Fall is Coming

Chapter three - Winter Beach

It's cold.

Really cold.

The pebbles that litter the beach are encased in little cocoons of silver-blue ice and the mist from the ocean stings like salt-rounds blasted against Cas's exposed skin. He pulls his thrift-store jacket tighter about him and curses silently to himself for neglecting to pick up his beanie and scarf before he ventured out.

It's his own fault though, that he's out here freezing his ass off in sub-zero temperatures and maybe it's only right that his fingers and toes are painfully numb, cause he's been a dick and this might just be some kind of penance?

He walks quickly over to the skeletal remains of an upturned row-boat that litters the beach before their cabin. The smooth wood is grey-ed out by years of wind and weather and Cas wonders briefly what stories it could tell if it were sentient?

He perches on what was the keel and hunches his shoulders, pulling up his collar to stop the biting wind nipping at his frost-blushed ears.

He's utterly fucking miserable...but he has only himself to blame.

wWw

He watches the figure on the shore and even though the man's back is turned, he knows intrinsically that it is his lover.

Everything that makes Dean, Dean, is etched into Castiel's psyche. Burned into his violently-blue eyes. Branded on his very soul.

The width of his Winchester-broad, bronzed shoulders, his soft, spiky hair and his strong, agile fingers are all damningly familiar to the once-angel. As are the hunter's sweetly bowed legs and endlessly-green eyes.

Cas sighs as he shivers for even at this distance he can feel the emotion telegraphing from his study in humanity. It rolls toward him in waves as defined as those of the dull, grey-green, winter ocean.

The anger is not the worse thing though. Cas could cope with that. He has learned, over the timeless seconds/ hours/ eternities that he has know Mankind, to deal with hatred and venom as much as he has with blind devotion but no, this is worse than that.

Dean is hurt...and it's the new-human's fault.

Entirely, absolutely, his fault.

And Cas hates himself for it.

wWw

He watches as Dean paces the short patch of sand that his wounded retreat has led him to and Cas can hear the vicious stomp of Dean's boots even though the shifting grains give below the scuffed and worn leather.

The hunter's posture vacillates between furiously rigid and crushingly bowed. His hands, one minute tightly fisted and the next, unfurled to hang at his sides in bitter despair.

Cas knows too that Dean must be frozen to the point of hypothermia. He's wearing just the jeans and t-shirt he was in when the 'struggling-to-know-how-to-be' human picked a fight some two hours ago and it's way beyond too cold to be outside all that time wearing so little.

wWw

He rises and walks across the wind-tumbled expanse toward the man who is his reason for being and even though Dean does not acknowledge him, still Cas feels the tsunami of raw passion that storms towards him as he draws nearer.

He stops within feet of the heart-sick man and searches for the words...any words, he might use to apologize for his unforgivable insensitivity.

wWw

But he cannot find them.

He is tongue-tied with remorse, regret and overwhelming grief because he has nothing that will begin to make amends and Cas feels the gnaw of terror that maybe this cannot be repaired?

That he has fucked up the only thing that makes his existence meaningful and he is suddenly breathless, dizzy, sick with fear at what he has done.

wWw

Dean is pale when he finally turns to face him but his eyes are more vividly beautiful than Cas has maybe ever seen them and his heart damn near stops when he thinks, if he has ruined this forever, this might be the last time he sees that green he loves with every fibre of his being?

The flawed-new-human opens his mouth, hoping the movement might find him his voice but before he can speak Dean lunges across the gritty sand between them and grabs him into an embrace that would crush most people.

His lips are like ice-cubes as they press urgently, needfully and Castiel gasps at the intensity of the kiss that he knows will leave his lips swollen and bruised.

He clings onto Dean as just as hard, wrapping his arms about the sweet flesh that triggers his every fantasy and desire.

"Dean...I'm sorry..."

It's a sob to which the hunter responds by lifting both his hands to cradle Cas's face.

"I k...know you a...are..."

Dean stutters, his body so cold that his teeth are literally chattering but still he presses his mouth to the once-angel's. The shudders are like tiny electric shocks running through Castiel and he responds in kind, nibbling and sucking as Dean's tongue licks into his mouth.

They stand like this for what might be hours until they are both breathless and hard as all fuck with need for each other.

"Forgive me?"

Cas whispers against Dean's neck where he has burrowed his face and he feels Dean nod shakily.

He pulls up and backs one step away so he can look into Dean's face.

His lover is smiling. That translucent, vulnerable, unequivocally passionate smile that makes Cas's heart as soft as it makes his dick, hard.

"On o...one...con...dition..."

Dean stutters out and Cas's face is immediately utterly serious, unquestionable contrite.

"Anything."

He whispers softly.

"I would do anything for you."

And Dean smiles wickedly as he reaches toward his soul-mate.

"Give me your damn jacket then, I'm freezing my ass off!"

Chapter ends