Try, Try, Try Again
By: Abby Ebon
Summary: a Supernatural; Castiel/Dean; Castiel tries several ways to tell Dean how he feels for him, and jumps back in time when Dean's reactions are... poor., prompt, from comment_fic.
The first time is sort of an accident - if angels can make mistakes, which, of course – they obviously can. Castiel is watching Dean, head tilted to the side, eyes on what Dean is doing, taking apart and cleaning his .22 auto, when Castiel says it.
"I can protect you, always." Dean tenses all over, and Castiel realizes he's said the wrong thing – that he's implied that what Dean is doing is useless, because obviously Castiel can do his protecting of Dean better then any mortal, that a angel of the lord is a weapon of better making then any man made thing – it's useless to compare the two, and therefore Dean is useless and outdated too. It's the last thing that Castiel means; for all that it is what he has accidently implied.
"I'm a hunter, this is what I do, and I do it well, and I don't need you to be looking over my shoulder protecting me." Dean's blue eyes are glaring at him, hating him a little for what Castiel is and what Dean can not be. Castiel let's that be the last thing he says, as he takes a breath and tries again. His wings unfold and snap back, and Castiel is standing again, determined to do this right, as Dean is getting out of the black Impala, only to come face to face with Castiel who tries once again.
"Let me save you." Castiel asks, and Dean is raising his eyebrows and snorting, shaking his head as if he's disappointed by some logic only Dean can grasp, and Castiel feels his frustration building that he is unable to do this one thing right…but he can't help but hear Dean's words before fleeing.
"I save people all the time; I don't need you saving me and my soul." There are days that Castiel feels that he can say nothing right, and this is one of those days, one of those days that he wishes he could just say nothing and let things be – but he can not, he must say this one thing, and Dean must understand, before Castiel lets it rest.
"I can help, if you let me." Castiel says as Dean is moving his stuff into the hotel room, with jerky movements that tell him that he's feeling again the keen loss of Sam and that Dean hates fighting like this with his brother, as it tears him up inside, he is still being stubborn about it and not letting Castiel – who needs nothing but for Dean to understand, help him with the weight of bags that are his burden.
"Don't need help, I've got a partner, and that's Sam –only Sam, he isn't perfect, but he is family, and –well, at least he does better at playing human then you'll ever be." Dean says, and if Castiel flinches, at least he does not sigh. Wings brush Dean's shoulders, and Dean never notices as Castiel takes himself further back, though his mind touches upon an old rhyme, when you fail, try, try, try again.
"I have feelings for you. I care about – love – you." Castiel blurts out as Dean steps out of his shower, a towel around his waist, it's a ritual that Dean and Sam (who is not here) have, they come in, get a hotel room, unload the car, shower, then clean their weapons to maintain them. And maybe it's the damp skin fresh from the shower that has softened Dean into listening. Or maybe the damp has helped Dean put all the pieces together of what Castiel has been saying all day, but Dean only hears now.
"Well, why didn't you say so before?" Dean asks, smirking, and when Castiel kisses him, his lips are warm and welcoming.