribly busy week ahead...
As for the content of this chapter? A fuck-ton of angst. A shitload of hurt/comfort. And fluff. Of course there's fluff. (Also smut ahead as I promised, so, you have been warned!)
And holy shit, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! You guys are perfect people.
sakuita as per your request, this chapter features Dean and Cas talking about Cas' relationship with Balthazar! The whole thing turned out more angsty than I had expected, tbh, but I hope you like it! :) I also hope this clarifies everything you wanted to know! (If it doesn't, feel free to message me on my tumblr with any questions on further detail in the story, and in Cas/Balthazar's relationship. You're totally welcome to any bonus facts and tidbits you might want from me. This applies for everyone, too, by the way!) Anyway, I'm glad you love the fluff. There's plenty more in the story to come!
ninar77 awh, you're very lovely :) I'm glad you're enjoying the story - (and ahaha, I've got into the habit of replying to everyone who reviews. It's just because all your kind words make me so happy!) But seriously, I'm glad you're liking the fic, that thought makes me very happy indeed! Obviously Dean's gonna propose to Castiel; just definitely not yet. Part of it is Dean actually building up his nerves to do it, I think(?) Idk. He's very scared Cas'll say no. But yeah, the proposal will come. Soon, but hopefully not too soon.
Perdition Raiser Oh, thank you :') I'm glad you think so. To be honest, reading people review in excited capital letters makes me laugh a lot, and grin like a bit of an idiot. So I'm glad you enjoyed last chapter enough to be that excited by it. Oh, you.
rosesonyourgrave Holy crap this was a gorgeously long review (thank you it was perfect) and one that made me smile so much, thank you so much, sweetie. And haha, this was never meant to be a porn fic, (despite the smut chapters...) so I'm glad you're happy. Sigh, I'm also a bit of a sucker for romance, truth be told. And haha, Dean and Cas are such cute dorks, they can't even spend a day without each other, now :') I smile a lot, in this weird, affectionate (but kinda patronising) way whenever I write about them pining for each other. What sweeties. And yes, I think Cas is really worried about him and Dean, and what's going to happen, even though he definitely doesn't want to be. It's sort of in Cas' nature to worry, (at least in this fic), I think. Dean's having a really tough time forgiving himself, definitely. I don't know if he'll ever properly be able to, but I hope he will. He deserves so much happiness :( Anyway, I'll see where that leads us; whether Dean is actually able to forgive himself. I hope Cas will manage to persuade him he's worth a damn, at least. Dean is such a damaged person. It makes me really sad. Hopefully Cas will be able to fix him. But oh, I'm glad you're loving the fic. I'm also glad you love the character of Dean! :') You always say such wonderful things, in your reviews, and they make me smile a lot. Thank you so much, you absolute angel!
I don't think I have anything else to say?
Just a few things, that you'll probably be wanting to know. 1. Yep, Dean is so going to propose to Cas. Just in case you were worrying it might not happen. It's definitely going to happen, obviously. 2. I'm still taking requests for what you want to see in the upcoming chapters! So please review saying what you want the story to include! 3. I know I said that the fic would be painless from like, chapter 21 onwards, but I didn't really anticipate all this angst. Of course, that kind of leads on to fluff, when I write it, so it's all okay, but I'm sorry about all Dean and Cas' damn pent up emotions. I also hope you like hurt and comfort, because as well as in this chapter, I have a feeling there's a little more to come.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please review! Your words are all a huge encouragement and motivation to me! (And the make me super, super, awkwardly happy!) And please say if there's anything you'd like to see in the chapters ahead!
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters in it. I also do not own the song this story is named after, or the band who wrote it.
enjoy!
Chapter 25
Dean gently led Castiel by the hand, back down the stairs of his apartment block. The two of them stopped for a delicious moment to kiss slowly by the closed door to Dean's apartment, before Dean opened it and tugged Castiel inside.
The two of them sealed their lips together again, and Cas sighed happily against Dean's mouth, his fingers running themselves through Dean's hair.
Castiel still didn't know how he felt about the rings.
He didn't even know what the rings actually meant—didn't know if Dean did want to propose to Castiel again—admittedly, Dean had confessed to wanting to move in with Cas, to maybe, possibly, marry him in the future—well, Dean had said he definitely wanted to marry Cas in the future—but that was the future. That could be ages away. Not now.
And that brought up another question—
Castiel didn't know if he wanted to marry Dean.
Well, of course he did. He wanted to live with Dean forever, to grow old with Dean, to spend the rest of his life with Dean. The thought was wonderful, exhilarating, for Castiel.
That said, it was also pretty fucking terrifying.
Which was why Castiel felt so very uncertain about all of this.
He knew that Dean would never leave him again—he could feel it in the pit of his heart, in the very core of his being. He could sense it in Dean's touch, in the careful, loving way Dean's hands travelled down Castiel's body, as though he were the most important thing in this or any other life, as though Dean were afraid he would lose Castiel once more. Cas could see it in Dean's eyes, could hear it in Dean's voice.
It wasn't that he was afraid Dean would leave him again.
He didn't really know what it was, exactly.
Perhaps he should speak to Dean, explain what had happened, talk it out. Confess to knowing about the rings; whatever they were, whatever they meant. After all, the last time their relationship had failed, an awful lot of it had been down to some very shitty communication between the two of them.
But then, perhaps not.
Because it could very possibly turn out that the rings had nothing to do with a proposal, that one of them was not meant for Cas, as an engagement ring, that they were related to something entirely separate.
And even if they were engagement rings—a thought which sent happy, nervous flutters through all of Cas' system—Castiel was sure Dean wouldn't be particularly pleased that Castiel knew about them.
Cas hadn't been prying when he had found out, or anything; in fact, the entire situation hadn't been his fault at all—it had just been a matter of some very unfortunate timing.
That said, Castiel was sure this fact wouldn't help the situation if he did tell Dean.
Well, taking into account the fact that at the time, Castiel had in fact been prying, it wouldn't look very good. He had been looking through a very private notebook of Dean's, without Dean's permission. And although it hadn't seemed as though Dean minded very much, he had been very embarrassed; and Castiel admitting another invasion of privacy—intentional or not—probably wouldn't make Dean the happiest guy in the world.
And anyway, Cas didn't want to move too quickly.
His mind flitted over the subject of the journal.
Dean had two journals; each filled with artwork—one of Dean's mother, Mary, and one of Castiel. Cas' mind faltered slightly when he realised that they were the two people Dean had lost in his life.
His heart fluttered awkwardly when he thought of Dean's sketches of him. The intricate detail, the intelligence of Dean's hand, the adoration concentrated through every brush and pencil stroke—even of how carefully Dean had written each description.
Castiel swallowed hard.
It was actually pretty difficult denying the fact that Dean wanted to marry Castiel.
It was painfully clear. Dean had even said it. Very explicitly.
On multiple occasions.
And Cas wanted to marry Dean. He knew it; he could sense it in the very core of his being, and refusing to admit that fact wasn't exactly going to do anyone any kind of good.
Cas wanted to marry Dean.
And he didn't care if that thought meant that the two of them were moving too fast.
Dean pulled Castiel hungrily down onto the couch—Castiel had been completely lost in thought, although had still been, apparently, ravaging Dean's mouth, judging by its red and swollen state, and the mesmerising, needy, desperate small moans that were escaping from the back of Dean's throat, rumbling in the chest below Castiel's.
Dean's hands tugged hungrily at Cas' clothing; Cas glanced up at Dean to see his eyes full and lust blown. It made his skin prickle, his throat dry.
When Cas had been with Dean before; every moment with him had been wonderful. Now, time with Dean seemed even better. Castiel didn't know why that was—he could easily explain it with the awfully obvious 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder'—but that wasn't it. Or, at least, it wasn't the whole of it. Each moment with Dean now felt impossible—oddly so—and Cas felt incredibly unsure as to why exactly that was; he felt unable to wrap his head around the fact that Dean had returned—that Dean had returned to him, to Castiel, that the two of them were together once more. And Castiel didn't know what he thought about the feeling. He couldn't tell if he liked it or not. On the one hand, he had always adored the gorgeous familiarity that he had grown into at Dean's touch, at the sound of Dean's voice—but equally, surely the fact that it all seemed so new and brilliant now meant that Castiel was able to familiarise himself with it all over again? That he could grow back into Dean Winchester, that the two of them could grow around each other, into each other's lives, once more?
Falling in love with Dean had been the most wonderful experience in Castiel's life.
Then, of course, the thought of the engagement rings added to the whole giddying, uncertain, confused euphoria that Cas was feeling about his relationship with Dean.
No, Castiel reminded himself, You don't know that the rings are anything to do with you. You don't know that.
Was it bad that Castiel so desperately wanted the rings to be engagement rings? That he wanted one of them to be for him? That he wanted all of this to mean that Dean was planning on proposing again?
Was it bad that he was so desperately intent on the idea of becoming engaged to Dean once more?
It was certainly a bad thing that he found himself unable to stop playing out scenarios in which Dean proposed; what their wedding would be like, what life would be like for them when they got married. It was building his hopes up; it was allowing himself to become far too invested in an idea—one that certainly might not come to any fruition.
But what else could the call have been about? What else would Dean even want two rings for, anyway?
There was no other possibility.
At least, not that Cas could see.
And Cas knew, as well, how it was he would react if Dean proposed to him.
He already felt painfully certain of what his answer would be.
Dean growled against Castiel's mouth—he wanted more from the man lying on top of him, but Cas seemed painfully withdrawn, as though completely lost in thought.
"Cas?" He asked, tearing his mouth away from Castiel's. "Are you alright? Is something wrong?"
"No, Dean." Cas shook his head quickly. "I was just thinking."
"What about?" Dean frowned slightly.
"Nothing important." Cas bit his lips. He shrugged a little awkwardly. "It doesn't matter."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." Cas nodded. "I was just being a little stupid—that's all."
"It really doesn't seem like nothing's wrong, Cas." Dean mumbled, pushing his hand softly through Cas' hair, gazing intently into Cas' already guilty looking eyes. Cas sighed and leant into the touch, and Dean slowly sat both of them back up on the couch, still staring intently into Castiel's eyes. "Are you having second thoughts about the two of us moving in together? 'Cause it's fine if you are, I totally understand—"
"It's not that—" Castiel said quickly.
"Then what is it about?"
Cas sighed and bit his lip, a troubled expression flitting across his features. Dean was silent for a moment—the two of them had had a lot of moments like this after Michael's wedding; and Dean knew in his heart it was because of how badly he had fucked up, of how much he had hurt Castiel. He wondered, for a sickening moment, if the gnawing, draining feeling of guilt would never go away, if he would have to bear it for the rest of his life—
"What was going through your mind when you were drawing me in that book?" Cas asked, suddenly. "What were you trying to do?"
Dean swallowed hard, very nervously.
"Um—" Dean swallowed again, awkwardly. "—Listen, Cas, I get if you're offended or creeped out by it—"
"I'm not either of those things." Cas replied simply, matter-of-factly. "I just want to know what it is you were trying to do, what those pictures were meant to achieve, that's all."
"I don't know—" Dean bit his lip.
"Well, you must have been trying to do something with them—"
"That's just it, Cas, I really wasn't. I started drawing after Gabriel and Anna came to me with the plan for Michael's reception—it was just a distraction; I didn't mean anything by it—"
Cas looked down.
"Oh." He replied shortly.
"What do you want them to be for? Do you want me to have drawn them with some specific purpose, Cas?"
Cas frowned and looked back up at Dean.
"Is it so bad if I do?"
"Well, no—"
"It sounds like you think it is."
"It's not that—"
"You must have drawn them for some reason, Dean."
"I did—it was because I missed you."
"You missed me?"
"I think I've already made that pretty clear, anyway, Cas. And why do you ask me that like it's a bad thing?"
"I'm asking if it's the only thing that made you want to fill a book with pictures of me."
"It's not." Dean shook his head.
"Then what else is there?"
"Well, I guess I thought I'd lost you." Dean shrugged. His voice was embarrassingly quiet, once again. "I thought I'd never get to speak to you again; I thought that when it came down to it, you wouldn't want to see me, I thought I'd never get to see you smile again, I never thought I'd be able to be with you again, so I drew you. I drew everything I've lost—seriously, there's a book filled with pictures of my mom, too, if you want to look—"
"I've seen it." Cas replied.
"Oh. Okay."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry—"
"No, no, it's fine." Dean shook his head quickly.
There was a painfully awkward silence. Dean glanced down, feeling his face burning in shame, although for no apparent reason—at least not one that he could think of.
"Were things this awkward with you and Balthazar?" He found himself asking. The thought had been gnawing away, slowly, gradually, at his mind, for a painfully long time.
Cas looked back up at Dean.
"Things aren't awkward—" Cas began, but Dean's expression hardened and he raised his eyebrows at Cas, making him look away for a moment. There was another pause. Dean loathed the silence that had fallen between them with all of his being. "—Well," Cas started, biting his lip. "Things were a little awkward. At first."
"At first?"
"Yes." Castiel nodded.
"Were they this awkward? With Balthazar, I mean?"
Cas bit his lip. Dean's heart sank. He already knew the answer.
"No." Castiel admitted, looking slightly guilty. "—But that's probably just because we'd both had longer to move on from everything."
"Probably." Dean nodded, although he both felt and sounded thoroughly unconvinced.
"I also didn't hurt as much." Cas admitted. "—But that's just because I'd had more time to move on."
"Right." Dean nodded. He still sounded painfully sceptical.
"That's the truth, Dean." Cas frowned, slightly defensively.
"Is that what made you want to get back together with him? The fact that it hurt less?"
"The two of us—you and me—we weren't together, at the time." Castiel frowned, his body stiffening. "You don't need to know. It's not exactly any of your business, anyway."
"I just want to know what made you want to be with him again." Dean frowned back at Castiel. "He cheated on you—and I know I pulled a ton of shit, too, but what made what he did any easier to forgive?!"
Cas' expression hardened, and he turned away slightly from Dean. There was another painful silence. It could have lasted minutes or hours, and Dean would have had no idea.
He'd fucked up, all over again, he could tell. His heart began to sink in despair.
"I was only trying to get over you." Castiel's small, mortified voice tore into the silence. Dean felt something inside of him rip apart at Cas' terrified tones. "That was all. That was all I'd ever tried to do."
Dean looked down. His face was burning with furious shame, once more.
"Cas, I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine." Castiel tried to shrug off. "I guess it's natural that you'd want to know." There was another silence. The sound of so much nothing splintered into Dean's heart, painfully. "Balthazar hurt, I guess," Cas started, his voice thoughtful, "But you were agony. You tore me open. Completely. I just wanted that pain to go."
"Cas, I'm so sorry—" Dean tried to start, but Castiel held up a hand, signalling for him to be quiet again.
"So I tried things again with Balthazar." He stated. "When I saw Balthazar again, there wasn't any pain. I looked at him, and it didn't hurt. And it hurt when I was just thinking about you. So I thought I could fix myself by being with him." Cas bit his lip. "I was wrong, of course."
Dean reached out his hand a little—he was desperate to touch Castiel once more, to bridge the stifling gap between them, but his hand faltered, shaking with nerves, unable to make contact with Castiel's distant body.
Cas turned back to Dean, glancing down at the hand, mere inches away from his shoulder. Dean felt a tiny, dim spark of hope flicker through him when he saw the corners of Cas' mouth twitching slightly.
It burst into a vibrant flame when Cas took Dean's hand in his own and squeezed it, gently.
"I only started seeing Balthazar again because I wanted to get over you." Castiel said again, shrugging. "It wasn't that I had feelings for him—well, I guess I had a few; but nothing compared to you."
"You still had feelings for him?"
"I suppose they simply resurfaced when I saw him again. That's all."
"But what if you saw him again, now?" Dean asked, frowning slightly. Worry and envy twisted sharply in his gut. "Would those feeling resurface again?"
Cas actually broke out into a proper smile, now.
"Dean, are you jealous?" He asked, smirking slightly.
"No." Dean shook his head quickly, saying the word as though the very idea was ridiculous.
Cas raised his eyebrows at Dean in an unconvinced manner.
"I'm not!" Dean bit again, but Cas' lips stretched further upwards. "Okay, maybe I am." Dean admitted, his cheeks and ears heating. "But only a little."
Castiel laughed softly and leant over to Dean, kissing him softly on the lips for a brief moment. Dean didn't pull away from the touch.
"Nobody could possibly compare to you, Dean." Cas said softly. "Not in a million years."
Dean's lips twitched upwards slightly.
"And for the record," Cas continued, "I got back together with Balthazar in an attempt to move on; to get over you. I was only able to do it because of how desperately I wanted to stop having feelings for you, to stop hurting."
"Sorry." Dean bit his lip again.
"If Balthazar was here again," Cas started, brushing aside Dean's apology by stroking Dean's cheek gently with the pad of his thumb, "I wouldn't give him a second look. I don't have any feelings for him left, Dean—the only reason I did was because I didn't have you in my life anymore."
"Oh." Dean said simply.
"So, does that answer your question?"
"Which one?"
"You asked me if I still had feelings for Balthazar. If they'd resurface if I saw him again."
"Right. Yeah, I did." Dean nodded. "And yes. That answers it."
"Was it a good answer?"
"Well, I liked it." Dean blushed slightly, a smile spreading across his cheeks.
"I'm glad." Castiel beamed gently. "Do you have any other questions about me and Balthazar?" He asked, grazing his thumb again across Dean's cheeks. Dean smiled at the touch.
"—Um—yeah—" Dean started awkwardly. "The two of you—how was it? You said things weren't awkward when you were together, but what does that mean?"
"I said things weren't very awkward." Castiel corrected.
"Fine, whatever. But how were they, then?"
"I don't know." Castiel shrugged. "They weren't like when I was with you. Time with you has always been perfect. It still is. When I was with Balthazar—" Cas broke off and sighed. "Things were a little awkward, I suppose. There's not really any way of denying it, actually. They were forced – mechanical, I guess you could say. Our conversation was always a little manufactured, too. Well, more than a little. It was never like this." Cas gestured between the two of them. "It was never like things were with you. It was never even close."
Dean smiled gently.
"What kind of things did the two of you do together?—Like, on dates?"
"We usually just grabbed coffee together." Cas shrugged. "That was about it."
"Anything else?" Dean asked, swallowing slightly.
"What do you mean?" Cas frowned.
Dean bit his lip—he felt the sinking feeling gush through him again—he recalled the day that he had seen Cas and Balthazar together, the day that he had felt his world collapse around him, for the second time in his life, all over again.
Dean had been walking down the street when he had seen the two of them together. He'd previously had no idea where it was Cas was staying, where he was living, what he was doing with his life, himself—he'd been unable to get any contact with Castiel, no matter how hard he had tried. And he had tried very hard, for a painfully long time. And then he'd seen him—he'd seen Castiel, and he'd felt unable to breathe.
He'd felt as though folds of water had come crashing down over him, and that he was now down in the dusky depths of the ocean, struggling to move and unable to breathe.
It was like drowning, looking at Cas after all that time. After all that pain.
It had been just like when he'd first seen Cas—when he'd first seen those glistening, penetrating, intelligent, eyes; and had been so fascinated, so overwhelmed by them. Except this time, it was infinitely worse.
After not seeing Cas for so long, after living without him for so long, seeing him again was overpowering.
His breath had caught in his throat—he'd tried to call out Castiel's name, to go running up to him, to kiss him hard on the lips and apologise for everything, wrapping his arms tightly around Cas' skinnier frame; but instead he'd stood there, rooted to the spot, having no idea of what to do or say.
Cas had been standing outside a café—he had been smiling; he had been looking happier than Dean could ever dream of being without the dark haired man in his life—and he hadn't seen Dean yet. Dean tried to shout Cas' name again—but just as he was about to, someone else did.
"Castiel!" It was an overly cheerful, overly pompous British accent that Dean decided he hated as soon as he heard. Cas had turned to the blonde haired man and smiled at him, talking to him—Dean couldn't make out what it was he'd been saying, but he felt his heart sink as he realised just who the English guy was.
The blonde hair, the scruff, the skinny frame, the modern, douchebag clothing, the British accent.
This was Balthazar.
Castiel had moved on. Castiel had found Balthazar again—or maybe Balthazar had found him—whatever. It didn't matter. Cas had found someone else, and he was happy.
He was in a relationship, and it wasn't with Dean Winchester.
The two of them had hugged, then, hugged as lovers would—
Cas and Balthazar had been lovers.
The two of them had—
Dean felt himself recoil slightly at the thought.
He looked down again, swallowing hard.
Dean had been completely unable to get with anyone when he and Cas had split up.—Or, rather, when he had left Cas.
And he hadn't wanted to. He'd been almost revolted by anyone around him; almost as much as he had been by his own reflection. People he would have previously found attractive, would have hit on before he met Cas, seemed dirty to Dean. Dean had practically wrinkled his nose at people he would have previously asked out.
He'd never be able to ask anyone other than Cas on a date. After he'd first met Cas, he'd known that. Nobody could ever compare to Cas. When the two of them had been together, Dean hadn't been able to compare anyone else with Castiel. And after Dean had fucked up—even looking at others in that way had been enough to make Dean want to be sick.
But Cas—Cas hadn't had that problem, apparently.
The thought tore Dean open with sorrow and a vicious, draining kind of envy.
"What do you mean, Dean?" Castiel asked again, snapping Dean out of his daze. Dean licked his lips slowly. "You're really jealous, aren't you?" Cas asked, an odd expression coming across his face—was it a smug smile, or something else? Dean felt himself slightly unable to tell. "Are you asking me how far me and Balthazar went?"
Dean's face heated furiously. It burned with shame. He looked down again, unable to meet Castiel's gaze.
"You really are jealous." Castiel laughed. Dean scowled at Cas' tone of voice—Cas was actually enjoying this.
"Why does it matter if I'm jealous?"
"Why does it matter if I slept with Balthazar?"
Dean bit his lip. That was a fair point. And, on top of that, it was one that he didn't have an answer to.
"Dean," Castiel sighed, "Balthazar and I had been together for six months when we split up. We were very serious at the time. Or, we had been, at least. And after we got back together—well, when we got back together, we saw each other for well over two and a half months. What do you think happened? You do the math."
Dean looked down again. He felt jealousy boring through him, viciously. He felt ashamed at the feeling—he knew he had no right to feel that way, but—
"You and I weren't together." Cas said, his voice very small.
"I know." Dean nodded.
"I was only trying to get over you."
Dean bit his lip again. He looked up at Castiel, and reached out to squeeze his hand gently. Cas looked relieved at the touch.
"I get it, Cas." He said, gently. "And I'm so sorry for what I did to you. I'm so sorry for how badly I hurt you."
"It's okay, Dean." Cas shrugged.
"And I'm sorry for being so jealous." Dean blushed.
"That's fine." Castiel actually broke out into a laugh, now. "It was kind of cute." Dean's lips twitched upwards at the comment. "Balthazar was nothing compared to you." He beamed, before his eyes widened in realisation at what it was he'd just said—Dean felt a grin slap itself across his face. "Wait, I didn't mean it like that—!"
"Sure you didn't." Dean laughed smugly.
"Oh, shut up." Cas rolled his eyes.
"So, was he as good as me in bed?" Dean found himself growling out this question, staring at Cas hungrily, possessively. Castiel quirked another smile and leant forward to kiss Dean gently.
"What do you think?"
"I'd rather hear you say it." Dean grinned mischievously. Cas rolled his eyes again, smiling in spite of himself.
"You're fucking amazing in bed, Dean." He grinned, mumbling the words against Dean's mouth before capturing Dean's lips in a soft kiss. "Better than anyone I've ever had."
"Damn straight." Dean growled against Castiel. Cas laughed at Dean's words softly.
"Do you have any other questions?"
"Yeah." Dean nodded again. He pulled back and squeezed Cas' hand once more. "I get that you wanted to move on from me—and I'm so sorry Cas, for everything—" Cas smiled and took Dean's other hand in his own, squeezing it gently with the other. "—But what made you want to be with him again? Like, I mean, properly be with him? It could have been anyone—and he betrayed you—and I know I'm in no position to criticise, not at all, but—what made you want to be with him, after all of that?"
"I'd pretty much forgiven him." Cas shrugged. "And it didn't hurt anymore, anyway. Like I said, there wasn't any pain left. And he apologised for everything."
"He apologised?"
"Yes. And I forgave him." Castiel shrugged again.
"And there wasn't any pain left?"
"Nope." Castiel confirmed. "None. Just, bitterness, maybe. But it didn't hurt."
"Is there any pain with me?" Dean asked, looking up at Castiel shyly, terrified of the answer.
He could tell—he could feel—that his expression was anxious, frightened. He knew it was. Worry twisted itself tightly in his gut, waiting for Cas' reaction, but he could already tell what it was going to be.
Castiel looked at Dean with sad eyes.
"Dean—" Cas started, reaching out his hand for Dean's body once more, but Dean pulled away.
"I get it." Dean nodded shortly. "After the shit that I pulled—it's fine if you hurt—I get it."
"It's not that." Castiel shook his head quickly, his voice tearing slightly as he spoke. Something inside of Dean shattered itself at the sound.
"What else could it be?" Dean frowned. "I fucked up too badly, and at the beginning of this, I thought we could work this stuff out, but—"
"We can work this out!"
"How?!" Dean bit harshly, turning to face Cas again. He felt an agonising despair settle deep within him at the miserable, shocked look of Castiel's face. "I'm so sorry—" He tried to say quickly, but Cas shook his head shortly, a harsh, blank expression fixed on his face. The motion spiked despair through Dean.
"I don't hurt like I used to, Dean." Cas said shortly. His tone was blunt and explanatory and horrifically impersonal. "Now it's just—well, it's just worry. I don't want to hurt again. That's the point. And these things aren't as easily resolved as I first thought they would be. And that was a terrible oversight on my part, and I'm very sorry."
"You don't need to apologise, Cas, Jesus—you haven't done anything wrong—I should be—"
Castiel flicked his eyes back up to Dean's, silencing him completely.
"However shit with worry I feel, Dean, you still feel wracked with grief and remorse. Don't think I don't know that. I can see it. And I hate it, and I wish you didn't. And I've said—countless times, I've said that I forgive you, but you don't listen."
"But I don't deserve your forgiveness, Cas, not after what I did—"
"Jesus, Dean!" Cas sighed. "You're doing it again—stop, please—I hate this, I hate seeing this. Both of us hurt—I'm scared about what's going to happen—and you, you're aching with everything—but both of us can get better—both of us can make it work. We can fix this."
Dean looked up at Cas and swallowed, hard.
"You really want to fix it? With me?"
Castiel reached forward to cup Dean's face with his hand. Dean sighed and leant into the touch—his eyes almost fluttered closed for a few moments.
"More than anything." Castiel replied softly.
Dean swallowed again.
"What would that look like?" He asked. "How would we make this better? Stop all of our fighting?"
"Talking things out, I guess." Castiel shrugged. "Just like you said. Not letting things get carried away. Like we did just now."
Dean broke out into a soft smile, then, and Castiel grinned and grazed his nose against Dean's.
"We've been fighting a lot." Dean sighed. "I'm sorry."
Castiel kissed Dean slowly for a moment. "It's only to be expected, just as you said. And we're working things out, however gradually."
Dean nodded and smiled, his forehead resting against Cas'.
"You really want to work things out with me?"
"Of course." Castiel beamed. "I love you. And I want to spend forever with you—just as you do with me."
Dean beamed again. He made an odd, hungry sort of noise at the back of his throat, and pulled Cas, desperately towards him for a kiss.
Dean's mind span to a halt as he ran over what Cas had just said, the words only just starting to register—Cas wanted to spend forever with Dean—he had said it, explicitly, for what was probably the first time since the two of them had got back together.
Cas wanted that dream of forever, too.
"I love you." Dean moaned, breaking apart from the kiss for a moment before crashing his lips against Castiel's once more. Cas hummed happily against his mouth. "I swear I'll never hurt you again. I promise." Dean groaned. Castiel fisted at his hair, desperately. "I'll spend the rest of my life with you, Cas, making it all up to you, if you let me."
"I want that." Castiel nodded, his voice a hoarse, needy rumble in his throat. Dean grinned against Cas' mouth at the words.
The two of them moved into Dean's bed shortly after that. They pulled at each other's hair desperately, frantically tore the other's clothing off and nipped and sucked at each other's skin. It was as though they had been starved of each other once again, as though they were both famished for the other man's touch and smell, for the stretch of his skin and the scent of his arousal in the air.
Dean took both of their throbbing cocks in his hand and began to stroke the length of them, pumping quickly and twisting his wrist as he moaned at his own touches—there was no painful ebb of foreplay; no agonising build-up of kissing and leisurely touches as the two of them were torn between desire for one another, properly, and their adoration for the slow, continuous, delicious torture they could subject each other two when building up both of their arousals to breaking point.
There was none of that.
It was as though the two of them were starving, famished, for the other man's flesh. There was only frantic desire and desperate need. Their minds were numb with lust, drunk with arousal, too caught up in the other man to even be able to think about making love slowly, savouring each touch enough to do that.
They spilled together, messily, onto each other, crying out together, kissing sluggishly afterwards, finally able to take this, at least, slowly.
"I love you." Dean croaked. Cas sighed happily, exhaustedly, satedly, and settled down into Dean's arms. Dean rolled him over so that Castiel had his back to Dean, and began to kiss slowly down the stretch of Cas' skin, down the rope of his spine. Cas purred happily at the touch, and felt almost disappointed when Dean settled back down beside him, kissing softly at his shoulder blades, down Cas' hair and where it met his neck.
"And I love you." Cas replied, humming happily. There was a contented silence for several moments—both of them were feeling incredibly sated and very drowsy, and Cas was, in fact, very nearly asleep when Dean spoke up again.
"Are you sure you want to be with me?" Dean asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
His voice was quiet and scared, as though he had been thinking this, asking himself this question, over and over again in his own head, worrying over it in silence.
Cas frowned.
"—Yes" He stammered quickly. "Of course."
"After everything?"
Dean still sounded nervous, as though he didn't believe – couldn't believe – that Cas still wanted to be with him. That Cas still loved him.
Of course, Cas was certain of both of these things. But Dean sounded like he believed them to be almost completely impossible.
"Why, Dean?" Cas asked, his voice firm as he frowned again.
"But what if I ruin things, all over?"
"Why do you think you will?"
"I don't know." Dean whispered. His voice wasn't simply quiet, it was small and shy and terrified on top of that; and something inside of Cas ached at the sound of it. "I'm just—" Dean sighed. His hands never moved from around Cas' waist while he spoke, and Cas was, at least, thankful for this. Dean's touches served as a small comfort, despite Dean's nervous and unhappy tone. "I'm scared that I'll fuck up again. I don't want to fuck up, Cas. I don't want to lose you."
Cas looked down. He wished he could see Dean's face, but it was pressed into the base of Cas' neck, and Cas had his back to Dean as Dean's body faced Castiel's, his arms wrapped tightly around Cas' waist.
"I'm not a safe bet, Cas." Dean croaked into Cas' neck. "I've fucked up once before, and I hurt you so badly, and I don't want to do that again, but I'm so scared I will—and… I always fuck stuff up—I always do. I always have, and I'm scared I always will… and—Cas—I'm a risk you don't want to take."
"But I do." Cas replied.
"But why would you?" Dean asked, his voice cracked and tentative.
"I don't know." Cas shook his head. He felt a hopeless laugh nearly tugging at his throat. "I don't know." He repeated, shrugging.
"Exactly." Dean replied, his voice fracturing as he spoke, the words splintering into Cas as they escaped Dean's mouth. "I'm poison. And I've hurt you before, and—"
"—No, Dean, not like that." Cas interrupted quickly. "I can't explain why, exactly, although I'll try. Just—" he sighed, rolling over in the bed to face Dean. "—Stop this, okay? I know you hate yourself for what you did, but—" he huffed out another, slightly exasperated breath. "You've got to stop. I've forgiven you. I've told you I have—I love you Dean. And I only wish you could forgive yourself, too. That's what I want. That's what I want from you, now. Do you think you could do that?"
Dean glanced down. A worried line formed between his eyebrows.
"Why do you want to risk me?" He asked, looking back up into Cas' eyes suddenly, staring earnestly at Cas.
Cas breathed out slowly, resting his forehead on Dean's. Dean pulled him in closer, as though he was desperate, thirsty, for more of Cas, for more of Cas' touches and attention and affection.
"I don't know." Cas repeated, finding himself laughing again. Why was he prepared to risk Dean again? He knew he wanted to, he felt certain of it—he even knew the reasoning behind it; but why was he so unable to put it into words?
"I suppose," he started, swallowing for a moment. "That I just believe you're worth risking. You were last time. And—" Cas breathed, looking back up into Dean's eyes. "—I know you hate yourself for what you did. But I really don't like seeing that, Dean. I came alive when I first met you, and that's why it was so strange, so painful after you left. But you're back now, you returned to me—and Dean, after spending two years being convinced that love was for idiots and telling myself that I would never ever be played as love's fool again, you proved me wrong. You proved me wonderfully wrong. I was so glad that you did—I still am. And then, after that, after you left—after a year of being convinced that I'd never be able to fall in love, never be able to be happy again, you proved me wrong then, too. And I'm so glad you did. I'm so grateful for that, Dean. I'm so grateful for everything. You saved me."
"You saved me." Dean replied, blushing slightly from Cas' words, smiling shyly.
"Well, I was lost when I found you, Dean, so either way, I think we saved each other."
"You really think I'm worth risking?" Dean asked, looking up shyly at Castiel.
"You've already proved yourself worth it, Dean. And—" Cas sighed, pressing himself closer to Dean's body—despite the fact that their bare skin was resting together, it still felt as though there was a stifling distance between them, and Cas longed to press himself even closer into Dean's flesh. "You're a risk I want to take, anyway. You're more than worth it."
"You really think so?"
"Yes." Cas nodded. "I spent so long just praying that you'd come back to me, and you finally did. And I couldn't be more grateful." Cas beamed. "—Or happy." He added.
Dean pressed his body closer to Castiel's.
"I'm just scared I'm going to fuck up again." He croaked quietly, pressing his face into Cas' neck.
Cas bit his lip.
"You won't." He replied. "And anyway, we both fucked up, remember? And now I think we both know what fucking up means—what it can do—what it did to us—and I don't know… We're not going to let things get to that point. We both know what we mean to each other now. We both know how much we love each other. And I'm not prepared to throw that away. Not in a million years, Dean."
Dean nodded quietly. He squeezed his body even tighter against Cas'. There was a fairly long silence.
"Can you just—" Dean cut himself off, looking down.
"Can I, what?" Cas asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
"When we were at Michael's wedding reception, there was a point where you got really pissed with me, and you started yelling, and—"
"I didn't mean what I said, Dean." Cas said quickly.
"No, no—don't say that—" Dean said, suddenly looking at Cas, sounding desperate and earnest. "Don't say that—"
"Why not?"
"Because it was true—and—Cas, could you—"
"Could I what?"
"Could you say it to me again? Could you? Could you say everything you wanted to say—everything you were going to say—could you say it, now?" Cas felt himself frown at Dean's words. They sounded wrong, they curdled in his ears, made a bitter taste form in his mouth as Dean spoke. "Could you do that for me, Cassie?" Dean was pleading, he was looking at Castiel with a desperate intensity, and Cas wanted to recoil, to pull away from Dean—something curled in his stomach at the sight of Dean in this state, and he didn't know how to react.
"What?" He frowned. "What do you mean? Why would you want that? Why would you ever want that? What's going on, Dean?"
"Please, Cas." Dean begged. "Could you do that?"
"I don't understand—"
"Say how much I hurt you—I deserve to hear it—I deserve to feel like shit – for everything, for everything I did to you – just…" Dean sighed frantically. "Tell me—tell me how vile I am—tell me how disgusting I already know I am—"
"Dean—!" Cas exclaimed, squinting at Dean, shocked and scared by his words. "You can't mean that—"
"—I do" Dean interrupted quickly. "—I do. Please, Cas. Please, please, Castiel—say it—say what I deserve to hear—say how vile and awful and disgusting you think I am—say how much you hate what I did—how much you hate me for what I did—"
Cas closed his eyes, tears threatening to spill onto his cheeks.
Something horrible and murky twisted around his heart.
He knew that Dean had hated himself after he had left Cas, but he had never realised just how much.
And now it was clear.
Dean loathed himself.
Dean loathed himself frantically and desperately and constantly; he despised himself beyond words, perhaps beyond repair—he longed to hear Cas' insults, craved Castiel's abuse—perhaps he felt that it would cleanse him in some way, rid him of his own despair. It was as though Dean thought it was a punishment, and one that he deserved.
Dean wanted to hear Cas say how repulsive Dean already thought he was.
But Cas wasn't going to do that.
He couldn't.
He pulled Dean back into his arms. He squeezed Dean's body tightly against his chest, and Dean curled into it, biting sobs into Cas' skin.
"Please, Cas." Dean begged again.
"I can't do that." Cas replied, his voice choking. "And I don't want to."
"Please—"
"No, Dean. It's not true—you're—you're not—"
Dean looked up at Cas, now, searching his face desperately.
"Not what?" He asked, breathlessly and frantically.
"I don't think I really understood 'til now." Cas sighed, a worried line forming on his face.
He laced kisses over Dean's forehead—Dean looked like he wanted to pull away, looked like he felt he didn't deserve them, but Castiel was glad when he didn't recoil or object, and he pressed more soft brushes of his lips to Dean's face.
"You're not vile." Cas whispered against Dean.
"I am."
"You're really not." Cas replied resolutely. "You're damaged—you have the shittiest self-esteem of anyone I've ever met, but you're not—"
"I'm poison"
"You're not." Cas sighed, but Dean looked away.
"I feel like such crap for what I did to you, Cas."
There was silence for a moment.
"I know you do." Cas said softly. "But I've forgiven you."
"But you shouldn't—what I did was so fucked up, Cas. I left you, I insulted you, I exited and left you with just a fucking note—and the note, Cas, that's the worst bit—I—"
Cas cut Dean off by kissing him.
"I love you." Cas said firmly, pulling away. "And there's no escaping that, Dean. And I've forgiven you for all the shitty things you did, and you forgave me for everything that I did to you, and it's time you forgave yourself, too. You're not perfect—of course not, but nobody is. And I wouldn't have you any other way. You've got to stop this, Dean. I'm not going to stop saying it until you know how true it is; I don't care—you're infinitely more valuable than you give yourself credit for. You mean so much to me—ever since Gabriel's party, all that time ago, I knew I was lost to you then, and I still am now. I'm even more lost to you. I become more and more lost to you every day."
Dean looked back up at Cas. He pressed his forehead firmly on Cas'.
"Really?"
His voice was so small and scared.
"Yes." Cas nodded, resolutely. "And you forgave me for all the shitty things I did to you. You've never held any of it against me, and that just goes to show what you're like, Dean—I dread to think how much I hurt you, but you still—"
Dean's eyes flicked up to stare into Cas' at that. He peered determinedly, desperately, at Castiel.
"Still what?" He asked.
Cas felt waves of love and warmth for Dean flood their way through him.
"I love you." He said again. Dean's expression softened at that. Tears were still welling in his eyes, and it broke Cas to see, but at least Dean was looking at him with a calmer expression than before. "I really do." Cas spoke softly. "I always have. You've always been perfect, Dean. And I know you've made mistakes, and so have I, but you're so perfect to me. You're so precious." Dean's lips quirked upwards slightly.
"You really think so?" He asked quietly, more than slightly insecurely.
"I really do." Cas nodded. There was a small silence as the two of them gazed into each other's eyes. Cas sighed gently. "I'm so lost to you, Dean. I'm so lost to you."
Dean's expression trembled. He pressed himself closer to Castiel.
"I would break myself to piece you back together." Cas whispered softly.
"That's probably not the healthiest thing to say, Cas." Dean replied, his voice still shy and small.
"And you trying to get me to insult you is?" Cas asked, raising his eyebrows at Dean. Dean blushed and ducked his head guiltily.
"Sorry." His voice cracked.
Tears had fallen onto his cheek, and Cas leant forward and kissed the bridge of Dean's nose.
"You're perfect to me, Dean." He said quietly. He leant forward again and kissed away Dean's tears; each and every one of them. He kissed at the ones that had fallen onto Dean's cheeks, the ones sliding down the bridge of Dean's nose, the tears still forming in the corners of Dean's eyes. Cas kissed Dean's eyelids, the tears slipping down the tip of his nose; and Dean let out a strangled moan at this, sounding broken—but oddly as though something inside of his was repairing at the motion, at the action of Cas' kisses.
"You're perfect to me." Cas said, over and over again. He mumbled the words onto Dean's skin and whispered them against his neck; desperate to convince Dean of their truth. Dean tilted his head back—still more moans escaped his lips, and before Cas knew it, the two of them were kissing each other, desperately, passionately, on the lips again.
"I love you." Dean moaned, his eyes fluttering closed.
"And I, you." Cas replied.
"You're everything, Cas." Dean breathed. "I want to do right by you. I want to do so right by you."
"You already have." Cas beamed.
Dean's lips twitched upwards. He pressed his mouth to Castiel once more, pressing his tongue into Cas' mouth hungrily.
"I need you."
"You say that a lot." Cas laughed, pulling away for a moment. He felt relief flood through him as Dean beamed and laughed up at him for the first time during the conversation.
"Well, it's true." Dean chuckled. "I do."
Cas laughed and ducked his head.
"I was so lost when I first met you, Cas."
"What do you mean?"
"Just that. I was lost. I was lost—and you saved me. You found me."
"I think I was a little lost when I found you, too."
Dean smiled again from underneath Cas. It was strange—it was unexplainable and impossibly illogical—but Cas could see Dean getting better – he could see Dean hating himself a little less, believing Cas' words a little more, as the two of them kissed, slowly, softly.
Cas ran his lips down Dean's body, grazing his mouth and his teeth against Dean's skin, against his chest and shoulders and stomach and the insides of his thighs—and he had hardly even been thinking; he'd been so preoccupied, so enchanted with Dean's body, so desperate to make Dean feel better once more—so desperate to make Dean feel a fraction as wonderful and beautiful as Cas thought he was—as Cas knew him to be.
He snapped out of his daze, now.
He was straddling Dean's body, which was now beading with sweat, and trembling and shaking with lust for Castiel.
"Cas, please—" Dean nearly sobbed. He was shivering under Castiel's touches, his kisses, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Dean's cock was completely hard, beading with precome, and Cas licked his lips slowly at the image.
"What do you want, Dean?" Cas asked, surprised at the low, stirred tone his voice had taken.
"You." Dean begged simply.
Cas breathed in deeply. He moved himself back up Dean's body and kissed passionately at his neck, below his jaw, at the skin stretching over his shoulders sucking at each spot slowly, eliciting him low moans from Dean's mouth.
He reached over for the lube on the bedside table, opening it and covering his fingers in it. He bent over and kissed the stretch of Dean's stomach as he pressed his first finger slowly, gently, inside of Dean's body. Cas loved the way that Dean lifted his hips up suddenly, moaning loudly at the motion, pressing his head back against the pillow, his eyes fluttering softly closed.
"Cas…" He moaned quietly. Cas sighed happily at the sound. He stretched Dean open further and slowly slipped another finger inside of him, adoring the way that Dean whined at the touch, that he bit his lip and had to breathe in deeply as Cas slid his fingers in and out of Dean, slowly, deliberately.
Dean's hips bucked upwards when Cas added a third finger. He swallowed hard as he watched Dean, trembling in pleasure beneath him, his eyes heavy and hooded and his chest heaving with stuttered breaths and moans.
He slid his fourth finger in and stroked gently at Dean's heavy cock for a few moments, precome beading at its head. He loved the strangled moan that Dean gave at this, the way that Dean's hips bucked up once more, the way that Dean had to swallow hard as another strangled cry escaped his lips at Cas' touched.
Cas stretched his fingers out inside of Dean gently, opening Dean out further, before slipping them out—Dean let out an upset whine at this, and Cas simply found himself grinning in response. He loved it when Dean was so needy with him, so desperate for Cas' hands on his body.
He brushed his cock gently at Dean's sensitive entrance, provoking another whine to leave Dean's mouth.
"You want me inside you, Dean?" Cas asked, brushing his fingers up the length of Dean's torso.
"So bad, Cassie." Dean moaned. "I want that so bad."
Dean's voice was strangled and choked, his words stammered and tumbled out of him clumsily—it made Castiel smile to hear—he loved Dean – he loved Dean when he was a hopeless, desperate mess of lust; moaning Cas' name loud enough for the neighbours to hear.
He pressed himself slowly inside of Dean, wrapping Dean's legs around his waist.
"Cas—" Dean whimpered, his eyes closed.
"Does that feel good, Dean?" Cas asked, his voice rumbling in his throat.
"Yeah." Dean mewled. "So good, Cassie."
"Good." Cas purred, stroking Dean's cock softly. Dean bucked his hips upwards into the touch, crying out, and Cas pulled out of Dean slightly, slowly, before slamming back inside of Dean's body. Dean immediately let out a shout of pleasure, tilting his head back once more, and Cas bent forward and kissed down the length of Dean's torso, up his chest, as he slid in and out of Dean, eliciting still more stuttered moans and whimpers from Dean's lips.
It didn't take long for Dean to climax.
Cas could see it building up inside of him; could feel Dean's legs tighten around his body, his arms reaching out for Castiel and Dean's nails scraping down his body as his toes curled. Castiel watched as Dean's mouth opened wider, his eyes slamming, squeezing, tightly shut, as Dean's moans trembled louder than before; growing more and more shuddering, Dean's body shaking beneath Castiel's.
Finally, Dean spilled between them, with another cry of Cas' name. Cas gasped at the sound, at the feeling of Dean clenching tightly around him.
It didn't take long for Cas to come after that.
He bit into Dean's neck as his lips bucked forward, as he spilled himself inside of Dean's body, as pleasure pooled deep and low and boiling inside of him before thrumming through his entire frame.
Dean panted against him as he kissed slowly down Dean's neck before pulling out of Dean's body. Castiel felt drained, sated and satisfied and filled with the warmth of his afterglow and the happiness of his adoration for Dean.
Dean's body had fallen, limply, back onto the bed. He smiled sleepily up at Cas as Cas slowly kissed him on the lips, his mouth moving lazily over Dean's.
"Was that good, Dean?" Cas asked softly against Dean's jaw.
"Uh-huh." Dean nodded, still panting; his breath weighted against Cas' mouth.
Cas brushed away the sweat beading at Dean's forehead with the pad of his thumb. Dean beamed at the motion.
"You're so beautiful." Cas purred, kissing Dean softly on the nose, loving the way that Dean squirmed and blushed slightly at the motion.
"Not as beautiful as you." Dean sighed happily, sleepily, smiling up at Cas.
"I beg to differ." Cas laughed, kissing a mark he had left on Dean's right shoulder before settling down next to Dean's naked form.
The two of them curled into each other's arms.
One of Dean's hands found its way into Castiel's hair, the other around his waist, and Cas stroked softly down Dean's spine. Dean purred slightly at the touch, a contented smile drawing itself across his face. The foreheads were resting together, they were staring into each other's eyes. Dean's gaze was soft and grateful and loving on Castiel's.
"Thank you, Cas." Dean mumbled softly, another small, shy, albeit loving smile quirking at his lips.
"What for?" Cas asked, tilting his head at Dean.
"Falling in love with me." Dean laughed, beaming at Castiel. Cas returned the look, sighing happily, his breath mingling with Dean's own.
The two of them leant forward until their lips brushed tenderly. Cas grazed his nose against Dean's. He smiled softly at Dean, whose eyelids were already drooping slightly.
"I promise you I'll prove how perfect I think you are, Dean." Cas mumbled gently.
Dean smiled softly again.
Cas wanted to be married to the man who owned that smile so desperately.
"I can't wait for everything, Cas." Dean mumbled sleepily.
"What?" Cas asked, frowning a little, although feeling amusement curl through him. "What can't you wait for?"
"Everything." Dean repeated, sleepily. "With you."
Cas prayed that Dean was thinking about him proposing to Castiel again, to the two of them getting married at long last.
He prayed that that had been what the voicemail message had been about.
He hoped above anything that Dean still wanted to marry him.
His last thought before falling asleep in Dean's arms was of just how much he would love to be able to do so every night; of how much spending forever with Dean sounded like paradise to Castiel.
That night, he dreamt of small houses with gardens, of wedding rings and jade eyes and the ring of confident laughter in his ears. He dreamt of buying a dog and falling asleep to the sound of Dean's gentle snores each night. He dreamt of discussing children, of Dean's beam as he held a baby that Castiel imagined was theirs, of Dean's smile as both of them became fathers. He dreamt of marrying Dean Winchester. And it was paradise.
That's chapter 25 done and dusted! I hope you all enjoyed it! Please please please review! (And give me any requests!)