Chapter Fourteen - Cursed Or Not

Hey, my lovelies, happy Valentine's day! And even more importantly: Happy DeanCas Weddin day! Nope, twitter didn't pass by my tumblr account unnoticed, either.

Anyway, back to our story at hand. I'm not going to tell too much, but let's just say our boys have a few more things to talk through...yeah, I'm sorry. I'm a hopeless sap that needs to have them address every potential struggle and work through it with what Dean would consider a chick-flicky conversation. I guess you'll just have to deal with that. So...enjoy!

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Castiel knows how to save Dean, how to protect him. He knows how it feels to fail him, how to see him die, how to mourn him. He knows how to watch him, watch over him, look after him. He knows how to love Dean, but always from afar. He knows stolen glances, accidental touches, secret moments.

He doesn't know how to be allowed to be near, to look, to touch. He doesn't know how to kiss him.

But oh, if he isn't going to find out...

It's just a brush of lips, closed mouths pressing together, chaste and searching. A few seconds of contact, of connection, a question Cas writes onto Dean's lips before he slowly pulls back. They're both breathing hard, and Dean can see the way Cas' pupils are dilated, the blue still there but darker, sparkling, inviting, speaking volumes of the mixed emotion swirling behind the calm surface.

He has to look away. If he doesn't look away immediately, he'll never look away.

"Cas, I...I-" It's easier to find his voice when he's not looking. It's still hard to find the words. He squeezes his eyes shut, exhales a shaky breath. Cas blinks when he meets his gaze again and Dean is grateful for it, gives him a reason not to fall under that spell and drown.

He should be able to say it. Shouldn't he be able to say it now? He so wants to be able to say it. Cas deserves to hear him say it.

"It's okay, Dean." Cas' words are too understanding, his voice too soft, his gentle smile misplaced. "You don't have to say it."

You don't have to say it. I heard your prayer.

You don't know, he wants to scram in Cas' face. You have no idea. He can't stand the thought of it happening again, not again, not like in purgatory, not again. And yet there's a sick sense of relief about this game they're playing, the way he always finds a way not to tell him, always too busy, always hunting, always saving, always averting Armageddon, again and again and again. Never enough time, never the right time, never the right place, either. Never right. Never ready. If they wait until they're ready, they would be waiting for all eternity.

"Don't do this, Cas", he says without thinking and Cas flinches slightly at the echo of his words from the dungeon, but this is not what Dean meant, this is not what he meant at all, not this time.

"No, I- I mean..." I want to say it. I want you to hear it. He licks over his lips, an unconscious nervous habit, and tries not to let himself be distracted by the fact that Cas' eyes seem to follow the movement of his tongue. "I have to tell you- You need to know that I-I...I need you, Cas", he presses out, angry with himself that once again, it's not the words he'd wanted to say, not the words he meant. Fucking coward.

But Cas' mouth is still curled into that gentle smile when he dares to look at him, and how the hell is Dean supposed to stay angry with himself when such a beautiful thing is directed his way?

"Dean." The name is like honey. Sweet and golden and dripping with affection. Dean almost can't stand it. He's tempted to close his eyes again, overwhelmed, but he can't. He's captured by something in Cas' gaze, a calm blue ocean sparkling in the sunlight.

"I know, Dean", Cas tells him. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards, crooked and beautiful. "I love you, too."

Dean can hear his own pant in the silence around them, not knowing what feeling it is that provoked it. Surprise? Realisation? Relief? Gratefulness? They all muddle into one indistinguishable ball of emotion until he's unable to tell them apart anymore. That happens often. Feelings going down onto each other, mixing, fighting, creating a monster he can't understand anymore. Joy laced with fear. Relief laced with worry. He has long forgotten what it feels like to really know your own heart.

Thank the universe he had found someone that spoke his language so he wouldn't have to spend his life translating his soul.

They're standing at the top of this cliff, the edge of something he doesn't know how to cross. But he wants to. Oh, he's wanted to for so many years. But he's afraid. It's not easy, taking a step when you know you're going to fall, without an idea what awaits you at the foot. If you're gonna be caught or crash.

It's a leap of faith. This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.

Cas had been right about that. But it hadn't always been that way. Life had stolen it from him, with every loved one he lost, everyone that left him, every day that passed in pain and loneliness. But he isn't alone anymore, is he. He has Sam and Jack, Claire, Jody, Donna...

He has Cas. Cas, who always stays. Cas who just kept staying, and Dean... so used to being left by everyone he cares about - who could blame him for needing quite a while to trust that?

Dean doesn't have faith in life (he certainly didn't have faith in Chuck), but now, he knows he has faith in his family.

What comes next happens so fast, he has no time to think about it. Which is probably a good thing, so he couldn't talk himself out of it again. What happens is that he tightens his grib on the shirt he hasn't realised he's still holding onto, uses it to switch their positions and fling Cas against the wall instead. Even the smallest gap between himself and the angel is suddenly too much, so he presses his lips to Cas' and kisses him again. He kisses him for all the times he's wanted to and didn't. And it feels as outrageous as it feels inevitable.

Cas is stiff against him just for a second but lets Dean manhandle him without any resistance, and no, Dean is not going to think about the implications of that, this supernatural being that lets himself be pushed around when he could have broken Dean's arm with no effort at all. Dean knows there's no need to worry, neither is there time, for as soon as Cas realises what's happening he melts into Dean's touch and the angel's lips start moving against his. He's inexperienced and a little awkward at first, but it doesn't matter. This is Cas, it's Cas, and he's kissing him back! Oh my fucking God, he's actually, properly kissing Cas! The realisation makes Dean freak out and relax at the same time, he feels his arms loosening their grip on the angel's shirt and wandering around his back instead, encircling him in a careful but tight embrace.

That's all Cas needs. Dean is holding him, pulling him closer, just as if he tries to keep Cas from slipping away again, and it's all Cas has ever wanted. Encouraged by the hunters' eagerness, he allows his own hands to wander, up Dean's arm, over his shoulder, delighting in the shiver that runs through Dean's body when he brushes the patch that had once been adorned with the print of his hand. But he doesn't stop there, scratching over the short hairs in Dean's neck before he tangles his fingers in the thick blond strands.

Each little touch is fulfilling in a way that Cas couldn't ever have imagined. And yet, it doesn't minder the longing inside of him, on the opposite. With every sweep of his fingers, he craves more, wants to touch his face, pull his hair, kiss his chest, bite his-

"Dean." He reluctantly pulls away before his imagination gets ahead of his rational thinking. His voice is even deeper than usually and he feels Dean shiver at the sound. Good.

"Dean, can I-" He doesn't even know what to ask first. He wants... all of Dean, that's what he wants. But he would be patient. He would never take more than Dean is willing to give.

"Yeah." Dean is panting, just as breathless as Cas is himself, and isn't that something, considering that he doesn't actually require any breath at all. "Anything."

Does he mean it? Is Dean even aware what he's saying with this? Does he have any idea what that word encompasses?

Anything.

He says it thoughtlessly, carelessly. As if he didn't just promise Cas everything, every fantasy he ever dared engage in, every dream he knows he shouldn't have had. Dean has no idea. No idea of all the things that are swirling in Cas' head now, all the things he wants to do to him, with him. All the things he wants to take, all the things he wants to give. And how could Dean know? These are Cas' darkest, most guarded secrets. Feelings and desires he hardly dared to touch in the privacy of his own mind...

Now they're set free, set on fire by Dean's hands on his back, clutching at his shoulders, Dean's breath ghosting over his lips. Anything, Dean has said, and how on earth is Cas supposed to choose what to do out of all the things that word makes possible. He goes for the closest thing at hand and presses his lips to the hunter's once more, harder, hungrier than before. Dean lets him, matches Cas' pace. The first kisses had been slow, chaste almost, just lips pressing together, lips moving in unison, sweet and perfect.

This is something else entirely. And it's perfect too.

Dean feels the desperation in the hard press of Cas' lips, the tightening of his grip around his neck. He welcomes it. God, he welcomes all of it. Whatever Cas is willing to give, damn him if he's not going to take it. He lets his tongue dart out, swipes it across the angel's chapped yet soft lips, pleased to find Cas respond eagerly by opening up and letting him in. Despite the obvious hunger in his kiss, Cas seems happy to let Dean take the lead, and what is Dean supposed to do but give the angel what he asks. The first brush of their tongues is careful, tentative, and for a moment their desperation slows while Cas lets Dean explore. He's lost in it, the feeling, the knowledge that it's Cas, dizzy with the impossible truth that Cas allows him to do this. It doesn't feel real, and yet it is, has to be, with the warm weight of his body under Dean's hands, his scent in his nose, the taste of him on his tongue...

Then Cas moans, a sound that should be assigned a tag with a fucking age limit of at least 25, and Dean can hardly wrap his head around that this is the same Cas who'd been thrown out of a brothel for giving advice on daddy issues some time ago. And fuck if he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life eliciting those sounds from his angel again and again...

Wait. Dean's brain screeches to a halt. His angel? When the hell has Cas started to be his angel in Dean's mind? Not that his mind...well, minds. In fact, the problem he has with it is that he likes it a bit too much. It sounds...right. It sounds as if it's supposed to sound like that. Damn.

When Cas breaks away with the need to look at Dean's face, there's warmth in his eyes and a little smile in the corner of his mouth. Green eyes with pupils that are significantly dilated, and a mouth with red, kiss-swollen lips. It's a picture Cas has only seen in his imagination, but even that couldn't prepare him for the sheer beauty of it, the beauty of Dean. And this is because of him, Cas thinks, he did this to Dean. All Cas can do is to bite his lip and keep the groan from escaping his throat.

He doesn't know if Dean noticed, but maybe he did, because there's a twinkle in his eyes when he takes hold of his tie and uses it to draw him into another little peck on the lips.

"Lemme just grab that real quick", Dean says, loosening the tie around Cas' neck, and Cas just lets him, too busy staring at Dean to speak because he's loosening the tie around Cas' neck. He watches as Dean's nimble fingers work the knot open, not entirely, just wide enough to pull it over Cas' head, and Cas helps him obediently by bowing a little. The smile it earns him makes his heart flutter and he swallows, grateful that Dean didn't see because he turned around and is walking towards the door now. Cas watches in confusion how Dean opens it - he isn't about to leave is he? But no, he opens it just a smidge, just enough to...to hang the tie at the door handle outside before the door closes, and then Dean is suddenly in front of him again, in his space (personal space, he hears Dean's voice in his head, and oh, how far have they come since then) and Cas realises that he hasn't spoken in several minutes, so he forces his brain to function again.

"What did you do?"

Dean smirks. Smirks.

"So Sammy will know not to disturb us", he says as if that would explain anything. Cas is used to that by now. He had needed years to understand the language of humans, not just to know the words, but to truly understand. But Dean, Dean had a language of his own, full of metaphors, even fuller of cultural references. Cas had made it his personal task to learn this language of his, desired to be able to get all of it, to notice all the humour and wit in it he knew to be there. Much to his own pride and joy, he'd become exceedingly better at it, but there are still things that escape his understanding. He tilts his head in confusion.

"I don't understand. How would a tie at the-" He trails off, thinking. "Oh, I see", he says after a moment, just a hint of pride in his voice. "It's my tie. So he'll know I'm in your room. And as I usually always wear my tie, he'll know I must have taken it off for some reason, which, smart as your brother is, must eventually lead him to the conclusion that we're engaging in sexual relations."

Cas sounds calm and serious as ever and Dean sputters slightly at his words, both in an attempt to suppress a chuckle and in surprise about the...the-

"Very clever." Cas nods at him in satisfaction, oblivious what the mention of sexual relations did to the other man, and it's so Cas that Dean can't help but smile fondly despite the muddled mess it woke in his stomach.

"Yeah", he grins. "Yeah, Cas, that's how it works."

Cas' brow furrows again.

"You seem amused. Was I mistaken in my reasoning?"

"Nono." Dean bites the inside of his cheek, the grin widening. "It was...perfectly reasonable."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Just..." Because I love you. "Because you're you. And I love..." You. Would his brain catch up with his mouth before the damn thing blurts out shit like that, please? Thank you very much. (Or at least have the balls to go through with it, then.) Dean swallows.

"I love...that", he finishes lamely, awkwardly. But how is he supposed to get a grip on his thoughts while Cas looks at him like that?

"O-Okay..." Cas still looks confused but pleased nevertheless, and God, he can't believe how fucking much he adores that stupid little dork of an angel.

"So...are we going to?"

"W-What?" Fuck, he really has to pull his shit together. This is so not the moment to get lost in those gorgeous blue eyes, no matter how easy...

Dammit, Dean, concentrate!

"Engage in sexual intercourse."

Oooookay, okay. That certainly served to wake Dean up.

"First of all -" Dean congratulates himself on how steady his voice is. Yeah, man, you got this. "Don't call it that. Big mood-killer. Second- Damnit Cas, you can't just say shit like that."

Cas has the audacity to smile at him.

"May I read that as a yes?", he asks with a sparkle in his eyes that betrays the innocent tone. "Because, as you know, I don't really have experience with this. My time with April was...educational but, well, short-lived, and probably not the ideal example of a caring relationship." Dean has no time to grin at the pun or the meaningfully raised eyebrows. The word relationship is echoing too loudly in his ears. "So I would appreciate it if you were to...guide me", Cas says, a hint of shyness sneaking into his voice. "A little. I don't want to do something wrong or make you uncomfortable. I need to know if- "

And damn, Cas is nervous too, Dean realises, he seems so collected but- Somehow, that makes him feel a lot better about his own heart that is beating furiously in his chest at the mere thought of anything in the direction of "sexual relations".

"I don't know what I'm doing either, Cas", Dean blurts out before his mouth made contact with his brain. "I've never-" (He'd thought about it, many times over the years, but never actually found the courage to go through with it.) "But don't think of it that way", he says, tells Cas as much as himself. "There's no doing it right or wrong here, Cas. Just you and me and...as long as it feels good, there's nothing more you need to know, ok?"

"Making it up as we go", Cas says slowly, a smile forming on his still red-kissed lips. "That does sound wonderful, Dean. I don't- I mean we don't need to-" He sighs, directing eyes at Dean that hold more fondness than one single Dean Winchester should be able to handle. "I just want to be close to you", Cas says as truthfully as only Cas can. "In any way you'd let me."

Expecting Dean to think straight (pun intended) in the face of this is really too much to ask, so he answers the only way he knows how, with actions. He's on Cas the second he makes the decision to move, tries to tell him through his fingers that hook into Cas' belt loops to pull their bodies flush together, through the way he uses the angel's gasp to slip his tongue into his mouth, through every point of contact that makes Dean's skin tingle all over even through the layers of clothing. I want to be close too, he kisses into Cas' mouth, any way, every way. He bites his lip when Cas breaks the kiss to wander down his neck instead, presses open-mouthed kisses to the exposed skin there. Dean instinctively leans his head to the side to give him better access and Cas hums appreciatively and pulls Dean's shirt away to nibble at his collarbone. Dean is long aware that his jeans have started to become uncomfortably tight, but as Cas draws him impossibly closer, his erection brushes the angel's thigh. The jolt it sends through Dean rips him out of his daze just as Cas' mouth covers his again.

"Cas." Shit, he sounds wrecked already, and he wants nothing more than to just continue, but he can't take that risk. This is too important. Cas is too important. Dean curses himself for breaking the kiss, curses himself for panicking, curses himself for...lots of shit. But of-fucking-course he must lose it now. He can't just let himself have nice things, can he? He can't just believe for even a second that this is what Cas wants too, that he is what Cas wants, not even with Cas' fucking tongue in his mouth. He said so, but Cas has no fucking clue what he gets himself into, dammit. "Cas, wait."

Cas freezes at the words, stops immediately and disentangles himself from the hunter. (Has Dean changed his mind? Is he going too fast? He promised himself he wouldn't push, what if he scared him away and ruined everything, what if-?)

But the panic in Cas' gaze is exactly what Dean needs, the fear he can clearly see on that angelic face, proof that Cas is just as afraid to fuck up and lose this as he is...He won't ruin this before it's even begun. He won't. (There'll be enough time for him to do that later, a nasty little voice says in the back of his head, but he silences it, for now.)

He takes a step forward that seems much more confident than he feels, the step Cas has taken back only seconds ago, seconds that felt far too long and too far away from the pleasant warmth of another body pressed to his that he's already become addicted to, as it seems. He reaches for Cas' hands, desperate for some sort of comforting touch, goes for what seems the least risky.

"You sure you want this?", he asks, self-boycotting moron that he is. It sounds stupid. Dean can't not ask. "Because damnit, Cas, you have to be sure."

They both know he isn't just talking about sex. This has never just been about sex.

Relationship, Cas has said. A caring relationship. That's something Dean both knows he craves and has no idea how to do.

"I'm gonna hurt you along the road", he says, because he knows it's true, and Cas has to know, too. "And it'll be a long one. And I couldn't- If you looked around one day and regret-" Please. You have to stop me before I fuck this up. And I'm going to. I always do. "So if there is any doubt at all- Please, Cas..."

Cas would've liked to tell Dean that he's wrong. That it wouldn't be hard. That he wouldn't hurt him. That he couldn't. But that's a lie. Cas knows as well as Dean that nothing in their life has ever been all ponies and rainbows. And after all - the things that can hurt you the most are those that you love more than anything.

I'd rather have you, cursed or not.

"You kissed me", he simply states, eyebrows drawn together. "I'd like to think you'd only do that because you love me. And that's all I need to know, Dean." Dean manages to look hope- and doubtful at the same time, causing a fond smile to spread over Cas' face. "Because..." He bites his lip, swallows the surge of embarrassment. This is nothing to be embarrassed about. This is a time of truth, of sharing his truth with Dean the way he's always wanted to, so he does. "Of course I'm drawn to you, physically. But that's not- Not why I'm doing this. What I said, back then. I meant it, Dean. I meant all of it. I love you. I'm in love with you, Dean Winchester, and I think we've been through enough to establish that nothing you say or do can change my feelings for you."

In all those romantic comedies, all the universe seemed to labour to bring two people together that were meant to be. But not them. In their case, the universe even seemed to be against them. In every other universe, they hadn't made it. And that made it even more special in theirs. They had their bond, maybe one could even call them soulmates, but they hadn't been predestined. It had been up to them to make this work. They had chosen each other. Against all odds, against God's will.

They're here because they chose each other, over and over.

They're here because they love each other.

Dean has known, Cas has told him, and yet being told like this feels like a punch in the gut. A good one, though. Somehow. If that kind of thing exists.

Cas loves him. Fuck, Cas loves him. Like Love-love, capital L and shit. And- Wait. Cas loves him?

"Cas. You love me." Oh my god, what a stupid thing to say. His voice is breathless and so full of wonder that he almost expects to get a fond eye-roll in return. (And it's not far. The love of his life is an idiot, Cas thinks not for the first time. Obviously, he'd known, but Dean just happened to be so brilliant in between the fits of idiocy that he sometimes tended to forget.)

"I believe that's what I told you. Repeatedly." And yes, there's a hint of a tease, but it's so wrapped up in warmth and affection and genuineness that Dean barely notices.

"Cas, I-" Oh great. There goes his voice again. "I just never thought-"

And Cas smiles, nods knowingly, soothingly runs a thumb over Dean's knuckles. "I know, Dean. How could you expect someone else to love you when you don't love yourself?"

Well, damn. That hit a little closer to home than Dean would have liked. But then, who would know if not Cas. Who would know better than the one that had to literally rebuild him in Hell? Still, Dean has to remind him what that means.

"I'm a damaged good, Cas."

"As am I. We all are, Dean." It's true, but not like this, not like him.

"This world, it's broken. No one knows that better than you, but... it's also beautiful." Cas smiles, a smile Dean knows, from that day in the dungeon. He swallows thickly. "So you think you are broken, too? I tell you, you're not. Whatever it is you think is too damaged-"

"Some things are beyond fixing, Cas."

The smile doesn't waver. The angel simply shakes his head.

"I don't want to fix you, Dean. I want you to understand that there's nothing that needs fixing."

Cas watches calmly how Dean opens his mouth, hesitates, closes it again. And there's so much fear in his green eyes, it almost drowns out the hope behind. It's fine. It makes Cas' heart ache, but it's fine. Speechlessness is better than objection. He knows Dean is not there yet, but perhaps, if Cas just keeps telling him the truth, he will eventually accept it for what it is, see himself for who he is.

"I don't love you because you're perfect, Dean." (Though he is to Cas, but that's beside the point.)

"Loving you is..." Loving you is not expecting anything, just waiting. Loving you is not rejecting your flaws, and never wanting you to change. Loving you is not demanding and forcing anything, but helping you to free yourself from everything that holds you down.

"Loving you is loving every part of you", Cas finally says, putting as much unwavering genuineness in his words as he can verbally express. "Even those you yourself think are unlovable. But there's no such thing, Dean. Just because something is not perfect, does not make it any less worthy of love. I know...I know your father made you believe otherwise. So did mine." Cas smiles sadly. "I was taught that fear, fear is the heart of love. That love is...unquestionable devotion and worship, that it's obedience, and that it's something to be demanded, to be forced. But you..." He presses his lips together to hold the tears back that threaten to escape the corner of his eyes, lets all the emotion flow into his voice instead. "You taught me otherwise. It's bravery and- and selflessness and caring. And I'm so...I'm so sick of it, Dean. I'm sick of being controlled by those lies Heaven tried to impose on me. That's not how I want to experience love, that's not how I experience my love for you. And I can't keep acting as if I don't love you. Because I do. I know there are parts that you believe are... too dark and...shameful. But you forget that I've seen you at your worst, Dean, I've seen your soul, and even after all those years in Hell, it still shone brighter than any other I'd ever witnessed. Those things you're ashamed of? Those have been done to you, Dean, but they don't define you, they're not who you are." He draws Dean's hand closer, the one he'd healed earlier, and looks down at the undamaged skin. "I want to know every scar", he says, stroking over the knuckles with his thumb before searching those wide green eyes again. "Every flaw. Every imperfection. Show them to me and I will show you how to love them. You may think you are too damaged and too broken to allow yourself to be happy, but you can choose differently, Dean. You can choose to let me love you, to let me show you. That shouldn't be up to anyone else, do you understand? That can't be up to anyone else." He dares to bring his free hand up to Dean's face and gently stroke over his cheek. He can see how it makes the breath catch in Dean's throat and his smile softens. "I want to love you, Dean. But you must choose to let me. That's something only you can do. Good things...good things do happen. You deserve good things to happen. And more than anything I wish to be one of them. If you'd let me."

To say this speech leaves Dean dumbstruck would be an understatement. He knows he's staring, can't bring his body to stop, to move even one finger. Is this really what Cas believes? Is this...is this what Cas sees when he looks at him?

Dean has a hard time believing it, with how different it is from what he sees in the mirror. He has a hard time not believing it, too, with the way Cas' voice sounds, the way his hands feel, the way his eyes are speaking even louder than his words.

And there's a spark of hope, blue as the angel's eyes, somewhere in the thick, suffocating air of bitterness and disavowal.

How do we forgive ourselves for all the things we did not become? Dean is far from anything he wanted for himself when he was young, far from anything he wants for himself now. He's even farther from anything he would want for Cas. But perhaps he still has time to make himself what he wants to be. With Cas, he already feels a little closer. If Cas could see it, maybe it's there. Maybe he could find it, too.

"I don't need you to be anything, Dean", Cas says just then, as if he'd read his thoughts. (He hadn't, though, Dean had once told him to stay out of his head, so he did. But he doesn't need his angelic power to know what's going on in the hunter's mind.) "I just need you to be you."

Dean swallows, licks his lips, opens his mouth.

"Okay." His voice is quiet and husky, but it's there. It's enough to make Cas smile. And if it's enough to make Cas smile, it's enough for Dean. He tries a crooked smile himself, feels himself be guided forward gently, and then Cas is kissing him again, and it feels like a promise, a promise that Cas is right, a promise that Dean will try to see it.

With the right person, kissing sometimes feels like healing.

~oOo~oOo~oOo~

So, hope you liked it! I would love to hear your thoughts!

Also, I'm probably gonna go in the obvious direction next chapter, but it might take a while bc I've never written anything beyond a kiss, so...be lenient and patient, maybe pray for me or something. I'm gonna do my best. (And if that's not your cup of tea, I'll keep it to that one chapter so you can just skip it if you like:)