#her unwavering love and belief in humans to survive against all odds....... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

themoonandotherslikeit · 4 years

Text

Someone Alive, Part Four

Dean laid in bed with Lisa. She was naked and sleeping on her stomach, Sam sleeping at the foot of the bed, snoring softly with his head resting on Dean’s thigh. He reached down and scratched behind Sam’s ear absentmindedly. His mind wasn’t in that room, it was back on the roof.

He was inclined to apologize after the kiss, but Cas had just looked at him with this kind of beautiful shock, his blue eyes all wide, and Dean couldn’t even find the words. Was there ever a word for something like that? “Have dinner with me tomorrow. I’ll cook.” He didn’t even hesitate or think it through. Lisa was leaving again that afternoon, after he got the cast off his arm. He would be whole, and she’d be itching to take flight again. There was no reason not to have Cas over. He should probably just change the sheets first.

His face heated up at the thought.

He had a thing for a mysterious guy in a trench coat. What the fuck? The weirdest part of it, though, was that it wasn’t weird at all. It might’ve been the only thing that had ever made sense in his entire life. Castiel was odd. The way he spoke and dressed, the way he disappeared into thin air, and the way he seemed to step out of the fog right when Dean was thinking about him. It felt like fate, if he believed in that shit. Which he didn’t, for the record.

There was something between them and fuck if he knew what it was, but he was itching to find out.

He sat up in bed, and Sammy raised his head, tilting it sideways as he looked at Dean. He let out a whine, followed by a big yawn. “Come on sleepy head, let's go for a walk. I need to clear my head.” Sam stood up stretching before he languidly hopped off the bed. Dean rolled his eyes and hopped out of bed with him, glancing at the still sleeping Lisa. He wanted to feel a tug inside himself to crawl back into bed with her and make love to her, but the only thing he felt when he looked at her was emptiness.

He slid on a pair of pants and a sweatshirt, hooked up the leash to Sam’s collar and they slipped out of the apartment. According to his phone, he had about an hour until his cast came off, which was just enough time to run to the doctor’s office. He hoped they wouldn’t mind Sammy coming along, and if they did… well fuck ‘em. He could saw the thing off himself if he had to.

So they ran, side by side. Dean pushed forward, his muscles burning and straining. His lungs wanted to cry out, his throat burned, and he thought of Castiel. He could still feel Cas’ lips on his own. He could see Charlie’s limp body in his arms. He could hear Lisa’s soft, sleeping breaths at his side. Regret pulsed through him just as his own blood through his heart into his veins. He knew that he was alive just as much as he knew that he had no control. He didn’t know what to do with that information. He didn’t know how to deal with the fact that a beautiful blue eyed man could look at him like he was the only other person in the universe and in the same breath tell him to have faith. He didn’t have faith. He didn’t believe in love, let alone god , yet Cas had this unwavering belief. Dean wondered if he ever questioned it all. If he ever wondered why. Dean wondered how far Cas’ faith stretched. Was it as wide as his arms? A mile? The length of the universe, endless in its vast and constant expansion? Or was it just a grain of sand on a beach of a billion other thoughts, hopes, and dreams that were so small that he couldn’t pick it out and hold it alone. Perhaps Castiel was a sandcastle, built up of a nameless faith that Dean himself could never fathom.

“Castiel.”

He turned towards Hannah. She’d been talking, and he hadn’t heard a word she was saying.

“You seem like you’re somewhere else,” she commented. Her voice was a little too cold.

“I am right here, Hannah. Right where I’ve always been.”

She shook her head, crossing her arms. “That is the thing, Castiel, you aren’t. Not in here at least.” She tapped her temple. “Have you taken any souls to Heaven lately? I haven’t seen you.”

He hadn’t, and she knew that. He was distracted. He hadn’t been able to shake Dean or the thought of falling. It buzzed around his skull all hours of the day and night. He’d find himself watching Dean, invisibly, just to see what he was doing. Castiel wanted to be near him. Dean changed things, even though he shouldn’t. Perhaps he should ask Hannah, perhaps she could shed some light on the situation.

“No.”

“Why not? What has you so distracted.”

“Not what…” Castiel’s voice trailed off as he considered the weight of what he was considering sharing with her. “Who.”

For the first time he saw Hannah’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Do you recall the man I mentioned after the fire? The one who looked at me?”

“He didn’t--”

He held up a hand to cut Hannah off. “He did. He still is. I’ve… I’ve spoken to him.”

“What?” Her voice dropped, and she took a step closer to him. “You mean… talked? ”

“Yes. He’s spoken to me multiple times.”

“You let him see you.” A look of revelation came over her face. “Was this the man at the lakeshore?”

Castiel laughed out loud. “Gabriel? Oh no.”

“Gabriel.” Hannah’s eyebrows furrowed.

It was certainly too late for Castiel to back out. He could see her thoughts racing away from her. They played across her face, her lip twitching and her eyebrows rising higher. “It is exactly what you think it is.”

“It can’t be.” She shook her head.

Angels were bred to take everything on faith. They were not meant to question God or the universe. They were simply foot soldiers, messengers, vessels for God and His work. It was all that Castiel had ever known. He hadn’t ever outwardly fought against it, until now .

He met Hannah’s eyes and nodded slowly. “Gabriel. The Gabriel.”

“But he can’t be.”

He reached out and touched Hannah’s shoulder to make her look at him. “He fell, Hannah. The stories are true.”

“How?”

Castiel smiled a little sadly. “Free will.”

It was something that was given to the humans. It was given to all of God’s creations. Evidently that included the angels. Castiel still hadn’t quite wrapped his mind around it. How many mellinia would have to pass before the pieces of a life began to fit together? Was it Dean that would change everything, or would he just be another piece that never quite fit no matter how hard Castiel tried to force it?

Hannah reached for Castiel’s hand and tugged so he would look at her. She stared at him, her face serious. “Castiel. What does Gabriel have to do with all of this? What does he have to do with the man whom you let see you?”

She was prying, but she didn’t want the real answer. She wanted Castiel to agree that he was being reckless. She wanted him to tell her that she was wrong, but she wasn’t. They both knew it.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began.

“No.”

“Hannah, please.”

“You can’t, Castiel. It isn’t done.”

“It is. Gabriel did it.” He took her other hand in his and looked into her eyes intently. “We all were given free will. We can--”

She pulled her hands from his and looked at him with alarm. “This is so much worse than I thought it would be.”

“It isn’t a bad thing, Hannah.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

“Why would you do it? You’re an angel, Castiel! We are not meant to question our father!”

“That’s what I’m saying. Maybe we are.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and her jaw was tight. She shook her head.

“Why not, Hannah? Why is it just for the humans? Why can’t we…”

“Because we aren’t human, Castiel!”

“But we could be! Don’t you wonder what it’s like? To be touched? To be loved ?”

Hannah stared at him with her mouth wide open in horror. “You’re… you’re in love with this man? How is that even possible?”

Was he?

Castiel put his hand over his heart, rubbing at the pressure in his chest. He let out a pained sigh. He didn’t have the words to explain it to her. He couldn’t even explain it to himself. “I can’t pretend to understand the mechanics of it all. I don’t know if I love him, or if I’m capable of such a thing in this state.” His eyes flickered away from Hannah’s, suddenly unable to look at her. Her gaze was too intense, too damning. He knew that it wasn’t just choosing between angelic grace and humanity. He was choosing between two lives, and he wasn’t sure that his friendship with Hannah would survive his fall. He wasn’t sure if they were ever friends in the first place. “But I believe that I… I may like to find out.”

“Alright Mr. Winchester, how is your arm feeling?”

“Itchy,” Dean said, offering a wide smile. He waved his broken arm at the doctor. He felt like a little kid, bouncing on the examination table. He was so fucking ready for the cast to be off, that he could scream. He hadn’t slept comfortably since he’d gotten it on, and there was an itch deep within it that he couldn’t ever reach. It had driven himi crazy, like there was a bug inside burrowing into his skin. He had to get that thing off as soon as humanly possible.

She smirked in response, a red curl falling into her face. “Doesn’t hurt?”

“Nah, Doc, feels great. Ready to come off,” he pressed.

He’d been laying in bed every night thinking about the first thing he’d do when the cast came off, and showering without seran wrap was high on the list. Right next to memorizing a certain body with two good hands.

She tapped her chin with a red polished nail. “And ye’ wouldn’t be lyin’, would ye’?” She quirked a penciled eyebrow, her green eyes alert but caring. Dr. McLeod had been his physician ever since he joined the station. He was constantly coming in with burns or other stupid injuries, and he had to keep up with his physicals.

Dean shook his head quickly. He worried that if she didn’t hurry up he would start gnawing through the cast with his teeth. “Nope. Fit as a fiddle.”

She shook her head with a laugh. “Alright then.” She wiggled her fingers at him to hand over his arm, and he did.

She placed his arm on a rollaway table and pulled out her electric saw to cut away the cast. She was focused on the instrument, but she smiled a bit. “You seem happy, Dean.”

“Huh?”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. “Close yer jaw, boy. You’ll catch flies.” She tapped his chin before pulling her glove on her hand. “Why do you look so surprised? You’re glowing. If you were a woman I'd say you were pregnant.”

Glowing? Dean snorted with an eye roll. “Not pregnant.”

“No, I suspected as much.” She was still watching him curiously, handing him a pair of safety glasses. “Yer in love.”

“What?” Heat rushed up Dean’s neck and into his cheeks. The room began to spin. His fingers gripped the plastic glasses a little too tightly. They were immediately slick from sweat in his hand, and his mouth was dry. “ Love ?” He asked it like it was a crazy concept, like she’d asked him if he had an alien bursting out of his chest. Maybe that was a less insane thought. Which was saying something. He put the safety glasses on and looked at his arm through the hazy plastic.

It wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. He hadn’t known Cas that long. Fuck they hadn’t even went on a date, or slept together. He didn’t know what kind of beer Cas liked or how he took his coffee, so he couldn’t love him. That was an unreasonable thought.

He opened his mouth to tell her exactly that, when she cut him off.

“Thinking of tying the knot with the girlfriend finally?” She asked before powering up the saw. The sound of the saw whirring to life cut through the silence in the room.

His breath caught in his throat as she held his arm down with one hand and cut through the cast.

She was talking about Lisa. Of course she was. Why would she mention Cas? Why would she even know about Cas? Yet here he was thinking about Castiel instead of Lisa… again. The idea was fucking crazy. It was unreasonable. It was insane , and yet... Cas’ blue eyes were on his mind. That gaze that seemed to see right through him, the strength of his arms tucked into that awful trench coat. He’d be lying if he said that Cas hadn’t been on his mind. “Nah, Doc, ain’t that serious.”

“Hm.” She removed the pieces of his cast, and Dean flexed his fingers. His arm smelled like his gym bag, and it was hairier and a little lower on muscle mass from what he remembered. Dr. McLeod rolled his wrist and tugged at his fingers. “Looks good.”

He grinned widely, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders and a pressure on his chest had been relieved. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs. He felt like a brand new man. A man that had a lot of shit to think about. “What’re you sayin’?”

“I’m saying you’re good. Perfectly healed.”

“Fucking finally!” He could’ve jumped up and kissed her right on the mouth for the news, but her lips weren’t the ones he wanted to kiss. “Get a note to Cap so I can get back to work?”

“I will,” she said before touching him with one gloved hand. “But Dean, ye need to listen to me. Be careful. Ye won’t always end up so lucky.”

Sammy looked up from where he was curled in the corner and gave him a look like he agreed, and Dean waved them both off. “Thanks, Doc.” He leaned in and gave her a wet kiss on the cheek, unable to help himself. “See ya when I see ya.”

“I hope it isn’t too soon!” She called after him as he grabbed Sam’s leash and pushed out of the office.

It had started snowing in the hour he was in the office. The air was crisp and cold. It made his arm ache, and he rubbed at it instinctively. Sam sniffed it in response. “I know, buddy. I need to take a shower before this dinner.”

Sam tilted his head to the side. “Don’t look at me like that. Lis and I aren’t exclusive. Plus it’s just dinner.” Sam closed his mouth and Dean rolled his eyes. He didn’t know who he was trying to fool. “Fine, fucker. Don’t believe me. Let’s go home.” And they started to run, despite the snow and the thin, icy air.

What does one wear to a dinner date?

Castiel was in a store, one that required money, but he was invisible, staring at the different mannequins. Their faces were blank and their hands on their hips. Some wore sweaters, coats, and one wore a suit. He tapped his chin inquisitively, and considered what his best move would be. He thought back to what Dean typically wore, or what he would like, and he looked down to his own suit. He’d never changed and suddenly he felt more shabby than ever. His hair was a mess and his clothes looked faded and limp.

In retrospect, though, Dean did ask him to come by for dinner in his current attire - perhaps he wasn’t too drab afterall. He turned to leave when a mannequin caught his eye. A tie, to be more specific, a deep blue with light blue roses adorning the satin. He pulled it off of the mannequin and held it in his hand. It was beautiful and he found himself wondering if Dean would think so too.

He was making lasagna. It was an old family recipe - well, not so much family as it was a recipe he learned from the firehouse. Singer had taught him how to make it one night after Dean described his meals as mostly McDonald’s and gas station roller hot dogs. Singer had made a face and dragged him right to the kitchen. They’d made the pasta from scratch as well.

Dean dusted the top with cheese and stuck it in the oven, wiping his hands on the towel that was hanging out of his front pocket. He tossed a piece of the gouda to Sammy who caught it in the air, smacking his jaw. “Good, huh?” He plopped some shredded cheese into his mouth as well and chewed it thoughtfully. “Hope Cas likes Italian.”

Sam sneezed in response and licked Dean’s fingers at his side. He scratched under the dog’s chin and grinned. “You’re right, Bud. Everybody likes Italian.”

He’d picked out a red button-down shirt with his nicest pair of jeans, and he’d spent twenty minutes in front of the mirror fussing with his hair. He couldn’t remember when he’d last tried so damn hard. There was just something about Cas that made him want to put in the effort. It wasn’t like he needed to impress him, but for some reason he really wanted to.

A knock came on his door and he grinned at the dog again. “Alright Sammy, it’s showtime. How do I look?”

Sam turned his head and jogged to the door. “Right. Don’t get too desperate. Great advice, thanks buddy.”

Dean opened the door to find Castiel exactly the way he’d expected him. The man wore the same messy unkempt hair that he always had. It seemed too messy to be calculated, and yet he didn’t look bad. He didn’t need to be put together to look good. He just looked good . “Cas. Hey. Hope you found the place okay.”

“I didn’t have any trouble, thank you.”

“Come on in.” He held the door open a little wider to allow Cas in, and as he passed by, Dean tried to take in his scent. He didn’t smell anything. Nothing bad or good to note, but it didn’t seem odd. Castiel didn’t seem like the cologne type. He always wore the same trench coat and suit for god sakes, so Dean wasn’t exactly sure what he had been expecting if he was being honest.

“You have a lovely home,” Castiel said pleasantly. His hands were clasped together in front of him.

“Thanks. Can I get you somethin’ to drink? A glass of wine, beer?”

“Anything is fine.”

Dean led him back into the kitchen and gestured to the stools by the island. “I hope you like lasagna.”

“I’m sure anything that you make would be enjoyable.” Castiel lowered himself onto the stool.

He uncorked a bottle of red wine and poured two glasses, then leaned in closer and handed one of them to Castiel. “Hope you like red.”

“That’s fine. Thank you.”

Dean leaned against the counter between them and took a sip of his own glass. “That’s a nice tie. Is it new? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in any tie other than that blue one you’ve always worn.”

“It is new.” Cas smiled in a sort of bashful, childlike way. He ran his fingers along the tie. He wsa so adorable, it made Dean’s jaw ache like he’d bitten into something sweet. “Do you like it?”

“I do.” He took another sip of the wine. It was sweet for a red and it made his lips tingle.

“Have you always wanted to be a firefighter?”

“Fire killed my mom when I was a kid, so yeah I guess basically since then. The firefighters went in bravely while my dad just stood there. I wanted to be like them.”

“You looked up to them.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. He didn’t have his father to look up to, but a boy needed some kind of role model. He wondered who Cas’ role model was, who helped him grow into the man that he was. He leaned in a little closer, searching Cas’ eyes for answers. He wasn’t normally the guy that cared, the guy that wanted to drink in his partner, study them like he would the building plans before entering an unstable structure. There was something different about Castiel, though. He’d gotten under Dean’s skin.

“I think it’s nice to have someone to look up to.”

“What about you, Cas?”

“What about me?”

“Who do you look up to?”

“The obvious answer would be my father, but I am starting to think that perhaps he isn’t one to look up to either.”

He raised an eyebrow. Looking at Cas, he would’ve never expected that they’d have much in common. His eyes lingered on Castiel’s polka dotted tie, and he guessed that the man had never had a single hair out of place in his life -- unlike Dean, who felt like most things in his life were out of place. “Your relationship not good with your parents?”

“My relationship with my father is mostly one-sided. I don’t see him. I am just expected to blindly trust him even though he isn’t here with me.”

“Absent fathers. I get that.” He took another sip. More than you can know. His eyes stung thinking about his childhood, putting out burning cigarettes when his father was passed out drunk, nights eating cold hot dogs from the fridge because his father forgot to feed him. He blinked a few times, sucking the emotion back in and locking it away for future Dean to deal with. “What about your mom?”

“I don’t have a mother.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t ask Cas to elaborate. Afterall, he didn’t have a mother anymore either, and he sure as shit didn’t feel like talking about it. It wasn’t fair to expect things that he wasn’t willing to give himself. So he changed course. “Did you grow up in Chicago?”

“No.”

He waited for Castiel to continue, but he stayed quiet, avoiding Dean's eyes.

Dean watched him expectantly, studying the wrinkle above his eyebrows, and the uncertain twitch of his lip. It seemed like he wanted to tell Dean, but he hadn’t fully decided. “Then where?” Dean asked slowly with caution out of respect for the things that they were too afraid to say to each other.

Castiel’s eyes flickered to Dean’s and he just pointed a finger up.

Dean raised an eyebrow in surprise. That wasn't the answer he was expecting. “What? Canada?”

“Not exactly.”

Dean stood up from his comfortable lean. He felt his face curl into a frown as annoyance bubbled in his chest. He wasn’t an unreasonable guy, and he felt like he was giving Cas a mile between them for the sake of comfort, but he was taking one hundred. Going into the night Dean didn’t know what he wanted out of it, but standing there, getting half answers from Castiel, he knew exactly what he wanted. “I get not wanting to open up, but why are you being so cagey? I don’t know anything about you, Cas. I’m just tryin’ to know you.” He hated how whiny and frustrated it was all coming out. He just wasn’t sure what the point of it all was. He didn’t think this thing between them was so casual… Not that they’d specified. He just felt like it was more, and he knew that he wanted more from it-- no matter how much it terrified him to think it.

“What do you want to know?” Castiel asked simply.

“I don’t know Cas - everything. Where do you live? Where did you grow up? Do you have any siblings? Where do you work? Why does it seem like you always just pop up in places… Why are you always wearing that same suit?” It all kind of spilled out and as soon as it did, Dean knew he fucked up. He watched Castiel sit up a little straighter, and Dean could’ve sworn he watched the padlock click shut over Cas’ heart as he retreated back into himself a bit. He pressed his lips shut immediately and wished desperately that he could go back in time.

“My life is complicated,” Castiel began. He looked so awkward sitting down, like he wasn’t sure what to do with his body. His back was perfectly straight, his hands in his lap.

“But you’re here . What’s the point if you still keep me at arm’s length? Not really the way to get to know someone.”

God I sound like a fucking chick. I sound like my own worst nightmare.

“The last thing I want is to have you any length away from me, Dean. You must know that by now.” His head was down, and he seemed to be overly interested in his fingernails.

“Then don’t do it. Talk to me, Cas. Clear up the mystery,” he begged, looking at Cas desperately. He’d dated women like this before, and he hated it, but now, looking at Cas, all he wanted was to get closer to him. He wanted all of it.

“I’m not certain that you will like what you find once the mystery is gone.”

“You told me you knew my soul, you really believe that, Buddy? Try me.”

It wasn’t supposed to be a question. He wasn’t supposed to have gotten as close as he had, but as Dean walked over to Castiel’s side of the counter everything felt so much more complicated. All he wanted was to take Dean in his arms and pull him close. He wanted to know what Dean’s skin smelled like, what the callouses and scars felt like. He wanted to know what it was like to kiss Dean, but was that enough? There was so much beauty in being an angel. He had no fear. He could see the city’s widescape before of him. He could hear the song in the sunrise, even though he couldn’t feel the breeze on his cheeks. There was safety within it. If there wasn’t a way to feel, there wasn’t a way to hurt, but that wasn’t exactly a life - was it?

“Cas? You just gonna stare into space, Beautiful Mind, or are you going to talk to me?”

Castiel’s eyes flickered to Dean, and he opened his mouth. In that moment he wanted to tell Dean everything. He wanted to pull him close and kiss him. He wanted to tell Dean that he planned to fall, because he’d already started to fall. It all felt so fast, so serious. He couldn’t possibly make such an extreme decision on a whim. He couldn’t throw away millennia for the slim chance that Dean might love him back.

He couldn’t - right?

Or maybe he didn’t have to.

“I’m an angel,” Castiel said softly, almost as if he didn’t mean to. It came out more like a breath than a word.

“Yeah, Cas. You’re a nice guy. I know that already.”

Castiel frowned. Dean didn’t understand. How could he? He was human.

He reached forward and brushed Dean’s cheek with his palm. He felt nothing, not the scrape from his whiskers, the tingle from skin on skin, nor the warmth. “You are a beautiful man, Dean Winchester. Do you know that?”

He didn’t feel the heat travel up Dean’s neck to his cheekbones, but he watched as his tanned face darkened to a lovely shade of red. He could’ve been a Jane Austen heroine. He was lovely, soft, and breathtaking. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. It was like they’d been plucked right from his tongue. Castiel smiled at that. A speechless Dean Winchester was quite the sight. “You do somethin’ to me, Cas,” Dean muttered, barely audible.

“You do something to me as well.” Many things, he feared.

“Feel that?” Dean asked, and there was something deep in Castiel that seemed to twist.

“No,” he whispered.

Dean’s face faltered as Castiel dropped his hand. Dean looked hurt, his expression melting into something pained. He wanted to apologize, to reach back up to touch Dean’s cheek again, but he stopped when he saw Dean’s gaze focused on his fallen arm. “Cas you…”

“What?” Castiel asked, his eyes flickering down to his palm pressed against the serrated knife that was left out on the counter. He pulled his hand up slowly. There was no blood, no wound of any kind. His hand was completely unchanged, despite it just having been against a blade.

“How?” Dean asked, grabbing for his hand. “It cut you. I saw it cut you.”

“Dean.”

“What the fuck? ” He backed up, looking at Castiel with wide eyes. “How?”

“You know how. I told you. I’m an angel.”

“No! That’s insane. You realize that, right? You can’t be…”

“Except I am.”

He walked toward Dean. He wanted to comfort him. He wanted to put him at ease. He wanted… he wanted a different reaction than the one that he got. He reached a hand out to Dean, who shoved Castiel back in response. “Get the fuck away from me!”

So he did.

He closed his eyes, preventing Dean from seeing him any longer, and for the first time he felt a sharp stab of pain in his chest. It was a hairline fracture in his heart. It was the beginning of the end.

-------------------------

Part Five

Masterlist

Read on A03 Here

Art Masterlist

#someone alive #destiel #supernatural #spn #spn au #supernatural au #dean winchester #firefighter!Dean #castiel #cas #otp #angst #love #romance #dog!sam #fanfiction #fic #mine #writing

0 notes